I found the simple life ain't so simple When I jumped out on that road I got no love, no love you'd call real Ain't got nobody, waitin' at home

("Runnin' With the Devil" - VanHalen) ___________

Toledo, Ohio'

Roadside diners were a dime a dozen, scattered along the highways and byways that crisscrossed the country. After a while, they all looked the same. Dean wasn't picky. So long as they had fresh coffee and hot food, it was good enough for him. He was currently enjoying his breakfast, which consisted of pancakes, sausage, and strong black coffee. Sam was another story.

Sam simply pushed the eggs around the plate, while flipping through the newspaper. He set the paper down and looked at Dean while lifting his coffee for a sip.

Dean glanced over at Sam's plate, noting he hadn't really touched his breakfast, except to move it around on his plate a little. He pointed at his brother's eggs with a fork. "You gonna eat that?" No food went to waste while Dean was around.

"Yeah, sure," Sam sighed and took a bite. "Thanks for reminding me."

Dean had been pretty quiet since their little chat the previous night on the hood of the Impala, a little lost in his own thoughts, but after getting a little caffeine in his veins and a hot breakfast in his stomach, he was feeling more like himself. "What's the matter with you?" he asked, noticing his brother's sour mood. "Look like you lost your best friend or something." Which Dean knew wasn't possible because he was the closest thing Sam had to a best friend, and he was sitting right there.

"Nothing," Sam took another bite and then bit into the toast. Actually, he was wondering what had gotten into his brother and he was thinking about their futures as bachelor monster killers.

"You're sulking. Eggs cold" Pissed because they don't serve oatmeal here" Come on. What's the matter" Talk to me. I'm your brother." He flashed the patented Dean grin. "I know." He leaned forward as a thought came to him, lowering his voice. "When was the last time you got laid?"

"Shut up." Sam took another drink of coffee, then looked at the newspaper again and slid it toward Dean. "That smile doesn't work with me, but look at this." He pointed to an article there.

"That's it, isn't it?" Dean smirked.

"None of your damned business!" Sam sighed and shook his head, hoping that no one was watching him for getting loud.

Dean lowered his fork, the smile fading, and turned his attention toward the newspaper article. He scanned the article and then looked back at his brother dubiously. "Jersey Devil. You're kidding me, right?"

Sam picked up a piece of bacon and frowned at it, before putting it back down. "Why would that be a joke?"

"You think this is a job?" Dean had read the article quickly. Something about some missing animals and a couple of kids. Some of the locals were getting paranoid and a few had even claimed to have spotted some kind of monster. Dean was skeptical. Nine out of ten claims of monsters proved to be bogus and a waste of their time, but if it wasn't...

"I think it's worth checking out, Dean. I mean the Jersey Devil's lore goes back to British colonization. It hasn't been seen in years and now this" He's not the first kid to disappear, and the goats with other small animals" It's the M.O." He finished his eggs finally.

Dean arched a brow at his brother. "M.O.?"

"Modus Operandi?" Sam gave his brother a huff for that. "Really?"

"Yeah, I know what it means. You're starting to sound like one of those TV cops."

"Well, I get bored waiting around."

"You start wearing sunglasses at night and I'm gonna kick your ass."

"At least we aren't in one this time." Sam finished the toast.

Dean winced. "Don't remind me." Even he had a hard time believing some of the things that had happened to them, and Gabriel's tricks were usually the hardest to believe. The last time they'd run into him, he'd tossed them into various television shows in an attempt to get them to accept the roles Michael and Lucifer had chosen for them. "At least, I'm not the one who had herpes."

"What was creepy to me is that YOU knew Doctor Sexy."

"I get bored, too." That was his excuse and he was sticking to it. Dean looked back at the newspaper article, turning serious. "You think it's for real?"

"Right, but you knew everyone," Then Sam looked at the paper and shrugged. "I don't know, but we've gone with less."

Dean reached for his cup of coffee and took a sip. "If we leave now, we can be there by nightfall." Though the way Dean drove, it was more than likely they'd get there well before that.

"Okay, so let's do it." Sam checked the time and finished his coffee.

Dean didn't tell Sam, but it was the news of something bad happening to kids that got to him. Despite his claims to the contrary, he got on pretty well with most kids. Maybe because he was a big kid himself. Or maybe because they all reminded him of Sam.

"First normal case in how long now?" Normal meaning no damn demons and angels.

"Nothing normal about it, Sam." Dean knew what Sam meant, but there were times when he would have given his right arm for just a little normal. He finished off his coffee and moved to his feet, tossing a twenty on the table, enough to cover breakfast and a tip.

"No demons, no angels....just a good old monster." Sam was happy for the first time in a long time. "So, we are just going to drive all day and night. No MotorHead, okay?"

Dean tossed a glare at his brother. "What's the matter with MotorHead" I'm not listening to Coldplay."

"C'mon, Dean. Something less....whatever they are?"

"Metal?" Dean offered helpfully. "How about some good old fashioned AC/DC?" he asked as he headed toward the door, tossing a wink at the pretty brunette waitress before exiting the diner.

"God." Sam huffed again and followed Dean to the door, nodding a bit to the woman before following him out. "Want me to drive a bit' So you don't get overly tired?"

"I'm not tired! What makes you think I'm tired?"

"Hey, man....seriously, relax. I was just offering."

It could be the fact that Dean's sleep schedule was screwed up. If he was lucky, a good night's sleep consisted of five straight hours of unconsciousness. No dreams, no nightmares, no nothing. Just blissful darkness.

Dean looked over at Sam, feeling bad for snapping at him when he was just trying to help. "I wanna drive for a few hours, okay' I'll let you know if I get tired." It was his way of apologizing.

"Yeah, okay." Sam walked around to the other side of the car and pulled open the door.

Dean watched his brother from the opposite side of the Impala, wondering what was eating him and deciding it was probably his fault, as usual. He climbed into the car, reached around into the backseat for a cardboard box full of cassette tapes, and handed them to Sam. "Pick something you can live with."

Sam looked through the tapes. "One day we are going to have to get CDs." He chose the Back in Black....again.

"Gotta get a CD player first," Dean smirked at Sam and slid the cassette into the tape deck. He started up the engine, threw her into gear, and pulled out of the parking lot onto the road to the guitar playing of Angus Young.

"And" I don't see the problem. They even have plug-in auxiliary for satellite and MP3s. I mean really, so much time in the car, we could update it a bit."

All Dean heard was, "Blah, blah, blah." He tapped a finger against an ear, grinning over at his brother. "Can't hear you, Sammy. Music's too loud." Or he didn't want to.

Sam sighed and stared out the window again.

Ten or so hours later, the boys would find themselves in New Jersey hunting their first real monster since throwing Lucifer back into the pit.

Dean made his way outside and climbed into the driver's side of the Impala, waiting for Sam to get in beside him before starting her up. "I hate cases with kids," he muttered, before taking a sip of the coffee.

Sam got in and placed the file in his lap, still reading. "You know, it's said this thing took a cannonball shot and kept going." Then a pause and a look at Dean. "What?"

"A cannonball shot' What are you talking about?" Dean asked, ignoring his brother's question.

"Some old sea captain....I would have to look up his name again....shot the thing with a cannon."

Dean took another sip of the coffee and wedged the styrofoam cup on the seat between his legs. He started the car up and pulled out onto the street. If a kid was in danger, he didn't want to waste any time.

"That's just lore, Sam."

"Oh, hello, do we not use lore a lot, Dean?"

"Yeah, but....how much of the lore is real and how much is just....lore" What's that thing remind you of?"

"I don't know. I mean, thing hasn't been seen in....like a hundred years. Okay, well ninety." He looked up at Dean before answering. "Reminds me of some kind of ugly demon."

"Reminds me of a dragon. Sort of."

"Dragon?" Sam looked at the strange pictures again on his laptop. "Well, yeah, I suppose so. What are we in Dungeons and Dragons now" If we start seeing Bugbears and....Umber Hulks, I'm joining a monastery."

"Lore says something about a woman cursing her thirteenth child, doesn't it?" Dean asked and then shot a shocked look at his brother. "You played Dungeons and Dragons?" He smirked. "I bet you were an elf. A pretty elf frolicking in the forest." He just couldn't help himself.

"Mrs. Leeds, a poor farmer, on having her thirteenth child was quoted as saying 'The Devil take this one.' And the child was born a happy, beautiful boy, that transformed into something hideous, winged, and cloved hoo..." Sam trailed off and stared at Dean again. "Dude, I didn't play! I knew kids that did on some of the stops we had to go to school." He paused a moment before admitting, "And I was a barbarian." He sighed. "Cause they hate magic and witches."

Dean really didn't know much about D&D or gaming of any kind, except maybe Pacman and some of those shooting games. He chuckled, catching his brother in a fib. "Dude, you just said you didn't play. Was your name Conan and you had a bad accent?"

"Never mind."

Dean smiled a little, thinking he'd picked on his brother enough and should probably back off. He turned the subject back to the case. "You were saying something about a curse." He glanced over at the folder to check the kid's address again as he came to a stop light. They were only a few blocks away.

"Anyway," Sam continued, "the newborn spread his short wings and flew away."

The smile faded and Dean turned serious again. "You think it's true?"

"I don't know. I mean, possessions and things could have made a baby change in front of a mother and father of twelve."

The traffic light changed and Dean pulled forward. "What if..." He furrowed his brows in thought, not liking what he was about to suggest. "Sam....what if the kid was half demon' Like Jesse and Greg" What if the demons hadn't perfected it yet' What if it was an experiment gone wrong?" He really hoped that wasn't the case, but they had to consider every possibility.

"Three Anti-Christs" Wanting to make sure the job's done right?"

Dean shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. But why'd it go dormant?"

"First, it was said to be exorcised for one hundred years, then it wasn't seen for about another hundred. Maybe it's on a weird schedule?" Sam suggested.

"Maybe it eats and then goes into hibernation until it gets hungry again?" Dean countered.

"A kid and some goats" For a hundred years?"

"I don't know, Sam. It doesn't make sense." Dean took a right, followed by a quick left, and pulled up in front of the house.

"Should we call Bobby?" Sam asked, then looked at the house, dreading going in and talking to a distraught family.

"Let's get this over with first," replied Dean, dreading it just as much as Sam.

Again Sam slid out of the car, after pulling the handle, and straightened his tie. "Lead on, Mildew."

Dean smirked at his brother's inept attempt at an insult and got out of the car. "After you, Dana."

Dean was working on his second burger when he pulled up in front of the trailer he'd been directed to outside of town. He gulped down the last bite and looked over at the place, wondering if anyone was home.

He'd flashed his badge around at the local diner and asked a few pointed questions regarding the missing person's case he was purportedly investigating and had received a free lunch, along with a tip, from a few locals who didn't want any trouble. Go talk to Harry Hunt, they'd told him, the local nutcase and resident expert on the New Jersey Devil.

Dean gulped down the rest of the burger and washed it all down with a swallow of Coke. The burger was sitting like a lump in the middle of his chest, and he secretly promised himself to try and eat healthier starting tomorrow — always tomorrow, never today. He missed Lisa's cooking more than he cared to admit, among other more obvious things. Eating in roadside diners and fast food joints wasn't exactly conducive to good health, but he'd always figured the demons would get him long before cholesterol had much of a chance.

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out the F.B.I. badge he'd managed to steal off some unsuspecting agent years ago after having been taken in for questioning on some trumped up charge or other. Those were the days, he told himself, before Lucifer and all that crap.

Dean licked some leftover ketchup from his fingers before rapping a fist against the door, wondering if anyone was home or if he was going to have to go about things the hard way. He cleared his throat and readied the usual speech he and Sam made when posing as F.B.I., silently rehearsing his lines in his head. After a few minutes, he noticed the curtains shift, indicating there was someone inside, and not long after that, the door opened, and he was greeted by a man who looked equally curious and nervous.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, looking Dean over.

Dean flashed the badge, just long enough for the man to realize he meant business and then fell into his usual routine. "Agent Richards. F.B.I. I'm investigating a missing person's case and was told you might have some useful information."

"I don't know anything about any missing kid," the man replied, as he tried to push the door shut.

Dean wedged a foot in the doorway and lifted a hand to push the door open. "I didn't say anything about it being a kid."

"It's been all over the news!" the man exclaimed. "I had nothing to do with it!"

"I never said you did," Dean pointed out, thinking the man seemed a little too nervous. "I'm here because I was told you're the resident expert on the New Jersey Devil."

The man's eyes widened a moment and then he chuckled. "You're kidding me, right' Since when does the F.B.I. investigate legends and myths" I thought the X-Files was just a TV show."

"Since I was put on the case," Dean replied shortly, glad he'd decided against introducing himself as Agent Mulder. "Leave no stone unturned. That's my motto."

"Okay, Agent..."

"Richards," Dean repeated, impatiently. "A boy's life is in danger. I'd really appreciate any help you can give me in finding him."

The man seemed to weigh the pros and cons a moment, and then stepped out of the trailer.

Dean's only reaction was a slightly arched brow, a little surprised the man had not invited him inside. Usually, whenever he and Sam went around asking questions, they were invited inside and offered a cup of coffee or tea and sometimes even a few cookies or pastries. Dean felt a little disappointed, though that burger was not still settling right, and he'd already had to stifle a couple of burps.

"Since when is flannel part of the F.B.I.'s dress code, Agent Richards?" the man asked suspiciously, scrutinizing Dean again.

The first thing Dean had done after visiting the kid's aunt was change his clothes. The suit and tie had been driving him nuts. "You the fashion police?" he snapped at the other man. "I'm a field agent. That means I go out into the field. Think I wanna get my good suit dirty traipsing around the pine barrens?"

The man furrowed his brows in annoyance, but let it go. "I suppose they told you who I am," he said.

"Harry Hunt," Dean replied, the name meaning next to nothing to him, though he seemed to recall Sam mentioning it in his ramblings about the New Jersey Devil lore, which after a while, had started to sound like a whole lot of blah, blah, blah.

"Harry Hunt, Junior, to be precise," the man corrected. "My father was the real expert on the Devil, but he passed everything he knew on down to me before he retired."

"What made him an expert?" Dean asked, briefly noting the irony of the man's last name.

"He owned a circus. It was his lifelong dream to find and capture the Devil."

"And?" Dean asked, prompting the man to continue his story.

"And he came close, but no cigar. I, on the other hand, intend to succeed where he failed."

"You're going to capture the Devil?" Dean asked, eyebrows lifting in surprise. Good luck with that, he thought, almost laughing at the irony. He and Sam had nearly been killed — no, had been killed; several times, in fact — trying to kill or capture the Devil, but this Devil wasn't Lucifer. "What are you going to do once you've captured it' Put it on display in a freak show and charge people money to gawk at it?"

The man was still smiling, and Dean was starting to get a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Laugh all you want, but I've seen it. I know for a fact that it's real."

"You've seen it," Dean repeated, doubtfully. Either the guy was loony or the Jersey Devil was more then just a myth. "What did it look like?"

"It looked like this," the man said and pulled open the door to the trailer, revealing various posters and other paraphernalia surrounding the creature scattered about. Dean looked up to see a life-size poster staring down at him, and he had to stifle a laugh. The poor thing looked more comical than scary with its horse-like head, bat-wings, cloven hooves, and forked tail.

"That's it?" Dean asked, trying hard not to laugh. "It doesn't look like a monster to me. It looks a science experiment gone haywire."

The man's eyes flashed angrily. "You didn't see it in person."

No, I've seen a lot worse, Dean thought to himself. "Okay, so....Have any idea where I can find it?"

The man was smiling again. "No, but I can show you where I've seen its tracks."

"That works for me." Dean reached into his jacket to pull out his phone.

"Who are you calling?" the man asked, eyes flickering from Dean to the cell phone he held in his hand.

"My partner," Dean lied. He had been about to call Sam.

The man shook his head and glanced at the western sky. "Gonna be dark soon. If you wanna see the tracks, it's now or never. Best time for a sighting is sundown anyway."

Dean returned the phone to his pocket. What did he have to lose" It was the first real lead he and Sam had had since arriving in New Jersey, and he didn't want to blow it. "Okay. Give me a minute to get some of my stuff."

"What are you planning on doing" Killing it?" the man asked, as Dean turned toward the door.

"If necessary. A kid's life is at stake."

"Yeah' More than likely the kid's father snatched him because he didn't like the custody agreement."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Why don't you just show me what you know, and I'll decide for myself." Dean instinctively slid a hand inside his jacket to check for his father's Colt. "Never leave home without it," his father had always said. It was the last thing he remembered doing before everything went black.

"Slow down, champ, or you'll get sick," Dean warned as the boy wolfed down the Snickers bar. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small flask of holy water. He unscrewed the stopper and handed the flask to the boy, who looked up at him uncertainly. "It's okay. It's just water. You need to drink something."

Dean watched as the boy tilted the flask back and took a deep swallow. "You're Jimmy, right?"

The boy took another swallow and nodded his head.

Dean noticed the boy's shirt was torn and there was blood on his sleeve. "You've got a nasty cut there, Jimmy. Mind if I take a look?"

The boy seemed to consider that a moment before answering, frowning up at Dean. "It cut me with its claws."

"Claws?" Dean echoed, holding up the Zippo again to take a closer look at the boy's arm. Thankfully, the gash wasn't as deep as he feared and had already started to clot. "Here, hold this." He handed the lighter to the boy, pulled out a pocketknife, and cut away the boy's sleeve. "This needs to be cleaned and bandaged." He glanced at the boy's face and saw fear in his eyes. "It's gonna hurt a little."

The boy bit his lip and nodded his head.

"My name's Dean," he explained, hoping to distract the boy's attention from the gash on his arm. "My brother and I are sort of like monster hunters. We heard about what happened and were trying to find you."

"Monster hunters" For real?" the boy asked, eyes wide.

"Yeah, for real," Dean replied, pulling another flask out of his jacket, this one filled with Tennessee whiskey. It seemed a shame to waste it, but it was the closest thing Dean had to an antiseptic.

"This is gonna sting a little," he warned before opening the flask and pouring some alcohol over the gash. He heard the boy gasp and hiss in pain, but to Dean's relief, there were no screams or tears.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Dean asked, as he tore off a piece of his flannel shirt and wrapped a makeshift bandage around the boy's arm, tying it off to keep it in place. It was the best he could do until he could get the boy some proper medical care.

The boy blew out a slow breath and nodded his head, eyes wide as he looked up at Dean. "I was walking home from Billy's house when I heard something in the trees. I looked up and there it was."

Dean noticed the boy shudder at the memory of it, and he nodded his reassurance. "Go on."

"It was big and ugly, just like in the pictures. It flew down and grabbed me. I tried to get away, but I couldn't. I don't remember what happened after that, but when I woke up, I was here."

"Do you know where it went?" Dean asked, checking the bandage one last time before he was satisfied.

