(I do not own -unfortunately- the Winchesters or the Impala, but the two female characters are mine. So do not borrow or use them for any purpose whatsoever)

The bodies were laid out neatly on the cold concrete floor, their hands bound together over their heads, their feet tied tightly with the heavy cord of rope. They were long since dead, the blood flow from their bodies had seeped into the cracks of the broken floor.

He stared down, his eyes bloodshot, at the woman and the teenage boy their bodies bare from the waist up The symbols on the floor surrounding them were marked with their blood; their torsos marked with the same symbols. They had cried out at first; he didn't try to quiet them and they soon settled as the life was drained from them.

Sirens sounded in the near distance. Someone had heard the cries of the woman and the boy. He knew they would come and he wouldn't run. No, they would take him away and all would be right.

"Rebel souls. Deserters we are called. Chose the gun and threw away the sword. All these towns. They all know our name. Six gun sound. Ooh, is our claim to fame. I can hear them say: Bad company, oh, I can't deny. Bad, Bad company till the day I die," blared out through the speakers of the black '67 Impala as Dean and Sam Winchester roared into the town of Owenstown, Ohio. They pulled into the lot of the Sleep and Stay Inn just off the main road, getting a room for however long it would take for the job.

Sitting as comfortable as they could get within the confines of their room, Dean poured over the journal that had once belonged to their father John, while Sam hooked up the computer and was scanning the 'net for any information that could help them out.

"...so apparently this man is claiming that he was possessed and was completely helpless as it killed his family. That it was like watching himself from the outside."

"Sounds like a lame defense," Dean announced. "Guy is sick of the wife and kid, kills them and claims he was possessed by Linda Blair."

"Except...the style of the killings is similar to ones in New York, Florida, California and Washington. Carvings on the bodies, the way they were laid out."

"So maybe it's a copycat. Or maybe the guy's done his home work."

"Maybe. Maybe not," Sam shrugged as he read on. "This guy, James Aders...clean record - not even so much as a speeding ticket. Then all of sudden decides to up and kill his family...sounds like there's something else at work here."

Pursing his lips, Dean stated, "They say it's always the quiet ones. Well, it's too late to check out anything tonight. Let's go get a drink. We'll get a start on it tomorrow."

They walked into the bar with all intensive purposes of getting a couple of beers and maybe some information if they were lucky. It looked like a relatively slow night. There were a few people engaged in a game of pool, a few more sitting at the bar including a tall blonde dressed in a snug white tank top and even tighter black leather pants which had Dean's full attention as they made their way to a table at the back. Sam noted there was even a young brunette with a pony tail, wearing a black 'Wonder Woman' logo t-shirt, layered over a red long sleeved shirt and a black baseball cap, having a dinner of a burger and a beer, looking very much out of place, given the ambience of the bar. She gave him a nod of acknowledgment, a hint of a smile, before she went back to her dinner.

They had barely order a round of beers and taken their seats when a ruckus broke out across the bar. The boys looked across the bar and Dean's interest was instantly piqued when he saw the shapely blonde in a tussle with another, less shapely blonde.

"You bitch!" The shapely blonde snapped, tossing a right hook that knocked the other woman to the floor, before leaning down and picking her up only to shove her against the bar.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Sweet! Chick fight!" He replied, leaning back in his seat.

Sam looked at the women fighting, then to his brother and shook his head in disbelief. "You're just gonna watch?"

"Hell, yeah, I'm gonna watch. Maybe we'll get some pay per view action going," he said hopefully, taking a long sip of his beer.

"Well, I'm not going to just sit here and watch," Sam defiantly announced, standing up.

"That's not such a good idea," Dean called out as Sam made the distance to where the girl's were fighting. Sam paid him no mind and reached out, placing a hand on the more aggressive blonde's shoulder.

She whirled around and glared at him. Placing her hands upon his shoulders, she deftly shot her knee up to his groin, instantly doubling him over. Dean cringed in the deepest sympathy possible. 'That's so not right,' he thought as he quickly made the distance to help his brother up off the floor. The blonde was done with her quarrel with the other girl and was already making her way out the door.

"Hey! That was just rude! He was trying to help," Dean shouted after her.

"Oh, bite me blondie," the blonde called out over her shoulder. "He needs to mind his own business."

"What a bitch!" Dean muttered as he help Sam to the nearest available seat. "Got a man down here, can I get some ice?" He called out to the bartender, then turning to Sam. "Sam, man - it'll be all right."

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat and groaned in pain. "Easy for you to say."

"Dude, chicks fight dirty. Some dirtier than others," he said, directing his glare to the door.

The female bartender approached with a baggy of ice, a smirk on her face. Dean cast a glare her way and she was soon on to another patron. "Come on, let's get out of here," Dean said, assisting Sam to his feet and out the door where the Impala waited, so Sam could have a bit of dignity while he iced his wounded member.

"I tried to warn you," Dean reminded, starting the Impala with a roar as they slowly pulled out the lot.

"Just shut up and drive," Sam ordered, ice in place, his head back against the head rest.

