My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding

Rated:NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them









"They are gloomy, their shadow dark, no light is in their bodies, ever they slink along covertly, walk not upright, from their claws drips bitter gall, their footprints are (full of) evil venom...."

--Thorkild Jacobsen, The Treasures of Darkness: A History of Mesopotamian Religion, p.12

Part II

There was one thing he had learned in all of his years. Those spent with his father before their rift, afterwards when he ran off to Stanford pretending that the shadows in the world didn't exist. Pretending to be normal. These months spent with Dean hunting demons and finding the path his life was meant to take. Accepting that sometimes there really were monsters under the bed and you had to beat them off with a really big axe. Through all this one thing was such a simple and intrinsic part of human nature.

People liked to talk.

Good or bad, malicious or kind, people liked to talk to other people. About other people. Especially about other people. So it was only a matter of finding the right spot and the right people to talk to and information could be sifted through like mining for gold. You had to get through the grit and crap to reach the shiny stuff.

Now Dean hated small towns and he wasn't without some creedence in that dislike, sometimes the ugliest things hid under the cover of small town life. Sam knew that truth swam beneath the layers that made up Flat River, Tennessee but human nature was one constant that could always be relied on. In fact, he was counting on the old rumor mill to answer a few questions for him.

Even under the light of the morning sun, he could see there was something wrong with this place. He tried to figure out what was really bugging him. It nagged along the base of his skull and down the length of his spine like the darkest chill but there was no source other than the instincts he had learned to trust.

Everything in Flat River seemed normal. Sam took his time getting the lay of the town, walked for almost ninety minutes. The old men sitting in front of the local tavern, chewing the shit, as he'd heard more than once. Only the shadows from the buildings seemed just a bit too long. Deeper. Traffic wasn't bad, wasn't slow either. People walked to and from about their business as usual.

No one met his eyes, but maybe that was due to the fact that he was a stranger. One woman, looked to be in her early twenties made the mistake of meeting his gaze straight on and reacted as if she had been jolted with electricity. Stock still, eyes wide, mouth gaping, until she scurried away like a mouse into the building behind her.

Other than that weird incident, it all seemed normal.

"Where are the kids?" He finally spoke aloud. Glancing down at his watch, true it was just eleven thirty in the morning and it was a Friday, so kids would usually be in school this time of day. A quick right turn after the unobtrusive and virtually empty library unexpectedly revealing a small old fashioned school house.

But what about the babies? Toddlers. Where were the mothers pushing strollers along, or dragging a screaming tantrum throwing three year old from the grocery store?

It wasn't just that the town seemed too normal, the absence of youth, the empty look in it's inhabitant eyes made him feel like Flat River, Tennessee was slowly dying. Like it was being slowly drained of life and energy all punctuated by the absence of children.

The rolling knull of the church tower's bell announcing the hour made him flinch unconsciously, and begin walking again before someone started to wonder why the stranger in town was gawking in the middle of the sidewalk.

In small towns when you wanted answers there were a few simple places you could get them. If it had been night, he would have walked into Lenny's Roadhouse, which was situated across the block from the local authorites. Convienent for those rowdy weekend nights he would have said, only there was the feeling that Flat River didn't have many of those too often.

He would have went to the bar and eventually struck up a conversation with one of the waitresses. Maybe taken a few games of pool if the bar had a table, darts would do just as easily. Only it was almost noon and that left him with one place.

Walker's Shop and Save.

It wasn't chauvinstic to know that women were more likely to talk about the incident that had occured in the Flat River Grill. Men needed a few drinks in them before they started gossiping. Only not calling it gossiping. He didn't have the time to wait for that one. The woman, Miranda, looked angry enough to cut and run this afternoon. If they had any chance of protecting her, he needed answers now.

Loping across the street to the store, he held the door open for an elderly grey haired woman going in. Small and almost hunched over from what looked like the early stages of osteoporosis, she tucked her navy wool coat tighter around her and mumbled a thank you. Immediately noticing how she refused to meet his eyes.

