Grace awoke, startled.

"That dream", she thought to herself, rubbing her temple from the headache she had.

It was always the same: two boys in a nice car, driving off. Then, it cuts to a tall, beautiful skyscraper with a gorgeous view. A man appears with a machine, frantically trying to get away from a trench-coated figure. The man crashes through the window, and disappears from view. Then, the trench-coated figure puts his hand on his chest, and a bright flash of angelic light shines blindingly. The trench-coated man falls to the floor, and-

"Dammit!" Grace exclaimed as she glanced at her alarm clock.

She slipped into her pencil skirt and white blouse as she rushed to get ready for work. Then, she hurried downstairs to grab her coffee.

"Starting the day late already. Great." She thought to herself.

She quickly reached for her keys, her wallet, and her shoes. She slammed the door on her way out and got into her car: A ruby red 1967 Camaro. She slipped on her shoes and slammed on the gas as she rushed to the office.

"Come on, Sammy! I want pie!" Dean exclaimed.

"For Breakfast?" Sam questioned. Sam knew that Dean loved pie, but waking him up at 6:45 in the morning wasn't exactly putting him in a good mood.

"No, no no. Don't say it like that. Say it like, 'PIE FOR BREAKFAST?!'" Dean corrected.

"Dean, it's WAY too early for pie." Sam yawned lazily.

"Dude, we just finished watching three "love triangle" werewolves tearing each other apart. We NEED pie." Dean expressed.

"But that's not the only reason.." Dean thought to himself. Sam and him had not been the same since he had returned from Purgatory. Dean was feeling guilty about not telling Sammy about Benny, or Cas; He was upset at Sam because he didn't even attempt to look for him; He wasn't sleeping because he was having nightmares about Purgatory: All the more reason to try and focus on the positive things in life.

Sam stretched his body, taking off his t-shirt to change into his suit.

"What are you doing? Why are you changing into your suit? We are just going to the pie shop down the road." Dean questioned.

Sam rolled his neck as he tightened his tie. "I found another case last night. It's in Ohio, specifically Cleveland."

Dean looked annoyed as Sam slipped on his black "FBI" jacket. "What ever happened to relaxing once in a while?"

"Dean, three girls have gone missing in the past week in the same area. Then, they show up randomly and they have totally different personalities the same place where they went missing. Some witnesses say that the girls had black eyes and smelled sulfur in their homes when they went to check on them. Doesn't that sound like demonic possession to you?"

"I don't give a rat's ass. We could take care of them within a day. What's so special about these specific possessions?" Dean impatiently answered.

Sam shuffled through his stack of papers, pensively looking for a specific detail that separated this case from the rest. Finally, he pulled out an ancient piece of parchment.

He explained. "I know it's a demonic possession. However, why is it only going after specific girls? I looked in Dad's journal, and I quote, "If a demon is possessing multiple people of the same appearance, it is the Supplicium Semiterna Jactura, or Eternal Torture Sacrifice."

"What the hell? Can you explain that?" Dean replied, shocked.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, I was getting to that. Anyway,the ritual is used for exactly what it sounds like. There is a catch though: the victim that is being tortured is usually a fallen angel."

"So, why are the demons possessing look-a-likes? I mean, I guess they're sons-of-bitches, but why not just find the fallen angel and torture it already?" Dean asked.

Again, Sam explained his reasoning. "I thought the same thing. Then, I researched the ritual a bit more. Apparently, the more demons torture other innocent look-a-likes, the more guilt the fallen angel has, thus, the more pain it feels."

"That's horrible. Did you figure out why the fallen angel is being tortured?" Dean requested.

Sam shook his head. "No. I'm still trying to figure it out. I mean, maybe the demons are just having fun?"

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, sick and demented fun. I don't know man, I feel like there's more to this then we know. It's pretty specific."

"It might be, I just don't know yet, Dean!" Sam sharply barked at Dean. Dean gave Sam his "Dude, what the hell?" look.

"Sorry, it's just I've been up all night and I haven't gotten sleep. But we really need to go to Cleveland. There's only one more girl that fits all the other victims' descriptions, and I bet you a piece of pie that she's our fallen angel." Sam smirked at the bet, and the satisfaction of seeing Dean's face at the mention of pie.

Dean's eyes widened. "Oh, you mean you'll buy me a piece of pie if she ISN'T the angel. Well, I guess I'm screwed." Dean sighed as he changed into his suit, knowing that he was never going to get that piece of pie.