It was headed toward him with slow deliberate footsteps, seemingly unaware of the hunter lurking in what might almost be ambush. The steps paused outside the door of the room Dean had taken refuge in, and for a long, spine-chilling moment, two mouths breathed in counter-cadence, two noses sniffed the air. A strange doubled-up hiss escaped into the silence of the corridor ....and the squeaky footsteps continued on their way.

Dean held his own breath while he listened to the thing's inhuman breathing just feet from where he stood. He didn't want to kill it just yet, not until he knew where it was keeping the stolen babies. He had two choices - follow it to see where it was going, or wait 'til it left and go poke around where it had been. Once he heard the footsteps continue on their way past his hiding place, he chanced a quick peek past the doorway to catch a quick glimpse of whatever it was that had just passed by.

The moment he came into sight, that sybillant hiss resumed, a two-voiced snarl declaring itself in feral fury. From the light of the farther end of the corridor, the eyes glinting in the face on the back of the Witschatska's head focused on Dean with malevolent distaste. It spun about, focusing the intent of the front face upon Dean, and seemed to flow toward him, moving too fast for it to be anything but the monster it seemed, hands outstretched toward the hunter.

"Son of bitch!" Dean muttered, realizing he'd been seen. Well, of course, he'd been seen. That much was obvious, since the thing had turned tail and was now pursuing him. He found himself facing two choices, once again - fight or flee - but there was nowhere to go really, and he wasn't a coward. Instead of running away, Dean did just the opposite of what the monster might expect, clutching the knife in his right hand and lunging forward to slice at the monster with the edge of the blade.

It looked human ....from the front, at least. And the angrier it got, the less human that front face appeared. There seemed to be no fear in it as its eyes flickered to the blade, just a healthy respect for the metal and the man who knew to use it; that much was clear from the clean wound in its left hand from Nim's stab in the dark earlier.

But that left hand remembered a little too well - the tip of the blade sliced just deep enough to open the scrubs and score the flesh beneath before the Witschatska got its fingers around Dean's wrist. Its right hand went straight for his throat, twisting to push him up hard against the wall as it snarled and spat at him. Its mouth opened wide, and from behind the human teeth lowered longer, sharper fangs, dripping with something too thick and viscous to be saliva, breathing the stagnant stench of blood-soaked straw over Dean's face.

If Dean wasn't busy being slowly choked to death, he would probably have tossed his cookies at the rank smell the thing expelled in his face. He tried to tug his right hand away from the thing's grasp so he could sink the iron blade into its flesh, but the monster had too tight a hold, tight enough that Dean was having a hard time keeping a grip on the blade's handle. Even as he struggled for air, his left hand was searching inside his jacket for the handgun he had hidden there. One shot was all it would take. Maybe it wouldn't kill it, but it sure as hell would shock the hell out of it.

Those fangs extruded further, reaching toward his face, the creature's body pressing entirely too close for comfort to pin the choking hunter fully against the wall. Just on the edge of hearing, footsteps made themselves known, running growing louder until ...

" Hey!"

The Witchatska came to a sudden halt, fangs mere inches from Dean's face, as Nim's voice snapped down into the shadows. The beam of a flashlight swung through the darkness to illuminate the little scene. "Gross," the little blonde snorted, sighting down her Glock. "Remember me?"

She fired, and the Witschatska snapped to the side, spun about by the impact of a bullet in its shoulder, releasing Dean with a howl of pain. Nim fired again, advancing into the shadows as the creature hissed at her, catching a second bullet in the chest before it turned to flow back into the pitch darkness, out of danger, until not even its breathing could be heard. Coming up beside Dean, Nim didn't even look at him, still scowling into the darkness as she swept the beam of her flashlight back and forth. Timing was everything, apparently.

Green eyes widened as the fangs came closer, and Dean knew he didn't have much time. Time seemed to slowly stretch out, each heartbeat pounding in cadence to the seconds that were slowly ticking away, counting out the little time he had left. The edges of Dean's vision were starting to blacken, spots dancing before his eyes, and he knew he was really running out of time. He lost his grip on the knife and it clattered to the floor, a familiar voice somehow cutting through the confusion in his dulling mind, as if from far away. He heard a gunshot and then another and the thing had suddenly let him go. His legs went out from under him and he stumbled to his knees, doubling over and coughing to try and catch his breath, suddenly aware of a familiar blonde hovering over him and shining a flashlight his way.

She didn't move to pursue the creature, well aware that despite the iron bullets she had just unloaded into it, the Witschatska was far from dead. But if they were lucky, it had been slowed down for a while. Satisfied it wasn't lurking in the pitch black before her, she lowered the beam of the flashlight and her infuriated gaze to the man wheezing on the floor next to her. Bending, she scooped up Dean's knife, taking holding of his collar to drag him up onto his feet as she straightened. And still, not a word. He'd scared the hell out of her; he was going to be very lucky if she didn't decide to beat the crap out of him for that.

Still coughing, he got dragged to his feet, rubbing at his throat where the Witschatska's hand, for lack of a better word, had been choking him, face flushed from lack of oxygen, embarrassment, or both. He didn't know why she was still standing there over him when they could and should be chasing the thing down. "What the hell..." he croaked, his voice gravelly and strained, narrowing his eyes at her, like this was somehow her fault. "How'd you..." He broke off again, as he tried to grasp control of his voice.

The Glock travelled around until the end of the barrel was resting on the end of his nose, Nim's expression less than forgiving as she glared along the length of the handgun into his eyes. "You really don't want to be talking right now," she warned him in a dangerously level voice, speaking through clenched teeth. Stepping back sharply, she tucked the Glock back out of sight at her back, sweeping the flashlight back and forth as she turned to retrace her steps.

He visibly stiffened when she planted the barrel against his nose, though he knew she wouldn't shoot him. He knew she was pissed, and rightfully so. He'd have been just as pissed if the tables had been turned, but he had his reasons, for good or bad. Right now though, all he wanted was to track the monster down and find out where it had disappeared to. He reached out to catch hold of her arm as she turned to walk away, flashing back suddenly to a memory of her walking away from him once before, blinking at the intensity of that singular memory. "I'm going after it."

The stiffness in her softened as soon as his fingers closed about her hand, a quiet shock of breath lost between her lips as she unconsciously stepped closer. No matter how angry she was, how much he deserved that anger, Nim couldn't hide how much more she loved Dean. Though she still refused to meet his eyes, knowing herself and her weaknesses only too well, she released his hand to tuck herself under his arm, her own wrapping to his back to slide her hand into his back pocket.

"We're Ben and Lucy Parrish until we get out of here," she murmured under her breath to him. "The kid's Jonah Matthew."

He slid that arm around her as she tucked herself against his side, arching a brow when he felt her hand unexpectedly slide into his back pocket. He knew it was all part of the ruse, but it seemed that with that simple gesture, she had staked her claim. Under ordinary circumstances, the thought would have made him smile and maybe tease her a little, but these weren't ordinary circumstances. "Right, got it."

He still felt a little weirded out about stealing someone else's kid and using them for bait. He would have preferred to have followed the creature to its lair and killed it, but he had to admit her plan had merit. Whatever happened, there was no way he was going to let that thing hurt her or another kid again, if he could help it. He committed the names to memory, thankful the kid's name wasn't Sam.

All part of the ruse" Not quite, but he didn't need to know that right now. She touched her cheek to his shoulder in a silent gesture of reassurance as they approached the secured door to the baby unit itself, lifting her hand to press the buzzer. She knew the code, of course, but it was probably best to stay on Brian's friend's good side for the time being. An impatient voice responded.