The boy frowned up at Dean. "I don't know. I haven't seen it since."

Dean nodded and leaned back against the wall, clutching his side against the pain in his ribs. He suddenly knew what it felt like to be the cheese in a mouse trap, and he knew if he couldn't find a way out of there soon, they might not survive.

"Are you okay, mister?"

Dean heard the boy's voice draw him out of his thoughts. He'd felt dizzy for a moment and thought he might have blacked out. Dean blinked out of his daze and shoved a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I'm okay," he answered, though he wasn't too sure. He looked over at the boy to find him offering back the flask of holy water. Dean shook his head. "Keep it," Dean told the boy. "You need it more than I do."

"You said you had a brother. Is he looking for you?"

Dean lifted the flask of whiskey and tipped it back for a long swallow, hoping the amber liquid would help numb a little of the pain. He wasn't quite sure what to tell the boy. He knew he was late for his rendezvous with Sam and that Sam would be going out of his mind with worry. He also knew that looking for them in the Pine Barrens would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Unless"

Dean whispered a silent prayer and reached inside his jacket, breathing a sigh of relief to find both his forty-five caliber and his cell phone still there. He pulled out his phone and flipped it open. There was only one bar, and the charge was getting low, but unless Castiel decided to play cavalry and come to the rescue, he knew Sam was most likely their only hope.

Dean hung up the phone and returned it to his jacket. His head felt fuzzy, and he couldn't think straight. If he and the kid were going to get out of there alive, he had to snap out of it. He had to think and think fast.

Dean pulled the Zippo out of his jacket again and flicked the flame on. He wished he had a flashlight, but that wasn't one of the items he was never without. He tilted a glance at the fading shaft of light coming in through the hole in the ceiling and knew they were running out of daylight.

"We have to find a way out of here," he said, wincing and clutching his side as he moved to his feet.

"There is no way out," the boy told him. "I looked. There's a stairway, but it's blocked."

Dean frowned thoughtfully, refusing to accept defeat. He'd been to hell and back; he wasn't about to die in a hole in the ground where no one would ever find anything but their bones. "Can you show me where?"

"Yeah, but..." The boy trailed off, wondering if maybe there was something he'd missed. He climbed to his feet and led Dean toward what appeared to have been a stone stairway leading up, now in ruins, crumbled and blocked by rocks and debris. "I tried digging my way out," he said, with a shrug.

Dean shuffled forward, still clutching his side, every breath, every movement agony. He reached forward in an attempt to clear some of the debris and sucked in a breath, gasping in pain. He was in no shape to do it, and there didn't seem much point. The effort was useless.

"Are you okay?" the boy asked, clearly alarmed.

Dean slowly sank to the ground, biting back a groan. "I think I cracked some ribs," he reluctantly admitted.

The boy's eyes widened, but he said nothing, and Dean's gaze drifted back to the fading shaft of light.

"It's going to be dark soon. Gather up as much wood as you can, and I'll try to make a fire."

The boy nodded his head and darted off to gather up as many fallen twigs and branches as he could before it got dark. Dean climbed to his feet again, leaning against the wall as he inched his way toward the opening in the ceiling.

"Will the smoke attract attention?" the boy asked curiously, watching Dean plod along a moment before going back to his task.

"I don't know. Maybe." Dean doubted anyone would see the smoke, but he didn't want the kid to give up hope. He hunkered down on the ground again and cleared a spot for the fire, using dry leaves as tinder and twigs for kindling, building it just as his father had taught him and using the Zippo to set it aflame. He broke a few fallen branches and set them aside to add later, but he knew there wasn't enough wood to keep the fire burning all night. If he was lucky, it would at least burn until the kid had fallen asleep. The dark didn't worry him. Dean knew there were worse things to fear than the dark.

"Do you think they're gonna find us?" the boy asked as he set the last pile of sticks down and settled himself beside Dean.

"Just a matter of time," Dean answered, trying to sound reassuring, even if he didn't feel very hopeful. He found himself staring into the flames, his muddled mind flashing back to a memory long since forgotten. "Dean, Dad is never gonna find us down here."

"Shut up, Sam. Yes, he is."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he won't stop looking until he does."

"Hey, Mister?"

Dean felt the boy tug at his sleeve, and he blinked out of his memories. A hunt gone bad, he and Sammy trapped in a crypt for what seemed like forever before Bobby had finally found them. John had never even known they'd gone missing. Dean glanced at the boy and was surprised to find concern in his eyes mingled with fear.

"Are we gonna die?"

"No," Dean replied. It was the same answer he'd been giving Sammy for years, but they both knew it was a lie. Everyone died sometime, it was just a matter of when. "We're not gonna die."

The boy nodded his head, seeming to accept that, trusting Dean's word, though he barely knew him.

"Get some rest," Dean instructed.

"I'm scared."

"I know." So am I, Dean thought, but didn't dare admit it. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, okay' I promise."

The boy nodded again and before Dean could protest, tucked himself under Dean's arm and settled against him to sleep.

Dean hesitated a moment and then wrapped an arm around him, feeling the boy's heat through his clothes. Too warm, he thought. Dehydrated, sick, feverish. A person could go weeks without food, but only a few days without water.

Dean reached into his jacket for the flask, unscrewed the cap, and took a long swallow, draining what was left. The whiskey burned its way down his throat, numbing a little of the pain in his side, but doing very little for his head. He felt useless, just like he had so many times before. Just like he had the night Sam had died in his arms, before he'd made the deal with the Crossroads Demon for his brother's life, the deal that had sent Dean to hell.

Well, he wasn't going to let that happen. Not again. Not ever. One way or another, he was going to find a way out of this mess or die trying.

Dean heard the thing before he saw it, screeching like a banshee in the night, terrifying enough to send a chill up his spine. It was a sound like nothing he'd ever heard before, natural or supernatural, and it made his blood run cold.

The boy cried out in terror beside him, and Dean reached into his jacket for his father's Colt, peering into the dark hole above them, which was filled with smoke and stars. Dean stumbled clumsily to his feet, his head spinning and his side aching, and thumbed the hammer back on the Colt.

"Find some place to hide!" he shouted at the boy. He knew the kid was terrified, and he knew he had good reason to be. The thing had brought the kid there for a reason, and Dean knew it wasn't because it was feeling lonely.

Dean kicked some dirt over the fire, extinguishing the flames. He wasn't sure if the thing could see in the dark, but either way, he didn't want to announce his presence. He heard quiet whimpering coming from the corner and knew the kid was nearing hysteria, but there wasn't much he could do to comfort him. Besides, he'd never been much good at that sort of thing, or so he thought, and there was no one who stood between the creature and the boy but him.

"Where the hell are you, Sam?" Dean muttered between clenched teeth. "Now would be a good time to show up." But Dean knew real life wasn't like the movies; the cavalry didn't always come to the rescue in the nick of time. He was on his own, and all that stood between him and the creature was a loaded forty-five.

"You know, it's said this thing took a cannonball shot and kept going." Dean remembered what Sam had told him, and his stomach twisted into knots. They'd run into creatures with regenerative abilities before, and they'd always proved the hardest to kill. He'd have to maintain his cool and make sure his shots counted.

As things turned out, he didn't have long to contemplate what to do. He heard that blood-curdling screech again, and the stars were suddenly blotted out by the outline of a hideous body bearing bat-like wings.

"Crap," Dean muttered. "Stay where you are!" he called over to the kid, hoping he was out of sight. Dean narrowed his eyes, both hands on the gun, and leaned against the wall as far away from the opening as possible.

He sucked in a breath as he raised the weapon, holding the gun steady until he could take a clear shot, doing his best to ignore the pain like hot knives stabbing at his left side. What he saw appear before him was nothing like the ridiculous picture Hunt had showed him back at the trailer. The thing looked like nothing Dean had ever seen before, except maybe in hell. It had the head and body of a horse, but with sharp teeth, a horned head, snakelike tail, hoofed feet in back but clawed in front, like some hideous combination of creatures out of someone's nightmares.

"Jesus Christ," Dean muttered, as the thing came into view. He held the gun steady as the creature swept a look around, presumably looking for the boy. Dean waited until he had a clear shot and then he squeezed the trigger, a bullet ripping into the middle of the creature's chest.

Dean watched as the thing screeched in pain and turned to find the source, touching ground, and charging toward Dean at an alarming speed. Dean tried to duck out of the way, but felt a searing pain in his shoulder as the creature's claws tore into his flesh. He rolled to the ground, and just as the thing's jaws were gaping down at him with razor-sharp teeth, he pulled the trigger a second and then a third time, relieved as the thing veered away, retreating back through the opening and into the night.

"Reach into my jacket and get my phone," Dean told the boy weakly, clutching his shoulder, as if he could hold the flesh together with his fingers.

The boy did as he was told, and Dean bit his lip and sucked in a breath to stop himself from groaning in pain. Deep breaths, Dean, he told himself. You survived hell. You can survive this.

He handed the boy the lighter. "Try to get a fire going again."

The boy nodded and handed Dean his phone. Dean flipped it open, the faint light casting a dim glow in the dark. He looked over at the boy and for a moment, his heart stopped in his chest. "Sam?" he muttered, blinking in confusion. No, it couldn't be Sam. Sam wasn't a kid anymore. Sam was out there somewhere trying to find him, or so he assumed.

"I'm Jimmy," the boy reminded him, looking at Dean with frightened eyes. "Are you gonna die, Mister?"

"No," Dean muttered. "Too stubborn to die. Not dying down here where there isn't even a pretty nurse to hold my hand."

"A nurse?" the boy asked confused. "Girls are gross."

"Yeah' Then why are you looking at porn?" Dean muttered, remembering what Sam had found on the kid's computer.

"I wasn't! It just came up."

"Right," Dean muttered, stifling a chuckle, reminded of the first time he'd found Sam with a girly magazine. He didn't want to laugh; it hurt too much to laugh.

"What are you gonna do?" the boy asked as the lighter flickered in front of his face and he gathered as many twigs as he could.

"Doing something I should have done a long time ago," Dean answered, trying to steady his shaking hand long enough to dial 9-1-1.

Sam sat in the chair, his hands behind his his head, staring at the phone as if willing it to ring.

"Come on, Dean," he said. "Call me again, please."

He was reaching for his coffee and nearly knocked it over when the phone went off, loudly playing Livin' On A Prayer, because even his older brother said Bon Jovi rocks, on occasion.

"Hello?" he answered as his brows knitted in thought.

"Okay, so here's what I got," Bobby started in right away. "There is a guy down there in your area, he's been huntin' the thing forever..."

"Hunt," Sam interrupted.

"No, you idjit, another guy. Knows more about it than Hunt or his dumbass kid. He lives in a cabin there in Pine Woods. He's set up motion dectectors, cameras, lights, the works, and all he's gotten are the usual ghost images, deer, skunks, but one night, he got a shot of that thing posing all pretty like for the camera."

"Posing?"

"Sam, if I hadn't known the guy for thirty years, I'd swear he was jerkin' my chain. Ugly sucker. Claws and hooves and for every right, some kind of demon."

"I have seen pictures of this thing, Bobby. I know what it looks like." Sam was getting aggravated, and his voice was showing that, but it was more from fear for his brother's safety than anger at Bobby.

"Okay, Genius, you asked for my help, and I'm telling you, you haven't seen Jack Diddly. This thing ain't nothing like those stupid dog head looking all black news jockey drawings."

"I am sorry, Bobby. I have got to find Dean," Sam said with a slow sigh. "It's been hours, a storm is coming in, and I have no clue where to look."

"I am surprised you boys can wipe yer own butt without me there twenty-four hours a day," Bobby growled.

"What?"

"G.P.S. in Dean's phone, duh." The sarcasm fell out of Bobby as naturally as water over a falls. "Even a weak signal is a traceable one within a few feet."

"I didn't think of that, Bobby. You are a genius!"

"I know, I know," Bobby said with a chuckle. "Look, you need to go about thirty minutes north of where you are. Cal and his boy Eddie live there in that cabin, and I'm sending them copies of my maps. You can use the G.P.S. signal, and that will point you to Dean and the boy. Something tells me Hunt's out there and your brother needs you. Hurry up and remember, some people are a little....eccentric."

Bobby hung up the phone and Sam stared at it a long time. He picked up his gear bag, opened the hotel room door, and locked it behind himself, before he started looking for a car to get him where he needed to be.

When Dean came to, he could hear the sound of thunder far off in the distance, and mostly out of habit, he waited for the inevitable flash of lightning before counting silently in his head. If his calculations were correct, the storm was about ten miles away.

But it wasn't the thunder or lightning that woke him so much as the insistent tugging at his sleeve, a boy's voice calling his name. "Mister, wake up! Dean!"

"S-Sam?" Dean muttered, prying his eyes open and blinking to clear his vision. A boy's face loomed out of the darkness, vaguely familiar, lit up only by the intermittent flashes of lightning as the storm slowly approached.

"I'm Jimmy, remember?" the boy answered, a sense of panic and urgency in his voice. "It's raining, and the fire went out."

"Raining?" Dean repeated, slow in coming around and remembering their situation. His head was pounding, and his shoulder felt like it was on fire. The pain, at least, reminded him he was still alive, and that meant they still had a chance. He lifted his head to look up at the sky, rain splattering his face, and opened his mouth to catch a few random, precious drops.

"Take off your shirt," he told the boy suddenly.

"What?" Jimmy asked, incredulously.

"Take off your shirt and set it out to soak up the rain." Lightning lit up their surroundings for a moment, and Dean's eyes fell on the pile of broken bones in the corner. "Skulls," he muttered, trying and failing to get to his feet.

The boy did as he was told, pulling the t-shirt off his slim, gangly body, before following Dean's glance to the bones. "What about them?"

"We can catch water in them," Dean explained, the thunder and lightning growing closer together. "We don't have much time," he said as he tried to get up, but between the pain in his ribs and his shoulder, it was a useless effort.

Something seemed to click in the boy's head, and his eyes widened. "You want me to..."

"They won't care, Jimmy," Dean reassured him, sensing the boy's fear and reluctance. "They're already dead. Grab as many as you can and bring them here. Hurry!"

The boy seemed to consider a moment, his will to survive finally overcoming his fears. He waited for the next flash of lightning, then scrambled over to the pile of bones to gather up as many skulls as he could before returning to Dean's side. He looked at the man as lightning flashed across Dean's face, startled by the sheer determination he saw there, despite their bleak circumstances, and wondered if they were going to make it.

"What do you want me to do?" the boy asked as he deposited his cache on the ground beside Dean. If the man wasn't ready to give up yet, then neither was he.

The boy had managed to gather up six skulls in all, much to Dean's relief, not all of them human.

Dean forcibly pushed himself away from the wall and reached for one of the skulls, which he set on the ground beneath the opening, wedged between two rocks. It took a little doing, but he finally managed to get the thing to remain balanced, the back of the skull on the ground, like a bowl, ready to catch as much rainfall as it could possibly hold.

"Like that..." he told the boy, as he reached for another, spots dancing before his eyes, pain lancing through his side and shoulder at every small movement.

"Got it!" the boy exclaimed excitedly as he followed Dean's example. Before long, rain was filling each skull with precious, life-giving water, and the boy had skittered back to the pile of bones to fetch more.

Dean watched the boy work, reminded of Sam, and his heart ached with worry. Where the hell was he? He'd never taken this long before, and Dean was starting to get scared. He wondered how long he and the boy could hold on. He wondered how long before the thing returned. He thought about Hunt and his heart filled with rage. If he ever got his hands on that son of a bitch again, he was going to throttle him, limb from limb. He just hoped he lived long enough to do it.

"Eddie, you are a damned fool!" Cal was rushing toward the spot that his father was hanging upside-down by one leg that was caught in a pig snare.

"Damn it, Dad! I told him not to go over there, snoopin' around. I have been tryin' to catch that 'coon that's been knocking over the trashcans!" Eddie said as he, too, was running toward the old man who had taken to questioning both men's heritage.

"Damn it, Dad. Hold on a minute and we will get you down, " Cal said as he was moving to release the rope that held the man suspended. "Eddie was trying to catch the coons again."

"Damn fool, that boy of yours! No one uses a pig snare for a raccoon, especially next to a trash can an old man uses!" Cal, Sr., said as he was swinging his cane at Eddie. "I get out of this contraption, boy, I'm breaking your damned head!"

Sam was leaning on the front bumper of the truck trying not to laugh or even crack a smile. If there was one thing he learned over the years of meeting other hunters, you never laugh at them, even the ridiculous ones.

"Can I help you out there?" Sam asked from his lean. He didn't dare approach them, especially at a time like this.

"Who the hell'r you?" Eddie asked as he turned and plucked a double-barrel shotgun from the leaves at his feet and pointed it Sam's way. "You from the bank?"

Sam's hands went up quickly, "I'm Sam, friend of Bobby Singer."

"Singer" Dad, doesn't he owe you money?" Eddie asked, looking at Cal who had just finished up-righting his own father.

"Bobby will say he doesn't. But I beat him fair and square." Cal turned then, looking at Sam. "So you are John's boy?"

Sam frowned slightly, then nodded. "One of them, yeah." One of the three that he knew of, and he wondered if there were others out there, others like Adam. Someone that John hooked up with on the road, spent time with, and tried to embrace some form of a normal life.

"Singer said you need help with the Leed's Devil. That true, Winchester?" Eddie asked.

"Sam, please," Sam corrected gently.

"Okay, Sam Please."

"Eddie, go get the coffee, while I talk to our guest," Cal said, then motioned for a few tree stumps that were placed around a fire pit. "Have a seat, Sam."

"I don't know if it can be killed, but we intended to find out," The old man said, then stuck his hand out to Sam. "They call me Dooley."

Sam tried not to laugh or think about banjos as he shook the offered hand. "Sam."

"I knowed that, ya lugnut."

"Sorry!" Sam shoved his hair back and leveled his gaze on Dooley then. "So, you don't know if it can be killed?" He wondered if Bobby knew how far off the reservation these guys were and made a mental note to talk to him about it, once he was sure Dean was safe. "What do you plan on doing?"

"Well, figurin' out some way to kill it!" Dooley's eyebrows furrowed slightly and for an instant, Sam saw the look that his older brother gave him when he didn't see the obvious intent. Jess had called it a "Duh Moment." His thoughts lingered on her and how he wished at times he would have just had a normal life, but apparently it was way beyond that now.

"There was a preacher once that did an excorcism on it, for a hunnert years, but I think if we got it in a Devil's Trap, then called in a priest, it would go for good."

"The minister didn't do his job," Sam said. "Over that hundred years, the thing was still sighted at least three times."

"You know your Leeds Devil history," Dooley smiled before he spat a wad of tobacco into the firepit. "I'm impressed."

"Okay, look. It's getting dark, it's already been storming around us. I want to get my brother, and I hope the missing kid is with him, get them both to safety."

