The rating is due to language and sexual situations. (It might be 'M' just to be on the safe side.)

Author's note:

Hello! My first work ever posted! Yay! It was supposed to be a one-shot... but it got so long that I chopped it in two. The second half should be coming out in a few days, as soon as I finish and edit it. I have no beta, so all mistakes are my own error. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome. Anyways, on with the show!

The typical disclaimer that no, sadly I do not own these characters.

A Different Perspective

Chapter 1: Jared's Perspective

Jared Mclean was sitting at his desk filling out paperwork for the string of corpses that had been coming into the coroner's when the federal agents walked in. He glanced up from writing and watched the agents look around. When they spotted him through the window in his office, they walked over and knocked on his door. He beckoned them in and motioned that they sit.

They were both fairly tall, and wore crisp, black suits with different coloured ties. One was taller than the other, and had longer brown hair that fell slightly into his face in bangs. Jared wondered if it was too long for dress code. The other agent had shorter brown hair and intense green eyes. They looked quite young to be FBI agents. Maybe they were the prodigy of their training group or some high up's sons.

The shorter one spoke up first, "Hello. I'm Agent Philip Torres and this is my partner Agent Michael Watson."

They both pulled out their FBI badges from a pocket inside their jackets in sync, in one smooth motion. They put them away with the same smooth grace. Jared nodded and he continued, "We're here about the three bodies that have turned up."

He glanced up, and Jared looked into green eyes, and realized that that was an invitation for him to start talking.

"Well, I'm Jared," he started as he stood up, "The first body showed up about two weeks ago."

Jared started walking out the door of his office, with the two agents trailing behind him as he continued his explanation, "The second body turned up about five days ago, and the third body just a couple days ago."

Jared flicked on the lights as he walked into the body storage room. Inside, it was all sterile metal surfaces, the floor, the wall of drawers, and the large operating table. He walked over to the drawer that contained the first body.

"I hope you're not squeamish," he commented as he pulled it open. He rolled it out, displaying the white sheet covered body.

"The cause of death is an animal attack," Jared said as he pulled back the sheet to the corpse's ankles.

The corpse was male, and fairly tall. He had blond hair, but the most eye-catching thing about him was his wounds. His chest was torn open, exposing his organs, but even those had claws marks on them. There were gashes on his legs and arms as well. There were bruises on his hips and around his wrists. Jared really didn't like this case. Something was weird about it, and he wondered if the agents would ask about it. They were carefully looking over the body, and seemed to have no qualms about the body being gruesome. Jared didn't miss the glance that passed between the two partners. The taller one gave a small nod before turning to Jared.

"What about these bruises?" He asked, lifting one of the man's wrists.

So they had noticed. The agents were very observant, and didn't seem put off by the least at viewing the man's slaughtered remains. Jared paused. What could he tell them? The facts were bizarre themselves...

"We don't know," he finally concluded, "They look to be in the shape of a human hand print, but that would be crazy right?"

He glanced back and forth between Agent Torres and Agent Watson. They stared back, their expressions neutral.

Agent Torres spoke up, "Is there anything... weird about this body? Anything strange that you found?"

He watched Jared closely as he waited for an answer. Jared shifted his weight for a moment considering telling them. They would think it's crazy though. But, solving this mess was their problem he reflected. Then, he wouldn't have to solve it or worry about it.

"Well," Jared started, speaking softly, "There appears to be hand print shaped bruises on his wrists and hips. On top of that, he was raped before he was killed."

He watched them as he talked, and once again they shared what seemed like an important look. Jared was just glad they didn't laugh or scoff at him. He wondered what they thought about the facts. The agents stopped their little staring contest and turned to him.

"Thank you. So what is the victim's profile?" Agent Watson asked.

Jared pulled the sheet over the corpse once again, and slid the drawer shut.

"That was Mark Romeyn and he was 18. He was found in the forest near Brooks Meadow Park."

Jared looked back at the agents, and they both seemed deep in thought.

"What was his address? Do you have it?" The longer haired one asked.

Jared sifted through some files in a cabinet off to the side of the room before pulling out one. He held it up to the agents.

"Did you want me to make a copy of it? It has all the information about Mark."

"That would be really helpful," Agent Watson replied, sounding grateful.

Jared nodded and walked out of the room, to his office where he had a printer. He turned it on, and waited while it warmed up, emitting its 'turn on' sound. He photocopied the file and turned off the printer as he left the room. He fingered the still warm pages and wondered what the FBI agents were making of this mess. As he was walked nearer, he could see them talking quietly and rapidly to each other. He paused for a moment just watching, as his curiosity took over. They were standing close together, and they were completely focused on each other. Occasionally they gestured with their arms as they talked. They both were frowning slightly, their brows wrinkled. He snapped himself out of his kind of creepy watching and walked into the room. He only just caught the tail end of the shorter man's sentence, "...something we don't know of."

A small twitch of the taller man's eyebrow had the Agent Torres glancing over at him and stepping back from Agent Watson. Jared pretended not to notice their interaction and handed the photocopy to Agent Watson, who was closer to him. He put the original file away and paused. He turned around and said, "I'm guessing you would like the other files on the other victims?"

