A black, 1967 Chevrolet impala rolls down a small street in rural Ohio. Two brothers sit inside the vehicle. The older brother keeps his eyes on the road as he steers the car around potholes and the occasional roadkill.

The younger brother flips through the local newspaper, searching for any sign indicating their most recent case to be something unnatural. Neither of the men made any conversation as they were too engrossed in their thoughts. That is until the older brother let out a yelp as he slammed on the breaks of the vehicle.

"JESUS!" Dean yelled, trying his best to avoid hitting the animal that had run into the street.

"Dean!" Sam gasped, gripping the handle of the car door to resist the force throwing him forward. "What was that?!" Sam exclaimed, not understanding why his brother had almost killed him.

"Damn cat ran in the road!" Dean declared, still in the middle of his adrenaline high. Sam turned to look through the back window, just in time to see the figure of an orange cat sauntering to the street shoulder and sitting down. Sam sighed to himself, finally calming himself down from the panic.

The Winchester brothers traveled eleven more miles, making it to their destination in less than twenty minutes. With the Impala parked in front of a classic looking suburban house, Sam and Dean waltzed up to the home. Sam knocked on the door before taking a step back to wait to be greeted. As soon as the door opens, both Sam and Dean reach into their suits to retrieve their fake FBI badges and show it to the woman standing in the doorway.

"Hello. Ms. Morris?" Sam asks, making his voice sound as professional as possible.

"Uh, yes?" The woman questioned, quite confused.

"Agents Smith and Smith, no relation, we are with the FBI." Dean informed her, as though she hadn't gathered they were FBI after seeing their 'badges'. "We would like to ask you some questions about the death of your neighbor, Henry Clary."

"Oh, uh, yes. Come in." The woman stammered as she opened the door wider to welcome the men into her home. As soon as Sam and Dean were inside, she closed the door behind them and guided them to her living room.

"How well did you know Mr. Clary, Ms. Morris?" Dean asked the hostess.

"Um, we weren't very acquainted. And please, call me Jenna."

"Well, Jenna, tell me, what did you know about Mr. Clary?" Sam spoke up. It was silent for a few moments before she responded.

"I remember hearing that he moved here just after he divorced his wife. I also recall that his wife got full custody of their son. Henry has always kept to himself. He would never leave his house except for groceries or to go to work."

"Where did you hear that he was divorced?" Dean asked.

"Mrs. Barren, she lives right across the street. I've noticed that she tries really hard to make everyone else's business, her business." Jenna informed them of the town gossip.

"Great, thank you so much. And if you think of anything else that may be useful, don't hesitate to call." Sam handed Ms. Clary his FBI business card before he and his brother escorted themselves out of the house.

"You think Mrs. Gossip Girl will know anything?" Dean asked his brother.

"When do they not?" Sam retorted, making his brother chuckle as they crossed the street to ask Mrs. Barre some questions. Before Dean could knock on the front door, Sam tapped his brother with the back of his hand. Dean glanced back and followed Sam's gaze to an orange cat sitting on a rock in Mrs. Barren's yard.

"Isn't that the same cat you almost hit?" Sam spoke.

"What? No. That's impossible. A cat can't walk eleven miles in thirty minutes. It would take like three hours or something." As Dean was dismissing what Sam said, the taller brother watched the cat jump down from the rock and make its way to Ms. Morris's yard, the light from the sun shining on the feline's coat, making it almost appear pink in color. 

"Yeah.. yeah. You're right." Sam mumbled.

"Of course I am," Dean replied confidently. Dean forcefully knocked on the door, to be immediately greeted by a woman who looked to be in her thirties. "Mrs. Barren?" Dean asked the woman.

    "Yes?" She responded snootily. Both Winchester brothers took out their FBI badges and showed them to the woman.

"We would like to ask you some questions about the death of Mr. Clary."

   "OH! Come in, come in!" The woman immediately herded the brothers into her living room. "Henry was a strange character, always keeping to himself. Do you know how difficult it was to learn anything about it?!" She rambled.