"Ain't rained a drop here," Eddie said as he idly sharpened a stake. "Just cause ya hear some thunder, don't mean it's rained."

"Eddie, ain't you got some dishes to wash?" Cal asked.

"We got company, Dad." Eddie looked like he was about to throw a tantrum, and Sam caught himself shaking his head at the man's behavior. "I'll get 'em done."

"Yeah, you will, right now." Cal said, and his voice took on a challenging, fatherly tone.

"I never get to do nothin'!" Eddie said as he flicked his wrist, and the stake stuck into a tree root as big as his arm, before heading to the trailer.

"Forgive my boy, Sam. He's good at huntin', he just ain't got no people skills."

"Don't worry about it, Cal," Sam said with a small smile. "When can we go find my brother?"

"Well, we's thinkin' about tonight. You in?" Cal spit a small stream of juice, and Sam was nearly disgusted, and made another mental note to speak to Bobby about.

"Tonight's perfect, let's go over how we are getting the thing trapped and dealing with the circus freak."

Eddie watched the three men looking over the map and working out the details without him, frowning deeply, and feeling left out. "Buncha jerks."

With Dean's help, Jimmy somehow managed to scramble his way out of the hole, but when he looked back down and called Dean's name, there had been no reply. He knew Dean was in bad shape, and he didn't have much time. Fortunately for Dean, the first person Jimmy ran into was Sam Winchester.

The kid just about bounced off Sam, eyes wide and scared as he looked up at the man who seemed to tower over him, a solid mass of muscle.

Sam was walking through the woods, searching for Dean, and there was the boy, looking up at him, as Sam moved the barrel of the shotgun away from his general direction. "Whoa, who are you?"

The boy was pale, trembling with cold and hunger and a little shock. His clothing was filthy and torn, one arm crudely bandaged with what Sam might recognize as a scrap of his brother's flannel shirt.

Sam pulled his jacket off and wrapped it around the boy. "Who are you?" Then his eyes moved to the flannel. "Where did you get that?"

The boy's eyes widened in fear and then it dawned on him that the man might be Dean's brother. "Are you Sam' I'm-I'm Jimmy."

Sam's brows rose slightly then he nodded. "I am." Sam I am. He hated that since he was a kid, growing up and bouncing around schools. Sam I am, and all of them poking fun. He cocked his head to the side slightly. "Jimmy." For the life of him, he couldn't remember the boy's last name. "There are a lot of people looking for you. Where's my brother at?" Sam knelt down, looking at the dirty-faced boy.

Jimmy turned and pointed back the way he'd come. "Back there. I can show you."

Sam gave a whistle to the other men that were hiding in various places, thinking that the Devil was running for them, when it was just Jimmy. "Found the boy! He's leading us to Dean!" Sam nodded. "You sure you can find him?"

The kid looked like he was in a semi-state of shock, but he nodded his head and anxiously tugged on Sam's jacket. "He's hurt."

The trio came out, looking disappointed but followed along. "If'n he can get us there, I'll get him to a hospital, checked over, and call his mama," the old man said.

"Hurt?" Sam looked worried. "How's he hurt, Jimmy?"

"We should hurry," the boy said. There was no time for explanations. He was being given a chance to repay the debt to Dean for saving his life. He swung a glance at the trio of men and backed away. They reminded him a little too much of Hunt.

It was then the crack of a gun rang out and echoed through the woods. The boy jumped, startled by the gunshot, and instinctively clung to Sam.

"It's okay, Jimmy. They are here to help. They don't like Hunt either." Sam could nearly read the boy's mind with that look, then he jumped, too, at the sound of the gunshot. "Come on Jimmy. That has to be Dean."

"He....he already shot it once," Jimmy declared, looking scared, assuming the Leeds Devil had returned to finish what it had started with Dean. The last thing Jimmy wanted was to face the monster again.

"Well, let's hope he shot it again."

The other men were excited, thinking they were going to capture the thing and beat Hunt to it.

Jimmy looked between the four men and realized it was up to him. He turned then and double-backed toward the crypt in the direction of the sound of the gunshot. "Follow me!" he said, gathering his courage.

A second shot rang out in the woods, louder than the first, as they were getting closer.

Sam leveled the shotgun, while following Jimmy through the woods and trying to dodge the tree branches from slapping him in the face. The shots seemed closer, so he was readying for anything.

The boy moved fairly quickly, smaller and shorter and not having to worry about branches getting in his way, deftly making his way back the way he'd come. It wasn't too far and he hoped they wouldn't be too late. He led the four men to a small clearing and came to a halt, not wanting to get too close, terrified the monster might attack him again. He lifted an arm and pointed to the clearing, where there was evidence of some sort of old ruined building, maybe a church.

Sam stopped in the clearing, looking around instinctively. His dad taught them that from a small age. "Don't just rush right into an ambush," he'd say. Sam caught Jimmy, "This is the spot?"

"There. He's in there," Jimmy declared, pointing toward the ruins. And just then, there was an otherworldly screech and a flap of wings and something almost demon-like emerged from the hole and flew off into the sky.

Sam looked from Jimmy to the sudden appearance of wings. The other men stopped. "Holy cow!" Eddie said as he drew down on it. All the men were excited, and Sam was in disbelief.

It didn't look like the ridiculous drawings Sam had seen while doing his research. It was far more menacing than that, with sharp claws and teeth and a long forked tail.

The boy scream in terror and launched himself against Sam, shaking like a leaf, trembling from head to toe.

Sam wrapped one hand around Jimmy, keeping the other on the shotgun. "I'll be damned." He aimed at the beast and watched as it flew straight up then off to their left.

Eddie and Cal looked at Sam. "We are following. Let Dad get him somewhere to get checked out," Cal said as he ran in the direction of the beast.

"Dean, can you climb?" Sam called down to his brother. He wasn't wanting to go into the hole, thinking that Hunt could show up and trap them both.

"I don't....I don't know," came the reply from the pit, sounding weak and unsure.

"Don't make me haul your ass outta there," Sam grumbled.

Dean didn't want to admit that he'd exhausted the last of his strength boosting the kid out. "Took you long enough," he grumbled. "What were you doing" Playing patty cake with the kid's mom?"

"Well, someone had to, since you were in a different hole," Sam snapped back, though it was a lie.

Dean sucked in a breath as he climbed to his feet and reached for the rope.

"Wrap it around and I'll pull," instructed Sam. There was a short pause, and Sam could almost feel his brother's anxiety.

"Sammy, I....I think I broke some ribs." If they weren't broken, they were at least bruised. Either way, they hurt like hell and Dean knew wrapping a rope around himself wasn't gonna help matters any.

"I don't think coming down there is a good idea," Sam said uncertainly.

"You're probably right," Dean admitted, realizing Hunt might be watching. "That son of a bitch was using us as bait."

"I don't wanna be stuck down there with you." Sam looked around, while he waited patiently.

"You remember that time when we were kids..." Dean started, trying to distract himself as he wrapped the rope around his chest, every small movement like torture. "And Bobby had to get us out?"

"Yeah, you were banged up then, too."

"Yeah, well....Shit happens, man." He took as deep a breath as he could without doubling over in pain.

"Yeah, well, seems to always happen to you, huh?" Sam was bracing, readying to help pull his brother out.

"Yeah' You've played damsel in distress once or twice." Dean tried to find something to hold onto to, but his fingers just slid off the slippery stone.

"Come on." Sam had lost his patience and started pulling on the rope. "Get you outta there and patched up."

Dean bit back a groan as his brother tugged him upwards. He clung to the rope with one hand, the other hanging limply at his side, every breath sending shooting pain like knives through his chest. Stars danced before his eyes, the edges of his vision going black, and he fought against unconsciousness.

"You gotta lay off the bacon burgers, man." Sam was pulling him up and out, then turned as there was the sound of more shots fired.

Once out of the hole, Dean stumbled to the ground, sore and exhausted. "Izzat Hunt?" he asked, slurring his words.

Sam tried to catch his brother, then knelt beside him. "No, that's Cal and Eddie."

"Who?" Dean blinked up at Sam, clutching his middle with the wounded arm. "Is the kid..." he trailed off, lacking the strength to finish his thought.

"Kid's with Cal's dad. Come on. The truck's not far. Let's go get you patched."

"I go missing for a day and you replace me already," Dean grumbled, letting his brother help him, as he didn't have much choice. He was pretty sure he couldn't make it alone.

"Dean, I needed someone that knew the area, and Bobby helped me out with them."

Sam couldn't see the crudely bandaged shoulder beneath Dean's jacket, but he was favoring one arm, his shirt was torn, and his clothing filthy. "Yeah....where's the cavalry when you need them, huh?" He might have been referring to Bobby or the Campbells or Castiel, but he didn't say which.

"So, relax. I got you outta that hole, and we are going to go and....Is your shoulder dislocated?"

Dean grimaced again, looking sullen. "No, that fucking monster took a swipe at me. I don't know what it is, but it's not a demon."

"Oh, okay. Stitches then." Sam was walking toward the truck, stopping to be sure that his brother was okay now and then. "No' So exorcism won't work. So, what then" Just a freak?"

Once they got to the truck, Dean took a lean against it, clearly exhausted. "I shot the son of a bitch four times. Didn't even slow it down."

"So, you still didn't answer. Is it a freak, or what?"

Sam unlocked the truck and walked around to the other side. "You going to be okay getting in?"

"You wanna carry me inside and kiss my boo boos?" Dean snapped.

"Just asking." Sam lifted a hand to shut him up. "You are the one leaning like an old lady."

Dean pulled the door open and climbed inside, closing his eyes once he was in his seat and clenching his jaw against the pain. He felt like he was close to passing out again, his consciousness clinging to his brother's voice, like a life raft in a stormy sea. "I don't know, Sam," he said, weakly. "It's not a demon. It's not a freak of nature. I think maybe the legend's right. Maybe it's a curse."

Sam started the truck and backed it up to turn around. He looked at his brother with some concern, then his eyebrows rose again. "Cursed baby?"

"We've seen curses before, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"So....what do you do when you run into a curse?"

"Break it."

"Yeah, only one problem."

"That is?"

"Hunt."

That said, Dean lost the struggle to remain conscious and let darkness take him.

Sam pulled open the door. "Can you walk, Grandma?"

Still propped against the door, Dean nearly fell to the ground when Sam opened the door. "It's not my legs, sonny," he quipped.

Sam caught his brother easily enough, careful of the gashes. "I know. It's everything else. Seriously....Can you walk or we need a chair?" Sam was concerned, though he didn't show it.

Dean reached for Sam to steady himself, his fingers curling into his brother's sleeve. "I can walk," he retorted. There was no way he was using a wheelchair. He wasn't a cripple or an old man, and he had his pride. "Just....gimme a hand for a second."

Sam held out a hand to his brother. "This is different."

Dean glared at Sam's hand. That wasn't quite what he meant. "Just forget it, jackass."

"Yeah, okay. I was offering to help you. Give you something to steady yourself on, not hold your damn hand."

Dean climbed out of the truck of his own volition, cradling his wounded arm. "Looked like hand holding to me."

"Whatever." Sam slammed the door after Dean was clear.

"Maybe if you say please, Bobby will hold your hand."

"Ass," said Sam, as he pulled open the door to the ER.

Dean smirked a little, knowing he was getting on his brother's nerves. "Hey, Sammy?" he asked, slow in following his brother inside.

"What?" Sam huffed, waiting for the next remark.

"Thanks," Dean told him. "I mean it."

Sam eyed his brother a moment, wondering what he was up to. "Yeah, don't mention it."

Dean brushed past his brother into the hospital. "Place better have hot nurses."

"They probably sound like Jersey Shore."

"I don't care what they sound like. I'm not planning on having any deep conversations." Once inside, Dean waved down a pretty blond in a white nurse's uniform. "Hey, honey, a little help here" I was hunting in the woods and got mauled by a bear."

Sam shook his head, watching Dean and the blond nurse.

The nurse looked toward Dean and walked over toward him. "My name is Kathy, not Honey. Bear, huh?" She started looking over his wounds.

"Not Honey Bear, just Honey."

"That sounds made up." She looked at Sam and smiled, before she called for a doctor. "Kathy," she corrected, and Sam returned her smile.

As soon as she started poking around at his shoulder, Dean's face went white as a ghost and his legs gave out.

"Doctor!" she called, she and Sam catching Dean as he fell.

A couple of hours later found Dean in a hospital bed hooked up to a saline drip, his shoulder stitched and covered in bandages, a little high on painkillers.

Sam walked into the room, smiled and nodded to the nurse, before pitching her number into the trash. "How ya feeling, other than high?"

"Is it visiting hours?" Dean asked groggily."I was dreaming about this redhead. Red who gave great head." He smiled stupidly.

"Yeah, well, the only redhead was about three hundred pounds, but she did really like you."

"Where's Nurse Honey' I think I need my pillow fluffed."

"Kathy..." Sam corrected, "...is already off the clock and gone home." He showed him her phone number and the lipstick kiss on it.

Dean lifted his head to look at the slip of paper, squinting to focus his vision. "That her number?"

Sam wadded it up and pitched it into the trash. "Yes, she wanted me to call her and meet her for a beer."

Dean's eyes widened. "You"!"

Sam just smiled then, "Yes, me."

"Wait, don't..." Dean lunged to try and catch the paper before it hit the trash and almost knocked over his saline bag.

"Dude, she was into me. Get over it. You pull that saline bag out, the redhead is going to be back in here."

"Why are throwing it out' You go gay or something?"

"No, I didn't go gay."

"Don't like her accent?"

"More to life than getting laid, Dean."

"Yeah, well....It makes life a little more....bearable." He almost pouted at his brother. Now that Nurse Honey was gone, there didn't seem much reason to stay. "When can I blow this pop stand?"

"Right. Okay, listen, doctors want to keep you at least over night."

"What the hell for" All I need is a burger and a beer, and I'll be fine."

"Dude, you lost a lot of blood, and you were really dehydrated. They said you were lucky not to be dead. One night isn't too much to ask."

"Dead?" Dean scoffed. "Take more than to put me in my grave."

"Keep thinking that."

He scowled at his brother. "Just one night?"

"One night."

"You're not going after that thing without me, are you?"

"No, I'm not hunting that thing."

"What about Hunt?"

"I can't promise anything."

"Did your hillbilly friends find anything?"

"They are still tracking the thing, though they did find Hunt." Sam lifted his cup of coffee then.

One brow lifted and Dean sat up a little straighter. "They found him?"

"They found his trailer. He's not there."

"But they didn't find him," Dean said, trying to get the story straight.

"No, but they are looking."

"Where the hell is he" You think he's tracking the thing?"

"If so, he's going to run into Cal."

"I gotta get outta here." Dean tossed the blanket off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was far more anxious to get his hands on Hunt than on the monster.

"You aren't going anywhere." Sam moved to block his legs. "I will call the doctor in here to shoot you up with more drugs."

Dean glared at his brother, not wanting to be left out.

"One night, Dean."

"Hospital food sucks. You better bring me breakfast." He relented finally, tucking his legs back under the blanket.

"Right. Just don't be a pain in the ass, okay?"

"I'm serious. I want an Egg McMuffin....no, two Egg McMuffins....Extra bacon."

"They don't put bacon on Egg McMuffins."

"Yeah, well, they better put some on mine." Dean settled his head back against the pillows, the drugs making his tongue looser than usual. "I knew this girl once..." He closed his eyes, feeling tired and woozy. "She worked in a doughnut shop."

"Uh huh." Sam glanced around, looking at people to be sure his brother would be safe.

Dean frowned at the vision he saw in his head. She was young and blond and pretty, and her name was Quinn. "I think I loved her."

"What....Who are you talking about?" Sam was trying to think of someone they knew in a doughnut shop, but could think of no one.

Dean didn't answer. He'd fallen back asleep, under the influence of painkillers.

Sam walked out and caught one of the nurses. "Take care of him. He's a little loopy. This is my number, if there are any problems." He pressed a slip of paper into her hand and walked down the hall toward the elevators. The Hillbillies had found Hunt, and they were holding him for Sam, but he wasn't going to tell Dean that. Not yet.

Hunt was surprisingly fast in the return of Sam's assault.

"Just like your brother, boy. You think cause I've got a few years on you, that I'm gonna lay down and take a beating?" He was obviously a brawler, in his father's line of work and his own, there are going to be people that question credibility, and some of those are violent questions. He threw a fist into Sam's jaw, and another into his ribs.

Sam made the decision to stop holding back and threw everything he had learned over the years into this fight. His adversary had trapped a kid, and then made the mistake of having something to do with Dean's disappearance, both made Sam's blood boil. He blocked two swings from Hunt with his forearms, and threw his left into the middle of the man's face. It seemed a dam broke within Sam's core, all the years of holding back, all the anger, all the rage he had kept mostly in check came flooding from him, and focused on Hunt.

"This is for Jimmy!" Sam shouted, as he felt the blood splash from the man's now crooked and broken nose, "And this," he threw his right into the man's solar plexus, "is for Dean! You tried to kill my brother, and use him for bait!" Sam had caught Hunt in an arm lock and was working on his ribs, throwing blow after blow into the man's side.

Hunt showed no signs of weakening, or spilling any information, but the pain in his side now was like liquid fire. He twisted himself free of Sam's hold, and turned the attack back on the taller man. He used Sam's height difference to his advantage and waited for just the right time to throw him off balance, sending him crashing to the floor.

"You found him, why are you so angry?" Hunt asked as he spat a mouthfull of blood while kicking Sam in the ribs, rolling him over onto his stomach. "By now, that beast has probably taken a new child, a new meal, and Leeds will find it just as tasty. When I find him and kill him, he will be full of a kid's flesh, and his blood is on your hands." He kicked Sam again, "Yours and your brother's!" He finished the fight, bringing the toe of his boot up into the crotch of Sam's jeans and watched as Sam curled himself into a fetal position, holding himself and squeezing his eyes shut.

Hunt looked around the room, and found his jacket before making his way out of the room, past a stunned Cal, and slamming into Eddie, sending him through a window of the cabin. Dooley came from his room, carrying an old double-barreled shot gun, and the two men gave chase.

His heart was pumping what felt like battery acid through his veins, and his breathing was labored. He kept running through the woods, pushing himself as to put as much distance as possible from his trackers. He had grown up here, when they weren't with the circus, they were hunting that damned creature. His dad had sworn it was their claim to fame, and he wasn't going to let a bunch of out of state hillbillies beat him to his life's work. The leaves crunching beneath his feet, the sticks tearing at his clothes and skin, didn't allow him time to hear the flap of wings, but he did feel the claws from the beast's hands as they gripped his shoulders, and his feet left the ground.

Cal and Dooley stopped, staring upward as the shadow of man and beast soared away from them. Sam arrived soon after, the Glock .40 raised but ineffective at this range.

