The Best of You

My name is Elora White and I'm a hunter. No, not a typical hunter. My cousin, Damon and I don't hunt deer or ducks or squirrel. We hunt the things you probably have never seen in your life... the stuff you think only exists in horror stories and myths. The stuff that goes bump in the night. We hunt the supernatural. We inherited the somewhat 'family business' from my father. He was a successful businessman during the day and a hunter by night. My mother had been so terrified when she found out what my father did in his spare time that she left him when I was four years old, fleeing back to her home country of Ireland. My father was so devastated, his businesses began to falter. Desperate to hold onto his business and the comfortable lifestyle he had built, he struck a deal with a devil. No, not THE devil, A devil. A deal that would ultimately result in his death. I was eighteen when he died. My father had adopted my cousin after his sister died of cancer when he was nine years old. We were as thick as thieves. Damon was a year older than me and as protective of me like I was his own sister.

When my father died, it shook us to the core. He was essentially the only family we had besides one another. When we were being read his will, we found out the extent of his hunting. After my mother had left, he decided being honest with us was the best policy, so we knew what he did. He was very adamant about us being prepared and taught us the trade. We got our first gun by the time we were ten years old, took archery classes, martial arts and studied the supernatural religiously. We were given ownership of all his homes. He had homes all across the United States for when he would travel for cases, something we didn't know about. When our funds cleared, we set off on our own, hunting full time. And that's what we had been doing for the past five years.

We had hunted, just the two of us, for the first three years. Bouncing from place to place, living out of duffel bags packed into the truck of the car, never in a town longer than a month. And a month only if we were lucky. Or not so lucky... however our fate may have it. After three years, we met the Winchester brothers. Since then, we have hunted together. I'll never forget the day we met them.



*The summer of 2006*

The sun rested high in the noon sky, shining brightly down upon us. It's rays warming up the earth and the skin on my arm that rested on the driver door as I sped down the road. The wind blew my long blonde hair, whipping it here and there as it flowed through it at 78 mph. It was summertime. My favorite time of the year. The sounds of The Doors played loudly on the radio. I had turned it up to muffle out the sounds of my cousin Damon, snoring from the passenger seat of my 1966 Chevrolet SS 396. I reached over for my cigarettes and lit one up as Damon began to stir. He stretched and yawned, looking out the window sleepily.

“Where are we?” he asked, sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Just outside of Toledo.” I said, stifling a yawn.

“Thank God, I have got to get out of this car.” he sighed.

I pulled into the small motel and parked. Damon groaned as he opened his door and rolled out. As he grabbed the bag with our laptop in it from the trunk, I took out the piece of paper I had written down the notes on. Room 304.

“Wonder what they've got going on.” I asked, giving him a curious look.

“Who knows.” Damon sighed, rubbing his eyes.

We made our way up the stairs and stopped at the room on the end. I knocked on the bright red door, giving Damon a shrug. We had never met the man on the other side.

As the door opened, a middle aged man wearing a flannel shirt and a ball cap smiled.

“Come in.” he said, pulling the door open wide and gesturing into the room.

We walked in the dimly lit motel room. Empty beer bottles and fast food containers littered the room. I snarled my nose in disgust.

“Please, sit.” he said, pointing to the small table to the left. “Would y'all like a beer?”

“Please.” I sighed, internally thanking God.

He walked over to the small mini fridge and extracted three bottles of Budweiser. He sat down the beers in front of us and took a seat next to me.

He smiled. “I never thought I would be calling you two.”

I smiled, not sure what to say.

“Like I told you on the phone, I'm Bobby Singer. I was a friend of your dad's... and a hunter as well. I've got two boys here with me working on a case, but I've got another job I have to get to. They're going to need as much help as possible on this one. I was hoping y'all could help us out.” He took a sip of his beer.

“Yeah, we'd be happy to. Where do we start?” I asked.

“Here's the address. The boys will give you a run down. I have to hit the road soon.” he said. He pulled out a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and pushed it across the table towards me.

As he stood up, we did as well. He walked over to the bed and grabbed a duffel bag. As he made his way back over to the table, he stopped in front of me. Smiling, he reached up and touched my cheek.

“You look just like your mother..” he said. “She was a wonderful woman.”

I smiled back at him, “Thank you.”

He pulled me into a hug.

When he released me, he turned to Damon. “You never stopped growing did you?”

Damon laughed. “No, don't think I did.”