"Yes?"

Nim glanced up at Dean, betraying her vague uncertainty with this part of her plan for a moment, before leaning in to answer. "Ben and Lucy Parrish?" she suggested quietly, somehow making herself sound less on edge than she truly was. "We're here to pick up Jonah."

There was a pause, and the voice replied. "Come in and wait by the desk, I'll bring him to you." A moment later, the door clicked unlocked for them.

Dean tensed a little as the voice on the other end answered, quickly followed by a click as the door unlocked. How many times had he had to pretend to be someone else, he wondered, from an FBI agent to a gym teacher and just about everything in between, but a father with a newborn" That was a new one. There was only once he and Sam had been called upon to play Two Men and a Baby, and that hadn't gone all that well, in his opinion, mostly because the baby hadn't been human. This time, things were different, but a baby was still a baby, and he wasn't quite sure if he could play the part well enough to convince a stranger.

"This is nuts," he muttered quietly to Nim. "I hope you're right about this."

"Well, I haven't heard any better ideas," she muttered back to him, just as worryingly nervous about the prospect of looking after a baby, even if it was only for the night. Because there was no way in hell the Witschatska wasn't going to come looking for them once they had little Jonah in hand.

She drew him into the sterile, quiet unit beyond the door, offering a small smile to the nurse on the desk, who nodded back tiredly. A few moments later, and an older nurse appeared, bearing with her a small bundle that could only be the baby boy in question. She looked Dean and Nim over with narrowed eyes.

"Been practising your landing, Mrs Parrish?" she asked, the emphasis on that one word identifying her as Brian's contact.

Nim bit the inside of her cheek, blurting out the first sentence that came to mind. "No, but I did just get a morganatic marriage."

The nurse snorted with laughter, and presented Dean with the baby, drawing Nim to the desk to sign out and go over ground rules.

Dean arched a brow at the not-so-subtle - at least, to him - pass phrases that were exchanged back and forth, a silent nod to the older nurse and a slightly strained smile when she handed him "Baby Jonah", hoping his nervousness would pass for a case of new father jitters. Once the baby was settled in his arms, Dean relaxed a little, wishing he'd brought the Impala with him, but maybe Nim had already thought of that. He canted his head to look down at the small bundle in his arms, more than a little in wonder and awe. The miracle of birth, he thought. Cute kid, but don't get attached. He's not yours. You're just the caretaker. You have to give him back.

The baby was wide awake, big blue eyes staring in unfocused curiosity up at the man now holding him. Barely more than twelve hours old, and Jonah Parrish was about to become the bait in a trap which may or may not turn around and bite them in the a$$. As the baby boy gurgled, smacking his lips as he wriggled comfortably in Dean's arms, Nim turned back to them, settling a bag onto her shoulder. She couldn't help the smile that rose on seeing Dean staring down at a baby staring back at him. Who'd have thought he'd look that natural holding a newborn"

"Okay, let's go," she murmured softly, hoping the urgency was only audible to her partner.

He wondered just how prepared Nim was for this. Babies were a lot of work. They needed feeding and diapering and burping and cuddling. They were a 24 to 7 job with no days off. Okay, it was only supposed to be for one night, but still. They were both already exhausted and now they had a newborn to care for. His gaze shifted toward Nim, noting the bag on her shoulder and hoping it was full of diapers and bottles and all the other accessories that were needed when taking care of a small, helpless infant. He remained quiet, only nodding his head in acknowledgement, hearing the urgency in Nim's voice.

To be honest, Nim had no idea what was in the bag, only that Brian's contact had insisted on packing it for them as soon as she found out she was handing a newborn over to a pair of hunters. It was heavy, though, so maybe that was a good sign. Nodding back to Dean, Nim led the way back out of the baby unit. Now came the difficult part - walking out of the hospital calmly under the eyes of the security and police forces stationed all around them.

Dean shifted his hold on the newborn, lifting the newborn up to rest against his right shoulder, rubbing the baby boy's back in a small circular motion. It was just felt less awkward walking with him held that way. "Just act natural," he said to Nim quietly, almost sensing her nervousness. The baby let out a small burp, and Dean smirked down at Nim, falling into the role of Daddy, even though he was no such thing. "Like father, like son," he remarked, casually.

The smile returned in the face of Dean's ease at falling into the role she'd just forced him into, amusement flickering in her eyes as she looked up at him. "Doesn't bode well for my sanity now, does it?" was her drawling response. And yet ....there was that sense of wrongness again, that sense of being watched by hostile eyes they had both encountered up close.

To the casual observer, Nim stretched and scratched her back, falling a step or two behind Dean out of weariness. Looking any closer would have revealed the Glock now in her hand, hidden between her thigh and the bag on her shoulder, and the protection she now provided to Dean's back as they approached the entrance doors.

"Any ideas on where we're taking this party?" she murmured under her breath.

"He likes his bottles and I like mine," Dean replied, with a slight shrug of shoulders that did very little to jostle the newborn who seemed to be settling down against Dean's shoulder like he belonged there. There was no visible reaction from him when she dropped behind him, but he knew without asking that they had company. He could almost feel unfriendly and unwelcome eyes on them both and somehow knew they were being watched.

"Some place defensible," he replied, hoping they'd hear back from Bobby or Brian soon about how to kill this thing. He secretly wished he'd taken the old Colt with him, but it wasn't the kind of weapon that was easily hidden or portable. "We could just put some distance between us until we figure out how to..." He broke off, feigning a smile as a pair of nurses walked passed.

"Eve?" Something stirred in the memory Nim no longer had access to, and she blinked in sudden surprise. "The Mother of All" So ....these Alpha creatures, they're older than demons." Her brow creased deeply as a rather more disturbing conclusion made itself known. "Oh God ....so if an Alpha is like the seed of their whole race, they've gotta be virtually indestructible, right?" Her gaze flickered toward Dean in sudden tension. This was suddenly a whole lot worse than she had originally thought.

"Something like that, yeah. If it's an Alpha. I'm not really sure." He sighed. If they really were up against an Alpha here, he wasn't even sure if the Colt could take care of it. "I ran into a few Alphas back home." And that was putting it mildly. He frowned at the memory, not really wanting to talk about it. It had quite possibly been the worst year of his life, not counting the time he'd spent in hell. "You know about Shapeshifters?"

"Yeah, I know about them." The shut-down tone of her voice suggested there was a story there, but not one for this moment in time. A faint objection rose from the baby as the Impala bounced over a manhole cover in the road, making Nim smile faintly, despite the situation. "You met the Alpha, I take it?"

Shapeshifters were fairly basic and common monsters in the unofficial hunter's handbook, and one nearly every hunter had stumbled across at one point in time. Dean had a particular personal hatred for them, but that was a story for another time. "Yeah, I met an Alpha." Several, actually, but they were talking about the Alpha Shapeshifter at the moment. "They were making baby shapeshifters back home, and me and Sam..." He broke off briefly at the mention of his brother's name. "We tried to save one." He canted a glance at the infant boy he held cradled in his arms. "We named it Bobby John."

For some reason, Nim winced and paled, her lips turning a thin line before she got a hold on herself once more. "Tried?" she asked softly, picking up on the one word in his narration that seemed most important. From all she'd seen and been told of Dean and his brother, tried was not a word that could usually be applied. They did or did not, there was no try.

