Sam rushes over to Allen's side, kneeling next to his prone form. They may just be salt rounds, but he's been on the receiving end of them many times. Not only do they hurt like a bitch, they can do some serious damage too. Dean yells at him to get back.

He doesn't listen.

Heavy footfalls come from somewhere else in the house, continuously getting louder until the other priest is in the doorway, likely summoned by the sound of Dean's shots. His eyes land on Allen, laying on the floor, and he practically growls. Drawing a pistol, he points it at Dean first, then levels it at Sam, who is unarmed and right next to his companion.

"What did you shoot him with?" he asks Dean, even though his eyes never leave Sam.

Of all the questions he expects, that is not it.

"Salt rounds," Dean answers. The firm set of his jaw twitches as he gives away vital information to the enemy, but he won't risk Sam's safety. He has no ammo left in his shotgun, and Sam abandoned his gun to attend to Allen - rookie mistake.

Sam would prefer not to get shot today if it was at all possible.

Kanda stares at him for a minute before he sneers. Surprisingly, he puts his gun away. "You alright over there, Moyashi?"

Allen stirs from his spot on the ground, pushing himself up with a groan. "Fine," he says as he smooths down his chest where his clothes are torn. "Took me by surprise is all."

He goes to stand up, but Sam's voice stops him. "Wait–" Unthinking, Sam reaches out and pushes Allen's torn shirt aside. Two shots – directly to the chest – would hurt, would leave marks. The rounds tore through his clothing, but Sam sees no blood, no wound. The skin is unblemished. "Why aren't you hurt? Dean doesn't miss."

For the first time since they've met, Allen looks visibly lost. He looks to Kanda for guidance, who picks up the reins.

"You should count yourselves lucky he's not hurt. I'd ask what you're doing here, but I'm not stupid. I know hunters when I see them."

Dean smirks, "I take it you two aren't priests, then?"

"Bit slow on the uptake, aren't you?" Kanda teases. "We're as much priests as you're FBI agents."

And just like that, Kanda and Dean are bickering like an old married couple. Sam stands up and offers a hand to Allen, who is still sitting on the floor. Allen accepts with a smile.

"Thank you. Though, you should not be hunting in your current condition."

Sam laughs, but his insides are churning. Does he look that weak? "Shouldn't I be asking you that? Are you sure you're okay? What are you two even doing here?"

"Yes, I'm fine, really. We're looking for the talisman, same as you."

By now, everyone is standing, facing each other awkwardly in a circle. "You two are hunters? Seriously?" Dean asks.

Kanda sneers, "You're just confirming all my theories tonight."

"Oh yeah, and what theory is that?"

Kanda smirks, and Allen prays for the strength necessary to finish this hunt. "That meatheads like you should retire early due to brain damage. But who knows? Maybe you were just born stupid."

"Do you want me to fucking shoot you?"

"I'd like to see you try–"

"Kanda! That's enough," Allen chastises. He glares at them for a moment, two, then he drops it and sighs. "We're never gonna get anything done like this. We're all hunters going after the same baku, so can we just get along for now? Once we're done, we can go our separate ways."

"Ch,"

"Whatever."

"Good... Kanda and I believe that Nathan's late father summoned the baku several years ago for his PTSD. We came here looking for the talisman, but so far we haven't had much luck."

"Where have you looked?" Sam asks.

"We decided to split up. I've been looking in the bedroom, while Kanda searched the rest of the house. Unfortunately, we haven't had much luck."

Dean frowns. "If it's not here, then where else could it be?"

"Hard to say," Kanda shrugs. "More traditional baku talismans look like small paper envelopes, but more modern adaptations can look like jewelry. Necklaces, mostly. Nathan could've thrown it away, for all we know."

Sam shakes his head. "That doesn't make sense. Nathan said that no one's been in this room since his parents died. He wouldn't even come in here with us when we looked around earlier, so I think that includes him as well.

Allen takes a seat on the bed, brows creased in thought. "In order for the talisman to truly summon a baku, it must be kept near the summoner while they sleep. That means it has to, at some point, have been in this room. Who has had access to this room since the Sommers' passing?"