A quick trip around the store, and it was practically empty. He had grabbed one of those hand baskets from the front, stuffed in a six pack of beer, some tortilla and salsa, couple of bars of soap, toothpaste, some bottled water and a new bottle of aspirin. His hand was on a pack of multi sized bandages and about to curse a blue streak under his breath when finally he heard something.

Same woman from the door, he noted from the corner of his eye and she was talking to, well wouldn't you know, the wife from the diner. They were huddled together, making him wonder if this was some secret meeting. "Eleanor, you and John Henry are not really going to allow her to take Gabriel are you?" The near whisper held more than a touch of fear. "He is the last Sullivan of Flat River. She can't be allowed-"

"Don't you think I know that Constance?" The bitter retort, had his brows lifting. "I told Darnell about marrying outsiders but that boy was determined," the words broke off with a sniff.

"I'm sorry Eleanor," one knarled hand patted another age spotted one with sympathy, "I know you're grieving something awful."

"He was my boy, my youngest. My last. Sometimes, I just wish," before she could finish her thought Constance cut her off with a sharp shush. The woman glanced around, and Sam just managed to duck behind a large display of Vaseline on special for $1.59. The irony of that didn't miss him because something had been assbanging this town for a while now.

"You know the walls have ears," Constance warned and Eleanor stiffened, taking the Kleenex she used to wipe her nose and dried away her tears. "Let's get you back home before John Henry starts to worry. I'm sure he won't let Miranda leave. He probably sent some of the boys over there just to be certain."

Well fuck.






If Sam wouldn't nag him to death for it, Dean would have tossed the damned laptop across the room about ten minutes ago. Instead he took another deep breath, cursed the slow ass dial-up he was forced to endure and said a silent prayer of thanks that Flat River's newspaper wasn't as archaic as it's motel was.

"For all it's worth," he muttered and drank from the can of Mountain Dew he bought from the machine outside by the ice maker. Hopefully the caffiene and sugar buzz would prevent him from falling asleep during this boring shit. "I don't see how Sam does this."

If he had to read through one more mind numbing account of which cow sold for what price at market he was going to go out, find Preacher man and beat a confession out of him and screw discretion.

Aside from the rather large number of deaths that had occured this month nothing really stood out like a smoking gun. Stroke victim. House fire. Four car accidents. There were three tractor incidents and one particularly interesting instance with a wood chipper. "Looks like Buck fucked Pete up," he grinned.

Someone finally took mercy on him when he hit the last of the obits for this month and found Darnell Sullivan, aged 31, recently deceased of a heart attack. There was even a picture of old Darnell, the adulturer.

Young, bull-neck, barrel chested farm boy. Dirty blond hair combed and slicked ruthlessly back, which made him wonder if his Mama had done it for him. He chuckled silently at the thought, wondered what on earth a woman like the brunette spitfire from the diner this morning had seen in Darnell Sullivan long enough to marry the guy and have a kid with him.

Guy ran a feed store, Dean cringed with a hint of pity not exactly sure if it was for Miranda or Darnell. What guy 31 years old keels over from a heart attack? "Survived by wife Miranda Leigh Sullivan, formerly of Whispering Springs, Maine, aged 28 and son Gabriel Michael Sullivan, aged 5." She had certainly covered her bases with that kid. Couldn't go wrong named after two Archangels.

The cell phone sitting next to his hand rang, and he snatched it up, "Yeah?"

"You need to get over here, like right now."

Dean jerked up from his chair, slamming down the laptop already pulling on his leather jacket and grabbing the Walther 9mm from the bedside table and tucking it in his back. The silver Bowie knife slid easily into the sheath on his ankle. "Where are you?"

"4532 Crescent Lane. I'm at Miranda Sullivan's house. It's near that Church with the bell that keeps ringing. Bring the car man, we've got a potential situation here."

