In Darkness, Of Light

Alright guys, I'm rolling out with another chapter
First off I wanna give props to my BETA, JTPadalecki, without her I don't know what I'd do. So to my first and number 1 supporter, I give grand props (everyone give her cookies....NOW!) ;-)
I want to say right off, I have nothing, and I mean NOTHING against Wincest, I love it actually, but I didn't want to use it in this story, try something new ya know?
Anyways, this chapter is of my own original making, except for the actual SPN characters...including the Impala, cuz Lord knows it's part of the character list, lol.
So enjoy!

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Chapter 2
Deadly Hymn

Soft footfalls echoed around off from the cobblestone walk to the brick walls. A man, fair haired and eyed, walks in the dark, the light of the moon lost behind the clouds, his only guide is the dim streetlights that offer him poor visibility. He pulls his long trenchcoat over his solid body and he's anxious to get home. Work had been a bitch as usual, the captain had been on his ass for the entire time. He didn't see how letting that thief out his grasp dignified making him work till the early hours. Sure he should have seen the man darting for the alleyway, but the fucking guy had pulled a fast one on him.

He sighed, it had been a horrid night to say the least, and nothing was going to make him feel better. As he crossed through the alley, coming out to main street, the plaza spread out in better lighting, the river splitting the plaza in half. He sighed, he still had a little while, he'd left the car with Cheryl and there was no way he was going to call her this late to come and pick him up. He muttered to himself as he walked along the river. Suddenly his ears picked up a sound, at first he just ignored it, but as he continued walking he realized it was getting louder. He stopped and glanced around, he couldn't see anything and then he realized it was the sound of someone singing. A woman it sounded like, and it was absolutely beautiful. His mouth dropped as he listened, there were no words, or at least no words that he understood. His legs couldn't move, his breathing intensifying, like someone was trying to squeeze the life out of him.

He swooned on the spot, he couldn't believe anyone could possibly sound that beautiful when they sang, but it was true. The haunting tones floated gently over the fog that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. His vision blurred, he felt like he was in a dream. As if on their own, his heavy legs lifted from the spotted that they were rooted towards and he walked towards the sound. Everything moved as if in slow motion, his footsteps echoing loudly, far too loudly for his tastes, they blocked out the sounds of that beautiful singing.

As he walked, the sound seemed to grow, swelling and rising, the fog growing more and more dense. He walked faster, eager to find out the source of the noise. He stopped, the noise was beside him. He turned, the world swirling around him and stared down over the handrail towards the water. There on the outline of a large rock atop the churning water, sat the figure of a woman. He smiled, so sure that this had to be the most beautiful woman on the planet, he just knew it had to be. The woman's head turned, her long hair falling off of her shoulder behind her back. He could just feel the smile coming from her, and that made him so happy, that's what he wanted, and he yearned to see this woman, the dreams he'd had of women, his own wife, they couldn't compare to her.

She rose gently, as if on the fog itself, her arms held out wide. She reached him, and he knew that this was it, he sighed as her gentle hand caressed his face. He reached out and touched her face, stroking her gentle cheek with careful gestures. His hand travelled, resting on her shoulder as she continued to sing and feeling her elegant shoulders, her soft skin, her...feathers?

Oh she must be an angel he thought to himself.

Then her song stopped, replaced with the most horrid sound he'd ever heard, the woman was gone, instead a screeching beast of feathers and a twisted face hovered before him, screeching loudly.

The last sound he heard as he felt sharp talons tear through him.

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~Outside Independance, Oregon~

Sam's gaze fell heatedly to the backseat to where Blake was laying, his coat lay cast over him, dead asleep as he hissed at his brother, "I still don't think this is such a good idea."

"Oh and why the hell not? He's a good fighter and a helluva a hunter!"

Sam bristled, "Dean, just because he's a good figher and hunter doesn't mean he's any good, look at Gordan, good hunter, wouldn't call him the greatest person!"

Dean glowered, "look, Gordan was out of his damn mind, this kid seems pretty normal to me."

"Yeah, except for the fact that he's a walking iceburg."

Dean rolled his eyes, "oh yeah because you and I are emotionally stable."

"That's not the point!"