They got a fresh start first thing the next morning. Sam was walking a bit slower than usual, but he tried not to let it keep him down. Dean was a bit amused, but kept his comments to himself. After a big breakfast, they headed around town, posing as FBI, to interview several of the townspeople only to find out that a young woman from Bowling Green University had beat them to the punch in questioning them.

Dean grew more and more annoyed with each visit that pretty much told them the same thing. They exited the bowling alley where James Aders had frequented, feeling pretty much defeated that someone else had gotten there first; someone not local or with the authorities.

"Dude, this is getting frickin' old," Dean snapped as they climbed into the Impala. "Seems like this chick has beaten us at every turn. We haven't found out a damn thing."

Sam sighed in defeat. "Let's head to the library, check out the old town records, see if there's anything like this in the town's history."

They pulled up to the library behind a candy apple red Chevy Avalanche, which Dean gave a nod of approval. As they made their way in a slim brunette, the same one Sam had seen at the bar the night before was heading out, messenger bag slung over her shoulder. Sam held open one of the double doors for her as Dean looked over his shoulder, whistling low as he turned back around, smacking into the door that wasn't open, along the way. Sam shook his head as they made their way to the desk, requesting records of the towns history, any microfiche they might have as well. Dean groaned at the research aspect of the job; he'd much rather be out kicking supernatural ass any day over the droning work of all the reading.

"Are you university students too?" the elderly librarian asked, her glasses perched on the brim of her nose.

"I'm sorry. Too?" Sam questioned.

"The young lady who just left a few minutes ago - said she was with the university and she was doing a paper or some such. About that awful murder that just happened," she added, whispering low, as if afraid someone would hear.

They rushed out to find no sign of the slim brunette anywhere and the red truck they were parked behind was gone as well.

"Dammit!" Dean cursed.

They returned to the library and requested the material the young woman had gone over. Hours of research had turned up nothing unusual or anything that would lead them to think that this was something that had happened in the town's past before. Their eyes were blurring and their heads were aching, so they decided to call it a night and headed back to the motel - ordering take out for dinner, before they crashed for the night.

They had been all over town the next morning, once again asking questions about the murder. Dressed in 'civilian' clothes, they were now at the local deli questioning the workers. Yet again they were met with the same problem: a dark haired girl, a reporter, had already been there asking about James. Her name was Beth Anderson, they had been told.

"Why, there's the young lady right there," the manager announced, pointing her finger across the street where the dark haired girl they had been seeing all over town now stood, chatting on her cell phone. They thanked the woman and made their exit.

"Look familiar?" Dean wondered.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"Let's ask Miss Busybody a few questions," Dean announced.

Checking traffic, they then made their way across the street. Miss Busybody saw their haste in getting to her; she quickly flipped off her phone, shoving it in her pocket and hurriedly headed down the street, as if hoping there was a mistake and she was just being paranoid. She turned a corner. They followed. She panicked and broke into a dead run, dodging people before cutting down an alley.

"Circle around, see if you can cut her off," Dean barked. Sam nodded and headed around the corner as Dean made his way down the alley in time to see Miss Busybody scaling the fence and flipping over the top as he had done several times in the past.

'Nimble little minx, aren't ya?' He thought, quickly jumping the fence. By the time his feet had touched ground, he had lost track of the girl. Sam met up with him a moment later.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean cursed. "Where'd she go?"

He turned to Sam who nodded his head towards a nearby dumpster down a dead end, opposite the one Dean had just come down, a sneakered toe peeking out from the other side. Dean motioned for Sam to stay there while he quietly crept down. He jumped around and grabbed the girl by the arm. The girl promptly punched Dean in the solar plexus, then sharply struck his nose with her fist before making a dash Sam's way. Sam caught the wild eyed girl by her upper arms and she tried to take a swing at him, but missed. Just barely.

"Whoa! Whoa! Hold on! We're not trying to hurt you," Sam assured in his best calming voice.

"Then why the hell are you chasing me?" She demanded.

Dean made his appearance, his nose slightly bloodied and his eyes watering. "Because we want to ask you some questions."

"Well, you've got a stupid way of going about it," she snapped.

"You're the one who ran, sweetheart," Dean snapped. "Acting like you've got something to hide."

The girl glared wickedly at Dean as he flashed his best smile at her. She was obviously not impressed by the show of charm. "First off: I am so not your sweetheart and second: I thought two psychos were after me. That's why I ran. And you're not doing a good job of convincing me other wise that you're not."

Sam had to give the girl kudos; she had balls and wasn't swayed by Dean's overzealous use of charm.

"You're absolutely right," Sam agreed. "Listen, I swear we're not here to hurt you. We're in town investigating the recent murders and it seems everyplace we've been you've been there first. You're Beth, right?"

"Yeah," she said, now a bit more at ease. "Beth Anderson. I'm doing an article for my college paper at Bowling Green University. So, why are you guys asking around about the murders?"

"FBI," Dean announced, flipping out a badge for her to see. "Agents Preston and Logan."