"The police?"

Kanda nods in agreement. "If either Mom or Dad had it on them when they killed themselves, then the police likely took it as evidence. I bet it's still at the precinct."

They have no proof that David or Stephanie had the talisman when they died, nor do they have any proof that the police would take something like jewelry as evidence in a suicide. But... it's the only lead they have to go on and time is running out. It's already pushing midnight, and another suicide is due any minute. They don't have time to try and weasel into the evidence at the police station before someone else dies.

"We have to split up," Sam realizes. "Dean and I have cover as agents right now. We can go to the precinct and try to find the talisman. Allen, you and Kanda have to try and find the next vic."

Everyone murmurs in agreement. A final round is done on the house, just in case the talisman was overlooked, but no one finds anything. Before they leave, Allen insists on cleaning up the salt covering David and Stephanie's floor. Sam and Dean look at him strangely but don't stop him. They swap numbers with Kanda, just in case something goes wrong on either of their ends. After making sure everything is left as they found it, they relock the front door behind them and part ways.

On the way to the police station, Sam and Dean rapid-fire contingency plans and ideas. Why would two FBI agents want to look at evidence from a two-week-old suicide in the middle of the night? What does the talisman look like? How do they even destroy it? Break it? Catch it on fire? And will the baku sense its impending doom? Will it attack Sam and Dean? They won't be able to bring their salt shotguns into the precinct.

Will they be able to stop it before someone else dies?

There are only three police officers working the night shift, one manning the front desk and the other two playing on their phones at their desks. It's likely more than the small town usually staffs, but with the events of the last two weeks, they probably don't want to risk not having enough hands, should they be needed.

The woman at the front desk doesn't take her eyes off of the monitor in front of her when she drones out, "Mr. Johnson, have another rough night? This is the fourth time this month we'll have to book you with public intoxication and disorderly. Ready to sleep it off in a cell again? "

"Not quite," Dean says. The officer startles at Dean's voice and finally pays them her full attention. "Agents Prine and Walters. We're working on the recent serial suicides, and wanted to take a look at the evidence."

She crosses her arms and gives them a hard look. On any other occasion, Sam would appreciate her neat braids and strong frame, but now's not the time. "What evidence, exactly?"

"We'd like to see the items collected from the deceased persons, particularly from Mr. and Mrs. Sommers."

The sound of her keyboard keys fills the quiet station while she either looks up information or records the details of their visit. It seems to take eons for her to finish. "Alright Agents," she says as she stands up. "Follow me."

They follow her to one of the backrooms. The others don't give them a passing glance. She takes out a large keyring and starts to flick through them. "Normally we don't keep personal belongings after a suicide for very long, but with these special circumstances, we've asked Mr. Sommer's if we could hold on to them until after the suicides stop. I'm hoping that young girl is the last of this dreadful business."

She finds the object of her desire, a small, unimpressive silver key, and unlocks the door. Inside are rows and rows of shelves containing case files, unclaimed evidence, and generic lost items. At the very back of the room, she pulls down a black plastic tub labeled with random letters and numbers. Well, random to them, at least.

"Here ya go. You know the drill, don't forget to sign the log before you leave. And gloves are next to the door," she adds before she leaves the room.

Donning a pair of gloves (because yes, they've been on the most wanted list and no, they don't want to repeat that by leaving DNA on evidence that's literally in police custody), they open up the container. Inside are large plastic bags, one for each of the deceased from the previous two weeks. Sorting through the bags, they find the one labeled 'D.Sommers' and take it out. Inside are his bloody clothes, his wedding ring, and more importantly, a small paper envelope that's sealed inside another bag.

Sam takes it out carefully. It's rather unassuming and looks like a charm that any middle school kid could make. What sets it apart is the red kanji written on the back. "This has got to be it."

Nodding, Dean grabs it and slips it into the inside breast pocket of his suit. "Let's roll."

