Chapter One: In Which Hunting is Like Getting Back on a Bike

Two days, and she hadn't called. Mom was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but she'd never gone a night without calling and assuring Dean that she was okay. His mind wasn't really on the lesson, which probably wasn't doing the kids any favors.

"But where does the four go?"

The speaker was named Ellie, and she was one of those kids that had a question for every situation. Dean dealt with a lot of those-second grade was full of them-but she was definitely the worst. Not to say that he didn't like her. Ellie was perfectly sweet, and her curiosity usually led her to understand more, faster than her classmates.

"You add it to the seven and then one of the ones from the eleven you get stays and the other adds to the three."

Ellie blinked uncomprehendingly. Dean couldn't blame her. Adding two digit numbers was a little much for seven year olds.

The bell rang for the end of the day and the kids surged as one for the coat racks in the back of the room. Dean started wiping down the board, but his thoughts were far from the classroom. They were with Mary Winchester, somewhere in Smalltown, USA without a phone.

"Mr. Winchester?"

The rest of the class had emptied out to get to their buses at time, but Ellie remained, stuffing her math folder into her backpack as she walked up to him.

"What is it, Ellie?"

She looked even smaller than usual, her big eyes even bigger in a small face. Dean knelt down to her level, which took some serious ducking.

"It's just, uh—"

She cut herself off, dropping her eyes to the carpet. Dean didn't ask any questions. After a couple of years teaching, he knew better than to interrupt a kid when they were spilling their guts.

"None of the other kids like me," she said quietly. "They never let me play on the playground or anything and—I don't know."

Dean sighed. Kids like Ellie always had that problem. A bit too quick for the kids their age, they didn't really get along with them.

"I'm sorry, Ellie."

Her lower lip quavered.

"Look. Ellie, you're a bright kid, all right? And sometimes, those other kids can't understand that. It'll change when you get older. My little brother was just like you. Real smart one, had a little difficulty with the playground stuff, but he turned out alright. Point is, one day they're all gonna realize just how great you really are. Until then, just be nice and smile, okay?

Ellie nodded, her eyes still a tiny bit teary. She blinked it away and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"You were the only one asking the right questions about the math today, you know," he complimented.

Ellie lit up. "Thanks! I've gotta go, my mom's picking me up for piano lessons."

With that, she bounced her way out of the classroom. Dean waited a few moments after she disappeared to make sure that he was alone. Then, he pulled his phone out of his bag and dialed Mom's number.

It rang twelve times, and then her familiar voice came on the answering machine.

"You've reached Mary Winchester. Unless it's about a monster, I probably don't want to know."

"Hey, Mom. You didn't call last night, so I'm a little worried. Give me a call when you get this."

He stuffed the phone back in his bag. Far from being at ease, he felt even more on edge. Mary had never missed a call before. It had been part of their deal: he'd give up on being her hunting partner only if she made sure to tell him she was all right.

"That's it," he muttered, pulling his jacket on.

Time to bring in the professionals.

/

Sam Winchester might have given up on hunting, but there was no way to give up the instincts. He heard the subtle thumps from downstairs and was out of bed before Jess even had time to wake up.

He didn't have any weapons on him, so he was forced to sneak into the kitchen empty-handed. Then again, any home invaders would have nothing on Mary Winchester's training. Sam turned the corner, raised his hands offensively and-

The intruder plowed into his chest. Sam staggered backwards, just in time for the other to hook a foot around his ankle and tug. Sam stayed upright only by using the man's momentum against him. He threw a punch, but the other ducked out of reach.

Who breaks into a college kid's apartment, anyway? What were they going to take, ramen noodles?

Sam opened his mouth to shout for Jess to call 911 because this was almost definitely a human, but the man delivered a blow to his solar plexus before he could. Sam went down.

"Hiya, Sammy!"

"Dean?"

Sam finally caught sight of his attacker. His brother gave him a wolfish grin that Sam sort of wanted to punch off his face.

"You're out of practice," Dean noted.

Not quite. Sam flung all his weight upwards and sideways, driving Dean away from him and on to the floor.

"Never mind," Dean said, though he looked more pleased than anything.

Sam helped him up. Dean brushed himself off and glanced over him.

"And here I thought you didn't know my address," Sam said. "Never did get a Christmas card."

Dean laughed. "I'm not big on that kind of stuff, you know that. Got anything good to drink?"

Sam rolled his eyes. Only his brother would sneak into his apartment in the middle of the night, attack him to check on his skills and then expect a beer for his troubles. Typical.

"What's going on?"

Jess poked her head into the doorway. Her hair was mussed and she was yawning. Her eyes flickered over Dean and then back to Sam, her eyebrows raised as if to say 'who's he?'

"Jess, this is my brother, Dean. Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica." Answering Jess's question, Sam kept going. "He's teaching up in Kansas and I guess he came out to surprise me."

Dean shook his head. "Actually, I have to talk to you."