"Sammy you wait until I get there, you hear," he drawled low and nasty, fury building to a slow burn in his belly.

"Two guys just walked into the house and from the conversation I just overheard, this isn't a social call so you better hurry up."






"What can I do for you Earl, Andrew?"

Miranda Sullivan didn't think of herself as a stupid woman. Many people underestimated her. She was short, hitting just under average at 5'3", slender, barely 109 pounds soaking wet. She kept her hair cut short and neat mostly for convienence, knowing it made her look younger than her twenty eight years.

Her husband of ten years had made that mistake, but only once.

So having the Brody brothers show up on her doorstep after making a public spectacle of herself in the midst of the Grill came as no suprise. Two Deacons at the Sullivan church, these men were her late husband's best friends. Her in-laws, trusted parishoners. And all around bullies in really crappy fitting suits.

The second her doorbell rang, she sent Gabriel up to his room to play not wanting these two within easy reaching distance. She wouldn't put it past either of them to shove her to the side and drag her child from the house and over to the Sullivans and claim it was for his own protection. It wasn't like anyone would disagree or fight for her.

She had been in the middle of packing some things for them to leave town before nightfall. The last thing she wanted was to be here in Flat River when the sun went down. She knew too much and now that Darnell was dead, she was a liablilty. Sitting around wasting time with the idiot Brody brothers, in a living room that had long since made her skin crawl was cutting into her plans.

"Well," Earl spoke up, the eldest of the two. That comb over did nothing to conceal the rapidly receding hairline and made an already aged face look even more haggard. "I think you know exactly why we're here. You've been spouting some nonesense about leaving town with little Gabriel and well Reverend Sullivan thought you might do to talk to some of Darnell's friends."

"We're family here," Andrew sat forward in his chair his pants skimming tight up his legs, purposely cracking the knuckles of his ham fisted hands. "And family looks out for each other. Especially little Gabriel. He's like my very own nephew, Miranda."

"I don't see you ready to saddle little Eddie up for the show, do I Andrew." Both men at least had the grace to look ashamed. She might not have been able to do anything about the happenings of this town, but that didn't mean she was blind to what was going on. Not anymore. "Real easy to follow John Henry's orders when it's not really your blood. At least not this time anyway." She pinned them with a hard glare, "How is Anne doing these days now that Frank is gone?"

Anne had taken the postion at the Grill with her at the beginning of the month now that Frank was dead. Stroke her ass. How could these two sit here and condone what had been done to their own brother?

"Look," Earl stood, probably trying to be menacing, "Why don't you just let us take Gabriel back to the house and you can just take off. You never did belong here anyway, Darnell was wrong to bring you here."

Miranda jerked to her feet as well, stepping right in his face, seething with rage. "Do you honestly expect me to just hand over my child to you murdering bastards and leave? Have you finally lost the remaining dregs of your sanity?"

Andrew rose slowly, coming up behind her, boxing her in between their two hulking bodies. "Don't make this more difficult than it has to be."

"Or what, you'll kill me? You'll kill me while Gabriel is upstairs and drag him away from his mother's dead body?"

"Gabriel has a destiny to fulfill."

"Fuck you, fuck this ridiculous destiny and fuck Delilah!" By the time the last of the words left her mouth, she was beyond furious. The fist that struck out was fast, much faster than Darnell's could ever have been catching her in the jaw with such force that white lights danced before her eyes. She would have fallen back but Andrew grabbed her arms in a punishing grip.

"You should have just listened," Andrew said softly and she might have acknowledged the regret in his voice if he wasn't holding her down and ready to let his brother beat her to death.

The second fist hit her so hard, something snapped painfully in her head. Reacting purely on instinct, she braced against Andrew's stiffened form, striking out with both feet catching Earl in the groin. Her vision cleared enough at his howl of agony to see him drop to his knees clutching his balls as if that would somehow relieve the blistering pain.