"Yeah..." He glanced at her, noticing the look on her face, knowing she already suspected the truth. All he had to do was confirm it. "You can't save them all, Nim." I should know. I couldn't save you. He watched her a moment before turning his head toward the window, watching as the scenery passed by, slowly leaving the city behind. "The Alpha came for him, and..." He would have shrugged if not for fear of disturbing the child in his arms. "There was nothing we could do. Bullets, knives, nothing. If I'd had the Colt, maybe..." He closed his eyes with a heavy sigh, each loss weighing heavily on his heart, haunted by the ones he couldn't save. "It's the ones you can't save that stay with you, you know."

She swallowed, nodding vehemently. "I know." Her voice was soft still, but there was a strength of feeling there usually only reserved for Dean himself. She did know, already haunted despite her lack of memories. Something in the last year had taught her that only too well. "You can't always rethink and rely on the Colt," she murmured, clearing her throat uncomfortably. "There are things it doesn't kill. I'd rather put my faith in what I know works. And we know this one is vulnerable to pure iron. Maybe that's the key, or maybe it's something else, but we won't know unless we ..." She trailed off as a particularly gruesome thought occurred to her. "Uh ....you said Alphas make new monsters" Out of newborn babies?"

Her question pulled him out of his thoughts, back from the deep abyss of darkness of guilt and ghosts that haunted his memory. "I don't know. I think it depends on the monster. I mean....Vampires don't make vampire babies, they just make more vampires." That he knew from experience, perhaps one of only a tiny handful of people who'd been turned and cured. "As far as Shapeshifters are concerned, they were impregnating human women who were then having Shapeshifter babies. I know it sounds crazy, but it's true."

"Oh, believe me, it doesn't sound that crazy." There again was Nim's wince, the slightly paler cast to her face as she answered. She swallowed again, shaking herself out of that dark place before it could take over. "We need help here. At least call Bobby or Brian, one of them has to know how to kill a regular Witsa-whatsit. If we know that, we've got something to work from, right?"

"Yeah..." He turned back, the haunted look gone from his eyes, the ghosts of his past dispelled for the time being. "The thing is....the Alphas back home were building an army. They were telling the others what to do. I'm not sure if that's the case here. I'm not even sure if it is an Alpha. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. We can't exactly ask it, but I think we should be prepared for the possibility."

The possibility was enough to frighten her, though. She bit her lip hard, counting through fifteen heartbeats before even attempting to speak again, not wanting Dean to hear how frightening she found the prospect of armies of monsters being built up all over the world. "Would it be making new monsters if it isn't an Alpha?" she asked thoughtfully. "I mean, can it make new monsters if it isn't?"

"If that's what it does, yeah. I mean, vampires make vampires. Werewolves make werewolves. They don't have to be Alphas to do it." He paused a moment, wondering if he was just being paranoid or if he had valid concerns. "I've never run into a....Witschatska before. We may have to do some digging to find out how to kill it. If it's part of a legend, then it's not new. Some hunter has to have run into it at some point or other. We just have to hope Bobby and Brian can figure it out before it's too late. We know it doesn't like iron, so that's a start," he continued, restating what she'd already said earlier.

"Brian said another hunter ran across one in Tucson about two years ago," Nim offered, reminded finally of her furious and all too brief conversation with her friend while she had been stalking her way to the hospital with the full intention of beating sense into Dean. "You think Bobby knows anything about it?"

Dean's expression changed at the small tidbit of information she had finally decided to reveal, looking first surprised and then slightly annoyed. "When did you plan on telling me about that?" he asked, forgetting he'd been the one who left her cuffed to the bed to go off and play superhero all on his own.

"When were you planning on uncuffing me?" she countered sharply, glancing toward the baby with a faint frown. Moderating her tone, she sighed as they finally began the track through the outer suburbs and out of the city itself. "Look, I called Brian to ask if he knew anything in case you were in real trouble. Which you were, by the way. If I hadn't loaded the gun with wrought iron, you'd be dead."

The annoyed expression faded and turned to chagrin. "Yeah, thanks for that. I guess I owe you an apology." He watched her for a moment, before turning his face away, not wanting her to see the look of guilt, remorse, and failure that would betray his feelings. "I wasn't planning on running into it. I just wanted to poke around a little, see what I could find. I didn't want you getting hurt again."

"I'll be happier when we know what?ll kill it," she admitted, turning away from the road with a rueful smile. "C'mon, let's get Junior settled again." Hiking the bag on her shoulder, she reached out to touch his back gently once again, her cheek brushing his shoulder. It was going to be a very long night.

"So will I," he agreed. And even happier when it was dead. He shrugged, settling the baby against his shoulder again, gently rubbing the newborn's back and trying to keep him calm until he could change his diaper and get some formula into him. He didn't think he was very good with babies, but luckily he had a little experience at this sort of thing. After all, he had been the one who'd carried his baby brother from a fiery blaze when he was only four, and he'd been the one who'd taken care of him most of his life, even if he wouldn't admit it.

"If I ever have a kid..." He broke off again. He had had a kid once, but he didn't want to think about that now. "Never mind."

If I ever have a kid ... A faint flush touched Nim's cheeks, though she hoped like hell he didn't see it, following Dean into the diner. Under the chime of the door, she muttered to herself. "Could happen." If you manage not to infuriate me so much I throttle you in your sleep.

It wasn't something she had ever really contemplated before, to be honest, but it was more than a little bit wonderful to see Dean with a newborn baby. He had everything in hand, and the kid really responded to him. She couldn't help wondering what he'd be like with his own child. Drawing in a breath, she looked around the little diner, looking for the sign for a changing station. Maybe if she was really lucky, it would be in an entirely separate room from both male and female bathrooms.

As good as he was with babies, he didn't even think about a changing station, thinking it was perfectly fine to just plunk the baby down in a booth and change him there, and that was precisely where he was headed, assuming she'd follow. Preoccupied with the baby's more pressing needs, he didn't notice the blush on Nim's cheeks or think too much about what he'd said, missing the remark she made to herself in his hurry to claim a booth.

The subject was moot anyway. As much as he yearned for a family, he didn't really feel it was in the cards, not while he was a hunter. Oh, he'd known a few hunters who'd managed it - his grandparents, for example - but what good had come of it in the end" They'd both died horrible deaths trying to protect their daughter. It was always the same. A hunter's life was a short one, no matter how careful you were.

Relieved that Dean had everything in hand, Nim dropped the bag into the booth he'd chosen, opening it up to rummage around, finding exactly what had been promised - enough supplies to keep them in business with Jonah until the following night. Coming up trumps with a bottle of formula, she grinned over Dean's shoulder at the little boy, shocked at herself when she leaned over to tweak the baby's nose. Blinking in surprise, she stepped back. "Okay, that was weird." Her hand patted Dean's shoulder for a moment. "I'll just ....yeah. You clean the baby."

Dean turned when he felt her patting his shoulder, arching a single brow, lowering his voice for her ears alone. "You're supposed to be his mother. It's going to look suspicious if I do everything." No, he wasn't trying to get out of changing the baby's diaper; he was just trying to make a point. He lifted his gaze to look out over the small crowd that was gathered at the diner. None of them seemed to pay them much heed at the moment, not even the waitresses who were bustling about refilling coffee and handing out menus and plates of greasy diner fare.

"Just sit anywhere, sugar," one called over with a smile when she caught his gaze. "I'll be with you in a jiffy!"

As much as she wanted to, Nim couldn't argue with that logic. She'd seen enough couples with babies to know that parents shared baby duty, rather than leaving it all to one or the other. Managing another of those convincingly reassuring smiles for the waitress who called to them, she nodded in thanks, biting her lip as her voice lowered for Dean's ears only. "Fine, I'll feed it," she reluctantly conceded, shifting the bag to thump down onto the edge of the booth's opposite seat. She raised her voice for the benefit of the folks sat nearby, tempting fate with a cheeky glimmer in her eyes. "Shouldn't you be doing that, you know, away from where people are eating, sweetheart?"