A slightly tight looking smile from Agent Watson was all the answer he needed. He started rooting through the cabinet again, looking for both files. Once he found them he started from the room again saying, "I guess you can ponder the mysteries of the universe until I get back."

He quickly photocopied the files, wanting to eavesdrop again. He wanted to know their thoughts on the problem, but knew it wasn't in his place to ask. So he hurried back down the hallway and glanced in the window. He was disappointed to find that, even though they were talking, they kept glancing up to check if he was coming. So much for his plan. He walked in, and once again handed the files to the taller agent. He carefully filed the papers away.

"Did all the victims die the same way? Same bruises? Were all of them raped?" The shorter one spoke up this time. Jared replied with an affirmative as he put the files in their original place in the drawer.

"Were all the victims male and around the same age?" The taller agent asked.

"Yes. Would you like to see the bodies?" Jared replied.

"That would be best." Agent Torres answered.

So Jared showed them both of the bodies. The second victim was Tyler Jackle, age 19. He too was ripped open by something with claws and teeth. This time, Jared watched the agents study the body. They were very thorough. They lifted his hands, looked at the fingernails, looked at the bottom of his feet, and studied his wounds pretty closely. They even looked in his mouth at one point. For what, Jared didn't know. They did the same routine with the third body as well, Simeon Johnston.

By the time Jared had rolled all the bodies back in their cooled storage, the agents had very perplexed looks on their faces. They kept exchanging looks, which Jared took to notice, seemed their form of silent communication. They thanked him for his time as they left. He was mildly surprised. He had gotten less than that from other FBI agents. These ones hadn't been very bad at all. Some of the agents he had had to deal with were complete dicks; rude to him, uncaring of how hard he had worked, or making him stay overtime just to please them.

He was quite curious about these agents for sure. So they were good at their job from what he could tell. Maybe he had been right about them being the prodigies. He couldn't quite figure out how well they got along and communicated though. From his experience, people only got that good at deciphering looks when they had worked together all their lives. Those agents looked far too young for that. And yet, they seemed to be talking with out actually saying anything out loud. He also wondered at what they had seen to make them not even flinch or cringe at such mauled bodies.

He pondered them as he wiped down the storage room one last time before going back to his paperwork.

A new body was brought in on Wednesday, matching the three other victims that had been found. As Jared stored the corpse away, he guessed that the agents would be back. He was right. They strode in, not half an hour later, looking for all the world like they belonged there. He wondered where they got their confidence from. As they walked towards him, he looked out the window and couldn't help but notice the car they had just gotten out of, wasn't a cruiser or any other company vehicle. It was a long, black car. It looked old, back when cars were built big, not compact. That couldn't be company policy right? How had they managed to get that one past their bosses?

"Jared," They both nodded to him as they stopped in front of him.

"So, the new body? Right this way," Jared replied as he headed once again to the cold storage.

He pulled the drawer out and the agents stepped forward, on either side of the corpse. The sheet was pulled back to expose the latest kill. He was quite short and young, though he had quite an unattractive face. His chest was torn open, same as the other victims. As the agents studied the body, Jared walked over to the cabinet and pulled out the file right away; he had guessed they would want it.

"You want this one too?" He waved the file over his head.

"Yeah," the Agent Torres said absent mindedly as he studied the corpse.

As Jared photocopied the file, he wondered how people could do this for a living. It was so boring and dull, doing the same thing day after day, just photocopying pages. He returned fairly quickly, dodging a few of his co-workers in the hall. He wasn't even trying to approach the agents quietly, but he managed to enter the room and hear their last sentence with out even trying to eavesdrop.

"...go back and research like there's no tomorrow."

They both glanced up when they heard him enter. He gave them the file and put away the original properly. When he looked up, Agent Watson was looking over the paper and Agent Torres was covering the corpse back up again.

"Thank you," they nodded to him and left. He rolled back the corpse and locked it up again. He glanced at the clock and was glad to see he had a break now. It would be nice to fit in a smoke before he had to fill in more paperwork. He hated paperwork; it was so time consuming and dull. He slipped his keys in his pocket and walked to his office, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He shut the drawer again and gave his small office one last look.

It was a pretty dull office. It had a wooden desk in the back corner with his computer sitting on it, paper strewn over the rest of the surface. Two chairs were set up in front of his desk, facing it. He never had many people sitting in his office though. A few generic pictures hung on the wall, probably some small-time painter who sold lots of prints. A small office water cooler stood in one corner near the door, half full. A filing cabinet stood in the other door, and Jared shuddered, thinking of how much paperwork he had completed and filled it with. Why couldn't he have chosen a job with less of it? He clicked off the lights and shut and locked the door as he walked towards the back exit which led to a back alley. Perfect for a smoke break.

