((I'm only on season 2 of Supernatural! Like Episode 10! It's going to take place around that time. So if this stuff isn't correct, blame my lack of knowledge! Enjoy anyway!))

A man in his early twenties was wandering around his livingroom, dust rag in his hands. He was cleaning his home, seemed like it. The man had sandy blond hair and ridiculously large eyebrows. He was wearing a brown spring jacket over a white t-shirt. His pants were a slightly darker shade of brown than his jacket. The man was now kneeling, dusting the smoke off of the hearth at the fireplace in the corner of the room. He looked up as he heard something shuffle past him. The sound came again, this time more distinct and to his right. When he glanced over to see what it was, he heard it again, to his left. Then it stopped. The blond stood up and looked around, cautious. The only thing that was odd was that the lights were flickering. Ignoring the uneasy feeling in his stomach, the man walked over to the middle of the room and tapped at the lights on the ceiling fan. He didn't even notice the dark figure in the shadows until a chill ran up his spine. He turned slowly to see the lone figure step out of the darkness. It was male, had brownish blond hair, wore a World War Two bomber jacket, and had glasses covering his baby blue eyes. He had a smile on his face as he brushed off his white shirt and ripped blue jeans. The lights stopped flickering and the other male sighed in relief.

"It's just you, Alfred" he murmured, british accent now visible. "You gave me a fright there."

The one called Alfred didn't respond as his supposed 'companion' started dusting off the coffee table. He seemed calm again.

"Listen" he continued. "I'm grateful that you invited me over so that I didn't have to rent a motel room but if you keep trying to scare me, I -"

The man cut himself off as the lights started flickering again. He stood up slowly; that uneasy feeling was back.

"That's not right" he murmured. "Whenever lights flicker like that, it normally means -"

"That a demon is near" a voice finished for him.

The man spun around to see Alfred. He seemed normal except the smirk on his face and his pure black eyes. The other male drew in a shaky breath and backed away as Alfred stepped forward.

"What's wrong" he asked, tone mocking.

Suddenly he was in front of the Brit, causing the man to gasp in surprize.

"Wh-what do you want" he stammered out.

"You know what I want, Arthur" the demon hissed.

Suddenly the man named Arthur knew.

"You're the yellow eyed demon" he breathed.

The demon laughed cruelly as his eyes turned a glowing, eerie yellow. He then smirked at the now trembling Brit.

"Goodnight, Arthur."

Arthur let out a shriek as the demon grabbed him. That cry was cut short as blood splattered onto the coffee table and hearth, both things the Brit had worked so hard to clean just moments before.

Sam woke up with a gasp. Sitting up, he realized he was on the floor of his rented motel room. He heard the door open as his brother, Dean, walked in.

"Sam?" the older one called to him.

Sam didn't answer. He was too busy trying to wrap his head around the dream he'd just had. Someone was going to die. The yellow demon was going to strike.

((DUN DUN DUNNNNN! It was all a dream! England's still alive, but for how long? Can the brothers reach him in time? Oh and I have a question. Without giving anything away, I know the yellow demon is strong, but could it possess Alfred?))