Dean shot a glare Nim's way, mostly at the sarcastically saccharine term of endearment and parried her remark with one of his own. "You know how he prefers his mother's touch," he replied, emphasizing the word he rather than it and plunking the poor little thing into her arms. "They don't have changing tables in the men's room, dear. That's a mommy thing." He tossed a crooked grin at her as if to say "Touche" and unzipped the diaper bag to locate a bottle.

Dark eyes widened in uncomfortable alarm for a split second as the tiny boy was dumped unceremoniously into her arms, narrowing in a promise of some kind of retribution if things did not go well from here. "Well then, darling, you're just going to have to order for us, aren't you?" she replied in a tone that could have etched glass, rising to her feet to press the bottle into his hand. Her shoulders were high and stiff as she held the baby boy in a mimic of the way Dean had, one hand supporting the child as the other hooked the bag onto her other shoulder. She lowered her voice as she moved past him. "Swear to God, if he pees on me, you're dead."

It struck him odd suddenly how ridiculously ironically funny their situation was, and he broke into laughter. Here she was, this big, bad hunter who wasn't afraid of anything but a baby in a diaper, and it struck him suddenly as hilarious. He'd changed his first diaper at four. It wasn't a big deal really. Certainly nothing to get upset about. Getting the sh*t kicked out of you by a two-faced man, now, that was another story, and despite the gravity of the situation or maybe because of it, he just couldn't help laughing.

"Big threat," he replied, grabbing hold of the bottle. "Just make sure you don't drop him," he warned, confident she could handle it, turning his back on them both to wave down a waitress and get the baby's bottle warmed.

Another waitress caught Nim's eye, directing her to the ladies' bathroom with an indulgent smile for what was apparently a very new mother still terrified of her own baby. "Just you get yourself settled, miss, and we'll see to your man."

Nim couldn't resist, speaking just loud enough for Dean to hear. "Oh, I'd love to give him a good seeing to," she agreed with a nod, slipping into the bathroom to contemplate the changing station in vague dismay. Her eyes turned to the baby fussing on her shoulder. "Feeling adventurous, little guy?"

He gladly would have helped her if she hadn't so publicly scolded him, but now, he thought he'd teach her a lesson. Besides, he was confident she could handle it. She just needed practice. He overheard the waitress and chuckled quietly to himself, thinking it would almost serve her right if they flirted with him while she was away doing baby duty, but he didn't want to get her angry.

One of the waitresses came over at his bidding, and he didn't have to explain what he needed. She exchanged the baby's bottle for a couple of menus, and he slid into a booth to look them over. He'd already ordered them both coffee - they had a long night ahead.

The waitress returned with two plates, both BLTs with a side of potato chips and a pickle, and quietly slipped away, promising to come back to refill their coffee. He hadn't been sure what Nim wanted, but she had always had similar tastes as him in most everything, so he'd taken a wild guess. It was almost like she was his other half, only female. Yin to his yang. He shrugged, offering no denial that he was tired. But more than tired, he felt troubled. "Does it bother you that I remember things you don't' I remember the first time we met." He smiled at the memory of that. "You punched me in the nose."

A faintly rueful smile touched her lips, not reaching the unfathomable darkness of her eyes as he found a memory she had no hope of ever sharing. "Doesn't surprise me," she said softly, shifting the bottle teat in the baby's mouth as it stuck itself together. "You know more about me than I do. I'd be lying if I said I was okay with that. But I'm not going to let it get in the way." She swallowed lightly, looking back down at the baby in her arms. "Did you know my ....my parents?"

He wasn't sure what it was that was bothering him exactly. It wasn't the hunt; it was just a hunt, though he didn't like the thought of anything bad happening to her or the baby. There were times when he felt happy to be there; he was happy she was there with him. But there were other times when he felt all kinds of confused, lost, out of touch with this world and unsure of his place in it. They thought him a hero here. What kind of hero kills his own brother"

His eyes met hers before her gaze drifted away, back to regard the baby in her arms whose life they very literally held in their hands. Her question took him a little off guard and he shrugged in reply. "I knew your mother. I don't think she liked me much at first, but....I guess I kind of grew on her."

"What was she like?" This time, Nim didn't need coaching as she lifted the infant up onto her shoulder, patting once again while she rocked from side to side instinctively. Her gaze had returned to Dean's face, quiet and undemanding, understanding that what she wanted to know might be too much for him to bear remembering. "You don't need to tell me, but ....it'd be nice to know."

"What was she like..." he repeated, gazing off in thought a moment to consider his words. "She was..." He furrowed his brows. How did you describe such a thing to someone" He knew Jo had been Ellen's life. He knew Ellen would probably have given anything to save her, just short of selling her soul to demons, like his own father had done to save him and he'd done, in turn, to save Sam. "Her name was Ellen. She..." He closed his eyes as he remembered the last moments he'd spent with Ellen and Jo in the hardware store, where Jo lay dying, and his thoughts then turned to his own mother, who'd sacrificed her life to try and save Sammy.

"She loved you," he said finally, as if there was nothing else she really needed to know. "She was hard and soft all at the same time. She'd kick your a$$, but you knew she was only doing it because she cared so much."

Just the sight of him struggling to describe a woman she had no memory of brought a sadness to Nim's smile. "She must have been real special," she murmured softly, recognising the past tense for what it was - her mother was dead in the world he had come from. Even if Nim somehow got there, she'd never meet Ellen and learn to know and love her again. "Thank you for telling me." It took a moment, but she drew a slow breath in, gently removing the patting hand from the burped baby's back to lift her coffee cup to her lips, the silence gentle but thick with forgotten memory.

"You have her eyes," he said, looking back at her at last, a weary sadness in his eyes that he tried to hide from the world, that he didn't really want her to see but couldn't always manage to keep hidden safely away. She hadn't asked about her mother's death, and he was in no hurry to tell her how it had happened, how he blamed himself for her death, too. It should have been him. "Let me take him so you can eat," he told her, gaze cutting to the baby on her shoulder. He hadn't touched his sandwich and was suddenly not feeling all that hungry.

"I'm not real hungry right now," Nim admitted with a faint shrug, but she was happy enough to hand the sleepy baby over to Dean. One thing he wasn't going to be trusted with tonight was driving. "I'll ask them to bag this up, we can eat later." Her fingers lingered for a moment on the baby's head, transferring the gentle caress to Dean's cheek with a smile that showed off the Old Soul tendencies in every hunter. "We need to get moving again."

"Nim, I..." He started, his voice trailing off, not knowing where to begin with everything he felt needed to be said, but maybe this wasn't the time or the place. He broke off, nodding in agreement, and reached for the baby, carefully taking him from her and cradling him in his arms, remembering when Sam had been this small, wondering what Ben had been like. What if Emma had agreed to come with him and not tried to kill him' What would it have been like to have a child of his own"

It was only a matter of minutes to get their sandwiches and chips bagged up for them, takeout to eat further along the road when they had the time and leisure to do so. "You wanna call Bobby or Brian, or should I?" she asked as she stood up, taking up the food and diaper bag easily. She still hadn't given back his keys, and she wasn't going to unless he insisted.

"I'll call. I need to talk to Bobby." But he already knew what the man was going to tell him. Get your sh*t together, boy. Get your head outta your a$$ and focus on the hunt, 'cause I ain't buryin' you a third time. Dean took a final swig of his coffee - one for the road - and moved to his feet, carefully swinging the baby up onto a shoulder. He didn't ask for the keys. Though he could easily drive in his sleep, he felt a strange urge to hang onto that baby as long as he could.