Before Andrew could react, she kicked out again, the heel of her sneakered foot connecting perfectly with Earl's nose and sending him backward to the floor. His head slammed against the hardwood floor with a nauseating crack. "Let me go!" she screamed, "Damn it, let me go!" Struggling against his grip was damned near useless but she was hoping that he wouldn't take up where his brother had left off.

Right now her head was spinning, blood was dripping from her nose and quite frankly she was going to pass out soon.

"The lady said let her go."

The husky voice sounded from behind her just as the door swung open and into the wall, halting her struggles for the moment. Judging from those guns aimed in their direction, she had just leapt out of the frying pan and into the fire. Two men stepped under the threshold, the first not as tall as the other, but his hard eyes were deadlier. Black spots were bluring her vision, but she could hear the quick patter of footsteps on the stairs clearly.

"Mama," came the tentative voice, and the tall one in back, quickly put away the gun in his hand turning toward the stairs.

"Gabe, run back upstairs, right now!"

But it was too late, for seconds later, that tow head peaked around the banister, dark eyes wide with fear. Dressed in the same dark jeans and sweater intended for warmth and comfort on the road, Gabriel had put on his sneakers just like she told him, but the strings were loose. The endearing sight made her heart clench because in this moment she would have done anything to keep him safe and never had she felt so damned useless.

"Mama, what's wrong, why were you screaming?"

"Gabe you listen to Mama and go back upstairs right now!"

"Hey Gabriel," Andrew spoke genially from behind her, but didn't loosen the death grip on her arms. "It's your Uncle Andrew, won't you come here for a second."

"NO!" the screamed reply came from her and the tall man who held up both of his hands in entreaty.

"Uncle Andrew," Gabriel gave a tentative smile. Of course he would trust them, these were his father's friends. He paused, looking down at Earl on the floor, then his eyes widened as he saw her face for the first time and the fact that she was straining against Andrew. "What happened to your face Mama?"

"Baby, go back upstairs."

"Better yet," the man still holding his gun, spoke again, the quiet cock proving that he meant business. "Why doesn't Uncle Andrew there pick up his friend and take a walk, so Mama can get something for her nose. Isn't that right Uncle Andrew," his voice was hard and uncompromising, "Wouldn't want the kid to see his mother hurt, would you?"

Andrew seemed to weigh his odds for the longest moment, then the hold on her arms released as he stepped away. Before he had the opportunity to change his mind, she ran over to Gabriel, watching as Andrew pulled a barely conscious Earl to his feet and together they shuffled toward the door.

The man kept that gun trained on both men, until the door closed behind them and finally he lowered it to his side. "Check to see if they're gone," he told the other one who went to the window, pushing aside the curtain to look out. When the rumble of a car engine started then eventually faded away he let the curtain fall back in place and nodded.

"Are you okay ma'am?" The tall one's voice was kinder and the anger in his eyes was muted with concern. He had a nice face, sandy brown hair, wore a short leather jacket unzipped to reveal a flannel shirt and dark henley beneath. Lanky, she would have called his build but she had no doubt he could handle himself.

Yet it was the other who strangely enough held her complete attention. Short cropped hair, handsome face, full sensual mouth. An open leather coat, jeans and a black shirt displayed a nice body. Wide shoulders, loose hipped stance and that arrogance was unmistakeable. Her eyes caught the red healing scar around his neck, went back to his eyes and noted how haunted they seemed. Whatever had happened to him, it still rode him but from the glint in those eyes, he didn't allow it to chain him.

"I'm fine," she answered quickly, tightening her grip around Gabriel and ignoring the heated sensation that lit in her stomach. "Not that I'm not grateful, but what are you doing bursting into my home?"

"Guess you wouldn't buy pizza delievery man," came a sarcastic reply as he slipped his weapon beneath the leather coat he wore. A small grin touched her mouth briefly before she pushed it away. "Name's Dean Winchester, this is my brother Sam."