They put everything back, do not fill out the log, and bid the front desk officer a good night. Used to the cheap fluorescent overhead lights, it takes Sam's eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness outside and actually see the impala in the parking lot. Even with the sun down, the Florida air is still hot and muggy, stifling in all the ways he hates. He sags into the leather seats, hating how tired he is, despite the fact that the most strenuous thing he's done this entire hunt is hold a shotgun, and he didn't even fire it.

Dean drives them to an empty lot, tucked away and mostly obscured by trees. They both get back out, standing off to the side. Sam watches warily as Dean pulls out the talisman and a lighter.

"Ready?" he asks, his mouth set in a firm line.

Sam opens the trunk and pulls out a container of salt, as well as a silver blade, just in case. "Ready."

His brother flips open the lighter and turns the wheel. It takes a few tries for the spark to catch, illuminating their faces in a dull orange glow. He and Sam make eye contact one more time before Dean puts the edge of the paper in the flame. It instantly ignites, and it burns. All is silent except for crickets and the sound of paper turning to ash. When more than half of it is gone, the kanji beyond recognizable, they take it as the all-clear.

The baku chooses that moment to appear.

Sam stares at it in astonishment. It looks like some form of elephant, but its features are twisted. Its trunk and tusks curl in on themselves, warbled and stiff. Instead of normal legs, it has massive and sharp cat-like claws.

Claws that it doesn't use.

The baku doesn't attack them. It stays where it appeared, several yards away from them, hunched over itself. Sam would think that it doesn't know they're there, except it's staring right at them. No, it's not staring at them but at the talisman that's burning in Dean's hand. When the flame gets too close to his skin, he drops to the ground, where the last of it turns to ash.

With the talisman fully destroyed, the baku finally reacts. It shakes out its coat, and they watch in amazement as its hardened features relax. The wrinkles smooth out, its tusks straighten, and its claws shrink in size. It looks much younger like this, and much less intimidating.

"Tasukete kurete arigatou gozaimasu," it says.

And then it's gone.

--------

Savannah's mother is awoken at 11:54 pm by the sounds of fists pounding against her front door. She turns to wake up her husband, but the bed beside her is empty. Bathroom, most likely. Her sleep-addled mind wonders vaguely if it's Savannah, who's forgotten her key while out with friends. It takes a moment for her to realize how painfully wrong she is, how Savannah won't be forgetting her key ever again because she...

Mrs. Harris opens her front door at precisely 11:57 pm. The light from her hallway silhouettes her sleep-ladden form as her brain still plays catch-up with the world around her. She recognizes the two men standing on her doorstep.

"We're so sorry to bug you at such a late hour, Mrs. Harris," the young priest apologizes. The colorless hue of his hair always reminds her of painted cherubs, holy and innocent. "I simply cannot quiet the unease in my heart. The Lord is warning us, and he is relentless. Please, may we speak with you and your husband?"

Perhaps she should be more suspicious of priests showing up at her door in the middle of the night, but they had been so kind to everyone in their town, her family especially, how could she turn them down after everything they've done? And if their worried expressions caused her stomach to turn, well, all the more reason to listen.

She acquiesces, standing back so they can come in. They've been in her house before, so they lead themselves to the kitchen and take a seat at her table. "Can I get you anything to drink? Lemonade or tea, maybe?" she asks.

Allen shakes his head. "No, thank you. I'm afraid that we don't quite have time with that. We're concerned that someone else is going to take their life tonight, like so many before, and we're worried that it will be someone close to Savannah. Please, anyone you can think of, who had contact with Savannah recently before her death, we need to know."

The loss of her own daughter, from her own choice, has caused her grief that she didn't know was possible. If she could, if there was anything she could do to prevent someone else from living her nightmare, she would do it. In a heartbeat. She doesn't know why it has to be someone that Savannah was with, but her adrenaline is kicking in, and her sympathetic nervous system is revving up. She doesn't take long to question it.

"Of course, let me go get Charlie. He's still in the bathroom, I think."

