He'd left his little brother behind. Dean seemed to be doing that a lot these days. He had to get away. The every tiring life of a hunter was wearing him down. Weighing more heavily on his mind were events that transpired eleven months ago. To some the year that passed seemed like an eternity. For Dean, it was a blink of an eye, and suddenly he felt as though he did not have enough time.

Suddenly every little detail meant so much, and while he knew he should be spending his last days with his brother. Dean could not bring himself to go back. The last thing Dean ever wanted to see was his brother's tears. He never wanted to see the pain in Sam's eyes, that same pain Dean had felt when Sam died.

The thought of tears welling up in his little brother's eyes filled Dean with an overwhelming sense of guilt. He still felt as if so much of this was his fault. In many ways, Dean had felt for the passed year as though he deserved what was coming to him; the hellfire that awaited him in only a few more weeks. He had been weak, unable to save his brother. He failed; he failed his father and he failed Sam. He had one job, and that was to protect Sammy, and he couldn't even do that. In Dean's mind, he more than deserved Hell. So he would not, could not go back.

Instead, Dean Winchester, found himself driving silently down the long stretch of road that lead to Papen County. The sky was unnervingly clear and blue. The landscape around him seemed unbelievable, like a fairy tale. It disturbed him. Why Dean continued to drive towards the frighteningly colorful city of Lakeshore, he had no idea. Something told him he would find his answer within the city limits. As he passed within the city limits he turned on his radio, "Thunderstruck" began blasting through the speakers.

Shortly after his answer stared him right in the face, as he pulled up to the corner that housed a rather uniquely shaped building. "Holy crap," he muttered to himself as he parked his black 1967 Chevy Impala outside the aptly named "Pie Hole". He climbed out of his car, closed the door behind him. He looked the building over, standing below the pie crust roof before he pushed open the glass doors.

There were very few people within the building. A couple sitting in a booth by a window, and a young blonde woman standing behind the counter, and a rather tall man in the back who seemed to be having trouble breathing.

What Dean did not realize at the time, was that he was a sign of change. People like him did not frequent the Pie Hole, and moreover the owner of the Pie Hole, and the man standing in the kitchen having a rather unwarranted panic attack, hated change.

"Welcome to the Pie Hole," the chipper young blonde piped up. Dean's eyes instantly darted from the man in the kitchen to the little blonde in front of him, then slowly drifted downward as a smirk found its way onto his face. "As in-"

"I get the pun," Dean interrupted with a laugh. "So what looks good?" He smirked as he noticed the blonde's eyes look him up and down.

"Everything," she said before her eyes returned to meet his. Her words were slow, letting the insinuation linger in the air.

The two locked eyes for a brief moment until the sound of crashing metal echoed from the kitchen, grabbing Dean's attention, and his gaze. "Its okay," a nervous voice called out.

He turned back to the petite blonde when she sighed. "Oh no, he's stress baking."

"Stress baking?" Dean Winchester had been known to do a lot of things while under stress, most of which cannot be listed in public, but baking wasn't one of them.

"He does it when he's nervous." She flashed him a smile and hopped off the stool she was sitting on. "Why don't you have a seat and what can I get for you?"

Dean considered his options as he walked over to one of the empty booths next to the door. "Surprise me…" he paused.

"Olive."

"Well then, why don't you surprise me, Olive," Dean said with a smile. He rested his arms on the table, tapping his fingers lightly. Softly, Dean hummed the "Paradise City" while he waited for Olive Snook to return with his pie. For the moment he was in his own little world until he noticed the room get significantly darker. The shadow belonged to one, Emerson Cod and Dean Winchester just happened to be sitting in his spot.

The man stood, arms crossed in front of him, and eyebrow raised. "Well I told the girl to surprise me, but uhhh… that's not really what I meant. Sorry, dude, you're not really my type."

"Excuse me?"

Dean leaned forward to look around the strange man in front of him, searching for the chipper little blonde who called herself Olive. "Listen, man I don't want any trouble or-"

"Emerson…" The voice belonged to the same nervous squeak that Dean had heard before, after hearing the loud crashing from the kitchen.

The man, Dean knew to be called Emerson turned, and revealed a tall, thin man standing behind him. He reminded Dean of Sam in some ways, mostly the height. "You wanna tell me what this guy is doin' here," Emerson questioned.