He wound his way through the halls and past co-workers' offices until he came across the door which had an exit sign over it. It was situated next to the bathrooms. He pushed open the door and stepped out onto the steps outside. It was a cloudy day, in between cold and warm. The back alley ran both ways until it hit main streets farther down. There were a couple of other doors along the way and a few grungy dumpsters. There was lots of litter and it smelled like urine and old garbage or food waste. Jared didn't mind it though. He got lots of privacy out here and lots of time to think. He pulled out a cigarette and lit up, puffing out his first breath of smoke. He could almost feel the effect instantly. He felt calmer and his thoughts seemed more organized and focused. He loved the effect that smoking had to his thoughts. He felt that he was smarter after the first puff.

As he stood smoking and relaxing, he faintly heard voices. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he walked down the steps and toward a second alley way that connected to the one he was on. He peaked around the corner and was surprised to see Agent Torres and Watson talking, standing behind a dumpster, out of sight from the main road.

"Sam, we can research later. Right now, why don't we go back to our hotel and..."

"Dean no, we're on a job. Let's go to the library. The sooner we find out what this thing is, the better," The tall agent said stubbornly, as he folded his arms across his chest.

Jared's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Didn't they introduce themselves as Philip and Michael...? Why were they calling each other different names? His mind raced through many possibilities. Maybe Sam and Dean were nicknames? But they had nothing to do with their original names. Maybe those were their middle names and they preferred to be called that? But that theory seemed way out there. They couldn't... No... Could they possibly have fake IDs...? Jared had seen many spy movies, and that seemed to be a popular reoccurrence, but no one really did that in real life, right? All the possibilities that Jared could think of seemed far-fetched and impossible.

"All work and no play makes Sam a very dull boy..." The shorter agent taunted. When that didn't work, he tried again. "Aw, come on Sammy. You look so hot in your suit..." Agent Torres sidled closer to the other agent, before pressing his body against the other man. He leaned his face in, just inches apart before he kissed him softly.

Jared's eyebrows shot up in surprise. So that was what their relationship was... That might explain how they could communicate so well and always seemed to know what the other was thinking. Well, he certainly wouldn't have pegged them as gay; they could probably get any girl they wanted. This was certainly unexpected...

"Besides, it's your fault for teasing me this morning," He said, his lips just inches from the taller man's. Agent Watson snorted, but unfolded his arms nonetheless. Agent Torres paused a moment before crushing their lips together and wrapping his arms around the other agent. The man held off for a few seconds before he was kissing him back just as hard. Agent Torres pushed the other man against the wall and pinned him there with his body, kissing him frantically. The taller man made a sound of protest, and when the one with the shorter hair started attacking his neck he spoke, "Dean n-not against this wall. It's filthy!" But he was ignored, and as the man pinning him there did something, he moaned softly and didn't put up any more resistance. Their mouths crashed together again and hands were everywhere, running up and down arms and shoulders, tugging on hair, and rubbing down backs. When they broke apart, they stood panting, just staring at each other.

Jared couldn't help feel uncomfortable. He should stop watching right? Duck around the corner and finish smoking his forgotten cigarette right? He felt like he was watching some live version of porn, like any minute now, they would attack each other frantically and undress each other. He had never seen a couple look so intense before. Their kissing seemed to have an edge of desperation to it, and it added to the whole odd atmosphere. While he had seen other couples kiss and make out, this was much different. Something about the way these two guys crashed together powerfully, like there was much more beneath the surface or something. And besides, watching two guys make out, that was considered perverted right? Voyeurism right?

"Should we... take this to the hotel?" Agent Watson panted out.

"Mmm... yes," The other agent murmured, but he attacked the other man's mouth and pressed his thigh between his legs, not making any move to continue this somewhere else. The taller one groaned and his hands slid down to cup his lover's ass; a moment later though, he was pushing him away.

"N-no... Dean - no. Hotel," He panted out, trying to hold the shorter man at bay. He just growled and started sucking on his neck. "Deaahhh..." Whatever he was trying to say trailed off in a moan. Agent Torres bit down on the other agent's neck and he squirmed, gasping at the feeling.

"D-Dean, someone... might -ah- see," he tried again, his hands pawing at his shoulders.

"Don't care," came the huffed out response.

"Dean, Dean -Dean!" The taller agent finally pushed his partner away. "You can ravage me all you want at the hotel. Let's just get there okay?"

His partner stood there, looking up and down his form, taking in the now rumpled suit, messy hair, flushed face and swollen lips. He licked his lips before replying, "Fine."

They waited a moment, just watching each other, trying to calm down before they walked towards the entrance of the alley, adjusting their pants.

Jared stared after them, standing there until they were long gone, his mouth agape at what he had just seen. That was... wow. He swallowed and looked at his long forgotten cigarette lying on the ground. He shifted his weight, his mind still lost in his thoughts. So they were going back to their hotel to... Wow. They were on a job too. He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the odd feeling that settled in the back of his throat. He shifted his feet again, and noticed with a sinking feeling that he was kind of aroused, if the churning in his stomach was anything to go by. He turned slowly and walked back to the stairs, his still smoldering cigarette left where it was on the pavement. When he reached them, he fumbled for another one and lit it hurriedly, his fingers shaking slightly. He smoked it faster than he ever had, dropping the butt on the steps and crushing it with his heel. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the time. Wow, he was fifteen minutes over his break time. How long had he been standing there for? He got the keys out of his pocket and got them clumsily into the lock, unlocking the door and stepping through. He had paperwork to do.

