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22 YEARS AGO:

Previously on Supernatural:

Sammy!

(MARY GASPS)

Take your brother outside as fast as you can; now Dean go!

NOW TWO BROTHERS…

Dad's been on a hunting trip…

(SCREAMS)

And he hasn't been home in a few days

…ARE ON A QUEST FOR ANSWERS

I swore I was done hunting

(SAM SCREAMS)

NO!

(JESSICA BURSTS INTO FLAMES)

Jess!

I think Dad wants us to pick up where he left off, you know, saving people, hunting things…

No I gotta find Jessica's killer.

(GUN LOCKS, SAM DROPS IT INTO THE IMPALA'S TRUNK)

SUPERNATURAL

Chapter Two: Hookman

A loud eerie screech. Crimson everywhere, dripping from his body onto the car. She had begged him to stay but now rope dug into his dead flesh. A scream tore from her throat before she was even aware of what she was seeing: her boyfriend, Rich, dead, slashed and hanging upside down from a bridge. His blood-spattered hand slid along the roof of the automobile with an audible squeak.

*****

"Alright, thank you for your time," Dean sighed and hung up the payphone as he moved to slouch against it. There were no John Does matching his errant father's description and not even so much as one traffic violation to give him a hint of John Winchester's whereabouts. Dean gave up his mission to locate his father and retreated to his beloved Impala.

Dean was currently en route to a hunt in Ankeny, Iowa, where a boy had been killed by what the witness was calling an "invisible killer". Dean figured it would be a standard salt n' burn kind of job, perfect for trying to get his mind off things.

The empty passenger seat functioned as a persistent reminder of his brother's absence. The whole 4 hours and 22 minute drive over 269 miles was hell. Dean was having second thoughts about leaving Sam but he would just shake it off and tell himself it was better this way. Sam could have a normal life again; Sam could be living average Joe or Joe the Plummer's American dream while Dean kept on the never-ending crusade of the family business.

Dean continued to drive, the Impala oddly quiet, no classic rock music blaring from the speakers. He drove the whole way into the Ankeny in this state, all the way to the fraternity house the victim had belonged to.

"Nice wheels," he commented to the two grease monkey males working on their cars. They stared incredulously at him and sneered at his appearance. His hair was oily and unwashed, the collar popped on his favorite leather jacket. "I'm your fraternity brother from Ohio; I'm new in town, a transfer, looking for a place to stay, " he explained, hoping they would buy his story. They did, or they just didn't care, but he was led into the house and his temporary room for the duration of the hunt was pointed out to him.

Dean knocked on the open door, his eyes taking in the purple-painted boy in yellow sweatpants already in the room.

"Who are you?"

"I'm your new roommate." Dean gave a half of a smirk and raised his eyebrow. What the hell? His first impression of college wasn't so great.

"Then do me a favor and get my back. Big game today."

"I'm not much of an artist." Dean shuddered. "That was more of my brother's hobby. Man, the things he could do with a brush…" Dean trailed off, ignoring the look on the frat boy's purple striped face. He continued to paint himself as Dean sat down.

"So uh," Dean picked up a magazine off the table, "Murph, is it true?" Dean asked.

"What?" Murph turned to look at him questioningly.

"I heard one of the guys around here got killed last week," Dean answered matter-of-factly.

Murph's face dropped. "Yeah."

"What happened?" Dean flipped through the magazine, pretending not to be overly interested in this whole situation.

"Well, they're saying some psycho with a knife. Maybe a drifter passing through." Murph turned back to face the mirror. Dean could see the rage on his face. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Rich was a good guy."

"Rich was with somebody?" Dean prodded.

"Not just somebody. Lori Sorenson." Murph looked a little smug for his deceased buddy.

"Who's Lori Sorenson?" Dean sighed; this guy was beginning to get on Dean's nerves. "You missed a spot. Just down there in the back." Dean tried to hide a laugh as Murph twisted around unnaturally to try and see the fabled "missed spot".

"Lori's a freshman. She's a local." Murph's eyebrows wiggled suggestively when he said that she was a local. His voice had also dropped a few octaves. "Super hot," he whispered. "And get this; she's a reverend's daughter." Dean closed the magazine. Now this was getting interesting. He leaned forward.

"You wouldn't happen to know which church, would you?" Dean gave an innocent smile while his eyes twinkled deviously.

*****

"Our hearts go out to the family of a young man who perished. And my personal prayers of thanks go out as well because I believe he died trying to protect my daughter. And now, as time heals all our wounds, we should reflect on what this tragedy means to us a church-" Dean walked into the building with a loud slam of the door. He gave a sheepish smile and offered a small wave to all the people who had turned to look at him.

"-as a community and as a family. The loss of a young person is particularly tragic. A life unlived is the saddest of passing. So, please, let us pray." Dean rolled his eyes at the sermon as he took his seat in a pew towards the back. "For peace, for guidance and for the power to protect our children." As if on cue, the whole congregation bowed their heads in unison. Dean looked around for anyone not participating and then his eyes rested upon the reverend who was looking at him. Dean quickly bowed his head to avoid any further suspicion.

After they prayed the parishioners were dismissed and, as Dean was walking out, he overheard a conversation.

"I can't; it's Sunday night," said a particularly good-looking blond that Dean had noticed during worship.

"It's just us girls. We're gonna do tequila shots and watch Reality Bites," her friend said, tempting even Dean to blow off his investigation and attend this "all girls" shindig.

"My dad makes dinner every Sunday night," the blond protested.

"Come on Lori!" So the blond is Lori Sorenson. Nice. Dean thought to himself. "I know this has been hard but you are allowed to have fun."

"I'll try." She smiled.

Lori's equally attractive-looking friend rolled her eyes. "Okay." The two hugged and then the brunette mouthed something to Lori, pointed at her and then left. Now, Dean decided, this is where I introduce myself to the vic's girlfriend. Her friend walked off and Dean approached.

"Are you Lori?" Dean began.

"Yeah," she answered hesitantly.

"My name is Dean; I just transferred here, uh, to the university." He acted slightly nervous, as to look more natural.

"I saw you inside," Lori admitted with a slight blush. Dean grinned. This was going fantastic.

"I don't wanna bother you. I just heard about what happened. I wanted to say how sorry I am. I kinda know what you're going through. I saw someone get hurt once. It's something you don't forget," he rambled. In actuality, Dean had seen several people get hurt, by the horrific things of nightmares: all a part of the job.

She looked at him oddly and then she jerked and turned as her father approached them. "Dad, um, this is Dean. He's a new student."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon," Dean lied smoothly.

"Thank you very much. It's so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord's message," Reverend Sorenson said. Dean chuckled slightly. This guy had no idea, did he?

"Listen, uh, I'm new in town actually and, um, I'm lookin' for a, ahem, church group," he said.

"Well, feel free to look around and ask questions," Reverend Sorenson smiled and then left to talk to more members of his fellow worshippers.

"Tell me, Lori, what are the police saying?" Dean asked as soon as the old man was out of earshot.

"Well, they don't have a lot to go on; I think they blame me for that," Lori said bitterly.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked He was pulling out all the stops on his college student façade.

"My story. I was so scared; I guess I was seeing things." Lori sighed.

"That doesn't mean it wasn't real." Dean gave her a grin, which made the corners of Lori's mouth twitch. Dean inwardly groaned. Channeling the wide-eyed, puppy-faced Sam was hard. He mentally winced as he thought about his poor Sammy. He left Lori with a polite goodbye, his good mood thoroughly ruined by memories of his brother's plight. He stormed off to his Impala and made his way to the college library for some good, old-fashioned research.