"And that didn't answer my question." Slender arms tightened around her waist, reminding her that her son was present and probably confused and terrified. Seeing as these two could have killed her by now if that had been their intent she said, "I'm Miranda Sullivan. This is my son Gabriel."

"Look Miranda," the tall one, Sam he had been called, said gently, "I know this is going to sound," he paused and looked around and finally settled on, "Strange, but my brother and I mean you no harm. We're here to help you."

"Really," she lifted a shoulder in disbelief, "And why would you want to help me?"

"Because we have reason to believe that you and your son are in danger."




"Well, you think?"

Her rusty chuckle reached down and tugged hard at something that lay dormant in his chest for a long time now. Damn, a few feet away she was something else. Even with that bruise flaming red on her face and blood trailing from her nose. It wasn't just arousal, hell that was easy, a pretty face, a hot body and bam he was ready to ride and that's where she was a step apart. This wasn't just sexual attraction he was feeling.

This was pull and that was off limits in his life.

"I think we should maybe let you clean up a bit," Sam nodded, in that consoling voice of his. Dean could see her already responding to it, trusting, calming down and that was exactly what the situation needed. Only those dark eyes kept flicking back to his, holding for several seconds longer than wise.

"I'd prefer to get out of here like I planned," she shook her head in disagreement. "Look, you two probably mean well, but you have no idea what's going on in Flat River and I'm not about to stick around long enough to help you figure it out."

Well, that wasn't a good idea and judging from the look on Sam's face he was thinking the exact same thing. If some kind of demon was after her, the last thing Miranda needed to do was run off in the night with her son with nothing for protection but her courage.

"Maybe you could come back to the motel with us first," Sam purposely glanced down at his watch, "We could talk there and if you're still determined to leave, then you'll be close to the highway."

"No," she insisted, "I'm out of here before sundown."

"So whatever is after you can catch you on the road instead," Dean interrupted coldly. He wouldn't say much in front of the kid, but she needed to understand the importance of the situation and not concentrate solely on the fear.

"Dean," Sam cautioned but he just ran right over that.

"We don't have time for this Sam and she needs to get it, right now."

"I get a lot more than you could possibly understand," she spat back, body tensed and ready to argue.

"Mama, are we going somewhere?"

The tenatively asked question seemed to pull her back and she pulled the boy in front of her, brushed a loving hand down his cheek. He was a cute kid, minature version of the woman before him, except for that hair, probably got that from his father. "Yeah, sweetie, we're going on a trip tonight." She kneeled down and adjusted the front of his dark green sweater. "Look, why don't you run upstairs for Mama and this is what I want you to do. You know when we pack a bag when we go to visit Grandma and Grandpa?"

He nodded eagerly and she gave him a shaky smile in return, "I need you to pack your things up okay, just like always. A few toys, your favorite Hot Wheels Cars book and Charlie your teddy bear."

"Can I bring my crayons and coloring book too?"

"Sure you can," she agreed, "Make sure you get your Gameboy, those games and the adapter."

"But Grandpa doesn't like it when I play with my Gameboy."

"Well, we're not going to Grandpa's tonight. Just you and me, alright? Now go on and scoot. I'm going to make us a lunch and then we're going to leave okay?"

"Okay," he turned and rushed up the stairs at her nudging. Miranda rose and turned to leave without another word.

"Look," Sam tried but she had already disappeared down the hall. They gave each other a long look then started after her. Found her in a bright yellow kitchen standing in front of the refridgerator. "Mrs. Sullivan," Sam tried again, "We really need to talk to you."

"Then you'll have to talk while I'm doing this," she started piling food on the counter, cheese and ham, condiments, "Otherwise, you need to get out of my way."

"So that demon can come and kill you and your boy while you're driving tonight?"

