From outside, the Leatherby RV was neither unique nor impressive. It was an old, faded white color with dark green racing stripes and a mossy green roof that was haphazardly painted on. Anyone could have walked past it at any given time and never guessed the secret it held within its rain-stained walls. Unfortunately for the Winchester boys, those secrets had been discovered by a druggie and then by the local police. That's when Bobby called them in to look into it. The Winchester boys had known Mr. and Mrs. Leatherby since their early youth. They were hunters, but they kept a low profile. Most hunters didn't realize the Leatherby's were hunters until it was staring them in the face. So...how the Hell did this happen to them? Who found them? Who ratted them out? There couldn't have been any other possible explanation.

With unsteady sighs, the brothers climbed out of the Impala and pulled a few "essentials" from the trunk before heading towards the scene of the crime where they were met half-way by the local police. This one was from the Sheriff's office and reminded Dean of Barney from the Andy Griffith Show reruns he and Sammy used to watch in that very trailer with Mr. Leatherby. Old man always was a sucker for the classics.

"Hey there," Dean said, putting on his hoity-toity smile while flashing his fake badge. "I'm Agent Thomas, and this is Agent Hiddleston. We're with the FBI."

"I ain't surprised," the officer said, sighing and wiping the sweat from his brow. He looked pretty damn overwhelmed. "It's pretty gruesome in there. Real sicko had to 'ave done this'n. It's all yours, guys. Ain't even worth a fight if ya ask me."

"What can you tell us about the murder?" Sam asked in his usual, more compassionate tone.

The officer chuckled humorlessly. "You'll 'ave ta see this'n fer yourselves. Never seen anythin' like it."

"Try us," Dean said, pulling his metaphorical man-card. They really didn't have time for this dude's wimpy psyche.

"You're gonna need body bags. A lotta body bags. Sicko makes Jack the Ripper look like ma wife."

"Damn. Sounds fun," the eldest Winchester groaned as he ducked under the crime scene tape and approached the door, where a rather green-around-the-gills officer stood aside to allow them to enter. That was never a good sign. Neither were the relieved looks the officers had when they were told they were home-free. Then again, this was a small town. Maybe they just weren't used to seeing death staring back up at you.

Upon closer inspection of the RV's exterior, Dean noticed sigils. Sigils of every breed make and model. Sam and Dean did a pretty thorough thrice-over just to be sure it wasn't just a sloppy clear coat job. Salt, silver and iron were ingrained into the door and windows too. Their porch lights made baseball fields jealous with their brightness. What the Hell were they up against then? It couldn't be your run of the mill demon, monster or angel. Was this something they had never encountered before? Just thinking about it made Dean's head pound. That's just what they needed, a new monster. The interior of the RV was fairly standard – one large window with heavy drapes, and two smaller side windows where the curtains didn't quite meet. There was a door that likely led to the bedroom, and there was a curtain that hid the latrine from no one. The latrine itself had to be decorated by the Mrs. herself. No man in their right mind would allow so many flowers and...rubber duckies. The rest of it was like the ultimate man cave. Weapons were hung from every nook and cranny like trophies, and they had every game system and junk food known to man. Oddly enough, there was a pricey oak dinning table that had been set for six in there. There was even fancy food set out: turkey, cranberry sauce and a pie. The chair at the end of the table was empty, but the other five were...occupied. At least, Dean thought they were occupied.

"It's like the goddamn Bates Family reunion," Dean snapped, breaking the shocked silence.

They were used to most stuff, but this was different. They knew these people. No, they loved these people. These people were fucking family. In the chairs were the bloody, gooey remains of five people. Judging by the blood-and-entrails-drenched clothing, it was the Mr. and Mrs. and their three boys. Each was coated in a thin layer of pus and decay. Each of the Winchesters on command could draw up happy memories with each member of the family. The boys made tree-limb forts with Jimmy, Danny, and Donnie. Mrs. Leatherby made the best pecan pie ever, and Mr. Leatherby was like a goddamn surrogate father when their dad was off on trips doing God knows what. How could anyone do this? Why would anyone do this?! These were good people. They didn't deserve to go like this.

"This isn't right," Sam declared and blushed when Dean turned to glare at him as if he cursed in front of their mother. "Well, it isn't!" He paused. "Why would anyone do this? I-It had to be a pers-"

"Don't!" Dean snapped. "Just...just go check the bedroom."

Sam walked away without saying anything else. He knew better than to piss Dean off at a time like this. It was better to let him brood by himself than try to console him. When he stepped into the bedroom, he was kinda shocked. It was immaculate, and there were tons of filing cabinets and maps. On the maps there were thousands of sticky notes in assorted shapes and colors, newspaper clippings and red and yellow push pins. Sam got closer to the map when his leg bumped a desk. A picture frame fell over onto his shoe and cracked the frame's glass. Sam swore and bent down to pick it up when he noticed its contents. It was a framed surveillance photo of the back of a woman's silhouette. She was wearing a dark trench coat and a hat that covered her face well. The Hell were they up to?

He dug through the stacks of paper on the desk until he found a laptop and opened it, searching through the history. Maybe they left clues as to what they were looking for or what killed them. They had to. There was no sign of forced entry. There was a site for horror junkies called: the Beyond Human. It was about the only living human to go in and out of Hell and survive the trip. There was something else. A chat site for Shakespeare fans? None of the Leatherbys but the Mrs. were big book fans. They had been talking a lot with someone called "DemonicMuse". Was that the woman in the picture? Or their killer? Maybe he could talk to the user and find out.

He plugged in his phone and started copying all the files in the laptop while he started typing in his chat. He'd have to make it sound convincing like he was Mrs. Leatherby. That way, he'd be able to find out whether or not this was their killer.