A rustling in the back alerted to them the fact that Blake had woke up, he sat up staring at them groggily, he casually rubbed his eye, "you two fight like a pair of old women."

Both Winchester's mouths flapped silently until Sam retreated to his seat and Dean huffed, "he started it."

Sam looked indignant, "don't even go there!"

Blake groaned, "ugh, you ARE related."

Sam fidgeted in his seat before turning his head, "so what's this big hunt you and Dean have concocted."

Ignoring his tone and Dean's shit eating grin Blake cleared his throat, "we're heading to Independance, Oregon obviously. There have been a rash of sudden and extremely violent murders, all men."

Sam moved in his seat looking uncharacteristically impatient, "ok, and how is this our problem?"

"Well, we've got five dead men so far, all of them found near a natural source of water, the river, a riverbed, etc. Not too mention the fact that they've all been torn apart, and I mean that literally, would you like the crime scene photos?"

He handed some glossy pictures over the seat to Sam's hand, Sam shuffled through them making a grimace, "oog....how'd you get these?"

Blake leaned back, "well I may not be the whiz that you so obviously are on computers, but I have my own ways, that and I know enough tricks on the computer to get what I want. Other than a few loosely protected computers on small town police database, there wasn't a whole lot that I could ascertain."

Dean looked over and made a face, "so what are we thinking it is?"

Blake ran a hand through his disheveled hair, "I'm not quite sure, what little I could pick up about it is mostly crime scene information, but heart and bloods all there so to speak, not to mention nothing was eaten, with one exception."

Sam glanced back at him, "what's that?"

Blake's eyes cast a shadow, "their vocal strings."

Sam looked disgusted, "their vocal strings?"

"Yep, and we've also got a survivor, don't know how he survived, but came out of it unscathed."

Dean looked in the rearview mirror, his eyes set on Blake's, "and where's he at?"

Blake smiled, "trying to continue his life at home, peacefully, but with reporters, cops, and FBI in and out of his house, he's getting very little of that."

Dean grinned, "so I guess it's covert time."

Blake snorted as he fiddled with the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, "somehow I don't see you as the covert type."

Dean shot a dirty look through the mirror to Blake who gave a disinterested look, and then an equally dirty look to Sam who'd snorted in obvious amusement.

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As they pulled into town, the sun was lowering deep into the horizon. They'd already decided to visit the survivor immediately, saving them the trouble of doing it when other real cops or FBI would visit him, that is after they spent the time finding a motel. Once again finding a run down and cheap motel, Dean took care of procuring them a room. Blake stood by the car, flipping through the pages of a large, leather bound book. Sam squinted his eyes over at him, eyes following down to the book in his hand.

"What's that?" he asked, nodding his head at the book.

Blake glanced up, "my version of the book you carry of your dads."

Sam stared at the leather tome, it was considerably bigger, and from the looks of it, a lot more organized, "offly big."

"A lot in it," Blake glanced up and caught the hint of envy and perhaps embarrasment in Sam's tone, and hesitated before continuing, "I come from a long line of hunters, decades, centuries even, worth of information."

Sam gave a non-committal grunt but continued staring at Blake, and then his eyes fell on the bag that Blake carried with him, another book, smaller appearing, though leather and just as thick if not thicker, "what's that one?"

Blake followed his gaze and then turned his gaze back on Sam, holding the stare for a moment before answering, "That, would be my personal notes, additions and such onto this book."

Sam frowned as Blake gave him a hard look that plainly told him to not question it, and Sam knew instantly that the man was lying to him. He opened his mouth to question him when Dean decided at that moment to walk out of the lobby, twirling his keys in his hand.

"We're all set for tonight, we'll pay by the day if we need to stay any longer," he said as he walked down the sidewalk.

He reached the door and slipped the card key into the slot and turned the knob and pushed it open. Blake stepped in close behind him and stared around the room, he snorted but threw his bag of clothes and such on a chair.

"Cozy."

Dean grinned, "the usual."

Blake gripped the side bag that he still held and with a glance started to the door again, Sam turned to him, "where are you going?"

Blake glared at him, "not that I have to report every last one of my actions to you, but I have some of my own research to do."

Sam frowned, "like what?"

Blake cocked his head, the glare still there, "I'll let you know what I find out."

With that he turned the knob and with a swing of the door was out into the night.