"Damn it, no!" Sam cried, then turned to Cal, "You've got to find them."

"Don't worry," Cal said as he was catching his breath. "We know where he's goin'."

Dean took another sip of his coffee. "So, what really happened last night?"

"I told you what happened."

"Not in detail."

"What do you want to know, Dean' I was beating his ass, and he got away. The thing flew down, snatched him up, and flew away." Sam sighed then and picked up his own coffee.

"That's it' I'm still not clear why you were beating his ass." Dean really didn't want to circle back to that argument, but there it was.

"He started it."

"Oh, yeah' What did he do' Tell you he didn't like your new do?"

"There's nothing wrong with my do, and he punched me in the jaw."

Dean nodded his head, getting a better understanding of what had happened. "Okay, so, now we go talk to Frick and Frack and see if we can track this thing down."

He didn't mention that they were going to use Hunt as bait, and had instructed Cal and Eddie to do the same. "Yeah."

"Kinda hard to track something that flies. You're gonna need some kinda bait. You know what I think" I think it's collecting its nuts."

"They know more or less where it is."

Dean chuckled. "Sure, they do. That's why it's still out there. You know how big the pine barrens are, Sam' It could be anywhere. It could be miles from here by now. Hunt was on the right track. We need to set a trap."

"God forbid that someone knows a little more than the almighty Dean."

"What's with the attitude, man' I'm trying to figure this thing out."

"They've been hunting this thing for a while, man. And you just want to sit there and call them names. They watched the direction that it flew with your friend, and a few weeks ago they found what they thought was a nest."

"Squirrels don't bury all their nuts in the same place, Sam."

"And they don't remember where or why they bury them, Dean."

"Fine, we'll do it your way....or their way." The truth was Dean was starting to wonder if Sam needed him or even wanted him along for the ride anymore. He'd gone off on his own for a year without so much as a phone call or a greeting card, then he'd hooked up with the Campbells, and now this. He was starting to feel like the third wheel. But none of this was said out loud. He just stared into his coffee cup.

"They are just trying to help, Dean. Why is it so bad that we get some help after all these years?"

"It's not, I guess." The truth was he felt like his kid brother didn't need him anymore.

"It's got to be, Dean! First the Campbells, now Eddie and Cal. What's the damn issue, man?"

"No issue. We blowing this popstand or what?" He reached for his wallet and tossed a ten dollar bill on the table for a tip plus the bet money.

"No issue. Right. Shut down, Dean." Sam pushed the money back his way. "I got this."

It was a little strange to have money in his wallet for a change, but he'd left most of what he had with Lisa. "I'm getting the tip. Hazel eyes, remember?"

"I told you." Sam smirked and placed the cash on the table, then started for the door.

Dean tossed a glance over at the waitress who smiled back at him, but he only nodded and mumbled a farewell and followed his brother to the door.

Sam was already in the truck and it was running, while he waited for Dean.

Dean pushed outside, briefly looking up at the sky, which was threatening rain again.

Sam was listening to "Kashmir" and starting to relax. He was wound up and taking it out on Dean wasn't helping. The rain was affecting his mood, as well as someone using his brother as bait. The hunting had been different without Dean at his side. Almost like spending time with Ruby, learning everything he could about dealing with the demons.

Dean's breath hitched a moment as his sore ribs reminded him he was still alive and human, and he tried to rub the pain away, hoping Sam didn't notice. He knew his brother well enough to know he probably thought he was a liability right now, wounded and unable to give one hundred percent, but Dean refused to be left behind again. He'd been left behind long enough. He smiled a little at the sound of Zeppelin coming from Sam's rented truck, wondering if the kid was playing it for his sake or if something had actually rubbed off on him. He pulled the door open and climbed inside, a half smile, half wince on his face.

"You are moving around like when the He-Witch had you. And don't mention the shot, again."

"Yeah, you try getting tossed into a hole and going twenty rounds with the Leeds Devil and see what happens." He rubbed at his ribs again and tried to get comfortable. The pain meds were taking the edge off, but he still felt like crap. Sam's remark got a small chuckle out of him, despite the pain. "That was kinda funny. Gotta give the guy credit for having a sense of humor. Wonder whatever happened to him."

"Funny' Dean he almost killed you."

"Christ, where's Cas when you need him' I could use a little mojo here!" He said a little louder than necessary, hoping a certain angel might hear. He shrugged his shoulders. "I made the bet. No one had a gun to my head."

"Dean, look..." Sam sighed then. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Dean furrowed his brows as he looked over at his brother. "For what?"

"I know I was a jerk, and I am apologizing."

Dean was looking at his brother like he was from another planet or something. Old Sammy was apparently still in there somewhere.

"I'm just trying to figure shit out, and people like Hunt....they bother me."

"They bother me, too, Sam. We're on the same side, right?"

"Yes, but don't expect me to cry if Hunt gets eaten."

Another shrug and a wince. Dean really had to stop shrugging. "I'm not gonna shed any tears over Hunt."

"Well, so we are agreed. We can allow the Jersey Devil his last supper. Okay, are you calling Bobby or am I?" Sam turned the wheel and they were moving out into traffic again.

"Long as it's not you or me."

Sam turned the stereo down a bit, and nodded. "Dean, you aren't one hundred percent, but I'm not leaving you out."

Dean winced a little, dreading the ass-chewing he was more than likely to get from Bobby, but one of them had to man up and Sam was driving. "I'll call. You're driving. Damn straight you're not. Left me out for a year. I haven't forgiven you for that yet."

"Dean, you have Lisa and Ben. You have the life that I wanted. You had the life you promised me you would have. I didn't want to ruin that."

Dean furrowed his brows at his brother and the rarity of his confession. "Then why don't you just quit' Walk away?"

"Dean, there are still things out there. You know that."

"Promised you? I didn't have any choice but to promise you. You were so hung up on making the ultimate sacrifice. Just like a good Winchester. That doesn't make us even, by the way. You still owe me, and that trip to Graceland" That doesn't even start to make up for keeping me out of the loop."

"Listen, we will deal with Hunt and go to Graceland, okay' You want to take Lisa and Ben" We can drive this for the comfort. Take the Charger."

He glanced out the window and thought about that a moment. He didn't want to sound selfish, but Graceland was special to him and to his dad, and he didn't want to share it, not with anyone but his brother. "Lisa hates Elvis and Ben's too young to appreciate it." That was the excuse he'd use, even if it wasn't true.

"Then it's me and you, man. Which is cool, cause I know how he was to you and Dad."

He turned back to Sam. "We're taking the Impala."

"Impala" We could save gas in the Charger."

"I'm not taking that pansyass car to Graceland." The truth was he hated being in the passenger seat most of the time. "If you're so worried about gas, why'd you rent a truck?"

"This truck gets twenty-two miles per gallon," Sam chuckled. "Wanna trade the Impala in?" Again messing with his brother.

"Are you kidding me" Car's a classic. They don't make cars like that anymore."

"Yeah, but it's old..." Sam grinned a bit.

Dean chuckled. "You know Dad was gonna buy a VW" A hippy bus."

"What' How do you know?"

"Dude....I was there."

"Oh, right....there. You'd still be rolling around Dad's old bus then?" Sam chuckled at that.

Dean scowled. "Something like that."

"You in a VW." The laughter was building.

"Blame Dad. He was buying it for Mom. He thought it would be more suitable for a family." Dean wasn't seeing the humor in it. He'd been there when his father was picking out a car. It was mostly because of him they ended up with the Impala and not the VW.

Sam was snickering as he looked straight ahead. His brother in what basically amounted to a mini-van was about to get him in trouble or punched. "So, does it only rain in this state or what?" Trying to change the subject, as he turned on the wipers.

Dean ignored Sam's question, his thoughts drifting to his parents. "Dad was different then. He really loved Mom."

"I know. I saw that, and he was big on family."

Dean still wasn't sure what had happened between his parents, but he knew they hadn't always gotten along. They weren't always the big happy family people thought them to be. "I'm just like him, Sam."

"It was Mom that told us to go. Dad wanted us to stay and chat. Her family was his." Sam turned and looked at Dean, remember when Cas had taken them to the past to save their mother's life. "In a lot of ways, yeah, you are."

"I get it now, you know. How he felt. How he was trying to protect us after Mom died. How he couldn't be the father we wanted him to be. After Mom died, he'd sit up late, watching over us. Sometimes, when he thought I was asleep, I'd hear him crying."

Sam just frowned and turned his attention back to the road. His memories of butting heads with John over the years still stung.

Dean was staring out the window, lost in thought, telling his brother things he didn't think he ever would. "You know what that's like" To hear your own father crying" Someone who's supposed to protect you, take care of you? I never let him see me cry again after that. Just you. Ben deserves a real father. Not me."

"Well, it was just you and I on many nights, Dean. Alone, some shit hotel..." Sam paused and looked at Dean. "Right, so you going to tell the kid that?"

"I don't know what to tell him. He wants to be like me. I can see it. He got into the trunk and I chewed his ass out."

"How'd he get your keys?"

Dean swung his head back toward Sam, maybe looking for some brotherly advice. "I don't want him to be like me, Sam. I want him to have a life. Go to school, get a job, meet a girl, do all the things I never could. It's what I wanted for you, too."

"That didn't happen for me, Dean. It wasn't in the cards."

Dean ignored his brother's question. He'd asked himself the same thing a dozen times or more. Had he left the keys in the trunk or had the kid swiped them' He wasn't quite sure, but all his weapons were in there. He'd told the kid time and again that guns weren't toys, but he recognized that gleam in Ben's eyes when he'd caught him, and that more than anything else, made him chew the kid's ass out. "Yeah, well..." Dean trailed off, turning silent. He'd already said a lot more than he'd planned.

"Jess is gone, Mom is gone, Dad is gone. Hell man, even I was. This life isn't for everyone."

"And Grampa's back. Ever wonder about that' Why him' Why not Dad?"

"Hell if I know. Knowing Dad, he's made general or something and is leading part of the war in Heaven. I'm busy, send Samuel!" Sam was imitating John then.

"No, Cas would have said." Dean turned back to the window, watching the rain turn the world gray and gloomy, like his mood.

"You can't tell me that wouldn't be Dad's style."

"No, it's Dad's style, all right. I'm just not sure what?s going on up there."

"No telling, man. We are here, which is a bonus."

"Better than hell anyway." From what Dean had seen of heaven, probably better than that, too.

"Hell is not for the feint of heart," Sam said, as he flipped the turn signal and turned, heading for the area he'd found Dean.

"That's why they call it hell." Dean frowned, recognizing their surroundings. He didn't really want to be there again, but he had no choice. And this time, they were the hunters, not the hunted.

"Ya think?" Sam caught the frown. "We gotta call Bobby, Dean."

"Yeah, I know." Dean pulled his cell phone out of his jacket. Someone, probably Sam, had charged it for him while he'd been stuck in the hospital.

"Your pistol is under the seat."

Dean arched a brow at his brother, who seemed to have thought of everything, and reached under the seat for his gun, which had actually belonged to his father. "You wanna call him or do I get the honors?"

"You can call him. I am driving."

Dean grumbled under his breath, knowing Bobby was probably gonna chew his ass out about one thing or another. He dialed the number and held the phone up to his ear, listening to it ring.

"Hello?" Bobby answered, and it was obvious he was looking for something.

"Bobby, it's Dean..." As if he didn't already know that. He waited for the lecture that he knew was coming.

"Dean, how the hell are you, boy' We've been worried sick!"

No lecture. Dean paused a moment, a little confused. "Uh..." He wondered who we was. Sam' Grampa Campbell" Cas" "I'm okay. A little sore."

"How many stitches?"

"I dunno. I lost count." He looked over at Sam, looking a little puzzled.

"How many broken ribs" Or were they broke?" Bobby was fussing over him like a mother hen.

"Bruised, I think. I got lucky."

"Ya idjit! Next time you take your brother with you! Letting some scum like Hunt get the drop on you!"

Dean didn't mention another concussion. If he'd been a football player, he'd probably have been forced into retirement by now. Dean smiled. That was the Bobby he knew and loved. He knew the word idjit would come into the conversation at some point. "I love you, too, Bobby."

"Let's not start growin' lady parts here," Bobby growled. "So, did you see it?"

"Yeah, I saw it. Shot it a couple times. It didn't even blink. And I didn't miss."

"So, it ain't a hoax. Cal and Eddie came through, I'll be damned."

"Just pissed it off. It wasn't a hoax that tore into my shoulder, trust me."

"Yeah, I heard." Bobby sighed. "Okay, you are gonna need a knife, of course, a black candle and a white candle. Get to the shade of a tree near where the thing was born."

"Where it was born" Like its house?" He looked over at Sam, who he knew was listening. He figured maybe Cal and Eddie would know where that was, since they were locals.

"No, ya moron, it was born under the sea with Sponge Bob."

"Sponge Bob is a cartoon. You and Sam have been watching too much TV."

"And you know who he is, Dad. Now, you gonna listen?"

That remark sobered him, though Ben was a little too old for Sponge Bob. "I'm listening."

"Okay, the thing was born at the Leed's Homestead" and I'm sorry for that remark. How is the kid?"

"He's fine. Confused as all hell, but that's normal, I guess."

"So were you at that age, boy." Bobby sighed again. "Sam okay?"

"Yeah, he's okay. He's driving." Dean wondered if Bobby was really wondering if Sam was okay, or if he wanted Dean's opinion on how Sam had changed. But this wasn't the time or the place for that. He wondered just how much time Bobby had spent with Sam over the course of the last year or so and how much it had cost him not to tell Dean the truth. Or maybe Sam had asked him not to, made him promise. It was all for Dean's own good, or so they'd said, but he wasn't so sure about that.

"Yeah, okay. So, black and white candles, eight inches long, exactly, no guessing. Every quarter inch from the top, make seven marks with the knife. You writing this down?"

Dean flicked a glance at Sam, resting the phone in the crook of his neck, and miming that he needed something to write with.

Sam pointed at the bag between them.

"Uh, yeah....Go on." Dean reached into the bag and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, and started jotting notes. "Black and white candles, eight inches long. Seven notches every quarter inch from the top....What are the notches for?"

"Just notch the candles, ya bonehead."

"Okay, what else?"

"Okay, you need to put the white candle due north of the shade tree, the black candle in the shade of the tree, and this has to be done at eight in the morning."

"Eight in the....why then" Who makes this shit up anyway?"

"At the white candle in the dirt, write the work Krytanala, with a K."

"Krytan....can you spell that?" Dean was scribbling all of it down as fast as he could. He didn't want to get the spelling wrong and screw up the entire spell.

"K R Y T A N A L A, got that?"

Dean jotted each letter down in order as Bobby spelled the word out. "Yeah, I got it."

"At the black candle, you need a ball of witchbane."

"Witchbane, okay." He wondered how the hell they were gonna get their hands on some of that. He shot a look at Sam again.

"Should be some little coven shop around there. It's Jersey, for Pete's sake."

"We'll figure it out. What else?"

"Chant the words "Omah Cly Chisto Dunnga", oh, four times, and if you have the Devil, that should be it."

"Wait....do we need it to be there?"

"Well, duh, genius. How else is it going to work" Can't call him up."

"Awesome. So, not only do we have to find it, we have to capture it or somehow lure it there."

"Just net the thing, how hard can it be? You need a tranq."

"A tranq," Dean repeated, doubtfully. "Bobby, did you hear a word I said" I shot the damned thing four times and it didn't even blink."

"Well, try it. Humor an old man."

"If it doesn't work, it's just gonna get pissed off."

"Then get it close to the house and go for the curse removal."

"Yeah, okay....we'll figure it out." He had an idea, but he knew Sam wouldn't like it.

"Okay, keep me informed." And he hung up, no goodbyes. He didn't believe in them.

"Nice talking to you, too," Dean said to no one and hung up the phone.

"Well?" Sam asked, looking toward his brother.

"I got a recipe, but it's not chocolate chip."

"Peanut Butter?"

"More like....Rocky Road."

"Great, my favorite." Sam scowled then.

Dean shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket. "Sam....We're gonna need bait."

"No." Sam just said that, without wanting to hear what Dean was going to say.

Too late, he said it. "You got any ideas on how we're gonna catch this thing 'cause I'm thinking a really big butterfly net would be kinda awkward."

"Hunt."

"We don't even know if Hunt's still alive."

"Then he may still want to finish his meal."

"That's what I'm thinking." Only he wasn't thinking of Hunt as bait.

"You aren't going in as bait, Dean."

"Look, I don't like it anymore than you do, but that thing already had a piece of me, and it probably wants more. I'm not planning on sacrificing myself to the Leeds Devil, Sam. Anyway, this spell is a pain in the ass. It's really precise."

"No."

"You know where we can find some witchbane." Dean was doing his best to ignore his brother's denials. He'd deal with it when the time came.

"Should be easy enough. All the kids use it for their love spells."

"Yeah, why didn't I ever think of that?" Dean sighed and leaned back against the headrest, watching the rain turn to drizzle.

"You think you need one with Lisa?"

"Why do you keep bringing that up" Am I cramping your style or something" Getting in the way' Third wheel" You're the one that pulled me back in."

"Dude, I was just trying to make you think, man. She loves you, I'm sure."

"Yeah, we don't use the L word. It's like....I don't know....Kinda goes without saying, I guess."

"Right." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Soon as I say it..." Dean broke off.

"What' The house turns into a pumpkin and you lose a boot?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Right, they'd bring the stinking thing back." Sam chuckled.

Dean's thoughts drifted to Quinn, the girl he wasn't sure ever really existed. The only one he'd ever said the L word to. "You ever wonder if any of this is real?"

"Any of what?" Sam asked, as he turned down a different dirt road.

"I mean, seriously....sometimes I wonder. My head is so screwed up sometimes..."

"What?"

"You start to think....maybe it's all just a dream."

"Did you take too many of the pain pills again?"

"What' No! I'm serious!"

"Okay, so, what?s a dream?"

Dean shoved his fingers through his hair. A dream is a wish your heart makes" Christ, he wasn't going to tell Sammy that. "A dream is an illusion your mind creates when you're sleeping. You think it's real, but it's not. You know what, Sam' Hell was real."

"Dean, you aren't really making sense, man."

Dean quieted, his thoughts turning inward. Cas understood. Cas knew about Rhydin, but not Sam. Dean wasn't sure Sam would ever understand.

"So, what do you mean. Our lives?" Sam was just trying to understand. Something had his brother spooked.

"Doesn't matter. Just forget it." He was closing that door for now....again.

"Okay, man." Sam nodded.

Dean looked out the window, wondering if they were almost there and what would happen when they got there. His side was starting to ache, but it was too early to take another pill, so he just tried to rub the ache away. An awkward silence had settled between him and his brother, and he wondered if Sam wasn't the stronger one, after all. He'd known him all his life. He thought he knew everything about him, and yet it seemed a different Sam sat beside him now. Sometimes he almost seemed like a stranger.