Damon stood a good seven inches taller than Bobby. He had always been tall, making my mere five foot look worse than usual.

“You two be careful. And play nice with the boys.” he winked and walked out of the room.

“Well, that was awkward.” Damon sighed, taking a large chug out of his bottle.

“Something like that.” I sighed. “Let's go.”

“There it is.” Damon said, pointing toward the two story white house on the left.

I nodded and pulled over on the right hand side of the road. We got out in silence and opened the truck. I handed Damon his Glock and I retracted my Berretta. Stuffing our guns into our shorts, we crossed the road.

“Goddamn...” I smiled as I eyed the old Chevy Impala parked in front of the house.

“Fuck” Damon let out a low whistle. “That'd give your SS a run for it's money.”

“Shut up, dude.”

As we reached the front door, I noticed it was ajar. I nudged Damon and nodded towards it. He nodded in response and bobbed his head to the right, silently telling me to take the back. I made my way down the front stairs again as Damon slowly pushed the door open, his Glock already out and ready.

As I rounded the back of the house, I heard a bang. I pulled my Berretta out and made my way up the stairs quickly and silently. I slowly turned the door nob and entered.

The kitchen was empty and silent. Eerily silent. The floor was littered with dirt and trash. Apparently no one had lived here in quite some time. I carefully made my way towards the doorway, keeping my finger on the trigger. I heard a movement come from the living room just ahead of me, silent but enough to put me on higher alert. I stopped at the corner of the hallway leading into the living room. Taking a split second to prepare myself, I silently let out a sigh. Putting my left hand on my gun as well, I quickly rounded the corner, placing the gun to the brown haired boy's head and meeting the barrel of his gun in return.

Now, in a moment like this, the first thought I had was not your typical one to say the least. But he was good looking, there was no denying that. His hazel eyes held my own with a stern look.

“Who are you?” his gruff voice asked.

“I could ask you the same thing, sugar.” I replied with a smirk.

I heard another gun cock and the barrel touch the temple of the boy in front of me.

“Drop it.” Damon demanded.

The boy smirked. “You first.”

I pressed the barrel of my gun harder on his forehead.

“How about all of you drop em?” Another voice called.

Damon and I chanced a glance to our left to see another boy, much taller than the one in front of us with shaggy brown hair. He held his gun out, pointing it at Damon.

“Alright, how about everyone just put em down, huh?” I suggested, taking my own gun away from the boy's head and pointing it at the ceiling, finger off the trigger.

“She moved her gun, now move it.” Damon growled.

“Fine.” The boy smirked, dropping his gun to his side.

Brandon and the other boy lowered their guns as well.

“So, what's your names?” I asked.

“You first, pretty thing.” The boy in front of me said, the smirk still present on his lovely face.

“Fine.. stubborn ass. I'm Elora, this is Damon. Now, what's your name? Or should I just call you cocky?” I snapped, my voice drenched in sarcasm.

The shaggy haired boy to my left chuckled.

“Don't talk dirty, sweetheart... I might like that. I'm Dean, this is my brother, Sam.” He said. “What are you doing here?”

“Bobby sent us.” Brandon said, walking over to the window and peering out.

“Bobby sent you?” Sam asked. “Why didn't he tell us?”

I shrugged. “He called us two days ago and asked us to come and help you guys out. We just left the motel, said he had to head out.”

Dean shot Sam a worried glance.

“So, what have y'all got so far?” I asked, not wasting any time.

“We need to get out of here and we'll explain.” Dean said. “Where are you guys staying?”

“I've got a house over on 9th Ave. Y'all are welcome to stay there if you'd like, there's plenty of room.”

“Sounds good to me. Let's roll, Sammy.” Dean said, waving his brother on.

We skipped down the stairs quickly, hoping no one paid any attention to us.

Dean let out a low whistle. “That yours?” He asked Damon.

Damon shook his head and pointed to me.

“Yours?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Don't sound so shocked.” I laughed.

He scoffed.

I rolled my eyes as I ran across the road and got in. Damon was already skimming through the iPod as I shut the car door. I turned the key and the engine roared to life.

Glancing over at the boys I called, “Follow me.”

It was a short drive to the house that was once one of my father's many hunting destinations. I stepped out of the car as the Impala rumbled up the driveway and parked beside us.

Damon collected our bags as I went up the steps and unlocked the door. The house, even though it was rarely occupied, still smelled great. I tossed my keys down on the coffee table and sat down on the tan sofa.