Dean snorted, "well he's a talkative one, isn't he?"

Sam turned to his brother and frowned, "I'd say he's hiding something."

Dean shrugged, "who cares, he's helping us isn't he?"

"Dean, he's keeping something from us."

It was Dean's turn to frown, "Sam, he doesn't have to tell us everything ya know."

"Dean, he's not telling us hardly anything."

"Sam, this was your problem with Dad. You need to learn to just let people do what they need to do, you're not exactly the boss of everything, not everyone needs to report to you. It's not like we tell everyone everything either."

Sam blinked, Dean could suprise him once in awhile, "Yeah but--"

Dean rummaged through his pack of fake ID's, "hey, everyone's got secrets, maybe he likes to keep his close."

Sam only stared as he gathered together proper clothes for their little act.

Dean popped up having a the badges in his hand, "alright let's go visit," he glanced down at the paper in front of him, "Jim Vandel."


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A dark clothed figure climbed along the police station, shimmying up the wall along a set of cables. Reaching the top, he pulled himself up easily and standing on the gravel top. He walked gently along until he reached the skylight, he glanced down at the wire running along the glass top. Reaching back for a small knife, he followed the cord back to the box. Concentrating he opened the box and analyzed the set-up of the cables before cutting a few well placed wires. The flickering light at the top continued flashing, but the larger red light stayed off. Satisfied he turned back towards the skylight and bent down, placing the knife at the seal of skylight, after edging the blade all the way around, he gave a slight push and the window opened easily. Wrapping a strong rope around a nearby pipe he swung down to the bottom of the room.

Once landed he stared through the narrowly lit room and realized he was in the lobby of the police station. He walked towards the back, swinging open the door into the hall. Making his way down to the archives he turned the knob to realize it was locked. Pulling the lock pick kit from one of the pockets in his pants he slipped the two rods into the keyhole. Fiddling for a moment the lock gave way and a soft click was heard, pocketing the lockpick he turned the knob and pushed, and the door stayed closed. He swore under his breath as he realized that someone, an overzealous cadet more than likely, had also locked the deadbolt. There was no way the lockpick would be able to open the deadbolt.

He sighed knowing what he would have to do, he reached out touching the deadbolt, closing his eyes to concentrate. The air around his hand seemed to shimmer like on a hot day.

"Patefacio," he whispered, and the lock seemed to vibrate and with a smooth but heavier sound, the lock slid back.
He opened his eyes and pushed the door open finally. Trolling along the aisles of folders and information. As he had expected most of it was old crimes, a small town never really accumulated a whole lot crime so there wasn't need to have a large room. Then, just as he had guessed, there was a large box with several photos and folders in it, the small town had purposefully placed all of the biggest crime they'd had in a long time in one place, completely obvious to the naked eye.
He picked up a folder out of it, it was general information on the crimes, some ideas of the pattern and some ideas on the killer. They noticed that they were all near water, supposedly to cover tracks easier.
When he found what he was looking for, the autopsy report he flipped through it, his eyes never even batting as he came across some of the more grisly photos. Each man had been torn to shreds, pieces had to be hunted down and placed into the body bags. As had been stated in the loose reports he'd managed to collect, the throats were the worst, both vocal cords and voice boxes had been removed. The one thing he'd found to be most interesting was that while those organs were taken, the other organs were left basically unharmed, except for the heart, which was ripped out and torn apart cleanly.
He frowned as he thumbed through the box for the survivors report. He found it quickly enough and flipped it open. Apparently the man was fishing just out of town, a clear and sunny day, and he had insisted to his wife that he take it relaxing in the country. He'd fallen asleep and as he woke up, he swore he heard some singing, upon investigating he found a woman on the other side of the large river, singing. The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and had insisted upon seeing her up close. Foolishly he had tried to cross the river right there to get to her. For his luck, he was swept away by a current when he reached the halfway point and was found unconscious on the shore a mile down by a trucker.
He took the information on the man's report, along with a few autopsy reports and flipped them onto the nearby copier. After a few flashes of light and a loud hum, he put everything back, grabbed the copies and was out and up the skylight, making sure to replace it carefully.
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Dressed in suits, Sam and Dean stepped down away from the house, their faces irritated as they reached the Impala. Sam sighed as he pulled on the door handle, and slid into the car. Their minds replaying the events that had followed suit before. Jim Vandel had been anything but helpful, after seeing who they were, he became a little irate. Giving them nothing to go on, saying that he'd already gone over it several times and his story hadn't changed, only now he didn't really believe what he'd seen anymore, convinced he was dreaming when it happened. The "conversation" had ended with the door being slammed in their faces.