"Okay, look, we are here. Be nice."

"When am I not nice?"

"It is Cal, Eddie, and Dooley. Not all the other names you call them, okay?"

Dean tore off the sheet of paper with Bobby's instructions on it and tucked it into a pocket. "Don't worry about it. I got it."

Sam was pretty quiet, driving through the back roads, and most of them were unpaved. The trip wasn't far, but it seemed so, when he wasn't saying much. He was lost in thoughts and what ifs.

Dean was quiet for a while, as well, lost in his own thoughts, until he realized Sam was just as quiet, and he started wondering what his brother was thinking. But instead of asking, he blurted something else out instead. "I need to get into my car."

"For what? It's at the hotel back in town. We are like bum fucked nowhere close."

He glared at Sam. "Stuff. What do you care?"

"Dude, I told you he didn't key it."

"I've been wearing the same clothes for two days." Though that wasn't what he wanted to get out of his car.

"Your duffel is back there next to mine....and I thought that was you smelling like sweaty sack."

"You got any silver?"

Sam smirked then, before that got his brother a puzzled look. "Silver" Change or what?"

"Bullets, moron."

"Moron?" Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother. "The hell, man, we aren't hunting were or shifters."

"Yeah, well....call it a hunch."

"Side pocket of my duffel, ass. The next time we are at Bobby's, we need to take the time to make some more. We are sort of running low." Sam turned down another road, almost like he'd been there before.

"We're running low on silver bullets?" He looked at Sam like he was on crack or something. "What have you been doing for the last year?"

Sam shook his head and smiled, "I was doing whatever it took to get things done."

Dean looked around behind him at the two duffels and decided it could wait until they stopped. It wasn't worth the pain in his side to try and get at the silver now. "Which means what?"

"Hunting, Dean, carrying on business as usual. It's been busy, to say the least. No demons, no angels, just plain old, run of the mill monsters."

"I still don't get why you let me think you were dead. Letting me have my apple pie in the sky happily ever after life without knowing the truth."

"You were happy, right?"

"Don't fool yourself, Sam. Demons and angels are still out there. They're just as busy as you are. Happiness is relative."

"In a year of hunting, I haven't seen any, and you know what? I'm damned glad."

"You know what would have made me happy?"

"Six of the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders?"

"Besides that."

"I don't know, what?" Sam's eyes were still on the road as he was starting to look for the address.

"Knowing my brother was alive and not stuck in hell for all eternity. What did you do when I died" Carry on like it was business as usual" Did you even try to get me out?"

"Dean, what would it have mattered" You would have wanted to leave Lisa and Ben, leaving you with more questions than answers. I mean, hell, man, we kept stuff out of your vicinity so you could live that life."

"You just don't get it, do you? I'm more of a liability to them than anything else. They're safer and better off without me around."

"And you aren't worrying about their safety right now?"

"Sure, I am, but at least there's no demons in meat suits knocking at their door looking for Dean Winchester."

Sam cranked the wheel and turned into what looked like an overflowing ditch and out the other side with minor wheel spinning. There was what appeared to be a goat trail leading to a small, run down shack with a single light burning on the porch. The woods around the place looked darker than they should.

"I don't know....It's all gonna catch up with me someday, Sam, and when that happens, I don't want to be anywhere near Ben or Lisa."

"And what are you going to do when you go back there, call back there, whatever, and find out that someone has them?"

Dean reached for the dashboard to steady himself as he wasn't wearing his seat belt. "Let's just hope that doesn't happen." He nodded over at the shack. "That it?"

"Right." Sam nodded. "Should be the place."

"Awesome. Let's go see Granny Weatherwax and check out her wares."

Sam sighed and put the truck into park. He was tired of the rain and, in general, tired of Jersey. "Great."

Dean didn't tell Sam, but the place gave him the creeps and reminded him of a place he and Quinn had gone for help when he was in Rhydin. "Don't drink the tea."

"Tea?"

Dean frowned and blinked out of his thoughts, realizing Sam wouldn't get the reference. "Yeah, never mind."

The truck was quiet and dark, and the rain was falling steadily. There were no sounds of the radio. In fact, there was no sign of Sam.

Dean glanced up at the sky, sick of the rain and wondering if the sun was ever going to shine again. He ducked his head against the onslaught of water, tucked the package into his jacket so it wouldn't get wet, and braved the short walk back to the truck. Two days ago, he'd have killed for a little rain, but now, he was downright sick of it. "Sam?" he asked, looking around for his brother.

Sam stepped out from behind a tree and looked at Dean while doing up his fly. "Dean?"

Dean flicked a glance at his brother's zipper a moment and put two and two together. "You had me worried for a minute."

"Dude, I had to go. All the rain, the coffee..."

Relieved his brother was only taking a piss and hadn't disappeared, Dean pulled open the truck door and climbed inside. "Dude, TMI."

"What' Well, you were worried."

Dean pulled the package out from underneath his jacket and set it down.

Sam got into the truck again. "You and Esmerelda seemed to be getting alo....What in the hell is that stink?"

"Her name's Anna, and she's a white witch. I got her number for future reference."

"Reference, is that what you call it?" Sam coughed and rolled his window down a little.

"You know like Wendy in Casper" Not that kind of reference. She undoes what other witches do. Might come in handy. You never know." He was ignoring Sam's choking act. "She says you need to lighten up."

"Right." Sam said, wiping at his eyes. "That's nasty, man. What?" He straightened up, "She doesn't even know me."

"Yeah, well....take me to my car and you don't have to smell it anymore." He shrugged. "Don't ask me. You give off a vibe."

"Dude, what do you want in that damn car" I swear she's okay. You wanting to rub one out in there or what?"

"Hunt was gonna burn her. I should kick his ass for that."

"Dude, I got her back. She's fine."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks."

"She's sitting there waiting. We will get you two back together soon, but that nice doctor said you shouldn't be driving yet, okay?"

"I had her under a tarp in the garage for the last year. She's probably as rusty as I am. Why not' I can drive in my sleep."

"The meds, the stitches. Just let it rest a couple of days, okay?" Truth was he had her in the shop, getting her all detailed out as an apology to his brother, a friend of a friend's shop that wouldn't ask questions.

Dean sighed. "Fine, but if you call me Miss Daisy, I'm gonna deck you."

"Yes, sir, Mister Dean." Sam chuckled.

"Shut up. Jerk."

"Okay, Bitch."

"You know what? I think there's a burger somewhere with my name on it. Think we can make a quick pit stop, Jeeves" Take out, I swear."

"I'm going to kick your ass." Sam turned the truck, and instead of going back toward Dooley's place, they started back toward town. "You are going to make me gag with that stink."

"If I have to eat dinner with the Dooley gang, I'm gonna hurl."

"Why?"

"Are you planning on having a sleepover" Cause, thanks, but no thanks. I'll sleep in the truck."

"Could call Dooley and see if he wants a burger and we may as well stay there. We have to be at the home of the Devil by eight a.m. That means seven or so for prep, Dean. What do you have against them?"

"No, we have to remove the curse at eight a.m. The tricky part is getting the Devil there by then."

"Yeah, I know. So that means we eat, get back out there."

"I don't know, Sam. I just don't like it."

"Don't like what?" Sam turned the truck into Donny's Burger Shack.

"The whole plan. It's too risky. What if the Devil doesn't take the bait' Then we're back to square one."

"He will take the bait."

"Are you saying that because you think so, or is that Psychic Boy talking?"

"Dude, it's just a feeling," Sam said. "What do you want from this place?"

"Two bacon double cheeseburgers with extra onions, fries, and a Coke."

"Maybe it will kill the smell of that shit on your side."

"Hey, she said I'll feel better by morning. Can't hurt to try, right' Cause I feel like an old man."

Sam shushed him while he put in their order, his own grilled chicken sandwich, and his brother's heart attack sack. "Some witches know their stuff, and it sounds like she was at least third generation."

He ignored the shushing. "She said her grandmother taught her."

"Onion rings," Sam said out the window completing the order. "Right," he said to Dean, meaning that her grandmother was a witch, as well as her mother. "Maybe even someone before that."

"Onion rings" You're having onion rings" You realize they're fried, right?"

"I want onion rings. Shut up."

"You're not worried that's gonna mess up your clean record?"

"I work hard for this body. A few rings won't hurt me."

Okay, sorry, but that made him laugh. "He works hard for this body; so hard for it, honey." Wait, that didn't rhyme.

"You are an asshole." Sam rolled around to the window and pulled his wallet from his pocket to pay the girl as she passed them their sacks.

"Yeah, well....takes one to know one. You owe me twenty bucks, by the way."

"The hell do I owe you money for" I'm buying dinner here."

"Witchbane."

Sam passed the sacks Dean's way. "Can I get a tea, and he'll take a Coke."

"Have you noticed I am currently unemployed" I have bills to pay." Dean gathered the sacks in his lap and stole an onion ring. "Rent, gas, water, phone, car insurance..." He chewed on the onion ring. "Groceries. Any idea how much a growing kid eats in groceries?"

"Unemployed" You are the same guy I've been riding around with, and I know that construction workers make good money." Sam watched his brother with the onion ring, "I swear to God you are a bottomless pit. I know how much my brother eats in groceries."

"What?" Dean shot his brother an innocent look as he stole another onion ring.

"Shit, man, you want your own order" I'll get more."

"I'm doing you a favor. These things will kill you."

"I wouldn't know."

"Trust me. Heart attacks are not a laughing matter." He should know. He'd had one once when he'd lost fifty years of his life in a game of poker to a warlock.

Dean smiled, the sound of Sam's laughter warming his heart. "By the way, what?s with Gwen" Gwen Campbell" Her parents Country Western fans or something?"

"Her dad's a Wichita Lineman."

Dean smirked. "Ya think?"

"Dude, I don't know. I can't tell if she wants to bang me or shoot me."

"Yeah, and I don't have delicate features." Dean offered his brother some fries, since he'd stolen his rings. Except for his grandather, his mother's relatives gave him the creeps, especially Gwen.

Sam shook his head. "No, thanks."

He grabbed a handful of fries and stuffed them into his mouth. "I don't know, man. They creep me out," Dean said with a mouthful of fries.

Sam only shrugged, "They have their uses."

"I still can't figure out why Samuel. Sam and Sam. You two get along?"

"Yeah, for the most part."

Dean was wondering if Sam got along better with his grandfather than his father. He turned quiet and thoughtful, thinking about how much everything had changed and wondering just what the hell was going on. "It stopped raining."

"Good morning, Worm Your Honor..." Sam blinked a bit. "Yeah, and the moon is nearly full, so we should have no trouble other than mud."

Dean turned to Sam, looking surprised. "Since when do you listen to Floyd?"

"Since forever. There's more to life than Kansas, Boston, Motor Head and that. Floyd is the thinking man's classic rock."

"I thought you were more into Coldplay and....I dunno....Jason Manns....or ABBA."

"Blow me, Dean."

"Not really into Wincest, Sammy, sorry. You'll have to find someone else for that."

"You are sick in the head, man. I think you had too much time off."

Dean shrugged and grinned stupidly. "All part of the Dean charm, Sammy boy."

"Dean charm....You don't even have it anymore."

"Not to sound like a ten year old, but are we there yet?"

"Almost."

"Remind me never to visit Jersey again."

"The Smokestack State" You know, for once I'd like a vacation that stays a vacation. Something away from everyone and everything. No P.A.s, no hauntings, no "Hey, since you are this close could you.." An honest to God, ass in the sand, toes in the water vacation."

"There's no sand in Memphis, Sam."

"After your trip to Graceland, I'm heading to the beach."

"What beach' Alone?" As in without him"

"Dude, bikinis and beers."

"You're gonna go to the beach without me" You'll probably run into Nessie or something."

"I never said you couldn't go." In just a few more minutes, they were at the cabin again.

Dean was pouting like a kid who was just told his parents were going to Disneyland without him. He had, in fact, never been to Disneyland, and neither had Sam. "Sam Winchester, once you're done hunting the Leeds Devil, what are you doing?" He shoved an invisible microphone at Sam.

"Are you saying that you want to go to Disneyland now?"

"What' No!" Pause. "Is there a beach there?"

"Well, about an hour away, yeah."

"Didn't you ever get jealous of the other kids who got to go' While everyone else was doing Disneyland, we were stuck in roach motels."

"You know, I did. So, we should go."

"We shouldn't, shouldn't we?"

"Why not' Nothing stops us from going."

"Never seem to find the time, I guess." Dean had that thoughtful look on his face again.

"Well, I say we go for it. Some of the princesses are kind of hot."

Dean smiled, though he wasn't really sure he could partake of Disney Princesses anymore. "Yeah, which one you got the hots for" Cinderella?"

"Snow White. Pale skin, dark hair, blue eyes....mmm."

Dean made a face. "Squeaky voice."

"I didn't say I want to talk to her."

"Sleeping Beauty. Long blond hair. Bare feet. A kiss to break the spell. Not so sure about the dragon part though." There was that look again, as he thought back to Rhydin. One of his best friends there had been a dragon. It seemed almost surreal now. He seemed to be lost in thought a moment. It seemed to happen quite often lately. He'd be there one minute and the next he'd just drift off into his own thoughts.

"I just want out. I want to live normally, even for a week, Dean."

Dean blinked out of his thoughts and back to his brother, as if just hearing him. "Yeah, okay. We'll do that. Soon as this job is over."

"No, man, first is your trip."

"I've had normal for a year. I can wait."

"Dean, no."

"Okay, how about this....We'll stop at Graceland on the way to Cali" We're driving, right?" There was no way Sam was getting Dean in a plane, if he had anything to say about it.

"Yeah, we will drive it." Sam put the truck in park, as they'd been in front of the place a while. "You ready?"

"We're going to Disneyland." Dean grinned at his brother, then glanced over at the cabin, not really looking forward to the next twelve hours or so. "Let's get it over with." He grabbed his second burger, unwrapped it, and took a bite.

Dean waited until his brother was inside the cabin before relaxing his shoulders and taking a few deep breaths. He flexed his hand, hoping he didn't rip any stitches out of his shoulder. He heard laughter from inside the cabin and once again felt like the third wheel.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out his cell phone, checking to see if he'd gotten any calls. He frowned. Not a one. No one knew or even cared that he'd been missing. No one but Sam.

He looked back at Cal's truck, as if debating what to do, and then started toward it again, glancing over at the cabin to make sure no one was watching. He shoved the phone back into his jacket and peered into the truck at the bruised and battered Hunt.

The man wasn't moving. He was just lying there covered with an old sleeping bag.

Another furtive glance at the cabin and Dean pulled open the door, watching the man quietly a moment, anger turning to pity or mercy. "You awake?"

"I am now."

"Thirsty?" Dean wasn't stupid. The guy wasn't getting the drop on him again, but he wasn't a vengeful, cold-hearted killer either.

"I could use a drink, yeah."

"I'm going against my better judgment here and the judgment of my....peers and giving you a break." He offered the man what was left of his Coke. "What you did was wrong. It was worse than wrong. That kid didn't deserve that, because of your greed. I should let them kill you. That's what you deserve. Or turn you over to the cops."

"If you cut this rope, you'll never see me again." Hunt lifted the coke to his lips with his bound hands.

"Why should I believe you?"

"Come on, you think I want to stick around here?"

"We're gonna trap that thing and send it back to wherever it came from. It's dangerous, and it needs to be destroyed. If I so much as smell you anywhere nearby, I'll shoot, and I won't miss. You got me?" Dean darted a glance over at the cabin again and reached into his jacket for a utility knife.

"What, really?"

"You know how to land a punch' I can't let them think I just let you go." Dean pointed at his jaw, though he hadn't cut the man loose yet. "Right here."

"Yeah, okay, I can do that."

"Swear to me you won't come back here because I won't be so kind the next time. I'd get the hell out of Dodge if I were you. Cops are probably already looking for your ass."

"I won't be back here, trust me."

"Sam's gonna kill me for this." Dean sighed as he flicked the knife open and cut through the man's ropes.

Hunt immediately rubbed his wrists when he was cut free. "Thanks, Dean."

"I don't ever wanna see your face again, got me?" Dean pushed the blade closed and shoved it back into his pocket, then stepped back a pace and pointed at his jaw. "Make it look good."

Hunt nodded, then drew his arm back, readying to punch Dean in the jaw.

Dean knew he was taking a chance. The guy could probably kill him if he wanted to, but he figured all he wanted at that point was his freedom.

"See ya later." Hunt threw that big hand into Dean's jaw, obviously not pulling the punch. He wanted it to look real, and maybe it was a little payback.

Dean's head shot sideways, and he dropped to the ground, seeing stars.

Hunt broke into a dead run, leaving them all in the dust, so to speak.

Dean laid there on the ground stunned, the world spinning around him, cussing quietly to himself. He wasn't sure why he let the guy go, but it seemed he'd received punishment enough, and Dean didn't want to be like him. He figured the cops would catch him before long anyway, but at least, he'd be alive.

He rolled to his side and spit a little blood onto the rain-soaked ground. He was starting to feel like crap again, considering the beating his body had taken the last couple of days. "Didn't have to punch me that hard," he mumbled. He was down on the ground for at least ten minutes before climbing to his feet, clutching his side with one hand and rubbing his jaw with the other.

He stumbled toward the truck and grabbed the severed rope, shoving it into his jeans pocket. The longer he took, the more time the guy had to get away. He wondered to himself if Sam was right. Maybe he had gone soft.

He closed the door and took a lean against the back of the truck, rubbing his jaw and waiting for the world to stop spinning. "I need a drink," he muttered to himself. A beer would do. He glanced over at the cabin again and finally pushed off the truck and headed that way, weaving a little. He dreaded it, but it was time to face the music.

Dean set his beer down, pulled Anna's card out of his wallet, and dialed her number on his cell. He shoved a hand through his hair and took a breath, feeling like utter crap.

"Hello?" It sounded like she had been sleeping.

"Anna" It's Dean." He wasn't really aware of the time, but knew it had to be late. "Sorry, did I wake you?" He wandered as far away from the others as he could.

"It's okay. Thinking about dinner?"

"Uh, no, but I have a favor to ask. If you say yes, maybe I'll take you up on the offer."

"Oh, sure, just use me." She giggled sleepily.

"I get the feeling you might not mind that so much."

"You are right, Sugar. So, what do you need?"

Dean dropped into a chair, before his legs went out from under him. "I need your help. Maybe..." He looked over at the others, not really trusting the Dooley gang, just yet. "Maybe I should come by."

"Okay, this isn't your run of the mill phone call," she said. "I can meet you somewhere. It's a pain getting around here in the dark."

"Name it."

"Your room?"