“Nice place.” Sam said as he walked in.

“Thanks.” I replied. “Dame, I'm gonna check and see if we left any booze here.”

“Good God, I hope we did.” He sighed, dropping the bags and grabbing the remote before dropping himself onto the sofa.

I heard the sound of the TV click on as I entered the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I sighed in relief. The fridge held nothing but alcohol. I skimmed the selection; 10 Budweisers, 4 Coronas, 2 Heinekens, ¾ of a bottle of Jack Daniels, half a bottle of tequila and a full bottle as well.

“Praise Jesus.” I said, pulling out the bottles of liquor and sitting them on the counter.

“Whoa, you've got a stock pile.”

I jumped slightly and turned around to see Dean standing in the doorway.

“Is that smirk permanently on your face?” I asked.

“Maybe, maybe not.” He retorted.

“Want a drink?” I offered, turning to the cabinet and opening it.

“Of course.”

I pulled down four glasses and handed them to Dean.

“Be useful and help me carry em in there.”

I sat down three glasses on the coffee table before pouring a glass for Sam, who sat on the love seat across from us.

Settling down beside Damon, I poured myself a double shot of tequila and swallowed it whole.

“So, spill the beans boys.” I said, pouring another.

I glanced over at Dean, who had occupied the empty space beside me. He had been watching me, I had felt his eyes on me when I downed my drink. His hazel eyes didn't seem to be staring at me though, they seemed to be piercing deep down into me... so deep that it was as if he was looking at my soul.

Sam cleared his throat.

“We're not sure what we're dealing with here yet.. I've been doing some research.” he started, pulling his laptop out of his bag. “None of the victims have anything tying them... not a thing in common. At least that we've found so far.”

“What's happened to them?” Damon asked.

“They've all died mysteriously. The official report is of natural causes.” Dean answered.

“The house you guys were at.. what's the significance of it?” I speculated.

I downed the liquid in my glass, relishing the burn as it went down. I grabbed the bottle and poured another. Damon took the bottle from me and filled his own glass.

“The house was where the first attack happened.” Sam stated.

“It looked like it had been empty a while now.” Damon pointed out.

“No one bought it after the family died there.” Sam said. “It happened a year and a half ago.”

“So, the victims have no similarities at all?” I asked. “What about the crime scenes? Events in their last few days alive?”

I looked over at Dean once more. My eyes met his. I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol starting to take effect or if I was imagining things, but I could've swore I felt something... something I hadn't felt in years. Something a hunter should never feel.

“We haven't got that far.” Sam answered. “We need to get a hold of the official records to see.”

I shook my head and turned my attention to Damon.

“Call him.” he sighed.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and skimmed through my contacts.

“Call who?” Dean asked.

“Ellie has an ex back in D.C. that works for the FBI.” Damon said. “He got us fake badges and we always give his name if they ask for someone to contact to “confirm” who we are and he always checks us out when we're investigating. He sends us info when we need it too.”

Sam nodded as I put the phone up to my ear. I pulled grabbed the magazine that laid on the coffee table from the last time we were here to jot anything down.

“Hey Reid, it's El. I was wondering if I could get you to send me some information.” I said.

“Hey babe. Alright, what you need?” he asked.

I hated having to call Reid. I knew we were on good terms, but I also knew how he felt. And every time I called him, I felt like I was giving him a false sense of hope that one day there would be a “us” again.

“First, what's the new code for the database?”

“62595512.” he recited as I jotted it down.

“Okay.... I need any files on any deaths going back as far as you can in Toledo, Ohio and info on all the victims and anyone related to them, the whole works.”

I listened to Reid as he searched. “Yeah, I've got quite a few unsolved ones coming up in that area. What are you dealing with?”

“We don't know yet...” I told him.

“Alright, I'll get those faxed over to ya. The number still the same at the house in Toledo?”

“Yeah, it's the same. Thanks Reid.” I said.

“When you coming back to D.C.?”

I sighed. “I honestly have no idea.”

“Right. Well, you know where I'm at when you do. You be safe, okay? Tell Damon I said hey.”

“Thanks, you too.”

I hung up the phone and sat it down on the coffee table.

“Why can't you have an ex in high places?” I asked Damon.

“Because none of my exs want to talk to me still.” he laughed. “My exs stay that just that, EXS. Yours always seem to want to come back for another dose of crazy.”