"Well that was helpful," Dean grumbled as he followed suit.

Sam grunted, "not that we aren't used to that kind of thing."

Dean started the engine and shifted it into gear, glancing down the dimly lit street before gunning it, "you'd think sometimes people would just feel the urge to be more helpful."

Sam snorted, "like we'd ever get that lucky."

Dean only grunted as Sam reached back and pulled out their Dad's notebook. Flipping through the pages, trying to read the pages with the passing light from street lamps. After a few minutes of driving they pulled into the Motel parking lot, Sam still flipping though the book. Dean opened the door to the motel room and walked in, with Sam close in tow. Dean glanced around the room and flicked on the light, everything was how it was when they'd left earlier.

"Hnh, Blake hasn't come back yet."

Sam glanced up frowning at the room, "what is he doing?"

Dean shrugged and grabbed the remote, throwing himself on a bed, "who knows? Maybe he's finding out something."

Sam glanced up at his brother, "or maybe some personal business."

Dean flipped through channels, "which makes it none of ours I guess."

"Dean," Sam started with a deep sigh as he sat himself at his computer, "it could be something big. Something that actually has to do with us."

Dean's eyes rolled and settled on Sam, "like what? He's not Gordon, otherwise he would have tried to kill us."

Sam raised an eyebrow, "could be a demon you know, or possessed."

Dean only shook his head and turned back to the TV, "let it go Sam."

Sam opened his mouth to argue but was interupted by the sounds of the door being unlocked, he reached for the gun on his hip instinctually and aimed it towards the door as it swung open. Blake walked in and glanced at Sam, undeterred, closed the door behind him, sliding the deadbolt down. He strode into the room and tossed his pack on a nearby chair as Sam lowered the gun.

"Siren," Blakes voice rang out.

"Huh?" Dean asked as he sat up.

Blake glanced at the screen, an eyebrow raised at seeing Jerry Springer on the TV, "educational television I see..."

Sam turned towards him, "did you say Siren?"

Blake nodded, grabbing the leather bound tome from earlier and flipping through it before tossing it on the table next to Sam, a picture of a beatiful woman morphing into a repugnant and vile, twisted creature. The twisted creature stood, their arms melded into dark wings, the body was punctured with wings as well, spiralling down to sharp and pointed to talons. The face was distorted into a strange and violent looking beak like appendage that was sharp and deadly. A description was written in looping script next to it.

Sam picked it up and read it aloud, "The Siren, a malevolent and tricky creature. Once was seen as three sisters who suffered a heartache at the hands of their lovers. They were said to become twisted and evil when they cast a spell on the man. The spell twisted them into horrendus beings that craved murder and pain. Being beautiful singers in life, the gift stayed with them, using it to enchant the hearts of men to lure them to themselves. Once the men were lured, they would transform from their beautiful selves into the twisted beings that their hate had made them and their voice, turned from enchanting to a scream that renders a man immobile due to their own terror. Tearing men apart, using the power of voice said to be held in ones throat to fuel their powers, and destroying the literal hearts of men. Only found near sources and bodies of water."

Dean gave an affirming noise, "it makes sense, but how'd you figure that out?"

Blake rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a folder, "well besides the few reports in the news and what I could pick up from loose reports on databases of the police, I just went and found this."

He threw the folder onto the table, Sam reached out and pulled it to him. He flipped through it and read the details in the report and his glance shot up to Blake, "where'd you get this?"

Blake sat down and lit a cigarette, "police station archives."

"Aren't those usually heavily locked? Like number pad or deadbolt at the least?"

Blake nodded, "there was a considerably heavy deadbolt, yes."

Sam's eyes narrowed, "then how'd you get it open? No lockpick will do that."

Blake sat back, flicking the cigarette casually, "I have my ways."

Sam grew irritated, "what ways?"