Days later and he still hadn't finished the paperwork on the body that was brought in earlier that week. He had been taking as many breaks as he could, even going to the 'bathroom.' He just couldn't focus. All he could think about was what he had witnessed in the alley. Every time he started writing, the scene would dance before his eyes, and he would be left staring into the distance. He signed in frustration and decided at least he should do something to cure his curiosity. He would figure out who those men were. Obviously, there was more to the story than just agents, and he would find out. He had thought about them for days, and every possibility he could think of only made sense if they had fake IDs. He was tired of not being able to concentrate, not to mention that the mystery that was the agents plagued him all day, even at home.

He knew a little about hacking; he had picked it up along the way when he was snooping, satisfying his curiosity in other times, so he knew the basics. He would try running a facial recognition scan with the police data base. If they had any sort of criminal record, it should show up, along with their real names. He closed the paperwork he was supposed to fill out and print off and saved it, before opening one of the programs he had pain-stakingly created.

Once he had it open and running, he needed a picture of the men he was trying to find. He hacked into the FBI database with much difficulty and a lot of time. When he was finally in, he searched through all the pictures and profiles of the agents they had. Hours later and he still didn't have and luck. Where could they be? He had started first by looking at the names they had on their badges, but there was no one by those names in the FBI. By the time he had looked through all the agents, he was positive that those were fake IDs. Who the hell were these men then?

Now he was back to square one, or negative square one since he thought starting with the FBI database had been square one. He opened Google and started typing in their names. Hopefully something would show up. While he was looking for the men online, he didn't notice how late it got. Everyone went home and the janitor had already cleaned up after them. Even he would be leaving soon. Most of the lights were off in the building.

It was purely luck that he stumbled on the picture of the 'agents.' It was on an online blog, and by reading what was written, it seemed to have been written by a girl. There was a picture of them half way down the page in leather jackets leaning against the same black car he had seen earlier. They didn't seem to know that picture had been taken, and they were both smiling slightly. The picture seemed a little old, and by scrolling up he noted that the date on the entry was a couple of years ago. He went back to the top and read the little entry. As he reached the bottom, he was still confused about what he had read. It was a story about how these boys showed up and saved this girl and her family. Throughout the whole story, she didn't mention their names and she was really vague about what they had been saved from. Nonetheless, he was glad the girl decided to post it because he could use the picture. He saved the picture and exited the tab.

He opened his program and selected the chosen photo. The facial recognition created little green squares around their faces and he clicked 'okay.' A few seconds later he started the program. He watched as file names whirred past in the top right corner, faster than he could read. The picture of the men was in the top left corner with blank lines underneath where their names would go. He looked at the column where the number of hits it found were numbered. He watched the number slowly climb, sometimes every once in a while and sometimes in leaps. It took a couple of hours, but when he finally checked back from completing paperwork, it was finished. He sat down and read the screen. He was astounded to find that it came up with 27 hits. He glanced under the picture and found out that the taller man was named Sam Winchester and the shorter one was Dean Winchester. Wait, what? He re-read it to make sure. Yes. Same last name. When he continued reading, he found out that they were brothers.

Jared sat there for a moment, letting it sink it. So... they were brothers, yet they were clearly in a sexual relationship with each other. He had watched them make out for goodness' sake! And then, and then, they went back to the hotel to fuck! He just couldn't believe it. But he had seen proof. He hadn't really thought these things happened any more. In the older centuries sure, there was a lot of 'pure breeding' and marrying cousins, but this was on a whole new level. This was... this was sick! How could they? He was disgusted to be frank. He didn't even know how they could even do that! How could they even get aroused at the thought of their brother?

He didn't know how long he sat there, his stomach churning with slight nausea when he made the mistake of trying to put himself in their shoes. No, he definitely felt uncomfortable even trying to think about his siblings that way. Ugh. Never again. He shook his head and determinedly started reading, trying to get the thoughts out of his head. The brothers had been raised by John and Mary Winchester. Their mother had died at an early age and their father had been missing for at least six years, pretty much presumed dead. So they had had a pretty rough up bringing. The page didn't mention any address where they lived, so Jared assumed they hid out somewhere.

After he had read the basic information on the two, he turned his attention to the 27 hit pages they turned up on. He clicked on one of the first ones, and was greeted with a police report pertaining to the torture and murder of three women. He read the whole report and was amazed to find that Dean was convicted of murdering all three. They caught him red-handed, but he had killed officers and escaped. The last section of the report was what really stunned him. At the last victim's house, they had found him dead, shot three times in the chest. How was that possible? He scrolled down further, and the crime scene photos were attached, from all the victims to the picture of Dean, bloody on the floor. He sat stunned. The report said that everything matched, from the DNA to his fingerprints. How was that possible? Maybe Dean had a twin? But there was nothing in the report or anything. He terribly confused at how Dean was walking around still alive, when a report clearly found him dead. Something strange was going on here...