The girl closely inspected the badges, obviously not impressed. "Little young to be agents, aren't you?" She questioned.

"Agency needed some fresh blood," Dean answered. "Trying to get away from that whole stiffs in suits deal."

She gave Dean a warring look, then turned to Sam who half smiled. She scoffed. "Yeah, sure. If you want answers, do the legwork yourself. I don't share information, Bill and Ted," she stated, turning and heading back to the main street.

"Dean, I'm pretty sure she knows we're not FBI," Sam announced, sounding a bit worried.

"Nah, it's cool," Dean cooly replied. "Well, Sammy boy, seems like we have some more work to do." He sighed, not happy with that aspect of the job.

After a long day of turning up nothing of good use, the brother's ended back up at their room with more take out and aching feet. Sam was searching around on the computer, digging through the student roster of Bowling Green University, searching for Beth Anderson.

"Here we go," Sam announced as Dean took a bite of pizza.

Dean stood up and walked over to the computer to see what Sam had found. He had pulled up Beth Anderson's student file, a picture of a red-haired girl with dark glasses staring back at them. "Nineteen. Music major. Seems like we're not the only here with a cover story," Sam announced.

"I think it's time that we track little miss busybody down and find out what's really going on," Dean stated.

They searched all around town for the brunette, but had no good luck and after a few hours were ready to give up when they saw a familiar vehicle parked on the street in front of the local diner. Sitting at a booth near the window was none other that the girl they'd been searching for. They wasted no time crossing the diner to the girl's table.

"Well, look who we have here," Dean announced.

The girl looked up, a bit surprised to see them, but not terribly worried as she took a heaping bite of cheese fries from her place. "So, what, you guys stalking me now? Chasing me across town wasn't enough?" She snapped. "Go away, I'm trying to eat here."

"We know you're not Beth Anderson from Bowling Green University," Sam quietly announced.

"I don't know what you're talking about - of course I am," she stated, taking a bite of her sandwich.

Sam pulled a piece of paper from his coat pocket and unfolded it in front of her; it was a print out of the real Beth Anderson's student profile along with the picture. The girl suddenly looked a bit out of sorts.

"I knew you were hiding something," Dean gloated. "I told you she was..."

Sam cast a look to Dean as if to say 'You're not helping matters' and the smirk on Dean's face was suddenly wiped clean. "By the way, I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean," he introduced. "Whatever it is you're hiding, we won't tell," Sam promised sincerely. "We're just curious as to why..."

"Curious as to what?" A female voice snapped from behind them.

Sam and Dean turned to see the tall blonde from the bar their first night in town; the one who had given Sam a rude introduction to her knee and then had told them to mind their own business.

"Curious as to why your friend here is lying about who she really is," Dean interjected, snapping up the printout and showing it to her.

The blonde looked down at the brunette. "You told them?"

"Of course I didn't tell them. Do I look that stupid?" The brunette snapped back. "Give me some credit. I don't break down that easily. Stop being such a bitch."

"I'm not," the blonde returned.

The brunette rolled her eyes. "Oh, please."

Sam and Dean weren't sure what to think about the bickering, but Dean was secretly hoping there'd be another girl fight. One thing was blatantly obvious to the boys:

"You're sisters," Sam stated.

The blonde cast a death glare at the brunette. "Did you tell them that too?"

Sighing in frustration, the brunette announced, "I told you I didn't tell them anything. They figured it out all on their own. Just like I figured out they're not really FBI."

A steely gaze was directed upon them. "You're the asses who jumped my sister in the alley?"

"We didn't jump..." Dean began to defend. "You two have some real anger issues, you know. First off, you bust poor Sammy in the family jewels, then your sister here busts my nose..."

"Maybe you both should mind your own business," the blonde snarled.

"And maybe you just need to get lai..."

"Whoa! Hold on," Sam interceded before Dean's mouth got them into trouble they didn't really need. "We're just curious as to why your sister here," waving to the brunette, who had yet to reveal her name, "is asking around town about the murders. We know it's not for any school paper."

The blonde open her mouth to spew more venom at the boys, but she was pulled down to the bench by her sister. She also motioned for Sam and Dean to do the same.

"Enough already, Amanda," the brunette announced, looking a little more than frustrated, almost exhausted. "My real name's C.J. Ross, this mouthy blonde here is my sister Amanda. We're here because we think the recent murders might be tied to our parents deaths."

"Really? Why do you think they're connected?" Sam wondered, intrigued.

"We think this might be the thing that murdered our parents three years ago," C.J. added.

"Thing? You mean person, don't you?" Sam asked, a bit confused.

"No, I mean thing. Whatever killed our parents wasn't human," C.J. told them, a dead serious expression on her face.

Sam and Dean sat there, in abject silence, trying to get their thoughts wrapped around what C.J. had just confessed to them. The sisters looked at them, as if trying to read their expression to see what they were thinking.

"You think we're crazy," Amanda instantly assumed.

"No," Sam said. "Actually quite the opposite."