JACK CUPPED HIS hands around his eyes as he gazed through the car window. It was dark, but with his powers, he could see just enough. Sam and Dean were walking back to the car, both with a grave expression on their faces.

    Quickly sitting back in his seat, Jack waited for Sam and Dean to get in the car. As the brothers sat down, Jack leaned forward. "So, what happened? Is it a witch? Vampire?" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Zombie?"

    Sam furrowed his brow as he glanced back at him. "N-No. Neither." He shrugged. "We don't know what it was. There was no visible wound. We found a symbol on her wrists that I want to research—"

    "Her?" Jack interrupted.

    Sam sighed as he exchanged glances with Dean. Dean shook his head, but Sam spoke anyway. "It was Callie," he said, softly.

    Jack's eyes widened as he leaned back against the cold seat. Callie? Why would someone want to kill her? A thought entered his mind. "Do you think someone was looking for the prize money?" he asked. "Someone who hadn't gone to the game, but knew who the last contestants were?"

    Sam shrugged. "I guess it's possible."

    Jack eyed Sam. "Are we going to find out who did this to her?"

    "It's not our case," Dean interrupted. "We'll find a place for the night and go over the symbols, but from what I can tell, this doesn't seem supernatural."

    "So what? She just fell over dead?" Jack asked. "Because you said there was no visible wound."

    "Anything's possible," Dean said, starting up the impala.

    Jack couldn't let the thought go. There had to be more to it. Callie was a fit young lady. There's no way she would've just collapsed dead for no reason. Something happened to her, and it sounded an awful lot like a witch.

    Another gruesome thought arose. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he began, "What if someone's targeting players?" 

    Dean made a 'tsk' sound. "That's highly unlikely. I'm telling you, Jack, whatever happened here has nothing to do with you. Let's just go pick up some food from that diner I mentioned and hit the hay. Or..." He gestured between himself and Sam. "We'll hit the hay anyway."

    An hour passed before they finally settled into a motel room. Opening the door, Dean huffed from up ahead. "We just won ten thousand dollars. Could we not get a nice hotel for once?" He walked through the door followed by Sam, and Jack brought up the rear carrying a duffle bag on his shoulders.

    Stepping inside the motel room, he glanced around at the cracked blue walls. The light flickered over the kitchenette to his left, and the carpet, a dirty brown, was full of stains—actually, the carpet might've been white years ago.

    Sam dropped his duffle bag on the floor beside a round table with two chairs that sat close to a smaller-than-normal fridge. "Because, Dean," he said, "if someone really is targeting players, a fancy hotel is going to give Jack away."

    Dean furrowed his brow. "And Jason Silvers, the millionaire, isn't?"

    Sam rolled his eyes as he sat down in one of the chairs at the table. "Let's just lay low for tonight and get out of town tomorrow." He pulled out his computer from his backpack as he rested it against the chair legs. Placing it on the table, he opened the top. "Until then, I'm going to try to find out more about those symbols on her wrists."

    Dean huffed and plopped down on the green sofa in front of a small TV that rested on a table. He reached for the remote and flicked on the TV.  The channel that popped up was "Channel 9"—the news.

    "Kitora player, Callie Owens, was found dead in an alleyway hours after the final tournament," the woman on the channel, who's name popped up as Whitney Brewer, said as she stood in the same alleyway where they had been just minutes ago; police lights flashed in the background. "Just yesterday, Evan Parker, another player for Kitora, was found dead after the last battle for the final three spots."

    "Dean," Sam whispered.

    Dean swiped a hand through the air dismissing Sam's words. "It's probably just a coincidence."

    Jack could tell from the tone of his voice that Dean didn't truly believe what he was saying.

    "This places Miss Owens as the fifth Kitora player to be found dead in the past week after a game," Whitney continued.

    "Not a coincidence," Dean corrected.

    On screen, four other pictures popped up on screen alongside Callie's. Jack slowly strode towards the TV as his eyes widened. He pointed a shaking finger towards the TV as he said, "I know those people. I competed against them for the spot." He shook his head. "They're all dead?"

    "Police have still been unable to catch the murderer." Jack gripped the sofa, he now stood behind, as Whitney went on, "You heard correct. Even though there is no physical sign of what caused the deaths, detectives on the case have linked the deaths together and are warning other Kitora players to find somewhere safe to hide until they're able to bring this serial killer to justice. Back to you, Henry."

    As a man in the studios popped up on screen, Dean shut the TV off. Jack glanced down at Dean as Dean turned to face him. "Don't worry, kid," Dean said. "Nothing's going to happen." He stood to his feet. "You have your powers and us to protect you." Dean looked over towards Sam. "We should get some sleep if we want to catch this killer."