He clicked another page and found another police report. This one showed that they had been caught and were in custody for a short period of time. Dean was charge with five cases of murder, credit card fraud, grave desecration, and breaking and entry. That was quite the list. Wow. And he was still walking around free how? Jared was kind of scared that people this, this crazy and dangerous were still walking around. What happened to their justice system? To think he had been chatting with him just a couple of days ago with out any clue at what kind of madman he was. He had been curious about him! Watched him make out with his own brother! He took a deep breath before continuing the report. So Sam had escaped and wasn't pursued too hard because he wasn't charged for anything. The file ended saying Sam and Dean escaped with one officer dead in their wake. Wow. Crazy just followed them around. He shuddered slightly and clicked open another page.

He was slightly surprised and partially relieved to find an FBI report. So they did know about them. Hopefully they were working on catching them. He read through the report. The report was very extensive, it summarized the police records he had already found and also had lots of new information on it. He read about them holding up a bank and escaping, even though the bank was surrounded by SWAT teams. Five deaths. Wow. How was that even possible... How did more people not know about the Winchesters? Shouldn't they be on the most wanted list? He continued reading, and got the feeling that the agent assigned to this case was very frustrated. The chase had been leading on for years now. The next bit of the report documented the capture of Sam and Dean. It stated that they tripped a motion sensor in the middle of a robbery. The report also contained the agent's suspicions in the little 'notes' section, about how Sam and Dean were professionally trained, and to slip up with something so easy and simple seemed set-up somehow. Sam and Dean had gone to jail to wait for their trial. A little note on the report jumped out at Jared. There were two deaths in the prison when the brothers were there. He furrowed his brow. It didn't say that the brothers had killed them, but death seemed to follow them around. He opened a Google tab and looked up the prison. He spent a good half and hour surfing sights and reading different articles about the prison. Apparently, before the Winchesters had even arrived, there were a string of deaths there. After they left, there was no mention of any other deaths. Jared stared hard at the screen, trying to will the facts to make sense. It just didn't add up. How on earth did these men even function? What did they do? The real question was how did they get out of prison. From what he read, the prison sounded like it was locked down pretty tight. The brothers must be young Houdini's; how did they get out of their cells, past the numerous guards and cameras and then out of the building and off property on top of all that, without being seen?

Jared flipped back to the FBI report and continued reading about the frustrations of the agent at the escape of the Winchesters. So their lawyer had given them the name of a cemetery three hours before they escaped. Their lawyer was the only one that had talked to them from the outside. That was truly mysterious. Their lawyer had been interrogated and from what she said, she didn't give any information to help them get out. How did they pull it? As Jared continued to the next section, it was about a tip-off from some lady who knew the whereabouts of the brothers. They had caught them in the lady's apartment. They were brought in to the local police station and locked up tight in a cell, handcuffed together. As Jared finished the report, he had to re-read it just to make sure he got it right. The end was obviously finished by a different person than the agent that had written the rest of the report; the wording and language use was different. Apparently a helicopter had been sent to collect them to bring them to the highest security jail they could find. They weren't responding to any calls or radios, and when other police came to check it out in the early hours of the morning, they found the whole place basically obliterated. The helicopter was crashed outside, burning with police officers' bodies strewn everywhere. The police station was a wreck, and when they dragged out the bodies of other officers and Agent Hendriksen, the agent who was assigned to the Winchester case, the body count totaled sixteen. The brother's bodies were not found, but they were presumed dead.

The case had been closed for years before it was opened again, and it was opened with a bloody bang. They had video proof attached of the Winchesters holding up a bank and murdering everyone in the bank vault, smiling and laughing at the camera. The list of places they hit, brutally killing everyone in whatever location they chose, skyrocketed, and it seemed to be completely random. Each time they struck, they would make sure there was video evidence, even going as far as making a victim film their bloody act. It all came to a head in a police station, where they supposedly were caught walking down the street, and were imprisoned. The report ended saying that three officers were killed, and the Winchester's bodies were found shot dead.

Jared leaned back in his chair. The reports simply didn't make sense! Dean had at least died three times if they were to be believed, Sam twice. They even had photo evidence! The report was supposed to shine light on the 'agents' and help everything make sense, but instead it just confused Jared even more. He felt as if he had stumbled into a different world. A contradicting world. Police and especially the feds weren't known for making mistakes or messing up this big. What happened? None of the possibilities that he came up with made a lick of sense, not even in his wildest dreams. And what was with the girl's blog that he read? There was no way Sam and Dean could be portrayed as the good guys in this mess. They had been caught red-handed in a few of the cases. The girl must be insane for sure. One thing was clear though. Sam and Dean Winchester were dangerous and to be avoided at all costs. That, and something weird was going on.