I smacked him and scoffed. “That's mean.”

He laughed, his curly brown hair shaking as he did. “It's true, you can't deny it. Every single one still tries to call you or email you or something. It's like a moth to a flame.”

“You're on a whole other level of hateful today.” I snapped. “Take a couple more shots and take it down about four notches.”

The light on the fax machine lit up and a piece of paper fed into it. Damon stood up and stretched before going over and taking the papers that were done off.

“Damn, that was fast.” Dean said.

Damon passed a few to Sam before sitting back down on the couch.

I snatched a few papers from him and leaned back. Dean reached over and took a couple out of my hand.

“Whoa... wait.” I said, sitting up. “I don't know about you guys, but I've got two of the victims here that their families said the only thing strange or out of the ordinary that happened in the days leading up to their deaths was they mentioned seeing a young girl.”

“Yup.” Dean said. “I've got that here too. Coincidence?”

“Nothing is ever a coincidence...” I sighed.

“What appears as a young girl?” Damon said.

“Acheri.” I answered, still skimming the papers I had in my hand.

“What the hell is archeri?” Dean asked.

“It's a special type of demon that exists as a young girl. They can shape shift, become invisible...” I explained.

“Oh, great.” Dean said sarcastically.

“Guess we start with some of the family members.” Sam said with a sigh.

“El, you can go and work your womanly magic first thing in the morning.” Damon said.

“I'll go with her.” Dean told him.

“Think I can't handle a little Q&A?” I laughed as I poured myself another glass of tequila.

He smiled. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Right. Guess I better call Reid back and have him fax me some fake badges for you two. We'll laminate them, I think we have some clips and everything here too. I'm pretty sure we had to make fake CDC badges last time we were here.” I told him, pulling out my cellphone.

“El, my stomach is growling. Can you make some of that shrimp-chicken-whatever-it-was fettuccine alfredo like you did in San Fran?” Damon asked, putting on a puppy dog face.

“I guess. I'll have to go to the store.” I sighed. “Y'all need anything?”

“I'll just ride along, if that's okay.” Dean said.

I nodded. “Lemme go change real quick.”

I got up, sitting my glass down on the table. Grabbing my bag that laid by the front door, I turned back towards the boys.

“I can show you guys your rooms if you want.” I said, beckoning them towards the stairs.

“I'll take our bags up, Sammy.” Dean said, getting up.

Dean grabbed their bags and started up the stairs behind me.

“Oh, El!” Damon called.

“What?” I said, taking two steps back down to poke my head around to see him.

“Please don't wear the black dress.” Damon pleaded.

“I'm not. That dress is history.” I promised.

“Thank God.” he muttered, pouring himself another shot.

As we got on the second floor landing, I pointed to the room across from the one I had deemed two years ago as mine. “You can take that one or the one next to it. The bathroom is the last door on the right, towels are in the closet in there. If you need anything, I'm just across the hall.”

Dean smiled, “Thanks.”

I nodded and turned the door knob to my room. Just as I was about to shut the door, Dean spoke.

“Hey.” Dean said.

“Yeah?”

“What's the black dress?” he asked.

I laughed. “If you're lucky, maybe I'll show you one day.”

“Guess I better be on my best behavior.”

With that, I shut the door. I dropped my bag onto my bed and unzipped it.

Ten minutes later I sat on the edge of the bed, slipping on my black pumps. I had decided to just go casual since I was just going to the grocery store. Plus, I didn't want to here Damon gripe about how long I took getting ready to go get food for the house. I hated to admit it, but I did usually take a long time getting ready.

I took one last glance in the mirror. My faux leather shorts and Nirvana t-shirt with the sleeves cut off went well together. I had made sure I got the t-shirt from a boyfriend in San Francisco a couple months back before we left town and I ended it. What can I say? I loved the shirt.

Walking down the stairs, I found Dean and Sam in the living room. Sam had his nose stuck in a small notebook, rummaging through it's contents so intently he never even noticed I entered. But Dean did. He looked up from his glass of liquor as soon as I came into view of the steps. His hazel eyes burned into me.

“Ready?” I asked.

“Been waiting on you, sweetheart.” He replied, standing up.

“I'll drive.” I said, picking up my purse and keys.

“If you say so. Sammy, need anything?”

Sam looked over the book at his brother. “Yeah, get some bananas.”

“Weirdo.” Dean mumbled.

“Let Damon know we'll be back shortly.” I told Sam as I opened the door.