"Uh..." Dean glanced over at the others again. "I don't really have one. Not close by, anyway." There was no way he wanted her coming there and the others drooling over her. Not yet anyway.

"In town?"

"Yeah, but it's kinda far."

"I know, but I know the back ways in."

"Just give me a time and a meeting place, and I'll be there." He looked over at Sam and held his hand out, whispering, "Keys."

Sam shook his head. Dean wasn't leaving without him.

"Okay, Handsome, there is a smoke shop out on the highway. About five miles from where I met you. Meet me there in an hour?"

Dean frowned at his brother but didn't argue. He figured he'd pissed him off enough. "One hour. I'll be there." He hung up the phone and got to his feet. "Come on, Jeeves. You're driving."

"Damn right I am," Sam nodded. "Okay, we may have a witch apparently. We will be in touch." Sam informed the others and walked out the door, toward the truck.

Dean nodded to the trio. "Boys. You got a mean uppercut there, Gramps." And out he went behind his brother. He steeled himself for the lecture he knew was coming from Sam, but something just didn't feel right in his gut about using Hunt for bait.

Dooley eyed the boy and shook his head. "Boy can take a punch," he said to his son and grandson.

"You wanna slug me, too?" Dean asked Sam as he caught up to him near the truck. "I would kill right now for a shower, a beer, and a good night's sleep."

"Dean, that was stupid. Hunt gave them hell, and they finally loaded him up with two tranqs to get him here."

"I know the guy was a dick, but using him as bait. It's just not right."

"You could have told me."

"You would have disagreed. Besides, I didn't know I was doing it until I did it. I was planning on giving the guy a beating. And then I just....didn't."

"Dean, that isn't like you."

"Do you want me to tick off a list of things that aren't you? Things change, Sam. People change." Dean sighed, not really wanting to argue. "I told her an hour. We taking off or you wanna stand here and analyze me all night?"

Sam huffed and climbed into the truck, starting it up. "Where to?"

"Smoke shop, about five miles from her place. On the highway." Dean climbed in beside his brother. "When this is over, I'm sleeping for like a week straight." He pulled the mirror down and took a look at his swollen jaw. "I look like Alvin."

"So, I'm driving to Graceland?"

"Nah, I'll be fine." He was examining his face in the mirror. "I look like shit. Dooley's got a decent punch for an old guy."

"Dude, you shouldn't push them. They are good guys." In a few moments, they were bouncing down the road again.

Dean winced and clutched his side. "Why can't they pave these roads?"

"County taxes went elsewhere, I guess."

"Yeah, into some crooked politician's pocket." Dean leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes, thinking maybe if he was lucky, he could catch twenty winks.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, arching a brow.

"Meaning that if she had a way to help free someone of a curse, she would want to help." She smiled a little and sipped her coffee.

"How long has she been gone?" He didn't know why he was asking, but he was. How long had it been since he'd carried on a normal conversation with someone" Too long, he supposed. Ever since he'd left Lisa.

"Ten years this coming March. She always said she wanted to die with the blooming of tulips." Again, she smiled. "She was a wonderful woman, Dean."

He frowned sympathetically. "I'm sorry for your loss." He balanced the cup of coffee against one knee, feeling suddenly awkward, sitting beside a woman he hardly knew and, yet, felt strangely connected to. "What about your mom?"

"Mom's in Louisiana. She felt drawn to it after that big storm."

"After Katrina?"

"Yes, Katrina."

"And she's still there?"

"I talk to her regularly." She nodded at him. "She says it's home now. Claims the spirits of two old Voodoo women stay in her rental."

"Voodoo," he shuddered a little. He'd always hated that shit. Gave him the creeps. He was reminded of Emily back on Rhydin. He took a sip of his coffee to keep himself from shivering and winced a little at the pain in his jaw. How long had it been since he'd taken his meds" Probably way past time. "I swear when this is over, I'm sleeping for like a week."

She turned and looked him over. "Well, honestly, you do look like shit."

He smiled a little. "I feel like shit, but I clean up okay."

"You better, cause before your Long Winter's Nap, you owe me dinner."

"Right. Dinner." He doubted that was all she wanted. He cleared his throat and changed the subject, feeling strangely awkward again. What the hell was the matter with him lately' "So, think you can do it?"

"What, dinner" I have a really nice black dress that's got a nice slit up the back."

He smiled a little, imagining her in that dress. "I, uh, don't really do formal."

"You just need a nice button down shirt, silly man."

"A button down shirt, right." He had a few of those back home....with Lisa, but none on him at the moment. Button-down shirts weren't really practical for hunting, though he did have a suit or two he wore when he and Sam were posing at Feds. His mind was drifting off track, and he realized she was distracting him.

"If you are asking about the Leeds Devil, I think I can handle that. The Devil is bound to the Pine Barrens. In other words, this is his home. That's why he stays in Jersey, instead of say....Vegas. So, we go where it was born, invoke a few minor protection spells, and call it home."

"Long way to fly to get to Vegas. Think it'd come up on radar as a U.F.O?" He felt like he was rambling now and wondered if was exhaustion or something else. "Sounds like you know what you're doing."

She smiled. "And you sound distracted." She leaned closer, allowing the soft scent of her perfume to reach his nose. "Do I distract you, Dean?"

"I'm not making any sense, am I?" Unfortunately, about all he could smell was that crap she'd put on his side earlier. "What if I said you do?"

She smiled wider. "You scared of a witch?"

"I'm not scared of anything." That was a downright lie, but he wasn't going to admit it. At least, not to her.

"You a classic rock guy' Oooh Oooh Witchy Woman." She smiled at him and his admission. "Should I leave you alone" Stop being so forward?"

"I don't know, should you?" He found himself leaning toward her, drawn like a magnet.

She smiled, leaning closer, almost nose to nose. "I don't think so."

"Raven hair and ruby lips..." He quoted The Eagles, looking at her lips and wondering if they were as soft and warm as he imagined them to be.

She was as free as a bird and thought she had him right where she wanted him. "She's got the moon in her eyes," she whispered and pressed her lips to his.

He reached out and dragged a hand through her hair as her lips met his, sparks flying from her lips, rather than her finger tips.

A soft sigh escaped her as her hands moved carefully down his side. Luckily, the car was small, so there wasn't much distance between them.

He closed his eyes and lost himself to her kiss, forgetting everyone and everything for just a little while, focusing entirely on how soft her lips felt against his. He caressed her cheek gently and deepened the kiss. The guilt would come later. For now, he just wanted to live in the moment.

She had no guilt. For her, it was two people caught up in the moment. She didn't even seem to mind the fact that he smelled like three week old sewage.

He took his time kissing her, exploring her lips, her mouth. He was obviously no rookie when it came to what to do with a woman.

She pulled back slowly. "Should we tell your brother to meet us later?"

He opened his eyes, looking and feeling as guilty as sin. "I gotta go," he said, though her invitation made him pause a moment, and he looked torn. He was having a hard time resisting. He'd always lived his life one day at a time, never knowing when it might end.

"You what?" She blinked at him.

"You should try and get some sleep."

She sighed and shook her head. "You could come to my place and we could both get some sleep. My bed is a lot nicer than a motel." She was tracing her nails against his chest then.

"I'm not sure how much sleep we'd get." He looked like he was on the cusp of making a decision, one way or the other. She was tempting, like candy to a child.

"We'd have to sleep. In the morning, I could make us breakfast..." she continued.

"Breakfast?" Her offer was getting more and more tempting. "Did you put a spell on me?"

"I wouldn't do that." She smiled.

He mirrored her smile. "Uh huh. Sam's gonna kill me."

"I didn't put a spell on you, Handsome."

"I'm not sure I'd care if you did."

"Well, I didn't. It's just my charming personality."

He chuckled. "You're stealing my lines. Gimme a minute?" he asked, as he pushed open the door. He needed to tell Sam what he was up to and grab his duffel so he could shower and change.

"Tomorrow we fight the Devil," Anna broke the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them for the last few minutes of the trip back to her place.

They'd been flirting back and forth, and then she had started telling him about her past, about her mother and grandmother before her, who had both been witches, just like her. She told him how misunderstood they were, feared by the people around them who didn't understand their ways. He thought maybe he understood better than most.

"The Devil, right," Dean muttered, reminded once again of Lucifer. "You don't have to do this, you know. You could just show me how."

"Do you know any magic?" she asked.

"I know a little."

"Exactly, and we don't want him getting a bite of you, now, do we?"

They were getting closer to her place. The woods were thick and dark, the moon casting eerie lights throughout. The darkness didn't bother him. He knew there were worse things to be afraid of than the dark.

"It isn't about me, Anna. This is what I do. What we do. Sam and I."

"I know, Dean. But I can't tell you what to do. It's best that I just do it."

He was starting to feel guilty as hell for dragging her into all this and wondered if she realized what she was getting herself into. "I'm not gonna let you get hurt. I'll be right there."

"We are going to have to stop by the butcher's place on the way in the morning, and thank you for that." She smiled as she pulled to a stop in front of the cabin. "It's nice of you to protect me."

"You're helping us. It's the least I can do. What do you need at the butcher's?"

"Blood," she said as she opened the door to the car. "Quite a bit, in fact."

He got out of the car and opened the back door to retrieve two six-packs of beer they'd picked up on the way over. "Awesome."

"The beer or the blood?"

"Blood. Not a fan. But don't worry. I have a pretty strong stomach."

"Good." She smiled, "Cause I have to cover what?s exposed of my flesh in it."

He frowned, almost kicking himself for letting Hunt go. Maybe this was a mistake after all. Her body covered in blood while trying to summon the Devil" That couldn't be good. "Why can't there ever be an easier way?" The Colt was in South Dakota with Bobby for safe keeping, and Dean had let Hunt go. He was starting to regret getting Anna involved, though he still believed she was their best option.

"Trust me, this is the easy way." She closed the door and locked the car, before walking past him to get the cabin door. "Home sweet home," she said, opening the door for him.

She flipped the light switch, allowing more light into the place than had been earlier. On closer inspection, the store area was made to appear old. "Through the store, to the back. That's where I live. This area is for show."

Dean nodded and made his way through the store filled mostly with things that gave him the creeps. "People actually buy this stuff?" He wondered why the Average Joe would come to a place like this. To make a love potion maybe or something that might ensure a promotion at work" He didn't really know.

In the back, there was a nicer area. Cleaner walls, paintings, and various things that looked like a normal house. "How do you think I stay out here?"

He wasn't really sure how one earned a living at being a witch. Did one get paid to cast a spell or remove a hex" And then a thought occurred to him. "So, how much is this going to cost?"

"This is a legend, Dean. What do you think it's going to cost?"

"A lot more than what I have in my wallet."

She moved to a side room and stepped in, leaving him in the living area, with kitchenette and things. "Oh, really?" she called out.

He set the cartons down on the counter, wincing as he rubbed at the stitch in his side, and then snagged a beer, cracking it open and tossing the cap in the trash. "Who you think pays us to do this crap" Talk about thankless jobs."

She appeared moments later in a black silk robe. "Government' You aren't on Obama's plan somewhere?"

He laughed. "Right, we're..." He broke off at the sight of her, distracted by the view.

She chuckled. "You are drooling." But she twirled for the full effect. "There's a shower through that door to your left. Fresh linens and all, if you'd like. I'm not charging you for this spell, Dean. It's the chance of a life time. Are you kidding me?"

He was suddenly speechless. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't take his eyes off her.

She stopped and looked at him. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I..." It seemed like forever since he'd been with a woman, and his thoughts drifted to Lisa. She'd never take him back now. He knew it was probably better that way, but that didn't make it any easier. He felt like there was an empty hole in his chest where his heart was supposed to be.

"I left my duffel in the car," he muttered, his eyes still on her, debating. He knew why she'd changed. He knew she was trying to tempt him. The problem was it was working.

"Okay?" She thought that she had left him dumbstruck, if that was the only intelligent thing he could think of saying.

"Oh, hell with it," he muttered. He set the beer down and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her toward him.

She smiled. The small talk seemed to go away and the duffel be damned. She draped her arms around his neck. "About damned time," she whispered as she leaned in to kiss him.

He knew he was a mess. Sweaty, rain-soaked, mud-splattered, beer-splattered, and still stinking faintly like the ointment she'd rubbed on his side, but if she didn't care, he didn't either. His arms went around her and he pulled her up against him, wanting her, needing her.

To hell with the rest of the world. For one damned night, she was his.

Dean grabbed his plate and cup of coffee and took a seat at the table. "What about you? Any boyfriends" Crushes" Psycho exes?"

"Turned into frogs, all of them." Anna sipped her coffee and took a seat beside him, looking innocently at him.

"Oh' Should I be worried?"

"You are going to be deep green and extra warty." She giggled then.

He assumed she was teasing, though he couldn't be sure. "Funny. Haha. Going to keep me in an aquarium and feed me bugs?"

"Stink bugs," she nodded, all the while stuffing the pancakes and eggs in.

He plopped a pat of butter on his pancakes and swirled it around to melt it. "Gonna gimme a girl frog to keep me company?"

"Nope, a turtle."

"What fun is that' Can't bang a turtle." He made a face, unsure if frogs even had sex. "Don't frogs lay eggs or something?"

She nodded again. "Where do you think tadpoles come from?"

"I dunno. I didn't get that far in school."

"Frogs get dissected, too."

"Okay, seriously....Can we talk about something else, please?" He poured what was probably an excessive amount of syrup onto his pancakes. They might both end up dissected in a few hours and he didn't really want to think about it.

She just giggled harder then. "Only two exes. They are both living in other states."

"Ex-boyfriends or..." He wasn't sure if he should be asking.

"One boyfriend, one husband."

"How long were you married?" He cut into his pancakes and started on his breakfast while they got better acquainted.

"Two long years." She smiled as she finished the pancakes.

"That bad, huh' Don't worry. I won't be proposing any time soon."

"Aw." She pouted.

"You don't want to be married to me, trust me."

"Married young, and he was in the Air Force." That's about all the explanation she hoped he would want.

"Three exes. Never married. Engaged once."

"Oh, really' I don't see you as the marrying kind."

He kept his eyes focused on his breakfast, avoiding her gaze. "Moment of weakness." It was a lot more than that, but he didn't feel like explaining.

"I can imagine. Well, you don't have to worry about me blowing your phone up. Would I like to see you sometime again? Yes." She smiled. "I understand though."

He lifted his head and looked over at her, wondering if she really did understand. "It's the life. It's not really....It's not a good way to raise a family."

"Family' You know, I'd like a daughter some day to pass this life onto." She seemed thoughtful a moment. "Or a son. Raise a warlock, you know?"

"Yeah, well..." He broke off, pushing his eggs around on his plate. "There was a time when I wanted that, too."

She studied him a few minutes in silence. "Something tells me you still do."

"Can't always have what you want, Anna. I have too many enemies."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"That's sad, Dean. It really is."

"Even if I gave up hunting..." He shook his head. "I can't keep them safe. They're better off without me. You're better off without me."

"I can take care of myself, Dean. I can shoot straight, and this place is pretty well guarded. Nothing gets in here that I don't want in."

"Are you sure about that?"

"I am positive. There are wards that my Gramma made, old school." She smiled. "Can't play around out here. Gotta be sure you can control what you call."

"What about demons?"

"I don't summon demons." She finished her eggs then.

"That's not what I mean. You sure you can keep them out?"

"Devil's Trap at each door, warding sigils outside. Unless Lucifer himself walks up, I'm not real worried, Dean."

"You don't have to worry about Lucifer."

She raised a thin, dark brow. "Oh' You have coffee with him recently?"

He shook his head and blew out a breath. "No. I don't think Lucifer is too interested in coffee." And speaking of coffee, he took a swallow of his, black, no sugar or milk added. "You know any other hunters?"

"Then how do you know I won't need to worry about him' Just you and Sam now."

"Because Anna....He's locked away someplace safe, where he hopefully won't get loose for a very long time." He pushed his eggs around a moment more before setting his fork down on his plate.

She just clicked her tongue a bit, thinking about what he said. "Are you finished?"

"Sorry, I'm not exactly a barrel of laughs, am I?"

"It is fine, Dean. You don't have to worry about me saying anything, ya know?" She took the dirty dishes to the trash and scraped them out before dropping them into the dishwasher. "Sometimes things happen that change who we are."

He seemed to think that over a minute. He wasn't really sure who he was anymore. Dean the Hunter, Dean Sam's brother, Dean the family man, Dean the Playboy. All of the above" None of the above" "Are you real" I mean....You almost seem too good to be true."

"What else would I be, if not real?"

"A dream. An illusion. A figment of my imagination." Like Carmen, the girl of his dreams. He hadn't thought about her in a very long time.

"Just me, Dean. As I always will be, you know?"

"I'd like to see you again." He wasn't planning on saying that either, but it just sort of popped out of his mouth. There was only one way to find out if she felt the same.

"I'd like that, too." She smiled. "We should get dressed. Didn't you tell your brother you'd meet him early?"

"I am dressed, but I could get undressed, if you want." He smiled.

"Then we'd be late." She reached over and traced his jaw. "But you can't be late if you don't show up."

He reached for her hand to pull it away from his face. "Sam is counting on us. We can't be late. I still owe you dinner."

"Oh, I haven't forgotten dinner."

"It's a date then." He leaned close and brushed his lips against hers.

"When is this date?" She kissed him in return.

"Is tonight too soon?"

"I'll need a shower."

"So will I." He pushed her bathrobe back from a bare shoulder and leaned in to brush his lips against her neck.

She pushed him away softly. "Don't start, damn it."

He smiled. "Good to know I've still got it."

"You are going to be late, Mister." She pushed him back and went toward the bedroom to get dressed.

"What time is it?" He asked, taking a breath to calm himself down.

"Almost six a.m.," she called back.

"Damn.? He sighed, frowning, debating whether or not there was time for a quickie and deciding there probably wasn't. He pulled out his cell and dialed Sam's number.

Sam was standing outside the motel room, waiting as Anna's car pulled up. He glanced at his watch, surprised his brother had made it on time.

Dean grabbed the cup of fruit and yogurt Anna had made for his health-conscious brother, got out of the car, and handed it to Sam.

"Got a spoon?" Sam asked, as he took the cup, eying it. "Where did you get this?"

"Uh..." Dean looked expectantly over at Anna for an explanation.

"I made it. I forgot to bring a spoon. Sorry," Anna said with a smile. "Can you help me with the trunk, Dean?"

"Use your finger." Dean suggested, before going to help Anna unload the car.

Dean was the one who got the finger, and Sam opened the truck. He had a spoon in there from a few nights ago.

Dean couldn't help but smirk at his brother. "Thanks for making it for him," he told Anna quietly, not wanting Sam to overhear.

Sam tasted the yogurt carefully, wondering if Anna had let Dean do anything to it, only to be pleasantly surprised. "Thanks, this is good." He was eating happily then.