Blakes eyes fell on him coldly, "you're an ever trusting one aren't you?"

Sam gritted his teeth, "you're giving us nothing. You expect us to work with you and trust you and yet you don't tell us everything."

Blake leaned forward, "how about this? No one has been hurt by how I got this, or killed. I got it, as you can so obviously see, and they're copies, and no one will be the wiser of it. Now you've got the information, and it fits, so how about you leave it be and just go with it?"

His tone was soft and smooth, silky even, but it seemed all the more dangerous for it. Dean glanced up with raised brows, "ah Sammy leave him alone, we got what we need, but how do we kill it?"

Blake sat back again, his cold stare still locked on Sam's glowering one, "silver kills it, straight to the center of it's heart."

Dean smiled, "well that's simple enough."

Blake shook his head, "not that simple, for one, their song is enchanting to any man who hears it, secondly while it can still take flight it will be forever invincible and uncatchable."

Dean leaned back, "man, it's never that easy."

Sam rolled his eyes, "so what's the plan, since you seem full of them."

Blake ignored the snarky comment, "we need make sure we can't hear them when they sing for one, but that also makes it impossible to find them in the first place. Basically we have someone who can hear her or them and we follow that person till we get to them. Find a way to keep them from singing continously and then take out their wings, from there, we stick a silver blade or bullet in her heart."

"Well," Dean started as he stood up, "let's get going then."

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Their footsteps echoed as they trudged along the dark streets. Blake and Dean stood behind Sam, their ears covered by heavy muffs, plugs in their ears beneath them. Sam was armed as well as Dean with a large enough Magnum to blow a hole like a cannon ball in anything living, Blake had opted for a large crossbow with silvery looking shots that held a strange indentation in them that ran about three or four inches along it.

A disgruntled Sam turned around and stared at them.

"What?" Dean said, a little louder than he should have.

Sam made a gesture to remove their covers so he could be heard and hesitantly they both did, and then Sam spoke, "remind me why I'm the bait?"

Dean smirked, "because we called not it."

Sam frowned, "what, are you seven? Plus Blake didn't call it."

Blake frowned, "I wasn't going to participate in that childish game."

Dean gave an offended look, "hey! Are you calling me childish?"

Blake rolled his eyes, "plus I found out about all of this and I refuse to be bait for it, and so did Dean, that left only you."

Sam didn't look any more pleased by the facts but shrugged irritably, Blake responded by slipping the plugs and muff back into place. Dean gave Sam a false helpless look to which Sam only glared as Dean put his covers back into place. Blake pushed past them, reaching the main area, the river running through the middle of the small town. He glanced around and peered down over the railing at the churning water below. He made note that the latest victim was killed in the nearby area. He felt another person brush up to his left, he glanced over and spotted Dean next to him peering over the edge. Blake felt the heat from Dean pushing against him, the muscles rippling as he leaned over and gave the river a closer look. Blake frowned at himself, bewildered, but shook it off as he tapped on Deans shoulder and glanced at Sam and motioned for them to follow him down further along the river.

The night was heavy with the smell of the river as they walked high above the rivers edge. Sam was irritated beyond belief, it was ridiculous that he was paying for Blake's stubbornness and Dean's childish logic. He had not made much of an effort to hide the fact that he didn't trust Blake, actually he'd made it quite apparent. He had argued with using bait at all, which was knocked down immediately, against going immediately, which was also knocked down. When he'd been chosen as bait, his ire was shown even further on Blake. What infuriated him the most, but he wouldn't admit, was that for the most part Blake ignored him. He hardly if ever responded to Sam's sarcasm or obvious displeasure to something that Blake was doing or his mere presence. Dean was doing his best to just ignore what was going on, but refused to even acknowledge Sam's hesitancies most of the time, which did nothing for Sam's attitude except make it worse.

He glowered at their backs as they continued walking on reaching a bridge that connected the two. They stopped and both of them gave a glance over the side, communicating silently. Sam rolled his eyes until his ears perked at a faint sound in the wind, "hey guys!"