"Wow, I wonder what made him really not want people to know his business," Dean replied sarcastically, only to be elbowed in the side by Sam.

Sam glared at his brother as he came up with something to say to make Dean not appear so rude. "What my co-worker means, what has made him distance himself?"

"Henry had a nasty divorce before he moved here. His ex-wife took everything, and even full custody of their son. Henry lost his job too. He pretty much had no life." Mrs. Barren dove straight into her gossiping. "Rumor is he caught his wife cheating and he just snapped." After hearing these words, Sam and Dean shared a look.

"Do you happen to know the name of Henry's ex-wife?" Sam asked. Once given the name 'Anna Clary', the brothers took their leave.
"We need to check out the crime scene." Sam told his brother as they approached the impala.

"Wasn't his body found at the restaurant he works at?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Let's head back into town and check it out." Sam responded. The two brothers climbed into the car. Just as Dean went to turn the key in the ignition, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced up to find an orange tabby sitting on the hood of the impala. Dean groaned and stuck his arm out of the window, attempting to shoo the cat off the car without actually getting out of the car. The cat bared its teeth before jumping off and sitting on the sidewalk.

Dean sighed and started the car without giving a second thought to the feline. Twelve minutes later, Dean and Sam found themselves standing outside of The Rusty Nails Bar and Grill. Sam volunteered to speak to the police while Dean looked around the building. Sam approached the detective and showed his badge for the third time that day.

"I'm Agent Smith with the FBI. Any information about the crime?" Sam asked.

"No. Witnesses say he was doing his usual. He waits tables here every day from open to 9 o'clock pm. Three days ago, he's getting ready to clock out of his shift when he starts choking. Witnesses say he just doubled over, gripped his neck, and beer started pouring out of his mouth along with blood. Weird thing is that tests show that there is no alcohol in his stomach and no traces of poison and every witness says that they never saw him drink anything other than water." Sam quickly turned his gaze to his brother who shared a knowing look with him. Before Sam could ask another question, a loud noise rang through the restaurant.

    "Was that a cat?" The detective asked aloud. Sam's eyes widened as he strode behind the bartender's bar to find a familiar cat sitting on the ground staring back at him. The tall Winchester's jaw dropped. The cat jumped onto the counter and took a seat again, its tail wrapping around its feet

"No..." Dean trailed off when he saw the cat.

"Get the cat out of here! It could mess with evidence!" The Detective yelled, breaking Sam and Dean out of their thoughts. Quickly an officer picked up the cat, much to its loud protests, and took it outside. Sam, still quite stunned, approached his brother.

"I'm guessing Witch?" The younger brother questioned, and the only response he received was the older brother taking a hex bag out of his pocket.

"Yahtzee," Dean grumbled, his dislike for Witches evident in his attitude. Sam chuckled and shook his head as he followed his brother out of the bar and grill and back to the impala. The brothers sat in the impala and made their way back to the motel to do more research, however, another noise interrupted their travel.

"Did you...?" Dean asked, not having to finish the sentence as his brother had already answered by nodding. Dean hurriedly pulled the car into an empty parking lot. As soon as the car was parked, the brothers jumped out, guns in hand, and stalked back to the trunk of the impala. Within seconds of having his hand on the trunk of the car, Dean had opened it and pointed his gun at the unsuspecting feline.

"Meow." The cat responded, sounding unsure of itself. Sam lowered his gun and told Dean to do the same.

"This is just impossible. The car was locked! There is no way this cat could get in the car, let alone the trunk. Impossible!" Dean ranted running his hands through his hair.

"Dean. Dean! Let's just go to the motel. We can't get rid of the cat, so bring it with and we can do some research, okay?" Sam attempted to reason. Dean sighed and nodded, casting one more glance at the face of the feline.

"I feel like it's judging me," Dean mumbled, making Sam scoff in humorous disbelief. "You can hold the cat, I don't want it scratching the seats!" Dean told Sam as he climbed in the drivers' side of the car. Sam sighed, picking up the cat and cradling it in his arms.