The body may not be Sam's, but the kid off the street could pass as being close. Tall, lanky with long sloppy brown hair and hazel eyes. There was a rucksack over his shoulder that held the few things he had picked up in his travels.

Amazing what people have on them when they are killed for getting in his way. How many people had died for getting in his way? He didn't remember killing them... they just fell down because they tried to stop him.

Stop him from finding Dean.

Dean. dean dean dean dean dean.

As he walked through the parking lot of the motel he looked at the cars. He liked backseats of cars. It was hard to fit his legs in, but he would sleep in the back seats of cars along the side of the road if there wasn't a motel in sight. But nothing was right. He just didn't fit in them.

Then he saw the black Impala and stopped. Something in him wanted to sleep in the back of that car. It looked like it would hold him well.

He started towards it, almost reaching for it when his foot connected with a beer bottle that had been tossed.

Before the person on the hood could turn, he dissipated into smoke and reappeared in the bushes so that he wouldn't be seen by the person on the hood that he couldn't see.