He nodded.

I slipped into the driver seat of my car and slammed the door. Turning the key to bring the engine to life, I chanced a glance over at the boy beside me. He sat cockeyed so he was half facing me, his right shoulder propped against the door slightly, staring at me.

“What?” I laughed.

“Oh, nothing.” He said with a smile as I began to pull out. “I just never would've pegged you for the classic muscle car kind of girl.”

“You'd be surprised, Mr. Winchester.” I told him with a wink.

I reached for the CD player and turned it on and grabbed my iPod. As I hit play, the sounds of “Kashmir” began to play. The song was my go-to for solace.

“I won't lie... I think I just got turned on.” Dean laughed.

“Why is that?”

“I'm in a '66 SS with a hot girl and she turns on Led Zeppelin. I'm pretty sure this is how a few of my dirty dreams have started out.” He chuckled.

“You really know how to flatter a girl.” I pointed out.

I didn't risk another glance over at the boy. I was determined not to seem that intrigued by him. He seemed cocky enough as it is. I had dealt with many guys like him before... and the one thing I had learned from my experience is to play coy. But there was something about him that caught my attention. Something he did seem to let on the surface for everyone to see.

The ride to the store was relatively quiet except for Led Zeppelin on the radio. It was nice to have peace for a bit. Something a hunter rarely got.

“So, I have to ask.” he said as I turned into the parking lot of the grocery store.

“Shoot.”

“I don't see how you could date doing what we do.” he said. His voice almost seemed to hold a hint of reluctance to even ask the question.

I sighed as I pulled into a parking spot and cut of the engine.

I rubbed my forehead, trying to think of how to answer the question.

“I...” I began. Sighing again, I continued. “I don't go into anything holding any kind of hope or value in it. It's too dangerous and we both know you can't plan past a month in our lives. Cause God knows if you're still in the same place within a month, something is probably wrong. And I wouldn't call it dating... the word I'd use is 'fling'.”

He nodded. “I know that all to well. So, you told someone about what you do?”

“Yeah, I kind of couldn't lie. He thought I was cheating on him, so he followed me to a place we were trying to get rid of a poltergeist from. Damon was already there and Reid followed me inside and saw us.” I told him. “At first he was kind of freaked out, but finally he was okay with it. And that's when I ran. Seems to be what I'm good at... running from the possibility of there actually being something more than just casual hook ups.”

“You and me both, sweetheart.” he sighed.

“You've told someone before too, haven't you?” I concluded.

I could see it in his eyes when I told him about Reid. It still hurt him. Though I'm sure he'd never admit to it.

“Yeah...” he began. “A few years back. Her name was Cassie.”

“She broke up with you after you told her, didn't she?”

“Yeah.” He looked down after he spoke.

“I'm sorry... that was rude of me. You have to overlook me sometimes, I'm very blunt.” I apologized.

“Who could overlook you?” he said, looking up at me. His smirk returning to his face.

“Right.” I laughed.

Grocery shopping with Dean proved to be a difficult task. I told him when we entered the store we should go ahead and stock up the house for our stay so he could help pick out what him and his brother would like. Every five feet we had to stop and grab some form of junk food. And we spent a considerable amount of time at the bakery section.

“How in God's name are you in such good shape and you eat like this?” I laughed as I watched him examine yet another pie.

“Like what?” he asked, looking at me curiously.

I raised my eyebrows. “You already have two pies in the cart.”

“What? I like pie.” he shrugged.

“And the only thing you've grabbed so far has been junk besides Sam's bananas.”

“No, it hasn't. I've got stuff with nutritional values.” he protested.

“Please,” I began. “Tell me the nutritional values in Cheese Puffs.”

He pondered for a moment before answering with the most serious look upon his face. “Cheese.”

“Oh, good grief.” I sighed. “Pick a pie and let's go. We've been here for thirty minutes.”

“Fine.” he huffed, picking up two more pies and tossing them into the cart.

After making it back home and unloading all the groceries, Damon insisted I go ahead and start cooking. Sam had taken over the desktop computer to use our printer while Damon laid on the couch watching TV, claiming to have a headache and unable to help.

Standing over the stove as I sauteed the shrimp, Dean sat at the small table behind me. Nothing but a glass and a bottle of liquor in front of him.

“Want a drink?” he offered.

“Yeah.” I said, not turning around. “Please.”

“Tequila or that wine you got?” he asked.