That was never a good sentence coming out of his brother's mouth. Jess must have noticed some of the tension in the room, because she slipped her hand into Sam's.

"What is it?"

Dean took a breath, then looked him square in the eyes. "Mom's on a hunting trip, and she hasn't called in a few days."

/

She'd never been closer. Mary flipped through the dusty old book, eyes darting back and forth over the Latin, translating it to English in her head, easy as breathing.

"A summoning ritual?" she asked, tapping her nail against the paper.

Pastor Jim nodded. The single lightbulb illuminating his workroom flickered ominously. Stupid hunters, always choosing creepy places to work. Mary infinitely preferred her bright, airy apartment when she wasn't on the road.

"I just don't know how to kill the gosh darn thing," Mary said, slamming her fist down on the table.

It was a testament to how long she had known Jim that he didn't look at her strangely for the odd turn of phrase. Mary pinched the bridge of her nose and stared down at the page. The Latin started to swim in her vision.

"I don't want to just exorcise it because then it can come back. I want it dead."

Wanted it dead for twenty-two years now. Mary clenched her fist, not paying attention to the tiny crescent shaped marks her nails were leaving in her palms. Jim put a hand on her shoulder.

"We'll keep looking. I've got a trail for you to follow up on if you want. Give the boys a call, the three of you can go after it together."

Mary shook her head. This was her fight, avenging John. She wasn't going to let them suffer for her mission like she had in the four months after John died. If she called, even to lie and say she was chasing a Wendigo in Pennsylvania, Dean would know she was lying. He always did. It would be best to keep up radio silence and hope for the best.

"No, Jim. I've got this."

He looked worriedly at her, but he didn't protest. "Whatever you say, Mary."

/

"Come on, man, you can't keep pulling this kind of crap."

Sam had only had time to pull his jacket half on when Dean tugged him through the door, so he struggled to zip it up while they were moving instead. He was still wrestling with it when they reached the parking lot and Dean's car.

"What do you mean?"

"This!" Sam snapped, motioning at him. "You've got this stupid grin on your face like this is some grand adventure. Mom probably just lost her cellphone or something, you know how hunting can get. It's only been twenty-four hours! You've got a job, I've got school, we can't just take off in the middle of the night."

It was true. Dean would never admit it, but he liked hunting. The thrill of the chase, the rough and tumble life, the road. He'd been drawn to it in a way that Sam never had.

"Mom's missing," Dean said fiercely in the same tone he had used back when they were kids when he wanted to make sure Sam was listening. "We're the only ones who know she's gone."

Sam sighed and folded himself into the passenger side anyway. He wasn't about to let Dean go off on a hunt solo, even if he didn't agree with the cause.

"I have to be back by Monday," he groused. "I have a law school interview at nine."

Dean clapped him on the shoulder with the hand not on the steering wheel. They pulled out of the parking lot.

"Congrats, Sammy," he chuckled. "How'd that LSAT you were taking go?"

"One seventy four," Sam replied, "but that's not the point. Get me back on Monday."

The rest of the drive was silent. Sam tried to get some shuteye, but he couldn't forget about their last hunt four years ago. Dean had been on summer vacation after his second year of college, and he'd been raring and ready to go. They'd set out with Mom for a change. They'd thought at first that their target was a vengeful spirit, but it had turned out to be a poltergeist. By the time that Mom had caught up with them, Dean had suffered a broken leg and Sam a concussion.

It wasn't exactly a sparkling recommendation for this time around.

They had been on the road for three hours before Sam finally relented. "Alright, so what did Mom say last time she called?"

Dean sighed. "All the usual stuff. She asked me how classes were, how the kids were behaving….then she said she was in Jericho, California. Apparently, ten men have disappeared on the same five-mile stretch of road over the past twenty years."

Sam shook his head. Sometimes, Mary and Dean were all too quick to pounce on what they thought were cases.

"Sounds like a couple abductions to me."

Dean was the one to shake his head this time. "Mom's instincts are good. Besides, I called the phone company and got a recording of the last conversation we had-surprisingly easy, actually, if they think you're with the FBI-"

Sam closed his eyes.

"Anyway, I got it and when I played it back, looking for EVP…"

Dean hit play on his phone. A woman's voice, strained and thin and definitely not Mary Winchester's came out. "I...can never...go home."

"Fine. It's a case. Sounds like a ghost or something. Why would Mom need our help with that?"

Dean shrugged. "That's what I want to find out."

The rest of the drive occurred in stony silence. Sam's mind was back in Stanford with Jess and the upcoming interview. It was all well and good for Dean to jet off-he probably still had some vacation and personal days to use up-but this was everything. If he didn't ace this interview, there was no way he'd be able to pay for school next year, and he certainly wasn't going to ask Mary for the money. Hunting was a lot of things, but well-paying was not one of them. And, this time, using money gained from credit card scams was hardly an option. Dean had had to work three jobs to pay for his school so he'd graduated two years later than expected.

"Hey, check it out."

