No one chooses the hunter life. They're either born into it, or they somehow get sucked in before they die an usually untimely death.

Brendon Urie chewed on the butt of an unlit cigarette as his pen scribbled along the worn page of his journal. He fell into the first of the two categories. Since the day he could properly hold something in his hands he had been a hunter. His mother kept him from the worst of it, at first. However, now a parentless twenty-three year old, he had nothing to shield him from the worst of the worst.

Blood still stained the sleeve of his shirt as he continued to write about his most recent hunt. Four vamps. All of which no longer had heads. Brendon had made sure of that.

He let his pen drop to the page with a sigh. It wasn't even the main nest, just a small branch. Sure, he had saved the small community that had been growing smaller since the vamps set up shop, but it didn't feel like enough. There would still be more monsters to come. Not everyone could be saved. Just like his parents.

His phone suddenly began to vibrate along the table he was writing at. Brendon snapped out of his head and grabbed the device, answering without checking who the caller was.

"Who is it and what's the deal?" He asked, shutting his journal and letting the cigarette drop as he spoke.

"Brendon?"

Brendon's eyebrows rose in surprise at the voice. "Sam? Sam Winchester?"

"Yea, it's me." Sam replied a bit rushed, "Listen, I know it's been forever but I have a favor to ask."

Brendon leaned back in his chair with a nod. "Always indebted to a Winchester." He grinned, thinking back to some of his early memories with the brothers. "What's up?"

"Well..." There was a pause. "Dean and I are going to be out of commission for awhile."

Brendon laughed. "What the hell did you two do now?"

Sam, however, didn't laugh. "We have some... New priorities. Listen, we're forwarding any cases that come our way to you."

"That sounds like a lot." Brendon sat up in his chair, "Are you two okay? I can help-"

"Thanks, Brendon, but we couldn't ask you to get involved with what's going on." Sam cut him off before he could finish, sounding rushed with his words. "I've already got a hunt heading to your email. You up for it?"

Brendon nodded. "Yea, I can handle it." He paused for a moment. "How long are you two going to be out?"

A short silence. "Hard to say."

"Try not to die." Brendon said, feeling a nervous churn in his stomach with Sam's response. The Winchesters weren't ones to be too overdramatic with something like a hunt. Whatever they were involved in had to be serious, especially if they were asking for Brendon's help.

"Or die trying." Dean's muffled voice yelled from the other side of the call.

"Seriously, thank you, Brendon." Sam sighed.

"No problem." Brendon nodded again, despite Sam not being able to see the motion. "I'll check my messages & jump on the case as soon as I can."

"Great." Sam replied, "Talk to you soon." With that, the line went dead.

Brendon lowered his phone slowly. This was something new. He had buddy hunted and traded cases with the Winchesters before, but they had never offered a deal like this...

Brendon picked up his cigarette, which had fallen into his lap, and flicked it onto the table. If the brothers needed him to work some cases, he'd happily do it. They had not only helped him out of some serious trouble, but they had helped raise him as well. Being younger than the brothers put him in their care whenever their parents would combine forces for a particularly difficult hunt.

His phone vibrated again. Brendon was quick to check it, finding the email that Sam promised. He read it over, noting the main facts of the case that he would need to know. Disturbed graves. Missing persons files. A classic supernatural sign.

"Not far from here." He muttered to himself as he scrolled back to the top of the email. "Utah, hu? Haven't been there in a bit."

Brendon clicked out of the email and dropped his phone on the table. He'd leave first thing in the morning. At the moment, his blood stained sleeve was drawing his attention as a reminder of the state he was in.

Shower, rest, then off to the hunt.