MerCUTIEo+4 is online.

MerCUTIEo+4: Hello, DM. Sorry I've been away.

Bambi heard her laptop chime from where she was in the hotel bathroom. She was almost finished getting the blood out of her hair, so she hurriedly rinsed it out and dashed to the bed. There was a notification from the Shakespeare fan website. Odd. She never posted anything, and she was only in contact with her family. The whole reason she made the profile was to lure them in. She tensed. A chat from MerCUTIEo+4? Impossible! She killed them two days ago.

DemonicMuse is online.

DemonicMuse: Who the hell are you?

MerCUTIEo+4: It's me.

DemonicMuse: That's impossible. Who the hell is this? How did you find that username?

MerCUTIEo+4: Funny you'd say that. We're in the RV. Who are you?

Shit! Some asshole cop was probably trying to trace her location. Then again...he had told her to watch out for hunters that pretended to be the authorities so they could look at the crime scene. Just to be safe, Bambi logged on to a WiFi hotspot at the Wendy's across the street. If it was the cops, she'd know.

DemonicMuse: Guilty. Who are you?

MerCUTIEo+4: What are you?

Bambi relaxed. She could handle a loose-cannon hunter. Smiling, she fished the disk from her bag and put it into her laptop. It was a virus that would completely wipe their laptop's hard drive. They would never see or find anything that could link her face to the murder. She needed to stall to give the virus time to search out that specific account though. She had to keep them talking.

DemonicMuse: Ah, you must be hunters. I'm a hunter too...I hunt your kind. Isn't that just juicy? I know the Leatherby family thinks so.

MerCUTIEo+4: Why did you kill them?

DemonicMuse: They made the first move.

MerCUTIEo+4: What?

DemonicMuse: Checkmate.

MerCUTIEo+4: Can we meet?

A window popped up. The virus was ready for her to initiate. Bambi smirked and clicked "YES." Another window popped up in its place. Lines upon lines of code started to flash on her screen. Mission complete. Bambi left her spot on the bed and returned to the bathroom. She needed to burn her bloody clothes before she washed the rest of the caked blood from her skin.

DemonicMuse is offline.

Suddenly, the screen went black. Dean got an uneasy feeling as he watched Sam scramble to unplug his phone. Lime green text started flashing over the screen in a mix of numbers, letters and symbols. Dear God, the thing was possessed. Was that even possible? Did Sammy know how to do an exorcism on computers? Then the screen turned blue and started to make a high-pitch squealing noise. The keyboard started steaming then as the text vanished. The computer was fried...and they had no more information than what they started with. All they knew was that this DemonicMuse dick was behind the murders.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Calm down, Dean."

"We had him, Sammy! He was right there!"

"Hold on," Sam grumbled as he started to click away at his phone. "Got it."

"Got what?"

"I got some of the hard drive copied onto my phone before they could wipe the hard drive. We have an address for a hospital and...a surveillance video number. And we have a security camera shot of..."

"Of what?"

"They're deaths."

Dean looked over Sam's shoulder as much as he could and stared at the screen. Damn. He was right. All five if them were at the table with someone. Dean could only see half of her face, but he could tell she was pretty hot. He wouldn't have minded banging that a few times.


Bambi stood at her motorbike, pulling out her supplies. A few moments ago she met her biological family and had dinner with them. Crowley kindly gave her the honor of doing them in. By now, the paralyzing drug should've kicked in. There was the faintest creak of the door and a startled cross between a yelp and a gasp. They couldn't do much else. She hummed as she gloved up and put on her murder beanie. The woman, her mother, was sobbing and breathing heavily. What an odd way for a hunter to face their death. Usually they just cussed and glared.

She pulled a steel bat from the pile and readies to kill the oldest of the sons, her brother.

One. Two. Three!

Blood and brain run down the walls of the decrepit RV. A warped grin crosses Bambi's face as she basks in the would-be screams that echo throughout the room. The evident agony is like ambrosia. She moves to the youngest son and does the same. Then the middle child. The only two left are her parents. The ones that tried to kill her because she was a girl. They were her family by blood, but they held no place in her heart. By the time they realized how much of a monster she was, it was too late. She took them by surprise with her rage, her thirst for their blood, the blood which now stained her clothes, skin and teeth.

Maniacal laughter poured from her stained lips as she caught sight of her mother's stricken eyes, still staring blankly ahead, uncomprehending. What a simpering mongrel. She can see the questions in her eyes.

"Oh but mother, dear sweet mother, can't you see the answer for yourself? I'm what you made me."

Bambi goes to her assorted tools and finds slaked lime. Perfect. Bambi found gauze and cut it into two thick pads. She put some of the corrosive material on each and duct taped them to her mothers eyes. Her mother screamed-actually it was a choking sound since her vocal chords were paralyzed. Bambi grinned.

"Do you know what they used to do to women that aborted their children? They used this," she said, pulling our a 16th century version of the spider, used to rip the breast off a woman. She had been using the stove to heat the iron. "One. Two...Three."

Blood spurted as Bambi locked in the spider and ripped away the breast. Tissue and fat came out in thick strings as Bambi's mother slumped over. She would exsanguinate soon enough.

Now it was dear old daddy's turn. He looked like a hunter. He was red in the face and his eyes were cold. "Since you're being such a good hunter, I'll let you off easy. No, I'm not letting you live. If I did, there'd be hell to pay. Ah well." Bambi grabbed her knife and delicately cut through the skin of her father's throat until she found the jugular and just barely nicked it. Blood sprayed everywhere. Today was a good day.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Supernatural sadly.