    Sam cocked his head. "I thought you said it wasn't our kind of case?"

    "It's a serial killer who has Jack on his list," Dean argued. "I think that makes it our case."

    Sam threw up his hands in defense. "Okay. I wasn't disagreeing." He returned his hands to his keyboard and began typing. "You get some sleep. I'm going to see what more I can dig up on this symbol."

    Dean glanced between Sam and Jack before heading towards one of the two twin beds at the left side of the room. Taking the bed on the left, he slipped his boots off and slid under the covers.

    Jack glanced down at his shoes as the faces on screen ran through his mind. Cole, Mila, Patrica, Evan, and now Callie. All of them were gone? He had become close friends to everyone he had competed against. During practice, there had been a lot of down time to get to know one another. He and Callie had especially become close. She was one of the kindest players, though, she sometimes got caught up in the moment during a game. He and her had shared a lot of laughs.

    He looked over to find Sam jotting down a few things on a piece of paper with a pen. Sam leaned back and ran a hand down his face as he yawned.

    Jack took a couple steps towards Sam. "You look tired. Maybe I could research the symbol while you get some rest."

    Sam grinned, but shook his head as he twiddled the pen between his thumb and index finger of both hands. "Thanks, Jack, but I'll be alright."

    Jack nodded his head in understanding as he returned to the green couch. He laid down on the couch with his head resting on the arm rest, his fingers intertwined as he placed his hands on his chest, and gazed up at the cracked ceiling lost in thought.

*****

    Soaring high above the air, Jack glanced down at the town below, watching as Callie strode along the sidewalk, a duffle bag hanging at her hip.

    Swooping down, he landed on his feet in an alleyway. He hid in the shadows as he watched Callie walk by. Using his powers, he called to her through his mind. "Callie."

    Callie stopped halfway past the alleyway, and turned in his direction. Shielded by the darkness, he knew she couldn't see him.

    "Hello?" she said as she slowly stepped forward. "Is someone there?"

    Clenching his hands into fists, he narrowed his eyes as she stepped closer to him.

    Squinting her eyes, she cocked her head. "Jack? Jack is that you?" She smiled and heaved a sigh. "You scared me. My heart was racing a mile a minute." She glanced around before saying, "What are you doing out here? You were unconscious when I left the stadium." She took another step forward. "Is something wrong?" Once more, she squinted. "Your eyes... They're glowing?"

    Without answering, he squeezed his fists tighter.

    Callie suddenly stopped in her tracks, her hand flying to her chest. She gasped for air as she clawed at her throat. "Jack!" her voice came out in whisper. She collapsed to her knees, her palms smacking the pavement. Glancing back up at him, she forced out, "Help me!"  Within seconds, Callie collided with the ground motionless.

    Jack relaxed his hands as he slowly strode up beside her body. Using his index and middle finger, he swept them through the air, flipping her over onto her back. Pointing down at her wrists, he began to wiggle his pointer finger. A symbol, glowing red as it burned, etched into the skin of both wrists.

    Looking toward the sky, his invisible wings spread as he lifted into the air.

*****

    "Jack!"

    Springing into an upward position, Jack gasped for air. Sam knelt beside him to his right as Dean towered over him from the back of the sofa.

    "You okay, kid?" Dean asked.

    "Jack, what happened?" Sam asked. "You were glowing and the room started shaking. We couldn't wake you."

    Jack's heart pounded in his chest as he gripped the edge of the cushion. What had happened? Was that... a dream? Why was Callie in it? Why was he in it? Why was it showing her dead body? He had never even gotten out of the car to see who it was.

    He shook is head. "I-I think I had a dream." He looked at Sam as Sam glanced over at Dean. Jack turned his attention toward Dean as panic flooded him. "I think... I think I killed Callie."

    Seeing that neither of the Winchesters' believed him, he hopped to his feet and made his way towards Sam's papers. Rummaging through the mess, he flipped through papers until he found the symbol the dream version of himself had drawn. He held it up with the symbol facing the brothers, and he pointed to it.

    "I drew this on Callie's wrists," he said, hurriedly. "I have never seen these markings before until now. I did it!"

    "Would you just calm down?" Dean said, aggressively. He threw a hand towards the sheet of paper. "You probably saw when Sam started researching."

    "I have never seen this before!" Jack shouted.

    "Dean, he's right," Sam agreed. "I told him I didn't need help. He didn't have a chance to see what the symbol looked like." Pausing he lowered his head. "But that's not all."

    Dean turned towards Sam. "What?"

    Sam reached for the paper, and grabbed it out of Jack's hands staring down at it. "The symbol. It..." He trailed off as he adverted his gaze. "It means Nephilim."