His call went unheard and shaking himself he rushed forward to give them a jolt but stopped short as the noise got louder, seeming to drift through his entire body. A warm sense of wellbeing rose in his chest as he turned away from them, sweeping past Dean and walking into the night, his legs moving of their own accord. Dean in the meantime was using limited hand motions to talk to Blake, trying to figure out where they should try next. Blake shook his head and gestured back to which Dean nodded and grinned cockily, he turned around to ask Sam what he thought and blinked in suprise, Sam was gone.

"Sam?" He called instinctually.

When he didn't see his brother, and noticing a large fog that was rolling over them, he gave Blake a hard shove. Blake stumbled for a minute and shot Dean a dirty look, shoving him back but then his face froze as Dean stumbled himself, noticing Sam was also gone. Dean's worried and frantic face shot to Blakes and Blake motioned for Dean to continue upstream, while he would take the other side, one going the wrong direction the other a wrong side.

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Sam felt like he was floating along with the fog, his feet feeling heavy, as if he couldn't get to the sound fast enough. Everything in him felt at peace, like he was headed exactly where he was meant to go. His chest swelled, fighting to get closer and closer to whoever could possibly be making that wonderous sound. It had to be the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She'd be sweet and kind and caring, all the things he needed, all the things he wanted, normal. He felt the fog bearing down on him, pushing him forward.

He reached the point, he just knew he had to stop there. He bent down and sure enough, the most beautiful woman that he'd ever laid eyes on was sitting in the river, or at least on a rock. Her long ebony hair swirled with the current of the river, wrapping around her lithe and elegant figure. Her pale skin seeming to radiate as did her grey eyes that seemed to glow up at him. She smiled softly at him as she stood up, her mouth open as the lovely notes floated from her lips. The fog seemed to swirl around her feet, lifting her up to him, oh yes, she just had to be with him, that's all that mattered now. She rose gently, her gentle arms held out to him, a sign of want and need. He smiled as he leaned over the rail towards her. Her small hands touched his face, cool to his heated skin, her mouth shifting slightly as the smile darkened. Sam felt his insides squirm, there was something not right here. Her voice remained beautiful and haunting, yet she seemed to be changing, twisting into something else.

Suddenly her note changed, it became shrill and dark. It pierced his ears, sending a chill down his spine and terror spiking through his heart. He shook as her body melted, wings sprouting, her hands and face twisting, becoming sharp and dangerous. He wanted to run, to pull the gun in his hand up, but he couldn't move, his limbs unable to move from the terror. Her body was complete, blood dripping from her talons, her shriek continuing. She flapped her horrid wings and swooped at him, but jolted in mid-swipe. Sam's eyes followed her groping hands at the small but sharp arrow lodged in her throat, her cry still there, but mangled and enraged. Suddenly a soft but distinct metallic clink was heard as two blades on each side of her throat, tore outwards, severing her speech.

Sam shook himself, raising his gun, but the Siren, furious and desperate took a swipe at him knocking him behind her, and over the rail. Desperate he gripped the handrail, holding himself over the river.

"Shit!" He heard Blakes voice and the sound of his crossbow being thrown down, he looked up to see the furious Siren swooping down towards him. A black blur shot through the air and slammed into the Siren, knocking her down on the other side of the rail. As Sam struggled to pull himself up, he heard the gurgling sounds of the Siren and Blakes grunts as blows were made by each side. A dull metallic sound echoed around Sam as he pulled himself up just in time to see the Siren knock a standing Blake down and rolling over the edge he'd just pulled himself up from. He made a move to help when the Siren rushed at him, he rolled out of the way, away from the edge. His eyes fell on her, her body covered in a dark, tar like substance that dripped from her. He sucked in breath and realized she'd been covered in a lot of oil, the canister laying next to Sam, now empty.

She whipped around to rush at him when he heard Dean's voice, "hey! Bitch!"

She twisted around to Dean who stood with a lighter and a can of butane in his hand. He flicked the ligher on, and it sparked with life as he hit the button atop the can, flames poured out in a jet at the Siren who shrieked as flames consumed the whole of it's body. One of it's flailing arm flew up and smacked Dean on the underside of his head, sending him to the ground.

He rolled over as the Siren made for the water nearby, "Shoot her Sam!"