He was still lost in his thoughts when he heard a click outside his office. He looked up and noticed all the lights were out. He glanced at the time on his computer screen. Holy crap! It was two in the freakin' morning? He was amazed; he had sat in his office for hours while time disappeared. He heard another sound that snapped him out of his amazement. It sounded like a footstep. He quietly opened the bottom drawer of his desk, and under a mess of papers, Jared pulled out a .45 caliber M1911 pistol. He clicked off the safety as he walked towards his office door. The only light was coming from his monitor, so he wasn't too concerned about being seen. He pulled open his door and walked silently down the hallway, following the sound of numerous foot steps and click sounds. As he neared the end of the hallway, he could hear quiet voices drifting from around the corner. He peeked around the corner, and could see light spilling from underneath a door. As he neared it, he realized it was the cold storage where they kept all the bodies. He kept out of the light as much as possible and looked through the window.

He froze as soon as he did. Sam and Dean Winchester were inside the room. They were wearing jeans and leather jackets, just like in the picture he had found. They had their backs to the window thankfully. They had two of the victims drawers open and had pulled the sheets back. But how? Jared had the keys. How did they get in the building? It was locked down tight. He continued watching them as they pulled on gloves and got scalpels out. What were they up to? Should he phone the police? They were serial killers... or most likely. He patted his pockets looking for his cell phone. Damn it! Then he remembered. Today would be the day that he dropped it in a puddle outside on his way to work. His rational brain was telling him to walk back to his office and phone the police, but the other part of his brain was saying that he was the one with the gun...

He crouched and ran past the windows to the door on the far side. He peeked in and noticed they were actually cutting into the corpses now. What kind of sickos were they? Their voices were louder now, but the door muffled the words so Jared couldn't understand them. He cautiously wrapped his hand around the door knob and turned it slowly, not making any noise. He slowly pushed it open a crack and their voices spilled through.

"Are you sure Sam?" asked Dean, pausing with his gloved hands inside the corpse's chest, "I mean, it sounds kind of far-fetched, even for us. Who knows, maybe the dragon clawed up the hearts by accident."

Jared stared open mouthed. Did he say dragon? He was making no sense whatsoever. Maybe they were insane. Yeah, that sounded pretty reasonable right about now.

"I'm positive Dean." Sam replied, working his hands in the corpse, doing something that Jared couldn't see. "The research says-"

"I know what the research says. But what if it's wrong?" Dean cut in, doubt clear in his voice.

"When has it been wrong before? At worst, we just check."

"Yeah, and cut up already mauled bodies," Dean muttered.

Jared pushed the door open more, slowly standing up and bringing his gun up from the floor to point at Dean, who was closest. He would bring these insane people in. He would shoot if necessary, but that would be last resort. He slowly stepped into the room, his heart pounding in his chest, while the brothers continued working, or whatever they were doing. Then Dean suddenly gasped. Jared froze and held his breath, thinking he had seen him, but Dean's exclamation proved otherwise, "There are holes in their hearts. There's one in each chamber of the heart, just like you said!"

"Yeah, see told yo-"

Sam turned around unexpectedly and whipped into action when he saw Jared standing in the doorway, gun half raised. Jared's heart kicked into overtime, as he raised his gun the last of the way as fast as he could. The brothers moved so fast that he almost missed the action completely. Sam whipped out a gun from behind him somewhere, and Dean was already reaching for it before he even turned around. Two clicks of safeties and before he could even react, Jared was looking at the muzzles of two handguns pointed straight at him. He forced back a shudder at the cold, hard looks on their faces. Certainly when they realized they knew him, he saw the look soften, but the instant they had spun around, wielding guns, their faces showed that they were prepared to kill in an instant. They wouldn't even hesitate, and it frightened Jared.

"Who are you?" He demanded, trying to sound unafraid and in control.

"Put the gun down," Sam commanded, and Jared noticed that some of the same look he had seen, crept into Sam's eyes.

Jared hesitated. He wasn't in control, as much as he wished that he was. He wanted answers, damn it! But he also knew that they had two guns to his one. He didn't really have a choice. That and the Winchesters' unwavering stares were slightly unnerving, and reminded him that he was caught by two insane, serial killers who were experts at escaping. Great. Just fucking great. He slowly lowered his gun and set it on the ground, not looking away from the brothers the whole time.

"Now kick it over," Dean commanded this time. Jared did as he was told and kicked it over. Dean picked it up. He whistled quietly.

"Wow, well this is a nice gun," Dean looked up from examining it and smiled slightly at Jared. Sam shot Dean a disproving look, and Dean muttered, "Fine."

Jared stared, confused at what just happened. They really could communicate without talking.

"Who are you guys?" Jared spoke up, bringing up his curiosity.

"You already know, Jared," Dean said charmingly, smiling in an almost friendly way, if you ignored the hardness in his eyes and the guns in his hands.

"No, I mean really, Sam and Dean Winchester."

If Jared thought that the use of their real names would startle them, then he was right, and then some. They stiffened, and all pretense of friendliness was gone, and the hard look took over.