He hadn't meant to put it so bluntly, but he had figured by the fear in her eyes, that she probably knew something about what was going on in this town. She couldn't have lived here, raised a child here and not noticed something was wrong with Flat River.

Miranda had stopped mid-slam of a large bottle of apple juice on the counter. That broken look on her face made his stomach clench fierce, but at least they were getting somewhere now.

"I don't," she stopped, shook her head again, "If you have any idea, I'd suggest you climb right back into the car you arrived in and get the hell out of dodge while you still have the chance. You're Delilah's type, right down to that cocky ass attitude."

"Who's Delilah?" Sam asked quickly, dragging her eyes back to him.

"You acted as if," she paused, frowning at them, "Okay, cards on the table now, who the hell are you two?"

"It's just like he said, I'm Sam Winchester and that's my brother Dean?"

"And what are you two doing in Flat River? Are you cops or something?"

Dean couldn't resist the snort of laughter, "Lady if you had any idea."

"Look," Sam cut him off with a pointed stare, "I know this is going to sound insane, but I'm guessing not too insane judging from the way you're trying to get out of here."

"And why would you think that?"

"Because fear of some old Preacher and his wife wouldn't put that kind of terror in your face," Dean answered back.

"John Henry Sullivan is no Preacher," she snarled, finally slamming the bottle in her hand down. "He is no man of God after the things he has done and that is no church." She took a deep breath and released it forcefully, "But you're right, they aren't what I'm running from."

"Dean and I, we," Sam trailed off with a look of discomfort.

"We hunt demons," he filled in quickly, "Sammy here had a vision that some demon was going to kill you tonight and take your boy."

"Dean!"

"What?" He grimaced with annoyance, "This is getting us no where!"

"You could show a little more tact."

"Tact will get her killed," he shot back, "We don't have time to spare her feelings."

"You're right."

"What?" They both asked in unison, turning back to her face. Unless he was mistaken that was relief gleaming in her eyes.

"I said you're right." A shaky breath exploded from her lungs and she looked like she had released the last of her strenght along with it. Before her legs could fold under her, he went to her, pulled her into his arms. It hit him just like he knew it would. They looked at each other for a moment in silence, he watched those dark eyes deepen. There it was again. That pull.

Sam cleared his throat noisily and he licked his lips. "Yeah, let's get you a seat. Sam, get a towel so we can clean her up." He helped her over to the table into a chair and pulled the other in front of her. Sam pushed a wet dishcloth into his hands and he began cleaning the blood from her nose and mouth.

"Ouch," she flinched when he pressed a bit too hard, but her voice was husky with awareness.

"Sorry about that," he tried for comfort, and even to his ears it came out hungry and strained.

"So you hunt demons," she asked him finally, "What brought you here to Flat River?"

"Sammy's stomach," he said dryly and she managed a weak chuckle. "You ready to tell us what you know before your boy comes running into the room again?"

Miranda nodded, that strength coming back into her eyes, damned if that didn't just bury itself right in his chest and take up residence. "Yeah. Let's see, I met Darnell in Atlantic City. I was on vacation with some friends, he was there with Earl and Andrew."

"The two assholes that just left?" he asked and she laughed again.

"Yeah, that's them. Anyway, I don't know, I fell hard for him. Just looking at Darnell, I really didn't understand why, but next thing I knew, we were getting married and headed back here to Flat River." She rolled her eyes and took the towel from his hands, pressing it back to her lip. "Stupid, I know. So damned stupid, but I didn't realize it until now that it was all Delilah's doing."

"Who's Delilah?"

"Pure evil," she said softly and not without fear. "She's evil, I don't even know if she's human but whatever the hell she is, she's evil."

"Have you ever seen her?"

"Only twice, the first time was when she came to Gabriel's christening. She wanted to hold him, but I knew just from looking at her that I didn't want her near my son. Made a big fuss too, right there in the church and refused to back down. Embarassed the hell out of Darnell and his parents. The guests all looked at me in shock but she wasn't touching my son, no matter how angelic she looked."