Calling out a thank you to the staff with a wave of one hand, Nim led the way into the parking lot, instantly on alert now they were in darkness, out of immediate sight of normal, oblivious humans. Unlocking the Impala, she slid inside quickly, opening up the passenger door, again with the engine ignited before either of them were well settled. Moving was better than nothing right now, and nothing was all they had. "I hope Bobby knows more than Brian did."

He waited until she pushed open the door before climbing inside and settling himself in the passenger seat. "The more distance we put between us and that thing, the more time we have to sort it out. Is there anything else you found out while you were poking around in the hospital?" he asked, settling the baby comfortably in his lap, head cradled against a forearm.

Frowning thoughtfully as she twisted, backing the Impala out of the parking lot and back onto the road that ringed the city they had just left. They couldn't go too far from Wichita, or they'd never get the kid back to his own parents in time. "Nothing that'll help us," she shrugged, turning her eyes front once again. "Took a quick look at the records from the 1930s, but the pattern was the same then. The thing only took four kids that time, though - this time it's on six, and Jonah would have been number seven."

"Don't make me come looking for you," he warned, just before heading off in the direction of the motel door, which was only a few feet away. He one-handedly balanced the baby against his shoulder while he unlocked the door and let himself in, flicking the lights on and taking a look around. He worked his way around the small space, checking for anything that looked suspicious in any way, but it just looked like an ordinary motel room.

"Smudge, smudge ....smudge!" Muttering to herself, Nim lifted the small bundle of herbs from a compartment in the trunk, sniffing thoughtfully. Cedar, white sage, and lavender. "Perfect." Grinning to herself, she straightened, closing up the trunk once again, and hoisted the bags off the ground, moving swiftly to join Dean in the room itself. "All clear?"

"All clear, far as I can tell." Though he wasn't completely sure. There was that niggling feeling at the back of his mind that someone or something was watching, but it didn't feel malevolent, and he wondered if it was just his imagination running away with him. There were two beds in the room, and he stepped over to one of them, leaning over to lay the baby down.

He glanced over at her a moment, arching a brow at the bundle of herbs she'd brought with her. "What are you planning on doing?" He snagged a few pillows and laid them down around the baby, creating a makeshift barrier to keep him from rolling off the bed, not realizing he was too young to roll. The last time he'd played Mr. Mom he and Sam had rented a room with a crib.

Drawing the door closed behind her, Nim set the bags down, unable to keep herself from smiling gently at the sight of him tending to the baby without even a scrap of self-consciousness. "Well," she sighed thoughtfully, pulling a charcoal stick from her own bag along with a zippo lighter, "this thing only appears in Native American legend, right' So I figure maybe Native American protection marks should at least slow it down." Her eyes met his, second-guessing herself even as she clarified her actions.

He arched a brow, sufficiently impressed by her instincts and her well-thought out action. "Looks like you're the brains and I'm the brawn," he remarked, turning back to fuss over the kid, who didn't appear to need any fussing over. "It's a good idea. You're a good hunter, Nim. Better than most. Better than me." He suddenly felt old.

"I'll never be better than you." And she truly believed that. As much as she knew, as much as she'd read and researched, Dean was always going to be the superior hunter of them both. He had the experience to draw on, the knowledge of things this world hadn't even considered, much less encountered. And once he was back in his stride, she had no doubt the big and little bads of the world would go out of their way to avoid pissing him off. Her hand gently squeezed his shoulder as she leaned close to touch her forehead to his temple. "Call one of the ugly sisters before you start convincing yourself I'm wrong."

"I don't want an ugly sister. I just want you." He wasn't sure why he'd said it; it just kind of slipped out of his mouth, but it was true. He'd wanted her from the first day he'd met her, and seeing her again had only rekindled those feelings. He'd always believed there was some kind of connection between them, but they'd been robbed of the chance to find out what it was. He sighed wearily as he leaned his forehead against hers.

"You need help?" he asked, needing to make himself useful, to feel useful. After spending the last year or so obsessively hunting the Leviathan to the point of exhaustion, it felt strange to be on a good old-fashioned monster hunt again.

She smiled faintly, leaning into him for a long moment, resisting the urge to kiss, since they both knew they did not have the leisure to follow through on anything so intimate. "Sure," she agreed, opening her eyes as she leaned back once again, knowing the need to have something to do. "Pretty sure you know how to smudge, right?" Her fingers stroked down his arm, catching his hand to turn it palm up and lay the little bundle of smudging herbs and the zippo there.

"I know how to do a lot of things, but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to learn new things," he replied, with a faint smile, letting her take that however she wanted. He had his own zippo, but took the one offered, along with the bundle of herbs.

"I'll hold you to that one," she grinned up at him, feeling far more herself, far more alive now that they had a place to defend, tasks and means to make that place safe for the hours before dawn. Stepping back from Dean, she twirled the charcoal stick in her fingers, turning to crouch by the door into the room, working on pulling the carpet back from the concrete floor.

"It's not the first time we've hunted together, you know," he told her, making small talk, as he went about the task at hand, making a mental note to call Bobby as soon as they were finished securing the place and making it safe. "You saved my life once. Dug a bullet out of my shoulder. Hurt like hell. I don't think I ever really thanked you for that."

In fact, he knew he hadn't. He'd been cranky and doing his damnedest to push her away, but she hadn't budged. It occurred to him that they'd returned the favor several times over, both in their own world and here. Though the bullet hadn't been a life-threatening wound, he'd almost drowned and wasn't in very good shape, and he wasn't sure what would have happened if she hadn't been there to help him.

She snorted with laughter at this description of both him and her. "I'm pretty sure I don't want to know how you ended up with me digging a bullet out of you," she commented mildly, frowning down at the ground as she swept the charcoal about, marking the entryway with a bear, and an arrow pointed to the right, both fairly universal symbols of protection within the Native American community. Dropping the carpet back, she rose to repeat those marks in several places along the windowsill.

"How about we call it even?" she suggested, glancing over to him with another of those lopsided smiles. "You've saved my life more than once since you got here, after all."

"It's not that." He flicked the flame on the lighter to life and lit the small bundle, moving first to the window and blowing a small bit of fragrant smoke into the air. "It's just....We worked well as partners even then. I don't know how you knew where to find me. You just did." It was unclear whether he was referring to the time she'd found him half-drowned on the dock after demon-possessed Sam had shot him, or just a few hours ago, when she'd found him in the bowels of the hospital being choked by the monster of the week.

That was a good question. Of course she didn't remember searching along the dock, constantly calling his cellphone in the hope of locating him. But she did recall walking through the hospital basement only hours before, her feet taking her in sure confidence toward the merest sounds, away from the first swathe of darkness. How had she known where he was" Nim didn't know; she just had, following instincts to get to him in time.

"Well, I don't know how you knew how to find me this morning," she pointed out, carefully recreating her symbols on the sill beneath where he was smudging the air. "You just did."

She leaned into him in that way that was becoming all too familiar to them both, as intimate as it was trusting, as necessary as air. "All right," she murmured back to him, aware now that the sound on the edge of hearing was the baby fussing himself out of his sleep in loneliness. "You finish up, I'll ....deal with it." Touching a last kiss to his cheek, she untangled herself reluctantly, easing around him and out of the bathroom.

He just as reluctantly let her go, swearing to himself that when this was all over, they were gonna be like John and Yoko and spend a week in bed looking for peace....or something. He turned to watch her slip away from him, hearing the baby starting to fuss in the next room, and wondering - not for the first time - what it would be like to have a family of his own. He thought he should say something, but he wasn't sure what, thoughts drifting through his mind, words on the tip of his tongue that remained unsaid. Actions speak louder than words, he thought to himself. If that was the case, he hoped she already knew how he felt about her.