"Sam." Dean commanded, and nodded off to the side. Sam nodded in response and went to a olive green duffle bag that Jared hadn't noticed before. He started rummaging through it, and when he found what he was looking for he tossed it to Dean, and kept looking through the bag. Dean caught it, carefully balancing the weapons and the object he had just caught. He clicked the safety on Jared's gun and tossed it to Sam, and then proceeded to unscrew the cap off a silver flask.

"Who sent you?" Dean demanded, his voice cold and menacing.

"W-what?" sputtered Jared.

"Who sent you?" Dean repeated, and his voice became even more intimidating, if that was possible.

"What? N-no on-" Jared was cut off by water being splashed in his face. He sputtered and spit out water, coughing slightly. Dean frowned. He re-capped the flask, and said, "Here," nodding to a chair that Sam procured. He must have gotten it from a different room while Jared was focused on Dean, because there were no chairs originally in the cold storage. He took one look at Dean's glowering face and complied, sitting on the chair. Sam walked up to him carrying rope. Jared flinched but allowed him to tie him to the chair.

"He's not a demon," Muttered Dean. Wait, what? Had he heard him correctly? Demon?

Sam just nodded, and began pulling things out of the bag. Dean clicked the safety back on his gun and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans. Dean leaned forward and slammed his hands down on the armrests and leaned in close.

"Who sent you?" His voice was deadly quiet, and Jared couldn't help but stiffen and lean back.

"N-No one sent m-me. I swear!" He stuttered out. His heart was pounding and he was sweating; he didn't think he had been more scared in his life before. Dean stood up abruptly and stalked off, walking over to the pile that Sam had accumulated from the bag and selecting a knife. Jared swallowed and stared at Dean in terror as he twirled it around.

"Dean wait," Sam said quietly, as he studied Jared carefully. "Don't you think he would have monstered out by now, if he was one?" Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam continued on, "And why would he carry a gun if he was a monster? He wouldn't need it. He's definitely not a Leviathan or an angel either; they act completely different from how he's acting." Sam turned to Dean as he concluded, "I think he's human."

"But then how did he know our names?" Dean asked, still holding the knife as if he wanted to use it. Sam simply looked at Jared and waited. They both stared at him and he stuttered.

"Um, I was, uh, looking for you on the FBI database and I couldn't find you. Then I used my, uh, facial recognition program to find any hits on you guys and I found your real names." He answered weakly, feeling very nervous. They wouldn't kill him right? He had no idea what they were talking about. Obviously, they were being searched for, which was good in Jared's books.

"This program isn't available to everyone is it?" Sam asked, after about a minute of processing what Jared said.

"No, no. I made it myself through hacking." Jared answered, looking a little sheepish.

"Wait, why were you looking for us?" Dean cut in, his face puzzled, as he finally stopped spinning the knife.

"Er... I, uh, I... um... Isawyouguysinthealleyway." Jared finally sputtered out in a big rush, his face bright red. The brothers stood trying to decipher what Jared had said. Sam started blushing first, ducking his head and looking away. Dean looked confused until it hit him. He turned bright red and turned his back on Jared. A few moments of awkward silence and coughing from Dean followed, and Jared broke the silence, thinking now was the best time to change the subject and get answers.

"Who are you guys? I've seen your police and FBI records..." A few seconds after Jared said that, he regretted it; it didn't seem like such a good idea to tell two killers that you knew all about their killing sprees. The brothers sighed and looked at each other, their blushes finally fading. Dean grabbed Sam's arm and dragged him off across the room to talk. They spoke in hushed tones and spoke fast; they leaned in as they talked, but they didn't seem to notice that they did so. Jared tugged at the ropes tying him to the chair and found that they were tied expertly well, which wasn't a surprise considering everything he had found about these two. A few minutes of hushed and urgent whispering, they walked back to him.

"Umm," Sam spoke up, but seemed at a loss of how to start. He looked to Dean on how to start, but he just shrugged. "So... uh, this might sound really weird but..." The taller man tried again. He opened his mouth to continue when suddenly another voice interrupted him.

"We don't have time for this, ya' idjits! You know, saving the world ring a bell?"

The gruff voice came from an older man standing near the green bag. He was wearing a truckers cap and a vest and jeans. He had a beard and looked well-worn, as well as quite pale. But how did he get over there? He would have had to walk in front of Jared to get there from the door. Plus, the things he was saying weren't making sense. Saving the world? What?

"Bobby-" The taller one started but was cut off again.

"No! We have much larger fish to fry! Get a move on!" He sounded irritated and he glared at the brothers, only sparing a glance at the man tied to the chair.

And then, right before Jared's eyes, he disappeared. Gone. Poof. No longer standing there. Jared blinked and looked around the room. He wasn't any where to be seen. He knew his eyes were probably bulging out of his head and his mouth was open in shock, but he didn't care. How? Who was he? Maybe this was all a dream. A crazy, insane dream that he would wake up from. People didn't just disappear, and serial killers did not impersonate FBI agents.