Sam leaned back against the counter, "What did she look like."

"Sex," her next laugh was filled with bitterness, "I know how that sounds, but that's what I think of when I see her. Long honey blonde hair, big doe blue eyes, big breasts, tiny waist, kinda like a Jessica Rabbit clone. Had on this innocent pink sundress and sandals and still managed to look like she was ready to climb in to bed with some man. But even with all that, I could just feel the evil."

Dean watched her lick her lips and turn those eyes on him, he really didn't need this right now. As if reminding himself of that was really helping? "I asked about her, not to Darnell or his parents, just some people around town. Everyone is terrified of her. If you even say her name, they clam up tight and you can just smell the fear. It's all around Flat River, choking this town to death."

"How long until you saw her again?"

"A few weeks ago. You would think considering how small Flat River is, I would have seen her before then. I think Darnell was making sure our paths didn't cross. Anyway, I was out at the gas station filling up my tank and I watched her pick up this guy, looked a lot like Darnell, same body type, different colored hair. Then there was the rumor about the noises out at the Motel, and the fact that boy just disappeared, despite the fact that John Henry had just married them."

"Married?" The word shot from Sam like a bullet and even he was confused. They had never heard of a demon participating in a religious ceremony.

"That's what you don't understand, what I didn't understand until it was too late to back out. John Henry isn't a real Preacher, at least he doesn't serve any God that I put my faith in. That church, isn't a church and Delilah isn't human. I know that because," she broke off, eyes filling with tears and spilling over onto her cheeks, "I know because no human being could have done to Darnell and left what was left upstairs in our bed."

"I'm sorry," Sam immediatley offered.

"I'm not crying over Darnell, our marriage has been over for a long time. It's just been impossible to get out of Flat River. Everyone obeys the Sullivans and with Gabriel, they all keep me under constant watch and there is no way in hell I'd leave my son, so I've been stuck here. Despite my anger with Darnell, he didn't deserve to die like that."

She ran a shaky hand through her hair, "Earl and Andrew cleaned up after Delilah killed Darnell because John Henry made them, but I haven't been back in there since then. Could barely stand to live in this house, but I knew if I pushed too hard that they would try to take Gabriel from me. I've been putting aside money for about a year now so we could get away and I had to play along so no one would suspect anything."

Dean took both her hands into his and squeezed, knowing this next question was going to be damned difficult for her to answer, "Can you tell us what you saw?" It was the only way to know for sure, though, he already had an idea of what they were dealing with.

"I came home with Gabriel from one of his friend's birthday party. It's was dark out, a little after nine because I stayed and helped Felicia clean up. The house was dark when I came in but Darnell's car was out front and that made me worry. So I sent Gabriel to his room and when I went into our bedroom," she broke off, closing her eyes and a violent tremor shook through her slender body. "There was blood everywhere," she started in a whisper, as if afraid of who might overhear, "And Darnell was on the bed, naked. Or whatever was left of Darnell."

"Dean," Sam started but he shook his head.

"See I knew, Anne's husband, Frank, he had died a few weeks before. Darnell claimed it was a stroke but Anne had been mumbling about him sleeping around and for the longest time after the funeral she had this cold empty look in her eyes. And I finally, understood what was going on. What John Henry was condoning right here in Flat River. I know you can't diganose a stroke but Frank was twenty five, healthy. After Darnell, every suspicous death began adding up."

"Look," Sam began again, "We should get back to the hotel, we're sitting ducks right here and I'm sure when Earl and Andrew went back empty handed it wasn't recieved well."

"He's right," Miranda agreed, releasing his hands, "I need to pack up and get out of this house right now."

When she went back to packing up food, Sam caught his eyes and murmured, "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded coldly. One thing for sure, there was no way in hell he was letting Miranda and Gabriel Sullivan out of his sight. "I think we've got ourselves and old fashioned succubus on our hands."