"Hey, little buddy, you waking up already?" A quick check of the windows and doors revealed nothing to Nim's watchful eyes, and though she knew very little about babies, logic dictated that the kid couldn't be hungry or need a diaper change. So she picked the newborn up, settling him gently against her shoulder, wincing as an outflung hand grabbed hold of her hair.

"Lonely, huh?" she murmured, propping the infant with one hand against herself as the other took hold of her Glock. She wasn't going to be unprepared tonight, no matter what else she was doing. Keeping back from the windows, away from the door, she began to pace slowly, gently bouncing the tiny boy as his fussing stilled again. "You know, little man, we'd better get this over with soon, or I'm gonna want to keep you."

Dean went about "smudging" the bathroom, the same way he had the rest of the motel room. It was a simple form of magic that, though aware of, he'd never made much use of before, but then he'd never faced quite this situation before. Demons had been such a deep concern for so long it almost seemed strange to be on a run-of-the-mill monster hunt again.

He heard Nim's voice coming from the other room, her tone soft and soothing, though he couldn't make out all the words, and he almost envied her. How easy it would be to forget the past, but the past wouldn't forget him. It would follow him around to the end of his days, no matter whether he acknowledged it or not. Amnesia was not a solution. He finished up in the bathroom and rejoined her, setting the smudge stick down on a table and wiping his hands on his jeans. "I can take him for a while, if you want."

She offered him a faint smile as she rocked with the tiny boy, one brow rising as she looked Dean over. "Sure, you take him," she nodded, because despite her growing ease with the baby, she still thought she was going to drop him or squeeze him too tightly or just smell wrong to him. "I'll call Bobby." Tucking the gun into her pocket for a moment, she raised her hands to offer the sleepy baby over to Dean.

"You'll call Bobby?" he echoed as he reached to take the baby from her, a little surprised that she was volunteering to make the phone call that he probably should have made hours ago. Frowning, he pulled his phone from his jacket, even as he settled the baby against his shoulder. "I'll call him. If he's going to get pissy, it might as well be with me."

"Well, someone needs to make the call, Dean," she pointed out, very slight impatience making itself known in her voice. They needed information; they'd been in need of that information for hours, but neither had made the call. Now they were staying put, that need was significantly more urgent than it had been earlier. "You got the baby, you should stay back here," she suggested, flipping open the fourth bag she had brought in with her and withdrawing a shot-gun from the mess of weapons and ammunition within.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asked, watching her unpack the shotgun from the bag of weapons, his voice tinged with irritation and defensiveness. He wasn't a babysitter; he was a hunter, and he wasn't going to be left behind to change diapers while she put herself in harm's way.

She rolled her eyes, loading shells into the shotgun with a faint smirk. "I'm not going anywhere," she told him with a rueful twist to her smile. "But you're not going anywhere near the door or windows while you're holding the baby. I'm on watch, Dean, give me a little credit here."

He smirked, realizing she was taking first watch, but unable to resist the urge to tease her a little. "You gonna shoot me if I try to leave" What if I gotta get some air or something?" The baby started to fuss a little and he jostled him lightly, almost by instinct, without even realizing he was doing it.

"Hey, if you present a target, I'll shoot it," she smirked back, her gaze flickering down to his a$$ rather pointedly before she was distracted by the absent-minded paternal jostling that calmed the baby once again. The look that crossed her face was a little inappropriate for the situation, though probably rather familiar to Dean by now. Who'd have thought that seeing him being all protective and fatherly would be as sexy as seeing him any other way' Clearing her throat, she chuckled, filling her pockets with shells for the shotgun. "Call Bobby, dude."

"You shoot me in the a$$, guess who's gonna be digging the bullet out," he retorted with a smirk. The mood seemed to have lightened a little from earlier, maybe because they were finally taking control of the situation away from the monster. He smirked again, his usual smartalecky demeanor getting the best of him. "I'm not sure he likes to be called dude."

She snorted with laughter, shaking her head as she took her chosen weapons over to the window, dropping onto one knee to keep watch and stay a much out of sight as possible. Deliberately, they had left the lights in the room off, casting no shadows that could be easily seen from the gloom of the parking lot beyond. "Well, I'm sure as hell not gonna start callin' him gorgeous," was her mild, smiling answer.

"You should eat something," he said, reminding her of the sandwiches they'd taken out of the diner and brought along to the motel. Once the baby had seemed to settle down, he took a seat on the bed and pulled his phone out of his jacket. "You can call me that," he flashed a smile at her as he punched Bobby's number into the phone. "Here goes nothing."

She wasn't going to argue with either of those suggestions, choosing not to distract him from making his call with another response. Leaning back from the window, not taking her eyes off the gloomy, half-lit darkness of the parking lot outside, she reached out with one hand to rummage for half of one of the sandwiches. Who said she was too stubborn for her own good?

As it happened, there were two voicemails waiting for him from Bobby that he hadn't noticed in all the excitement, and it only took one ring before Dean heard a familiar gravelly voice answer on the other end. He winced as the voice on the other end laid into him, chewing him out without even saying hello. The word ijit was used several times in reference to Dean and the lecture was liberally sprinkled with colorful phrases strong enough to make a sailor blush.

Dean let Bobby ramble on, until he was finished and then the two of them settled into a conversation that centered on what to do about the monster in question. This was followed by a lot of uh huhs and mhmms as Dean listened to Bobby's instructions, leaning over to pull open the top drawer of the nightstand in search of paper and pen to scribble on.

Nim's eyes flickered to the watch at her wrist, acutely aware that Dean's time limit was running out. "C'mon," she murmured, her gaze returning to where she could see him poking around in the Impala. Her tension was rising, an uncomfortably familiar feeling making itself known in the pit of her stomach. "It's here." Her gaze sharpened, suddenly scanning the darker shadows with keener need, fighting the urge to yell for Dean to get back inside now.

Dean suddenly felt a cold chill up the back of his spine and instinctively knew time had run out. "Sh*t!" he muttered, forgetting the map in the glovebox. He'd look for it later. He climbed back out of the car, shoving the door closed behind him, but just as he was turning to head back toward the way he'd came, a large, humanoid shape lunged out of the darkness to pick him up by the jacket and bounce him off the Impala.

The creature moved faster than Nim wanted to believe. She'd barely seen it lunge from the darkness before Dean was impacting hard against his Baby. A pained wince touched her face, her finger almost squeezing on the trigger of her shotgun before sense and knowledge reasserted itself. Her shells would do nothing to the Witschatska, but the wrought irons in the bag would.

Dropping the shotgun, she scooped the baby up in one arm, grabbed the bag with the other, and lurched to her feet, darting into the bathroom of the hired motel room, closing the door and locking it behind her, sending a silent apology to Dean for this minor abandonment. Baby comes first.

Dean went down to the ground without much fanfare, stunned for a moment, losing his grip on the Berretta, which the monster then kicked out of his reach, a hideous grin on one of its two faces. The monster made another grab for his prey, grabbing hold of Dean's throat for the second time that day and lifting him to his feet, leaning close enough that Dean could smell his fetid breath.

"Stupid hunter. You think you can stop me" I am but one of many and soon there will be more of us than you can ever hope to defeat."

Unable to reply, his voice and his air cut off by the fingers that were slowly squeezing the life out of him, Dean fumbled inside his jacket for the iron knife he'd stashed there.