"H-how? W-who was h-he?" Jared managed to stutter out in his amazed shock. He didn't receive an answer; the brothers were too busy packing up the stuff they had gotten out of their bag. Dean started cursing; now moving on to covering the corpses and rolling them away. He tore off his bloody gloves and tossed them in the garbage can, throwing the used scalpels in the sink on the way.

"He's right you know," Dean muttered to Sam, "We don't have time to deal with humans."

Jared didn't think he could get any more confused by what they were saying, but he was wrong. This was pointless. It was just a dream anyways. Just a dream. Just a dream. It was a pretty realistic feeling dream though...

Just when Sam was going to speak, the door slammed open, rebounding off the wall behind it. Three head whipped around to look who was there. Two men sauntered in. They were wearing suits and had easy going smiles on their faces, which only served to make them look creepy. They were about the same height, but one was much more muscular than the other. The lankier one was about one step behind the more built man. They were tall, and something about them made Jared shrink back in the chair. That was strange, you'd think he'd be happy to have someone save him from his potential killers, but these guys gave him the creeps. They only had eyes for the Winchester brothers though, and for that, Jared was strangely grateful.

"Well, Sam and Dean. If it isn't two annoying little ants." The heavier set man spoke up. Jared swallowed at the sound of his voice. It was smooth and slightly odd sounding, as if he was unused to the language. The Winchesters backed up slowly, heading towards their duffle bag, as the men strode in confidently. Why didn't the brothers pull out their guns? Jared knew they had then tucked in the back of their jeans. Sam reached the bag first. He bent down and ruffled through it before pulling out a large canister of something. The men started running at them fast, faster than seemed human. Dean whipped out his gun and started shooting round after round into the bulky guy that was charging him. He got off three rounds before the gun was batted out of his hands and he was slammed into the wall. Jared stared with wide eyes. That guy had three bullets in his chest and he was still moving! He didn't even flinch or slow down! Sam was struggling with the cap while he was dodging most of the blows the other guy was tossing. Dean was pinned against the wall, which Jared noticed with huge eyes, was cracked and dented. The force from his body hitting it had broken it! How hard had the man thrown him? He was currently being punched repeatedly, stomach, face, stomach.

Jared should have felt joy at his rescuers winning, but instead he only felt a sinking feeling of dread. Finally Sam got the lid off, and splashed some of the clear liquid on the man's face. He screamed in agony and backed up, his hands covering his face, but not before Jared managed to get a look at his face. The skin was red and had melted off. Bone was visible in some places, and Jared was horrified. What was that? Some sort of corrosive acid? Sam ran back to the bag while the man was distracted, and pulled out a machete. Holy crap! What, was that an arsenal of weapons? Jared watched in faint horror as Sam swung hard, beheading the man. Black goo splattered in a semi-circle as the body slumped to the floor. What was that stuff? Where was the blood?

Sam kicked the head across the room, and Jared watched with slight disgust as it rolled towards him, the eyes glazed and staring at him blankly. When he looked up, he noticed that Dean was pinned up the wall, his feet not touching the ground as he was being choked. Then the man holding him opened his mouth. A cracking sound could be heard before a maw opened up on the man's face, taking over half his face. Jared's blood seemed to run cold at the sight. The mouth was impossibly big and was filled with rows and rows of what looked like shark teeth. Two long tongues slipped out and slid across Dean's cheek. Dean thrashed and tried to turn away, his hands scrabbling at the hands around his throat. Blood slid down his face from where the tongues had slid, and the creature reared back, ready to strike. It never got the chance, because Sam came up from behind and gripped his hair and sawed through his neck, having slight trouble with the spinal cord. The head dropped to the floor and Dean dropped, gasping for air. Sam wiped his blacken hands on his jeans and picked up the head and walked over to their bag, calling over his shoulder, "You alright Dean?"

Dean answered with a raspy 'yes' as he rubbed his throat. Sam wrapped the head in a plastic bag and tied it shut. He was walking over towards the head near Jared, when he looked down. Jared yelped in fear because the eyes were moving in the head. The head smiled at him, a large, feral smile and winked. He shuddered and closed his eyes. This could not be happening. People that didn't stay dead, people that appeared and disappeared, serial killers that pretended to be FBI, brothers that fucked; the list went on. He heard the rustle of plastic and assumed Sam was doing the same with this head as the other one.

He opened his eyes again and to his surprise, Dean was hurrying over to him with a knife. Jared paled, and leaned as far back as he could.

"N-no. Don't! Please!" He pleaded; terrified that he was going to be slaughtered just as easily as the men lying on the floor. Dean ignored him and slashed through the ropes binding his arms to the chair. Jared was surprised as he was freed. Sam had slung the bag over his shoulder and had a head in each hand. Dean flipped his blade shut and grabbed Jared's arm jerking him to his feet. Jared was transfixed by the pools of black goo that were spreading from the neck stumps of the bodies. No blood anywhere. What was this? Dean jerked him harder this time, making him stumble.

"Hurry up! More will be coming." Dean commanded, the urgency clear in his voice.

Author's note:

I'm not sure if I like it yet... I've been toying with the idea of writing the same story from Sam or Dean's perspective. Let me know what you think.