Dean had to stifle a shudder at the thought of the yogurt. He'd take a burger over a cup of yogurt any damned day of the week.

"I think he likes it." She kept her voice quiet.

"It's healthy." Dean wondered how the hell his brother could survive on just a cup of yogurt for breakfast.

"He is pretty buff." She looked over at Sam while he ate.

Dean's smile faded. He thought he was in half-way decent shape, but compared to Sam, he felt like a dwarf. "He's a freak."

"Say what you will, but look at him."

"I'd rather look at you."

She swatted him. "Put the boxes in the truck please?"

"Yes, ma'am." He smiled at the swat and hefted the boxes. Thankfully, they weren't too heavy and his side was feeling a better. Not perfect, but well enough to haul a few boxes, or so he thought. He carried the boxes toward the truck, whispering to Sam as he passed. "Blood."

"Dude, I'm eating."

"Dude, get over it."

Sam huffed at Dean. "Jerk."

Dean got to the truck and had to juggle the boxes a little as he only had two hands. "A little help here?" he called back at his brother, not bothering with the usual comeback of "Bitch".

Sam opened the tailgate and watched Dean. "You got it?"

"Yeah, I got it." Dean slid the boxes into the truck, blowing out a breath and rubbing his side, which had started to throb.

Sam then went back to eating his breakfast and watching Dean, as Anna walked over.

"Okay, so here's the deal. I have a spell that will work to remove the curse," she started to inform them.

Dean turned to face the pair and slouched against the truck. "You have a spell?" He shot a look at Sam.

"Yes, I have a spell. Is that a problem?" She looked between them. "I thought that's why you asked me along."

"So, does that mean we don't need candles with notches, creepy incantations, and witches bane?" Dean asked.

"I still need that stuff, why?"

"Just curious." Dean swung a look at Sam.

Sam looked at Dean and sighed. "It's just that we had our own spell, Anna."

Anna's eyes widened a little. "Can I see this spell?"

Dean pulled the slip of paper on which he'd written Bobby's instructions out of a pocket and handed it to her. "I showed it to you yesterday at your shop."

"This?" She smiled, as she read it over. "This isn't for dispelling curses."

Dean looked over at his brother again. "Is Bobby slipping?"

Sam shook his head. "Maybe he heard us wrong?"

"I don't think so. How could he hear us wrong?"

"There was static on the line. Maybe you heard wrong?"

Dean turned back to Anna. "So, what do you need us to do?" Upon hearing his brother, he swung his head that way again, glaring. "I didn't hear wrong!" he exclaimed, defensively.

Anna watched them and chuckled to herself. "Okay, boys. It's not bad. I have everything we need. So, we will take care of him."

"Call him and ask him yourself." Dean wasn't done arguing yet.

"Dean?" Anna touched his arm. Sam was about to say something, but Anna spoke up.

Dean turned to Anna, looking just a little bit peeved.

"It's okay." Her voice was calm. "No one's fault. Just a misprint somewhere, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever." Dean pushed off the truck and opened the door to rummage around for silver ammo.

"Dean!" Anna turned on him. "Seriously' You tell me how serious this is and you are going in there acting like a kid that has had his toys taken away?"

"I'm fine, okay' I just don't like being accused of screwing up when I know I didn't."

"He didn't say you screwed up."

Sam walked around the truck. "Pocket of my duffel." He knew what his brother was looking for.

Dean glared at Sam's back, but found what he was looking for right where Sam said it was. "Just forget it, okay?" Sam had already accused him of screwing up when he'd let Hunt go, so why wouldn't he accuse him again?

"Thank you for breakfast, Anna. It was really good." Sam said, changing the subject from his pouting brother.

Dean emptied the .45 and reloaded it with silver, then made sure the safety was on and stuck it back in his jacket.

"You are very welcome. Dean had pancakes and eggs." Anna was just as nice as Sam was.

The nicer Sam was to Anna, the more irritated Dean got. He made his way back toward the two of them. "You two done getting cozy and ready to get this show on the road?"

"Mister Crankypants," Anna said to Dean. "We are just being nice."

Dean didn't look too happy about that remark. He'd been called that name once too often. He wasn't sure now which of them he wanted to ride with and wished he had the Impala. "We taking two vehicles?"

"We can all ride in the truck," Sam offered.

Sam's rental truck stopped in front of Dooley's cabin, where the men were all outside loading up two trucks with various things and smiling to the new arrivals.

"Mornin", boys," Dooley said, as Sam stepped out. "Ma'am," he said to Anna. "Ain't seen you since your Gram's funeral."

"Long time, Mister Dooley. Nice to see you." Anna smiled at the man.

Dean rolled his window down and looked over at the old man. "You got an extra rifle I could borrow" Something that uses .45 caliber shells?"

Dooley scratched his chin, looking at Dean. "Come on into the house. I think I have something."

Dean wondered if the old man wanted to take another swing at him or get him alone and give him a lecture. "Be right back," he said to his brother, as he followed the man toward the house.

Sam nodded as he got out of the truck to see if the others needed help, and eventually Anna did, too.

Dooley turned to Dean at the door. "Listen, son, I'm sorry about the jaw. If you wanna take a poke back, I'll give it to ya."

Dean looked a little taken aback at the man's apology. "No, I....I kinda deserved it. Sorry I mouthed off. I get a little carried away at times."

"Sometimes you young"uns do that kinda thing, and it pisses me off to no end." Dooley stuck his hand out. "I'm sorry."

Dean hesitated a moment and then took Dooley's hand. Now that it was just the two of them and he didn't feel he had to prove anything, he realized Sam was right. He was a decent guy, after all.

"Been a long couple of days," he said. "I just wanna get this over with, you know" My brother's tired. We're both tired."

Dooley gave the hand a squeeze and clapped him on the back. "I know. I'd say y"all need one of them vacations. Somewhere with a drink in a coconut." Dooley turned and walked to the tall, glass and oak cabinet in the back corner. "Sam Colt's .45, yeah?" Dooley spit into the spittoon on the floor then.

Dean smiled, trying hard to ignore the spitting. "Yeah, I think you're right. Some place where the women are as plentiful as the drinks." Heaven, that's what that would be, he thought.

"Hell, maybe I'll go with ya. Leave Cal and Eddie to kill each other."

"Beg pardon?" Dean asked, blinking out of his thoughts of endless women and bottomless drinks. Or was it bottomless women and endless drinks"

Dooley carefully pulled a chamois-covered long gun from the cabinet. "You said you needed it to shoot .45, right?"

"I shot that damned thing four times and it didn't do a thing. Maybe silver will do the trick. It's worth a shot anyway. Might slow it down."

"Worth a shot." Dooley agreed as he slid the rifle from the cover. "You got somethin' that belonged to your daddy?" Dooley asked, as he looked the old gun over.

"You afraid I'm gonna take her and not give her back?" Dean asked with a lifted brow, wondering if the man wanted something of John's as collateral.

"Answer the question, son."

Dean frowned a moment and then reached into his jacket and pulled out his father's .45. "She's loaded with silver."

Dooley looked at the other man's pistol and nodded. "I don't want 'er. I just know she's important to ya, right?"

"Yeah," he answered shortly. Everything of his father's was important to Dean - his car, his pistol, his jacket, his journal, his memory.

Dooley held the rifle out toward Dean. "This here's the first Big Boy that Henry put out. Was made for my Daddy. She ain't got the distance of a .45-70, or a .30-30, but she's old, straight, and worth more to me than Fort Knox."

Dean returned his father's pistol to its hiding place inside his jacket and looked admiringly on the old rifle.

"I'd be much obliged if you return her the same way you got her. She's killed more critters and monsters than me and you together have ever seen."

"Your father was a hunter?" Dean reached for the rifle, handling her firmly but carefully, like he would a woman.

"And my grandpa." Dooley smiled. "Long line of us crazy bastards."

"Runs in my family, too." Dean held the butt of the rifle up to his shoulder to get a good feel for it.

"That is the smoothest shootin' rifle I have ever had. One day, it'll go on over to Cal, but for now, she's mine. Don't let him give you any shit about havin' her either. And you gotta clean 'er when we get back." Dooley chuckled as he turned to leave Dean there with his most prized possession.

"Clean her?" Dean didn't look too happy about that. He was planning on going on a date afterward, if they survived, not spending the afternoon cleaning Dooley's rifle.

"Yep, you gotta clean her. She ain't dirty now. She won't be when I put her up." He eyed Dean. "We clear?"

"Yeah, we're clear." A couple more wasted hours that could be spent doing other things, but a deal was a deal, and he needed the rifle.

"Good, pull the door to when yer done." Dooley stepped back out the door and into the morning with the others.

Dean made no reply, too intent now on preparing himself mentally for what they were about to do. He looked the rifle over, fingering the lever and the trigger, getting a feel for it before turning and following Dooley out the door, closing it behind him.

Sam and Anna were getting back into the truck, and everyone seemed ready to move out.

"What the hell..." Cal stared at Dean with the rifle, but his father cut him off.

"It's mine and the boy needed it. Shut yer yap."

Dean ignored Cal's outburst. He nodded his thanks to the old man, made his way back toward Sam's truck, and got in.

They drove for a while in silence, other than Anna on her phone to her friend, apologizing for the time and assuring her that she would not have Italian food for dinner.

There were things Dean wanted to say and would have said to his brother, but not in front of Anna, so he kept his mouth shut for the most part and tried to focus on the job ahead.

After bouncing through the back country and a lot of dirt roads, they came to a slow, rolling stop in front of a fenced off area and what looked like the overgrown, abandoned, remnant of an old homestead.

Dean looked out the window at the ruins of the old house. "That it?"

Anna shuddered. "Of course, can't you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

"The evil," she said quietly.

"No, do you?" Dean looked at Sam expectantly. Though a hunter, Dean was just a normal guy. He had no special powers or abilities. All he had to go on was experience, knowledge, and gut instinct. He wasn't so sure about his brother. "Why's it fenced in" To keep people out or to keep something else in?"

Sam shook his head. He was remaining strangely quiet, but his eyes never left that place.

"I think to keep people out. Tourists and such," Anna said as she pushed open her door.

"And such," Dean muttered, wondering if that meant people like them. Dean waited for Anna to get out, grabbing his brother by the shoulder to keep him there a moment longer.

Sam stopped as Anna looked back at them and then made her way toward Dooley.

Dean had noticed the look on his brother's face and was a little concerned. "You okay?"

"Yeah, Dean, I am fine."

"Sam....I know we don't talk about this much, but....If anything happens to me..."

"Dean, stop. You are rusty, not old."

Dean wasn't quite sure what it was he wanted to say exactly. He'd believed his brother dead for over a year. He'd had a normal life for a while, but in truth, he would have traded it all just to have his brother back. "Right." He forced a half-smile onto his face. The moment had passed and he wasn't sure how to say what he wanted to say anymore.

"We are going to be okay. It's just another monster," Sam said.

"Yeah, I know. I'm good. Just....uh....be careful, okay?"

"Dean, what?s bugging you?"

"Nothing, I just....I just got my brother back, you know" And I don't wanna lose him again."

"Don't worry. We are going to be okay."

"Yeah, I know, cause if we aren't, I'm gonna have to kick someone's ass." He wasn't sure whose ass; it was just something to say. He patted his brother on the shoulder, the closest he'd come to a hug, and got out of the truck.

Sam chuckled and stepped from the truck, stretching.

"Car better be ready by tonight, cause I'm not taking Anna on a date in the truck." And with that said, Dean made his way toward Anna and the others.

"It's a nice truck," Sam said, more to himself than his brother.

Cal still gave Dean the eye over the rifle and Sam walked up, carrying a duffle. "Okay, Dooley and I are on net detail. Cal and Eddie are back on the north ridge. Dean's closer to the house to keep an eye on Anna." Anna was already going to the house carrying with her a bag.

Dean was ignoring Cal and focusing on Sam, about to argue a slight detail when he saw Anna take off toward the house.

Sam watched Anna go and looked at Dean as everyone started scattering and gathering things.

Dean just looked at the house, watching Anna head that way, knowing what she was about to do. He wondered if he should go help her, talk to her, or just leave her the hell alone. "You should have Cal on the net with you," he told his brother without looking his way. "He's stronger than Dooley."

Sam walked toward the truck and nodded. "Dooley wanted me with him."

Dean turned toward his brother and followed. "You think the two of you can handle it' You've seen that thing. You know what it looks like." He looked back at the house. "It's gonna go for her, you know."

"Dude, she knows what she's doing. Help me get the blood up there?" He lowered the tailgate and picked up a box.

"She's the one summoning it, she's the one who's gonna destroy it. What time is it?" Dean asked, starting to feel anxious. It had to be getting close to eight.

"Seven-thirty."

Dean looked at the box his brother was carrying. "I can handle it. You go get things settled with Dooley."

"Two boxes and a rifle?"

"I'll come back for the rifle."

"Let me help you. It won't take that long."

Dean nodded finally and tucked one box under his left arm, while carrying the rifle with his right.

Sam took the other and started up the hill toward the house.

Anna sat cross legged in the center of the circle of blood, like it was the most natural thing to do. The candles quivered in the wind but held their flame, and she closed her eyes, beginning a low chant of an old language.

Dean watched from his hiding place, which wasn't more than twenty feet away. He had a clear view of her, but with all the trees and overgrowth, it was difficult to see where the others were or if anything was watching. He noticed the candles quivering in the wind and hoped they wouldn't go out. He wondered if he'd hear the thing before he saw it, and the memory of the sound it made sent a shiver up his spine.

The protection spells were in place, and she began the summoning. She shivered with the cold, and the cold sticky blood that was covering her didn't help. He was watching her closely and noticed her shivering. He didn't like her being involved in it one bit, but it was the best chance they had. It didn't take long before her spell working paid off. Dean was right. He heard it before he saw it, and it was hard to tell exactly where it was coming from.

Anna heard it coming, but never moved. Sam and Dooley looked skyward, ready with the net, wondering what Cal and Eddie were doing.

Dean swung the rifle up, holding it steady against one shoulder and wondering just how close Sam and Dooley were with the net. The thing would have to get close to the ground in order for them to net it. Dean knew the timing would have to be perfect. And then, out of nowhere, the thing swooped out of the sky, headed straight for its place of birth and the woman sitting naked in the spell circle. It was just as Dean had described it - sharp teeth, long claws, a forked tail, and hoofed feet, like something out of a nightmare. Dean waited, not wanting to shoot too soon and scare it off.

Anna started a different chant, waiting for the thing to land, hoping to draw it closer, but the thing didn't land. Instead, it was flying straight at her as if it was going to attack from the air and tear at her with claws and teeth.

Protection spells or not, Dean wasn't willing to take that chance, and he stepped out from behind the tree and and took his first shot.

Sam and Dooley readied the net, and then Dean's shot fired off. "Get ready, boy!" Dooley ordered.

The thing shrieked as it was hit and Dean cocked the lever back, ejecting the empty cartridge, turning to follow the thing's movement with the rifle, aiming and squeezing off another shot. The crack of the rifle echoed through the small clearing, scattering birds from the trees.

Anna didn't move but continued her compelling spell, drawing the thing closer.

And then, the thing turned away from Anna and swooped toward Dean, a third shot going off just as the thing knocked him to the ground.

Thankfully, the monster was unaware of Sam or Dooley's presence and their plan. Once Dean was knocked aside, it turned its attention once again on the witch.

Sam and Dooley launched the net in hopes of catching the thing, and Anna even called it by name, trying to command it to stop.

Dean lie stunned on the ground a moment, the wind knocked out of him, the rifle laying on the ground several feet from his hand.

The thing was moving toward Anna, like it was drawn to her, and the net found its mark, while Anna started working on the removal of the curse. Sam moved toward Dean when the net was tossed, worried about him.

Dean was moving a little slowly, groping for the rifle, but he finally managed to find his feet.

The monster thrashed around in the net with claws and teeth, trying to get free, and Dean waved his brother off. "Keep an eye on that thing! Don't let it get loose."

Sam went to grab the net and wound up getting kicked hard in the chest, claws tearing through his jacket and shirt.

"Sam!" Dean yelled seeing the thing attack his brother, and he had the rifle up again and was pumping another shot into the beast.

Anna's chanting continued, while the beast thrashed. Sam was knocked back and off the foundation of the house, down into the thick vines. Anna finally opened up her eyes to see it first hand, and it was nothing like she expected.

The monster was bleeding from the wounds Dean had inflicted, which seemed to slow it down a little or at least distract it, but the wounds were quickly closing up. Dean tossed the rifle aside and took hold of the net, hoping to help Dooley keep it under control long enough to allow Anna to finish working the spell. He was worried about Sam but didn't have time to check on him now.

Anna started a different chant; this was finally the one to remove the curse, most of it was in a language Dean didn't understand.

"Anna, hurry!" Dean shouted, unsure if he and Dooley could hold on much longer. The thing was thrashing around crazily and trying to claw whatever it could. He was holding onto the net so tightly, it felt like his shoulder was on fire again.

She chanted louder and then cut her palm with a small knife she'd gotten from her pack, her own blood mixing with a small bowl of herbs. "I command thee to return from whence thee came!"

The thing reached out to try and take a bite out of Dooley, jaws snapping, but fortunately only got a mouthful of net.

"Where the hell are Cal and Eddie?" Dean shouted at the old man. He felt something sticky at his shoulder and knew he'd broken a few stitches open, but he couldn't worry about that now. He was starting to weaken, his grip on the net loosening.

Dooley slapped the thing on its face. "Back off, big"un. Cal, Eddie!" he shouted and they were there, helping with the net. "Where's Sam?"

"I dunno....He" got clawed, I think." Dean swung a look around for his brother, but there was no sign of Sam other than broken branches and brambles.

The monster was thrashing so hard, it knocked Dean off balance and to the ground again.

Anna was still shouting commands. The thing shrieked with an unearthly scream, and the ground started to shake, the wind picking up, the sky turning dark. The trees were swaying as an otherworldly wind kicked in and, Dean scrambled to his feet, shouting for his brother. "Sam!"

Sam wasn't moving. He was tangled deep in the vines.

The monster seemed to transform almost before their very eyes, changing slowly from a monster to that of a very old man and then eventually turning to dust. Once it was gone, calm returned, the sky brightening, the wind dying down.

Dean hardly noticed, too busy frantically searching for his brother in the brambles. "Sam!"

Sam was lying still as death. The thing had clawed his chest and apparently knocked him out.

"Sam!" Dean called, upon finding his brother, looking his wounds over to see how serious they were, his heart racing. "Dooley! Get your ass over here!"

Dooley and the boys were there in an instant. Eddie was still looking back at the naked woman. If Dean caught Eddie staring, he'd probably deck the guy, but he was too concerned about his brother at the moment to take any notice.