Nim tucked the baby hurriedly in his nest of blankets into the bathtub, trying not to panic at the knowledge that Dean was facing off with the Witsa-whatsit on his own, without the benefit of the only ammunition that was actually going to work on it. Tipping out the bag onto the floor of the little bathroom, she scattered bullets and shells and guns across the tiles, one hand scrabbling to grab a handful of wrought iron bullets as the other groped for the lighter Dean had left on the counter in here with the smudge stick.

Two things went through Dean's mind while the thing was slowly choking the life out of him - one, that he hoped to hell Nim listened to him and didn't come out here and two, that she knew what was going on and was doing as Bobby had instructed. It would only take a few minutes to consecrate the iron rounds and get the shotgun loaded, but unless he did something quick, he wasn't sure he had a few minutes. Fingers fumbled for the knife in his jacket, just as the thing opened its maw - not unlike the Leviathan back home - and got ready to chew his face off.

Nim wasn't thinking clearly enough for Dean's peace of mind. Instead of shotgun rounds, she'd grasped the wrought bullets best suited to her own Glock out of habit, sweeping everything else out of the way with her forearm as she snapped the lid of the zippo open, her thumb scraping to light the gas. Sticking the unlit end of the smudge stick between her teeth, she lit the bundle of herbs like a cigar, coughing violently as the sweet-smelling smoke filled her lungs with acrid burning.

Dean's fingers found purchase on the handle of the knife, green eyes flashing with hatred, even as the edges of his vision started turning black. Sheer will to live combined with a rush of adrenaline gave him the strength to shove the blade into the thing's gut - or what would have been its gut had it been human - twisting the blade before yanking it back out. An inhuman scream rent the night as the thing backed off, clutching its stomach and letting go of its quarry.

Dean dropped to his knees, coughing once to catch his breath, before he stumbled to his feet and staggered toward the safety of the motel room where he'd left Nim and the baby, hoping she'd had enough time to consecrate the rounds by now and blow the motherf*cker's head off.

The scream reached deep into the motel room, distracting Nim from her uncomfortable coughing as she dropped the lighter, pulling the smudge stick from her mouth, scattering ash across the floor. Her dark gaze darted toward the door, expecting it to burst inward at any moment.

"C'mon, c'mon, what are the words, you know this," she muttered to herself, shaking herself back to her task as she held the smudge stick beneath her handful of bullets, letting the smoke rise up and smother the wrought iron.

Dean stumbled forward, fighting to catch his breath, his throat and lungs feeling like they were on fire, the knife clutched in his right hand. He heard the thing scream behind him and stifled a shudder, wondering if he should lead the thing away from the motel room instead of straight toward Nim and the baby, but Nim was the one with the shotgun and the iron rounds, and he'd made her promise not to come after him. He had to trust in her and hope she'd done what was needed by now. The door to the motel room was unlocked, just as he'd left it, and he pushed his way inside, shoving it closed just as the thing lurched after him.

He opened his mouth to call for her, but his voice wouldn't cooperate, coming out in a hoarse whisper. Just barely managing to get the door locked, he turned to look around the room, and not seeing her or the baby anywhere in sight, he swung his gaze toward the bathroom and the door that stood between him and them.

"Nesika papa klaksta mitlite kopa saghalie, kloshe kopa nesika tumtum mika nem." As the sweet smoke wrapped about her fingers, Nim found the blessing words coming back to her. She didn't know why, all those months ago, she had made a point of learning a Navajo blessing, but it seemed as though whatever had inspired her to do it had been anticipating this moment. "Mahah siah kopa nesika konaway mesachie. Kloshe kahkwa."

She heard the scuffle moving into the motel room beyond the locked bathroom door as the bullets in her hand seemed to suddenly absorb the smoke that lingered around them. "Dean?" she called, dropping the smouldering herbs into the sink, dragging her Glock out of her pants and knocking the magazine free. "Keep it busy!"

Somehow, the rope was still coiled about one shoulder, but the Berretta was lost somewhere in the parking lot, and the thing was now banging against the door, trying to get inside. Keep it busy' Was she out of her mind" How was he supposed to keep it busy' Ask it for tea"

Her hands were shaking as she struggled to empty the magazine, scattering the unconsecrated bullets over the ash stained floor. In the bath tub, Jonah had woken up, letting out a wild scream of distress at the noise from beyond the locked door, the sense of unpleasant malevolence that accompanied the Witschatska wherever it went.

"Aw, c'mon, kid, now is not the time," Nim heard herself pleading as she forced the consecrated wrought irons into the magazine in her hand.

By the time Dean had the body and all their gear hauled safely into the Impala, he felt nearly spent. He leaned heavily against the trunk, wiping the back of a hand against his bleeding cheek, the sound of the baby starting to squall forcing him onward. He pushed off the trunk, summoned by the baby's cry, and retraced his steps back into the motel room, pausing to look around at the wreckage, amazed and relieved - like he always was at the end of a hunt - that they were still alive.

A discreet glance out into the parking lot revealed that she didn't need to keep talking much longer, much to Nim's relief. "Again, I am very sorry for the inconvenience," she repeated confidently. "If you could all return to your rooms, the appropriate authorities will contact you tomorrow. I would recommend that you remain here until that happens." Well, she had to leave something for the cops to do, right'

Turning to the motel owner, who was standing there in his robe and slippers, she turned on the charm. Next task - get hold of any security tapes that showed faces and/or what had actually happened in the parking lot.

Dean went over to the small crying bundle and scooped him up in his arms, swaying the baby gently and humming "Smoke on the Water" in an attempt to calm him down. Hey, it had worked once before; it was worth another try.

"Obviously, Mr ....Jenkins, is it?" Nim made a show of checking a notebook that was in reality filled with rather surreal sketches before continuing. "Obviously, I'm going to need to take all the recorded surveillance from the past four hours. You will be compensated accordingly, as well as reimbersed for the damage incurred to your property." All right, so she was lying through her teeth at this point, but it was working. Jenkins didn't even bat an eyelid, moving to locate the discs she was asking for without a moment of hesitation.

If Dean had heard her at work in the motel office, he would have been proud, but at it stood, he was too busy soothing a rattled baby who was just as worn out as Dean was. After a few minutes of Dean's ministrations, which included humming, jostling, and finally back rubbing, the baby finally calmed and Dean turned for the door, glass crunching under his boots. He tossed a glance at the office, hoping Nim was almost finished. They still had to dump the body and find the missing babies, and he was dreading the latter more than the former. The thing had said he was only one of many and Dean wasn't quite sure what that meant.

"Thank you, Mr Jenkins, you've been very helpful," Nim was saying as she stepped out of the motel reception, a scan of the parking lot telling her it was time to go. She shook the hand of the motel owner, apologising again for the disturbance, and made her way across the lot toward the Impala, the security discs in hand. She bent to scoop up the forgotten Beretta on her way, tucking it out of sight where her Glock would normally reside, hoping Dean got to the car at the same time she did. She didn't really want to hang around too much longer.

Arriving at the Impala just about the same time as Nim, he pulled open the passenger door as he looked at her over the roof of the car. "Who's driving?" he asked, looking exhausted, but knowing she probably didn't feel much better, and the night was still young. The question itself indicated how much trust he had in her - the only other person he usually let get behind the wheel of his baby was Sam.

She met his eyes over the roof, realizing he looked as tired as she felt. But she'd had more sleep than him, and he had just been bounced around the parking lot. "I'll drive," she told him quietly, pulling the driver's side open to drop inside with a faint groan. Starting up, she waited until he and the baby were settled beside her before pulling away. "So ....river, and back to the hospital. Think we can get this done before dawn?"