Sam groped for his gun and pulled it up as he stood, aiming steadily he squeezed the trigger. A sound, atune to the sound of a bomb going off ripped through the air as the bullet flew through the air and tore a large hole in the Siren's chest. Without a sound, the beast slumped on the rail, only mere seconds from it's saving grace. Dean panted as he picked himself up from the ground, he kicked the body down to the ground and poked it with his foot a few times. He grunted and then glanced up at Sam who was brushing himself off and grinned, "took care of that bitch."

Sam grumbled, "can't believe I fell for that, where were you two?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "you were supposed to let Blake and I know when you heard her."

Sam shook his head, "it kind of happened too quickly."

Dean shrugged and then looked confused, "wait....where is Blake?"

Over the sounds of the churning water below came an irritated tone, "how nice of you to finally remember me."

Sam's eyes widened as he remembered Blake had went over the edge and rushed to the railing, peering over it. Lo' and behold, in the rivers current, clinging to a rock was Blake. His body was awash with water, his hair dripping as he stared at them, visibly annoyed. Dean stared down at him, "what're you doin' down there?"

Blake gave an annoyed look, "oh you know, I just decided now would be a good time for a swim."

Dean frowned, "what?"

Blake rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth, "she knocked me in when I was trying to save Sam, now if you would throw me some rope, I'd like to get out of here."

Sam grimaced as he remembered that it had in fact been Blake who had saved him from the Siren's claws, rummaged around in his bag and found some rope. After a few minutes, a sopping wet Blake stood next to an amused Dean and Sam. He glared at them and ripped the lighter out of Dean's hand as he pulled out a ziploc bag with his cigarettes in them out. He lit the cigarette and jabbed his foot at the creature, "bitch...."

Dean raised an eyebrow as he walked up with Sam and smirked at Blake, "yeah I'd say she's gone."

Blake snorted, wiping water off his face as he walked towards the railing, "well at least that's ano-"

He was cut off by another shrill shrieking as another feathered beast barreled into him from below. He hit the ground with a grunt, a burning sensation on his forehead as the cigarette bounced out of his mouth, onto his forehead and rolled away. He stared mildly shocked at the second Siren who shrieked and clawed at him. Dean rushed forward but was caught by a backhanded swing of the beast, sending him sprawling. Sam took advantage of the beasts distraction and ran forward, jamming his large blade into the beast's throat, cutting its voice off in a gurgled squawk. Enranged it stood up and kicked out with a sharp foot at Sam, knocking him down, blood pouring out of his wound.

"God damn it!" Dean roared as he threw another open container at the Siren, oil coating it's body, the spread of it quickened by it's violent flailing. He fumbled with the lighter and the can but the Siren reached him, knocking the lighter from his grasp. It clattered along until it fell over the edge, Dean backed quickly away from it, cursing as it reached him.

His eyes fell on the form of Blake behind her, his face covered in blood and having picked up his cigarette, taking a deep drag off of it, he pulled it away, smoke pouring out of his mouth as he yelled at the Siren, "Oi! Over here, ya feathery twat!"

The Siren turned in suprise as Blake flicked the cigarette, sending it whizzing through the air, colliding with the Siren's body. The cherry of the cigarette ignited the oil covered Siren, it's gurgling reaching a peak as it flailed, trying to escape the flames that covered it's body. Dean recovered quickly and kicked the beast, knocking it down and pulling out his gun and pulling the trigger. After the loud roar, the beast was silenced and still.

Dean stood over it, smirking, "damn right."

Blake raised an eyebrow, "uhh, Dean?"

Dean turned to him, "what?"

Blake smiled, "your pants are on fire."

Dean's gaze shot down and sure enough the bottom cuff of his pants and part of his shoes had got caught up in the oil and flames and were flickering with the fire. He yelped as he jumped back, swatting at the fire, trying to put the flames out. Blake rolled his eyes and with a shake of his head, walked over to the wounded Sam. Sam had brought himself up into a sitting position, holding his bleeding side. Blake squatted down next to Sam, trying to get a better look at the wound.

Sam pulled back from the touch, "I'm fine!"

Blake's brow raised, "you'd think after saving your ass from being torn apart and risking my own life to help you further would have made you trust me a little more than this."

Sam gave a brief guilty look and sighed, "it's not that bad..."

Blake caught the double connatation but said nothing as he pulled Sam's hand away from the wound, as Blake had suspected, the wound wasn't too bad, nothing a little bit of stitching couldn't hurt.