Sam finally groaned, his shirt covered in blood. "D-Dean?"

"Sam?" Dean yanked his brother upward and hugged him close, his voice low and full of worry. "Don't do this to me, Sam." He hugged his brother for a moment and then he was looking over his wounds, not liking all the blood. "You got clawed. Are you okay' We gotta get you to the ER." He knew they couldn't call 9-1-1. There would be too many questions. Not unless it was a matter of life or death.

"Oh, okay," Sam mumbled, not making sense of anything.

Dean pulled off his jacket and stripped off his flannel shirt to press it against Sam's wounds, his own shoulder wet and sticky with blood. He was moving mostly on adrenaline now. He looked up at Dooley. "Help me get him to the truck."

Anna was busily trying to wash the majority of blood from her skin.

Dooley and the boys moved to get Sam. "You get the woman, Son. We will get him to the truck."

Dean let Dooley take over, kneeling there watching as they carried his brother off, trying to catch his breath. He rubbed at the ache in his shoulder and felt something sticky, glancing down briefly at the blood on his hands wiping it on his pants. He grabbed his jacket, along with Dooley's rifle, and started toward Anna. "You okay?" he asked her, a worried look on his face.

Anna was blinking at Dean, looking at him. "Yeah, other than freezing."

"I gotta take Sam to the ER."

"Sam is hurt?"

"Yeah. You wanna come along or..." She could either come with him or have Dooley drive her home. It was up to her.

"Is he okay?" She was getting her clothing back on, after toweling off. "I'll ride with Dooley. You come by and let me know how he is, okay?"

"I dunno." He nodded, looking miserable. "I'll call you from the hospital, okay?"

"Should I drive you two and wait in the truck" Okay. Keep me informed."

"I can drive. I just have to come up with some stupid story....again. You did great, Anna." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and laid a kiss against her forehead. "I gotta go," he told her quietly.

"I did?" She smiled. She was tired to say the least.

Dean assumed Cal and Eddie would clean up the mess, while he took Sam to the ER and Dooley took Anna home. Or something like that. He couldn't worry about the details now. He had to take care of Sam. He led Anna toward Dooley's truck, an arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.

Sam was in the Dodge, Cal and Eddie watching him. Dooley was standing outside the truck, waiting on Dean. "I think he'll be okay."

Dean nodded his head at Dooley and handed him his rifle. "I'll be by later to clean it." A promise was a promise, though he had far more important matters on his mind now.

"I think you got other things to do here. You owe me."

"Will you get her home safely?"

"Dooley here has known me for a long while," Anna said. "He'll get me there."

"I'll call you, okay?" Dean turned to Anna and lifted her chin, leaning down to press his lips against hers.

She smiled and returned the kiss. "You better."

He smiled faintly. "Promise." Though he wondered what good his promises were. He never seemed able to make good on most of them.

He turned and headed toward the truck without looking back, and a few minutes later, he and Sam were heading for the hospital.

"If you weren't so damned big, I'd carry you." Dean grit his teeth, wincing a little at the pain shouldering his brother's weight was causing him, but somehow he managed to get him through the door.

"You wish," Sam muttered.

"You two, again?" Nurse Kathy asked, wheeling a chair over for Sam to sit in. "Another bear?"

"Yeah, he liked you so much, he wanted to see you again," Dean remarked. "Same bear, different bear. They all look the same to me."

She smiled down at Sam and looked at Dean. "He said that?"

"Big, brown, angry. Oh, yeah....Take me to see Nurse Honey. That's what he said."

"Brown bear" Are you sure it wasn't a Black Bear?"

Dean managed to lower Sam into the wheelchair, groaning a little as he straightened. He didn't give a rat's ass what color the damned bear was. It was just a story.

Another nurse came along and grabbed Sam's chair, taking him toward the back, and Kathy looked at Dean. "Kathy, not Honey."

"Kathy, right, sorry." Dean winced as he rubbed his shoulder, watching as the nurse rolled Sam away. He tried to follow, but Nurse Kathy stepped in his way.

"So, can you describe the bear" I have to call the police."

"I just did. Big, brown, angry, snarly. Want me to describe the growl" Maybe we can get an artist in here and they can render a drawing of the suspect." He wasn't feeling very witty. "Can I see my brother?"

"In a minute, and it's policy. Brown bears aren't native to New Jersey. If the thing attacked both of you, now, it's like a man-eater or something."

Dean shoved a hand through his hair and sighed. "Maybe it just wanted my Big Mac." He looked around for a chair, feeling a little light-headed.

"I somehow doubt that a bear would want your Big Mac." She dialed the police. "Yes, I'll hold. This is Kathy at the hospital. I think we have a man-eater bear, if you could hurry along." She pointed at a chair by Dean. "Have a seat, Mister....?"

He paused a moment before dropping into a chair. What was the name he'd been using in town" Did he want to use that name again? Probably not because he was posing as a Fed then and now he was posing as a camper. He tried to remember what IDs he had in his wallet. "Uh....Can this wait' I think I'm gonna hurl." He made a face, trying to look like he was about to be sick.

She looked shocked and thrust a paper bag at him. "Here!"

He grabbed the bag, only partially faking the sick feeling. "Bathroom?"

She pointed as she talked toward a door with a sign in the shape of a man. "Earl, I think we have a man-eater bear. I have two survivors down here from the past couple of days. Brothers, I think."

Dean got up and headed for the bathroom, pausing to take a breath once inside. Fortunately for him, he was alone, so he pulled out his wallet and started flipping through IDs. Richards, no....Plant, no....McCartney' How'd that get in there" He promised himself that once Sam recovered, he was gonna kill him.

"What' Really' You're gonna catch it?" he heard the nurse say from the hallway. She was obviously listening to a story, nodding and agreeing, along with a few, "Oh, mys."

Dean finally settled on an ID that read Dean Gramm, hoping no one in Jersey was a Foreigner fan. He shoved his wallet back into his jeans, tucked the fake driver's license into a coat pocket, and took a look at himself in the mirror, deciding that he looked about as horrible as he felt. He washed the blood from his hands and splashed some water on his face before exiting the men's room, flashing a strained smile at the nurse as he tried to sneak past her to find his brother.

Dean didn't bother to announce himself before stepping into Examine Room Two where he found Sam laid out on the table, looking pale in the bright glow of light, while two doctors worked on him. "Sam?" he asked, hovering in the doorway.

"Sir, you'll have to wait outside," said a nurse.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Dean asked, sounding as worried as he looked.

"He's fine. Severe bruising and lacerations."

"Doesn't look fine to me."

"That bear seemed to work him over, hm?" one of the doctors remarked.

"Sir, please. I will come get you in a little bit, okay?" The nurse pushed the curtain closed and went back to assisting the doctors.

"Yeah, okay," Dean relented, too tired and worried to argue. He turning, casting a final glance over his shoulder before heading to the waiting room, where he dropped heavily into the nearest chair. His gut told him Sam was going to be okay, but it was his job to keep him safe, and he'd failed miserably yet again.

"Hey, handsome, how's he doing?" Anna asked as she walked in, smelling faintly of vanilla. Something had told her that she might be needed, so she got a fast shower, changed, and came to the hospital.

Dean lifted his head when he heard her voice, the expression on his face saying it all. "He's gonna be okay, I guess." He cleared his throat suspiciously. "What are you doing here?"

"Checking on you, goof."

"I'm fine, Anna," he insisted, though he clearly was not.

She wrapped her arms around him. "I don't believe you."

He made no argument, just let her hold him. It was rare he allowed anyone to comfort him, but he made an exception for her.

"It didn't feel right, leaving you up here alone."

Dean remembered how empty he'd felt when Sam had jumped into the cage, how lost and alone. It had taken a long time to accept Sam's death, but Sam had never really been dead at all. He still said nothing, too busy fighting to keep his emotions in check. He had to remind himself that Sam wasn't dead. He was hurt, but he'd be okay. "Sorry," he mumbled, pulling away.

"Sorry?" She eyed him. "For what?"

"I almost lost him a couple times and..." He drew a breath, not really wanting her to see him like this. "Promised Dad I'd take care of him."

She just sat there, listening and letting him say whatever it was he needed to say.

"That's all I've been doing since I was four, you know" Taking care of Sam. He's all I've got."

"So, someone put that on your duty list?"

He wiped a hand across his face. "Yeah, I did, I guess. Most brothers have their own lives. But....our lives aren't normal. They've never been normal."

"Well, it's a noble thing to take on yourself, Dean." She smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"It's not noble, Anna. It's just how things are. "You know..." He let out a sigh. "I had a normal life for a while. A girlfriend, a kid that was like a son....Normal's just not in the cards. Not for me. Not for Sam. Even if I wanted it, I can't have it."

"What is this....normal anyway' Normal meaning go out, breed, consume, paint your fence white?"

"I don't know. Nine to five job, soccer games, Sunday dinner with the in-laws."

"PTA," she shuddered.

"I had it for a year. It wasn't really me. Sam thinks I was happy. He thinks he tore me away from that life, but the truth is....I'm a hunter. It's what I am. It's what I've always been and what I'll always be. Can't have it both ways, right' Can't have your cake and eat it, too."

"Just because that's normal to some people doesn't mean it's normal to all people, Dean. Normal to you is hunting, fast food, fast cars, easy witches." She smiled and nudged him.

"You're not easy," he contradicted her.

"I was a lawyer for a while. Did you know that?"

"Really' Sam wanted to be a lawyer. Before I....dragged him back into the life."

"Dad's wishes, not mine. So I went through school, then into college, then started into practice, while I was married to The Dick. I walked away, Dean. Nice home, nice cars, nice living, all to come back to the woods I grew up in."

"Why?" he asked, but he already knew the answer. It was the same as his.

"It is my normal. Just like hunting is yours."

"You were awesome today."

"I was gross and damn near got us hurt bad."

"Why do you say that' I mean....It wasn't your fault that thing almost broke free."

"He wasn't listening to me, Dean. He was a little more powerful than I thought." She smiled a little sheepishly. "I didn't need the blood bath either. Only my arms." She had to giggle at that, despite the circumstances.

He arched his brows. "Well, I think you were awesome, so there." He smiled and brushed a finger across her cheek.

She smiled. "Thank you, Dean. That means a lot."

"Never met a witch I liked, until now."

"Would you like me to spit something green on you? Get you all warty and gross?"

He wanted to kiss her, to lose himself in her kisses and forget about his problems for a little while, but he didn't. Not yet. Instead, he laughed. "Ruin my good looks?"

"Never met a hunter. Still not sure I like what you do, but at least, I understand why."

"We help people, Anna. Because....someone has to."

She nodded. "I know you do. I read about the boy in the paper. 'Unknown Hero Save Boy'?"

"What?" He looked a little shocked.

"Yeah, the mother is offering a reward for the ones that found and saved him."

"A reward?"

"Yeah, a couple hundred."

"I don't want a reward. I didn't do it for a reward."

"I know, and that's a good thing, but I think she just wants to say thanks, you know?"

"How'd you know that was me?" He'd only started to tell her the story; he hadn't gotten very far. Far enough to put two and two together, apparently.

"Come on, missing boy wanders out of the woods and gets picked up by Dooley?"

"Is he okay?"

"Dooley said he's okay. Dooley waited with him and they got the mother there. She was so happy and asking Dooley over and over, but all he said was he saw him walking down the road."

Dean shoved his fingers through his hair and leaned back in the chair, relieved to hear that the kid was okay. "I was gonna stop by there before we leave. Check on him. Not sure I should now."

"The paper said, 'Jimmy says thanks again.'"

"He's a good kid. You know where I can get my hands on a copy of the article?"

"I am sure he is." She smiled and leaned toward him. "Yeah, I saved it. It's in my car."

"I don't want my picture in the paper."

"No?" That made her brows go up. "Why not?"

"Because there's....I have too many enemies, Anna."

"Cops?" She was born in the daytime, but not yesterday.

"Cops, hunters, things wanting revenge."

"I understand," she smiled and took his hand. "Your picture won't wind up there."

Dean glanced at their clasped hands, knowing whatever time they had together was growing short. "I have to leave soon." His fingers interlocked with hers, liking how her hand felt in his. She had somehow managed to calm him down and get his head back on straight.

"I know you do."

"So, it looks like Italian might have to wait."

"Brenda's bringing Sam some cookies," she said with a smile.

"Brenda?" he asked, and then it dawned on him that she was talking about Brandy, the stripper. "Is she gonna babysit so we can go for Italian?" He smiled back.

There was a clearing of throat from behind them. "Sir?"

Dean turned his head, finding it strange to be referred to as sir.

Yet another doctor stood behind them. "Your brother will be staying with us overnight for observation."

"Can I see him?" Dean got to his feet, still holding Anna's hand.

She got up with him, and the doctor looked them over. "He needs to rest."

"He's my brother. I need to see him."

Sam walked out to the truck and got in, waiting on Dean. He'd thanked Anna for the care she'd taken with him and for keeping an eye on his brother. He turned the key, and the engine roared to life, where he waited for the passenger to say his goodbyes....again.

Dean took his time saying goodbye to Anna, kissing her thoroughly enough for her to remember him. He told her he wanted to see her again and promised to call, but he'd done the same before with a dozen other women in a dozen other towns. He finally pulled himself away from her and got into the truck, a last wave of a hand back at her, already missing the warmth of her bed and the softness of her lips.

Anna leaned in the doorway, reminding him that he better call, and watched him get into the truck.

"She still have them?" Sam asked.

"Have what?" Dean asked, obviously distracted.

"Her tonsils."

"Yeah, she's got them." Dean smiled, the taste of her kiss still lingering against his lips. "You leave me any cookies?"

"Good to know," Sam remarked. "From here, we get the Impala, take back the rental, drop it off and go." Sam looked at his brother at the mention of cookies. "Dude, they are mine."

"Brothers share. Besides, they'll ruin your girlish figure." Dean looked around the truck for any sign of cookies.

"They are mine." Sam pouted but held out the plastic covered dish. "She's a good cook."

"Who's like a six year old now" Is that all you took away from that' Her baking?"

"Seriously, Dean?"

Dean nabbed not one but three cookies. Anna had made him breakfast again, but there was always room for cookies. He popped one into his mouth and looked blankly at his brother. "What?"

"Three cookies, and how many times are you going to ask me about my sex life" Does it really matter how often I get laid?"

"Yeah, it does," Dean replied with a straight face. "It is my duty to make sure my little brother's needs are being properly addressed. Although I'm not into Wincest, so you can forget about that." He shuddered at the thought and started on cookie number two.

"Gross."

"Hey!" Dean pulled a copy of the local paper out of his jacket, gloating a little. "Have you seen this" I'm a hero."

Sam stopped at a corner and looked at the paper. "Wait....what? Let me see that." Sam snatched the paper from his brother's hand to have a read. "Sure....no mention of me or anything I did."

"What did you do again? I forget. Oh, that's right....You threw me a rope."

"I let the kid run into me!"

"That was big of you, Sammy. I still don't know what took you so long. We could've died down there."

"Dean, I was on my way. It wasn't that long."

"Long enough. The kid was dehydrated. We're lucky it rained."

"And we were preparing for that damned thing. You know....the kid might have been drinking nothing but soda all night and that lead to the dehydration, too."

"Soda" He didn't have any soda, Sam."

"Before the Devil snatched him?"

"You weren't there." Dean didn't feel like arguing with his brother over something when he knew he was right. "Anyway, they're offering a reward, but I'm not taking it." He snatched the paper back and folded it in half.

"Dude, I'm not arguing, I am just saying. You weren't as dehydrated as the kid."

"Did you somehow miss the saline drip I was attached to?" Dean snapped back.

"So, there's a chance that he was drinking a lot of soda before the thing snatched him up as he was on the way home from a friend's house, agreed?" Sam continued.

Dean sighed and changed the subject. "You know....we bust our asses, put our lives on the line, and never get any credit. Never ask for any reward. And this one time I get a little anonymous mention in the paper and you have to rain on my parade."

"Dude, I'm not raining! I am happy for you. I really am."

"It doesn't matter anyway. We don't do it for this." He tossed the paper in the back seat. "Sometimes I wonder why we do it."

"About time someone recognizes what we do."

"Are we making a difference, Sam' Because sometimes it doesn't feel like it."

"Get your paper."

Dean made no move to retrieve the paper. He'd get it later or maybe Sam would.

"Dude, get it. That is our reminder why we do this."

"I'll get it later."

"Put it in the trunk of the Impala with the rest of our stuff."

"You think we should stop by or skip it?"

"I think we should stop by. Like it or not, that kid is going to remember you for the rest of his life."

"Lucky him. One of the bright points of his life, I'm sure."

"Dean, stop it."

"Stop what?"

"You were excited about this a bit ago, until I mentioned other things. Now you are having this grouch fest and talking down about what we do."

"It's not that, Sam. It's just..." Dean sighed. "You wish you could save them all, you know" It's like it never ends. Now I know what Superman feels like. You can't be everywhere at once."

"Look, you saved one. There's the proof in the back seat. Be glad for the ones we do save."

"You ever lay awake at night thinking about the ones we couldn't save" All the poor bastards who were possessed. The ones we just didn't get to in time. I know we're not keeping score, but you ever wonder if we're even making a dent' I mean, you bit the bullet and saved the world. But me" Ironic, isn't it' It was supposed to be me. I was supposed to be Michael's vessel and save the world, but it was you. You made the ultimate sacrifice. That's what being a Winchester is, Sammy. It's not about pride. It's about doing what?s right. It's about sacrificing your own happiness for the greater good."

"Yeah, I suppose you are right." Sam drove to the boy's house, leaving Dean's car in the shop for the time being. "I'll wait here. No need for more questions from his parents."

"No. You're my brother. I want you there with me. I'm not here for the praise. I just wanna see the kid. No one has to know it was us."

"Okay, Dean." Sam parked the truck in front of the house. "Feels funny going without a suit."

"Yeah, I guess. We'll tell them it's our day off and we just wanted to check in on the kid or something. Think they'll believe that?"

"Works for me."

"Let's hope it works for them." Dean flashed a quick smile and popped the last cookie into his mouth, then climbed out of the truck.

Sam was out of the truck and waved his badge at Dean as a reminder. "Just in case."

"Yeah, I got it....I think." He patted his jacket, looking for his FBI badge, which was real enough since he'd lifted it from a Federal Agent some years back.

Sam was waiting patiently while Dean searched, looking around the neighborhood, which was nice and quiet.

"Got it!" Dean held up the badge to show Sam he'd found it and started toward the house.

"Great." Sam started with him toward the house, nearly in step.

"Who was I again?" Dean asked.

"Dude, seriously?"

"What' I can't remember!"

"Make something up!"

Dean was tempted to use Mulder and Scully again, but knew it would piss Sam off. He straightened his jacket, cleared his throat, and pressed a finger against the doorbell.