He sank into the passenger seat, resting the baby in his lap, while he leaned his head against the back of the chair, eyes closed for a moment. "God, I hope so. When this is over, I'm gonna sleep for a year." He was clearly exaggerating, but it was a tempting thought. He shoved a hand through his hair as he pried his eyes open, leaning forward to rummage around for the map he'd been looking for when he was attacked by the creature. He frowned, as he remembered what the thing had said to him while it was trying to kill him. "It....told me something," he admitted, trying to remember its exact words.

She couldn't help a yawn as the Impala drew out onto the road, a vague memory of where she'd seen the Arkansas river on the map urging her to take the first turn east. "Don't sleep that long, I'll get bored if I can't work off some of this adrenaline on you," Nim warned Dean, deliberately smiling, trying not to let the shock of actually having an only half-dead monster in the trunk take hold of her mood. "What did it say?"

He c*cked his head toward her, one brow arching upwards. "You have something in mind because I'm thinking this just might not be a good time for sex in the Impala." Any other time, sure, but not with a dead body in the trunk and an infant baby in his lap. It wasn't just awkward; it was weird. "It said..." He licked his lips as he tried to recall, paraphrasing rather than repeating verbatim. "Something about being only one of many and that soon there'd be too many for us to defeat."

"I was talking about after we sleep, dumba$$," she laughed, rolling her eyes at him as the Impala rolled almost silently through increasingly wild scenery. Her hand groped for the map as she listened to him, her smile fading to a frown. "Here's hoping that's an empty threat," she murmured softly, glancing at the map as she propped it against the steering wheel. "Maybe I should bless some more rounds before we go exploring."

"Yeah, because you need to do everything yourself," he remarked sarcastically as he grabbed the map out of her hand. He was tired and cranky and sore - probably just like she was - and didn't really take kindly to be calling a dumba$$. "Keep your eyes on the road while you're driving my baby," he warned, unfolding the map to see where they were and where they needed to go.

"Oh, I'm sorry," was her deeply sarcastic response as he snatched the map out of her hands. "Would the lord high expert in everything who doesn't need a girl tagging along like me to just pull over and walk back to Chicago, or would he like to stop being a child while he still has a manhood to protect?" However easy it had become between them, yes, she was tired, she was sore, she was cranky, and she was still angry about that afternoon. Dean was on shaky ground with Nim, and prodding at her temper was not going to do him any good at all.

"My manhood?" he chuckled. "What are you going to do' Shoot it off" Wouldn't be much fun for you without it, now would it?" He just snickered at the ridiculousness of her threat. He turned the map to try and find where they were exactly. "Make a left at the next crossroads," he instructed, reaching over to flick the light on so he could get a better look at the map. He had an almost innate sense of direction and was pretty sure he knew where they were in relation to the river.

He kicked a toe at the blanket-covered form, but again there was no movement, and he sighed in relief, bending over to tug the body toward the river. It was slow going and the thing seemed a lot heavier now that it had earlier, and Dean regretted not accepting Nim's help. He came into view as he tugged that body away from the Impala and toward the river, inch by slow inch, pausing once to straighten and stretch his back.

Movement caught her attention, and she turned her gaze to watch as Dean struggled with the body toward the river bank. It was galling to know that they could have done it by now, if he could only accept in himself that she was capable of doing more than research and protection spells. She had a feeling it was his protective side getting in the way again.

"I'm not any better, am I?" she sighed again, fingertips gently stroking against the sleeping newborn's head. "Too damned proud to ask for help when I need it, and I made things ten times worse with trying to impress him this morning." There was a pause as she looked down at the baby. "Why am I telling you this" I should be telling him."

He was practically too numb to think by this point, all of his attention and focus going to getting that damned body into the river. He wasn't sure why it was so damned important, but Bobby had said it had to be done. Something about the the salt and the water working to purify and cleanse, blah blah blah. He didn't really care how or why it worked, so long as it worked. He didn't really want to start racking up points on a police blotter just yet. Slowly but surely, he dragged the body riverward until he finally reached its edge.

He straightened again momentarily to catch his breath, remembering dancing barefoot in the sand with Nim on the shore of Lake Michigan. Had it really only been a few days ago' What the hell had gone wrong between there and here" Or was reality just setting in" There was no use worrying over it; at least, not tonight, but part of him longed for that innocence again, that sweetest of moments when he'd held her in his arms and knew that he loved her.

Even as his thoughts turned toward what might have gone wrong between them, Nim shook herself out of those thoughts, her own turning toward what was going to happen next. They had to get Jonah back to the baby unit before dawn, if possible. And after that ....well, the only way to find the thing's lair would be to search from that storeroom in the hospital basement. They couldn't pause until they knew what had happened to the missing babies, not now. Every minute counted.

He gathered the last of his strength, wading into the water and dragging the body along with him. He only went out a few feet, until the water was thigh high, before letting go, watching as it sank to the bottom of the riverbed, but then something strange happened. He turned, getting ready to slosh back to shore, when he thought he heard something and he turned back, worried Bobby was wrong and the creature had rezzed itself somehow. Eyes widened as he watched, bubbles forming beneath the water, the blanket floating out away from the body, as the creature seemed to dissolve like a melting puddle of ice cream right before his eyes.

"Nim..." he called, too late remembering that she was shut up in the car and couldn't hear him. He backed away from the dissolving mass of oozing flesh and bone, water sloshing around his legs.

She couldn't see what was happening, only aware that Dean had turned back to the river before backing away through the water once again. The backing was a worry. Her hand scrambled for the door handle behind her, letting herself out of the car with Jonah curled, protected, against her left shoulder as she drew the Beretta from pants with the right. "Dean?" she called quietly, her voice wary with uncertainty. "What's goin' on?"

"What the hell..." he muttered as he reached the shore, seeing nothing left but the motel blanket floating downstream. He heard her voice calling from behind him, and he knew he should answer. "Nothing....I..." He broke off a moment, scratching curiously at his head.

"I think we melted it." He thought he said it out loud, but he wasn't too sure. Everything seemed surreal, the product of going too long without sleep. He doublebacked toward the car, suddenly wanting to put as much distance between them and this place as possible. "Let's go."

"Melted?" What a sight she must have made for him, staying behind the car for the sake of the tiny baby resting against her shoulder, yet more than prepared to shoot the gun she was aiming over the roof of the Impala. "Well, I ....I guess it's not coming back, then," she murmured thoughtfully. "You wanna drive, or take the baby?"

He narrowed his eyes at the gun pointing his way - well, riverward anyway. "You wanna put that thing away before you hurt somebody?" he asked, a little more testily than he'd intended, not bothering to answer, but climbing into the driver's seat without a reply. Driving was the only way he was going to be able to focus his mind and stay awake, and he needed to feel the steering wheel beneath his hands, the pedals at his feet. The Impala was real and it was something he was familiar with and could control.

Again, Nim bit hard into her inner cheek, flicking the safety back onto the gun and tucking it away in her pants, moving to walk around the car as Dean dropped into the driver's seat. She hoped he was just tired and cranky, knowing it was her own weariness that was making everything he said hit home quite so hard right now. Everything he'd said in the last half hour had hurt and she couldn't hold onto the anger to keep that hurt at bay.

In silence, not trusting herself to speak anymore, she folded herself into the passenger seat, drawing the door closed, and curled there with Jonah, her eyes trained out through the window. It was going to be a painfully silent drive back to Wichita.

((And if you managed to read all that, you deserve a medal! :grin: The Witschatska is dead, long live the hunters! And hopefully the babies they still have to rescue. UBER MASSIVE thanks to Dean's player!))