"Waiting for my pie," Dean answered.

"Right," the Pie Maker answered. "Olive!"

The little yellow-headed woman ran up next to the pie maker, not even reaching his shoulders. She was holding a plate with a slice of pie. "Apple," she said with a smile. "Now you two leave him alone, quit crowdin' him," she snapped while pushing the two of them away. As Emerson and the Pie Maker sat down in the booth next to Dean's, Olive sat down across from Dean, with her back to Emerson.

"Don't mind them," Olive said with a smile as Dean took a forkful of pie and shoved it into his mouth.

Dean made a mental note that this was possibly the tastiest pie he had ever eaten. "I've got a job," Emerson said, in a slightly hushed tone. But still Dean was able to pick it up. As he listened to the conversation between Emerson Cod and the Pie Maker, Dean was vaguely aware of the fact that Olive was in fact speaking. Occasionally he gave her a small nod. "It's a bit complicated," Emerson added. "See, there's this woman who's willing to pay big bucks to find out who killed her husband."

"Okay…" Ned stared, waiting for the complications. His eyes met Dean's for a moment and they both looked away.

"Her husband was killed fifty years ago." His words grabbed the Pie Maker, and the Hunter's attention.

"And she's just now asking for someone to investigate?"

"The woman's in her nineties man. She's losin' it, and if we can just so happen to make a profit off her delerium, then who's to say we shouldn't."

"We can't take advantage of an old lady Emerson! That's just cruel."

"Listen Pie boy, she said that her husband told her the only way she could find rest when she dies is if she finds the man that killed him."

"What? Her husband what?"

"She's ninety-three years old, Ned. This is gonna be easy money. We find the dead hubby, you touch him, we find out who killed him, and you touch him again. Easy money, baby."

"What do you mean her husband told her?"

"She's ninety-three years old. She's not really seeing her husband." Emerson flashed the Pie Maker an excited smile before he left the Pie Hole, to go back to his office and calculate his earnings. "I'll be back at eight," he told the Pie Maker before leaving.

Seven Hours Later

Papen County Cemetery

"This isn't a good idea," Ned told Emerson as they made their way closer to the grave of one Horace Saddleworth. He continued to repeat that sentiment for the next forty-five minutes. "That poor old woman…"

"Will you just shut up and dig. Don't think about Wilhelmina Saddleworth, think about the money… Mmm I can smell it now."

"Are you sure that's not decomposing flesh," Ned glared as he looked up at Emerson, who was less than helpful in the digging process. Ned stopped when the shovel hit a solid object. It was then that Emerson finally jumped down into the grave and helped the Pie Maker pry open the coffin, only to find it empty. "There's no body here."

"I can see that," Emerson snapped.

"You're not going to find anything in there." The Pie Maker and his materialistic friend looked up at the sudden intrusion. Standing above them with a flashlight was the man who had entered the Pie Hole seven hours and forty-five minutes earlier. "If you would have bothered to do a little research, you would have learned that Horace Saddleworth– by the way, what kind of a name is that?"

"I rather like it," the Pie Maker muttered.

"Anyway, Horace Saddleworth was cremated."

The Pie Maker and Emerson Cod turned to look towards each other and gulped.

Upon leaving the Pie Hole, and overhearing bits and pieces of a rather interesting conversation, Dean decided that it was time he did some research. It seemed that no matter how far he ran, hunting always seemed to find him. And while, this was not the way he planned on living out his final few weeks, there was a part of him, deep inside that could not just sit back and do nothing.

He spent a few hours at the local library, looking through old obituaries, trying to find out exactly what had happened to Horace Saddleworth. The facts were these: Fifty years, six months, three weeks, two days and twenty-six minutes ago Horace Saddleworth and his wife, Wilhelmina, moved to Papen County. Two months, one week, three days and fifteen minutes later Wilhelmina returned home to find her husband's body torn apart, with no apparent signs of struggle. Instead of burying her husband, in order to keep his dignity she had him cremated.

Dean knew, before he even left the Pie Hole that the two were not hunters. And he had overheard that their first stop in the investigation would be the cemetery, but Dean Winchester had something else in mind entirely. He found himself a hotel room and proceeded to change into a suit before heading finding his way to the residence of Wilhelmina Saddleworth.