Their bed is still empty when she goes back to their room, so she walks to the bathroom. She doesn't hear anything, but her husband is probably just playing on his phone. Or he fell asleep again, that's happened before too.

She knocks on the door, "Charlie? Are you done yet? The priests are here, it's important... Charlie?"

Silence.

When she doesn't get a response, she tries the door and finds it unlocked. She opens the door and turns on the light, but her husband is nowhere to be found. The sheer terror that results is all-encompassing. It's the middle of the night, priests are worried, and her husband - the one who found Savannah's body - isn't here.

Her numb legs barely carry her back to the kitchen. Allen and Kanda are on their feet the second she stumbles back in.

"He's not here."

Kanda rushes over to her and grabs her shoulders. "Mrs. Harris, if your husband was going to kill himself, where would he go?"

Her mind shuts down. This can't be happening. Savannah had just taken her own life, Charlie of all people should know what that does to a family. And he was about to make her go through it again, alone.

"Mrs. Harris!" Kanda shouts as he jostles her.

"Kanda, that's enough," Allen says as he pulls him away.

"There's a bridge on the road into town," she says on autopilot. It's like someone else is speaking through her while she watches from a distance. "It used to go over a creek, but due to marshing they filled it in with rocks. If I were to... that's where I would go."

She's barely finished talking before they're racing out the door.

--------

Allen is glad that Kanda always insists on driving them everywhere. After several days of parading through the town as clergymen, they've got the roads memorized like the back of their hands. Kanda knows the quickest route to the bridge, but even then, it'll still take them about ten minutes to get there with the way that the Harris' house was buried in subdivisions. For once, Allen did not argue when Kanda blew through stop signs and red lights.

They could already be too late.

Thinking for a moment, Allen takes his phone out of his back pocket. He opens up his contacts and pulls up the most recently added contact. Kanda glances at him, and his phone, and then back at the road. He doesn't say anything, so Allen takes that as a 'go-ahead.'

He dials the number and puts it on speaker. It rings twice before Sam answers, "We found the talisman. It was at the police station, like you thought."

"That's great! Did you destroy it?"

"Yeah, we caught it on fire. The baku showed up, but it just let us do our thing. It said something in Japanese before it left, I think it was thanking us."

Allen nods, even though he knows Sam can't see it. "That makes sense. Bakus are normally very passionate protectors. It is a shame how they can become twisted by the very thing that they destroy."

Sam coughs, unsure how to respond. "Yeah... so, is everything all good on your end then?"

"Unfortunately not. Mr. Harris had left his house without telling Mrs. Harris. We think he's the next victim. She told us about a bridge on the road into town, we're pulling up now."

Kanda slows down and puts on his brights so they can canvas the road. Before long, an old pick-up truck appears pulled off to the ride of the road. It's crooked and halfway in the nearby bushes. The driver-side door is wide open.

"He's here – we gotta go."

Allen hangs up the phone without waiting for an answer. Kanda pulls his car to the side of the road as well. They get out, flashlights in hand, and begin to walk. Neither of them speaks while they search the nearby area. They're trying to listen to any indication of where Charlie might be, but the crickets make it difficult to hear.

He prays that they find him in time. Allen was not lying earlier when he said suicide was not a sin, but the thought of someone being in such pain that they see no alternative... pains him in a way he can't describe. It reminds him of past hurts from years prior, things he would rather not dwell on.

After a few minutes of walking, the object of their search comes into view. The bridge is quite sturdy, if not old. Made out of concrete and steel, it can only fit one car at a time. As with other older buildings in the town, the bridge is not spared by graffiti tags on the support beams.

But what catches Allen's immediate attention is the lone figure standing on the wrong side of the ledge. Charlie is staring at the rocks below him, the wind touseling his outgrown hair, and still in his pajamas. His grip on the bridge is tentative at best, loose at worst.

Sure, they could just grab him and pull him down - it doesn't look like he's noticed them yet, but although the baku is no longer tied to him, Charlie's pain is his own. His sadness will linger long after the hunters leave, and his daughter will still be dead. The decision to come here was Charlie's, and it will need to be his to come down.