I heard his chair scoot backwards as he got up from the table.

“Wine, please.” I said. “The glasses are to the right of the sink.”

I heard the clink of glasses as he pulled one down and the pop of the cork on the bottle of wine. He emerged next to me, holding out the glass. His other hand gently touching my waist for a brief moment.

“Thanks.” I said, looking over at him.

“Need any help?” he offered.

“I wouldn't take you for the cooking type.”

“Well... honestly, I'm not. But I'm sure I can help somehow.” he said.

“Alright. If you don't mind, put the bread in the toaster oven over there. Everything is almost done anyways.” I said, pointing to the counter where I had laid the bread.

“I'm on it.” he said with a nod.

“Is it almost done?” Damon asked, walking into the kitchen. “I swear my stomach is eating itself.”

I looked over at him to see him holding his stomach pathetically. Even though he was older than me and took care of me in many different ways, I had always taken care of him as well. The boy was incapable of cooking, cleaning, doing his own laundry or anything remedial.

“Yeah, almost. Why don't you make yourself useful and put the salad on the table and get some plates down?” I told him.

“I got it, man. Don't worry.” Dean said.

“Awesome.” Damon mumbled before walking back into the living room without another word.

“So, are you guys from here?” Dean asked.

I found his attempt at small talk as funny. But I decided to humor him.

“No. I was born in New Orleans until my family relocated to Tennessee. Damon was born and raised in Tennessee.” I explained.

I turned off the stove and picked up the pot of noodles. Walking over to the sink, I saw Dean out of the corner of my eye. He stood beside the table where he'd sat down the salad bowl.

“Why do you have a house in Ohio then?” he asked.

“My father was a hunter as well. He bought homes that were in foreclosure for cheap all over the place for when he traveled to hunt instead of staying in a hotel. He remodeled and fixed them up.” I told him without looking up from my task.

I poured the noodles into the strainer and shook the excess water out.

“Wow, I bet that was expensive. How many homes does he have?”

“He doesn't own them anymore. Damon and I do. He passed away a few years back. We have twenty-four different houses across the U.S. and four over seas.” I definitely didn't look up after I said this. I hated to see the pity in peoples eyes when you told them you lost a parent. It made me feel like people viewed me as weak, and I know I'm not weak.

“I'm sorry. We lost our parents too.” he said.

I could hear the same sadness in his voice that resided in my own when I spoke of my father.

“My mom's not dead.” I said as I pulled down a large bowl from the cabinet. “When she found out what my father did in his spare time she left him. I was four. She moved back to Ireland. She tried to take me but she knew she would never win against my dad in court. She suffered from mental issues and my father's business booming the way it did afforded him the opportunity to get the best lawyers around... and bribe people. He wasn't exactly the most honest man alive but he did everything in his power to ensure I had anything and everything I needed. But my mother might as well be dead, I never see or hear from her.”

I sighed as I brought the bowl of pasta over to the table. Our eyes met for a brief second.

“You're burning the bread.” I pointed out with a smirk.

“Oh, shit!” he yelped, dashing over to the toaster oven.

“Damn, damn, damn....” he hissed, plucking each burnt piece out quickly. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.” I laughed.

I walked over to the doorway and poked my head in, both Damon and Sam in the same positions they were when I'd began cooking.

“It's ready guys.” I told them.

After the scrambling of four people in a small kitchen and the shit Sam gave Dean for burning the bread, we all settled down around the table like a odd dysfunctional family. Little did I know, that's what we would become.

“So, I was looking up the acheri and Elora is right.” Sam began as he sat down his fork. “It typically appears as a young girl but can change form to trick people. It usually likes to choose someone of important significance to the person.”

“Great.” Dean mumbled through a mouth full of food.

“Did Reid ever send over those badges?” I asked. “By the way, Reid said you guys can use those anytime. His last name is Sullivan. He'll verify you guys anytime you need.”

Sam rummaged in his pocket and pulled them out, already laminated and on clips.

“Sweet.” Dean said, reaching out and taking his from his brother. “This will keep me from getting locked up when they find out we're bullshitting.”

“Great. Dean and I will go interview some of the family members in the morning then.” I nodded.

“Awesome. Let's kill this fucker.” Dean said, holding up his glass. “To the hunt.”

“To the hunt.” We said in unison, clinking our glasses and taking a drink.

Dean leaned back and rubbed his stomach. “Now, where's that pie?”