She was living in a nursing home now, under close supervision. Dean sat down across from her and smiled. "Yes Mrs. Saddleworth-"

"Oh please, call me Wilhelmina," she said with a smile.

"I am an associate of Mr. Cod," he lied. "I had some questions regarding this case. My boss explained that you told him you've seen your husband?"

"Oh yes." Her voice was crackly, her eyes were glazed and distant. "He told me that I would never find peace until you stop the thing that killed him."

"I'm sorry, 'the thing' that killed your husband? I was told it was a person."

Her gray eyes saddened and Dean could see them begin to tear up. "No person could ever have done something like that to another person. It had to have been some kind of monster. Please, Mr. Page, tell me you'll find the thing that killed my Horace."

"I'll do my best."

It was these events that brought Dean Winchester to the Papen County Cemetery that night, knowing that he would find the Pie Maker and his associate, digging up an empty grave. He held out his hand to help the two out of the grave, first Emerson, then the Pie Maker. As soon as Ned was out of the grave he quickly let go of Dean's hand and took a few nervous steps back.

"Uhh, thanks," he said quickly.

Twenty Minutes Later

Inside the Pie Hole

"I talked to Wilhelmina Saddleworth – Seriously where do these people come up with names around here? What's your name," Dean paused as he looked to the Pie Maker.

"Ned."

"Right, well I talked to Saddleworth and… lets just say this is way out of your league. I think you should just stick to pies, Ned."

"Who the hell are you," Emerson Cod snapped as Dean started handing out orders. "You walk in here thinkin' you know everything."

"Look, I'm just trying to keep people safe. Trust me, this is not something you want to be dealing with." Dean had spend the majority of the day attempting to find out just what it was that killed Horace. Now, as he sat in the same booth he had been sitting in earlier that day, Dean finally realized what it was. One, the old woman had not truly been seeing her husband. However, after reading the details of Horace Saddleworth's death, and having a long talk with Wilhelmina Saddleworth, Dean learned that her husband had come into quite a fortune, ten years to the day before he died. "Just," Dean's eyes lowered and a sadness overwhelmed him. "Trust me when I say he got what was coming to him."

"And, I'd like to get what's comin' to me. A substantial amount of money when I find out who killed Horace Saddleworth."

Dean stood, glaring at Emerson. "You really think you'll find some kind of justice. Fifty years after the man was murdered? Whoever did it is probably dead and gone by now." Dean silently wondered if the same demon was behind Horace Saddleworth's death. The same demon that had written the contract on his soul, the same one his brother killed months earlier. His soul belonged to someone far worse than a Crossroads Demon.

"You know what I think," Emerson countered, taking a step towards the hunter. "I think you just want this reward for yourself. Comin' in here all mysterious. You think you can snatch that money away from Emerson Cod! Think again, Princess!"

"I'm not trying to steal anything from you," Dean shouted, causing the Pie Maker to flinch. "The last thing I'm going to need is a wad of money! As much as I would like it, its not something on my priority list at the moment! Just drop it and look for something else!"

The two were close to throwing punches, standing only a few inches from each other. "Okay," the Pie Maker interrupted, putting his hands out in between the two of them and pushing them apart, then he stood between them. Ned turned toward Emerson. "Maybe he's right. I mean, that was a really long time ago, and the odds that the guy is still alive are slim. You can't send a dead man to prison. Well I mean technically you probably could but something else would have to– You can't send a dead man to prison. And that poor old woman doesn't need you taking advantage of her grief." Then he turned towards the Hunter. "And you… Never paid for your pie."

Dean sighed and shook his head. He pulled out some cash and handed it to the Pie Maker. "That should cover it." Then he turned his attention towards Emerson. "Just let this one go, there's nothing here. What's done is done. It can't be fixed."

Without another word, Emerson gave Ned a look, that the Pie Maker seemed to understand, as he nodded, then the private detective walked out of the Pie Hole. The Pie Maker and the Hunter were left alone, in the dim light.

Dean turned to the Pie Maker. "Thanks for uhh… backin' me up."

"That wasn't for you. I did it for Wilhelmina Saddleworth. She doesn't deserve this."

"Well uhh… thanks anyway…" There was a long awkward silence. Both stared at each other wondering what to say next.

"Pie?"