(And if he doesn't, Allen has a contingency plan for that too).

Kanda usually is the one to take leads on hunts, he enjoys the weight of guns in his hands, he enjoys knowing what next steps to take. But here, in situations like these where the next step is not so simple, he takes the back seat. It's why they're such a great time.

"Mr. Harris?" Allen asks gently, making sure his footsteps are heard as he gets closer. He stops a few yards away, he doesn't want Charlie to feel crowded.

"Leave me alone."

"I can't leave you alone, not when you're thinking of hurting yourself... would you like to talk about it?" He takes a step closer.

"No, I don't, I... Savannah is gone."

"Yeah, she is," Allen agrees. On this, he is not sure the best method to soothe Charlie. He has never had children, Red being the only thing close enough to qualify, and he likely never will.

So he listens.

"I always thought that the proudest moment of my life was going to be when I walked her down the aisle, when I had finished raising her, and sent her off to start her new life, to start her new family. A job well done.... But it's not a job well done, is it? Because she's gone now, and it wasn't something unfortunate like a car accident or an illness. No. She fucking killed herself... I found her, you know? Her body, I mean."

Charlie finally looks away from the ground below him in favor of looking at Allen. Taking another step closer, Allen maintains eye contact.

"I'm sure that was very hard for you, Mr. Harris."

He shrugs as if they're talking about the weather. Allen watches his grip on the bridge like a hawk, but it remains steady. "I was coming home from work," he explains. "I knocked on her door, to see if she wanted to go out for dinner. She didn't answer, so I opened the door and I... she was..."

Tears start rolling down his face, gleaming in the dark from the brightness of their flashlights.

"She was hanging from the ceiling fan. Her eyes were open and her hands and feet were purple. I couldn't just leave her like that, so I cut her down with a pair of scissors. There was no way for me to catch her like that, so her body just fell to the ground in a heap and all I could do was just stare at her. It must've been half an hour before I finally came around and called the police."

Allen takes another step. "I can't imagine what that was like."

Charlie sneers, "No, you can't. No one does." His gaze breaks away and then he's looking back at the rocks.

A more direct approach seems necessary.

"Your wife does, Charlie." The way Charlie's head jerks back to look at him almost gives Allen whiplash. "She lost Savannah too, just as much as you did. She's at home right now, terrified, worried sick about you. She's already lost her daughter, are you going to make her lose her husband too?"

"I wouldn't - she would -"

"Am I going to have to help her plan a dual service, just like I did with the Sommers? It would devastate her, more than she already is. I wonder who she'll turn to for support, if you're not here."

It's cutting in all the ways Allen hates, but sometimes that's what's needed. He doesn't feel like himself when he speaks like this.

"I... you... you're right. I can't do that to her... 'for better or for worse' right?"

"Right," Allen agrees, smiling softly. Charlie tries to turn around, and Allen is by his side in an instant, offering the physical and emotional support he needs. Kanda joins them as well, and before long, they're hefting Charlie over the railing and he's back on solid ground.

"I'll take him back to his house," Kanda offers.

The mustang only has two seats, and Allen doesn't mind waiting. He would rather make sure that Charlie makes it back to his wife in one piece. They have a long road ahead of them, but Allen's sure that they'll make it through okay.

Allen watches as Kanda drives away. Once they make it back to his house, the hunt will be over. Though it's not the first baku they've freed, it has certainly been the most devastating. He enjoys this moment of solitude, in the warm night air. But while Kanda's gone, Allen feels a familiar pounding in his head beginning, and a burning in his eye.

Apocryphos.

-------

I'd say we're halfway done, but that's not quite the case. The third and fourth parts will be much larger than the first two (at least, I think they will be). These first two parts are meant to be purely a case fic, while the last two parts are where we really dive in Supernatural's cannon (i.e. I do what I want with it) and how Kanda and Allen fit into the grander scheme of things. I'd love to hear your guys' theories, both on Kanda and Allen's backgrounds, and also what you think is going to happen. Yeeeeeeeeee, I'm so excited!