Blake shrugged, "just need a few stitches, and probably a shot or two."

Sam grinned and then they heard a soft splash, Sam's eyes shot over to his brother and a disbelieving look crossed his face as Dean's voice rang out, "ok, fire's out."

Blake turned and his eyes widened in amusement as a pants less Dean stood, the splash having come from Dean throwing his jeans into the river below.

Dean looked at their stares, "what?!?"

Blake was the first to speak, "is that a.....thong?"

Dean glanced down and then looked sheepish,"I didn't have anything else left, and these are from that hot girl in Tampa."

The next sounds to fill the night were that of Sam and Blake bursting into loud peals of hysterical laughter and Dean shouting at them to "shut the hell up before he shot them."

****************************************************

They'd all got back late and had decided it'd be best to just get some sleep and get up and discuss everything the next morning. This was easier said than done, because it quickly occured to them when they got back, that there were only two queen beds, and three of them. All of them down right refused to sleep on the flimsy couch, yet none of them seemed too keen on sleeping in the same bed. In the middle of it, Blake, in a complete Blake manner, laid down on one of the beds and told them they could figure out their own sleeping arrangements, he was going to bed. The following 15 minutes were spent with Dean and Sam bickering in low voices, neither was going to sleep with the other, and Dean claimed he had his masculinity to think about.

Sam rolled his eyes, "I'm going to take a page from Blakes book, I'm going to bed."

And he did, flopping down on the opposite bed and crawled under the covers. Dean stared, darting his gaze between the two beds, and groaned, "man..."

He finally slid into the bed with Blake, grimacing the whole time. He swore to himself as he pulled under the covers, noticing that Blake was already dead asleep and having already heated the bed. Dean rolled his eyes and tried to focus on going to sleep, he sighed, maybe it wasn't all that bad, at least it was SOMEONE to heat his bed, besides himself anyways.

***********************************************

They awoke the next morning and got ready without incident, other than Dean demanding pie. Blake rolled his eyes at the mention as he went on a food run, but when he'd come back, he'd brought pie, if only to shut Dean up. When they were getting ready to go, they stepped out back to see a rather intimidating and shining sports bike next to the Impala.

"What the?" Dean audibly asked.

"What?" Blakes voice came from behind them, when he spotted the bike his eyes lit up, "oh good, it was delivered."

Sam turned to him, "you bought this?"

Blake shrugged, "more or less, a guy owed me a favor, a BIG favor, and so he offered me this and even delivered it."

Dean stared at the bike, "must have helped him big time..."

Blake scratched his head as he ran his hand over the bike and began placing his things in the compartments, "yeah, in the same week I saved him from a werewolf, a banshee, and the literally witch wife of his that were summoning these things on him."

Sam cocked his head, "yeah, I'd think that constitutes as a big help."

Blake shrugged and put on his helmet, Sam frowned, "leaving?"

Blake motioned around them, "not like there's a whole lot left to do here, last I checked you two are leaving as well."

Dean gave a jerk of his head, "not coming with?"

A visible small smile showed beneath the helmets visor, "you want me too?"

Sam threw up his hands, "why not? It's not like you didn't save our asses twice, might as well stick around long enough for us to do the same for you."

Blake chuckled, "fair enough, then where too?"

Dean's eyes twinkled, "Vegas?"

Blake rolled his eyes, and sighed.

Dean shrugged, "fine, I heard of some weird deaths going down near Sacremento."

Blake nodded, "Sacremento it is then."

As the two brothers made their way to the Impala, Blake rooted around through his bag, and called to Dean, "hey Dean, catch!"

Dean caught the package as he slipped into the car, "wha-?"

He groaned loudly as Sam laughed again, it was a six pack of underwear.

Blake winked, "that way you have a few for the trip."

Dean flipped him off as he threw the package in the back seat, making a mental note to change his underwear later, and turning on the car. Within minutes, both parties were racing down the road.

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See?
I told you I'd be doing some originality chapters!
So, what'd ya think?
Didja like? Hate?
Let me know!
Oh and there probably won't be that much dirtiness next chapter, but I'm thinking a little somethin' somethin'
Anyways, R and R please!

~Braioch~