Dean slowed the car, deaf to Sam's protests. Sam sighed. And his brother was supposed to be a responsible teacher now. What kind of message was he sending those kids? (Probably an abundance of classic rock, now that he was really thinking about it). Dean rummaged around in the glove compartment for a few moments before finally pulling out an ID that definitely didn't belong to him.

"Dude, that picture was taken like five years ago."

"Give me your coffee."

Sam looked down at the cup of coffee in his hand. Oh well. It wasn't like he actually liked it-rest stop coffee was always more about the caffeine and less about the taste. He forked it over. Dean looked over the card for a few moments before carefully smudging the picture with it. Just enough to look like an accident and to cover up the fact that he'd aged since then.

"Better hope they don't look too close," Sam warned, earning himself an elbow to the ribs.

Dean hopped out of the car and walked up to what looked like a crime scene on the bridge. There was an empty car sitting in the middle of the road, and two men in wetsuits were scrambling their way out of the water.

No doubt they looked absolutely ridiculous-Dean in an ill-fitting leather jacket that had been Dad's and Sam in the first sweatshirt he'd managed to grab on the way out. Mary always insisted on suits whenever they were impersonating anyone. Dean always complained about the 'monkey suit' thing. Maybe he wouldn't after this inevitably went south.

"Morning, officers."

Oh, weren't they off to a lovely start.

/

Mary checked her messages after she left Jim's, still stuffing incantations and spell work into her bag. She looked, for all the world, like a soccer mom whose kids had flown the coop, a little overworked.

Crap. She never could get away with anything with those boys.

"Hey, Dean."

"Ma'am?"

Mary stopped where she stood, heedless of the candle that fell out of her bag and rolled under her car. When had he ever called her ma'am?

"Dean, is everything alright?"

"Just working that case out in Jericho."

Gosh darn it. Mary stooped to pick up the candle, shaking her head. The hunting bug still had her oldest son, that was for sure. Thank goodness Sam seemed to have left it behind.

"I have Mr. Wesson with me."

Never mind. Mary stuffed the candle back in her bag. Didn't Sam have that interview on Monday? He should be getting his sleep. Rolling her eyes, Mary answered.

"What on Earth are you doing in California?"

"You didn't call-uh, update me-last night."

Oh sugar. Mary had counted on Dean assuming that she'd forgotten to call, not assuming that something had gone wrong. She should have known better.

"I forgot?"

She heard Dean's scoff on the other end of the line and knew that it had done nothing to convince him.

"Whatever. Where are you?"

"Minnesota."

"Well, we've got the case in Jericho covered."

The phone went dead. He must have been somewhere it would be stupid to address her as Mom. As she remembered, the authorities in Jericho were not exactly the friendly sort. She'd worked a Shtriga case back there about a decade ago, and they hadn't been very helpful.

Accepting the fact that she wasn't going to get any sleep for a while, Mary got in the car and started driving.

It was three hours before Mary realized that it would probably be a very good idea to tell the boys what she thought was kidnapping men on Jericho's highways. In her defense, she was very tired. She was really out of practice as far as hunting with a partner went. Dean was always getting on her case about choosing a partner, but she never found anyone that she really like working with. Garth was an idiot, Roy had turned out to be both a terrible kisser and a generally terrible hunter, Rufus was a little too trigger-happy for her liking, Ellen just wanted to run the Roadhouse and no matter how much she begged Bobby, he clung firmly to his job as a go-to man extraordinaire. A partner just wasn't in the cards for her.

"Sam?"

She called his phone this time, just to make sure that he was on the hunt, too.

"Mom. Where are you?"

No preamble, no hello. Typical. Mary sighed.

"Didn't Dean tell you? I'm on my way. Listen, Sam. I had a couple of theories about what-"

"It's a woman in white."

Sam was always much quicker on the uptake than she was. Mary never wanted it for her son, but if it ever came to that, Sam would make an excellent hunter.

"Mom, someone else disappeared. Why did you go?"

Mary wanted to bury her head in the steering wheel. Casualties were always something a hunter had to deal with and accept-they were part of the action. What killed her about this was that the man had been killed by her inaction.

"Something came up. Sam, this isn't something I can ignore-"

"Another hunt? Come on, Mom, get Bobby to send someone up there. Look, I've gotta bust Dean out of jail. Call us when you're close."

Most mothers would have been a little concerned by that statement, but Mary had been in that position herself more times than she could count.

"Give me a call if you need anything. Love you, Sam."

"Love you, Mom."

Mary drove for sixteen straight hours at which point she had to pull over and take a cat nap. Two hours later, she was on the road again. Sleep deprivation was nothing when you had two idiot boys (one of which was anything but faithful) going after a woman in white.

"I'm fifteen minutes out," Mary said into her cell phone as she turned off the interstate.

"You know the old scary abandoned house on Breckenridge? Yeah."

One of these days, a ghost would choose to haunt a five star hotel, but that day was not today. Mary remembered the old house from her sweep of the town, so she turned her car towards it and floored it. (Well, as much as you can in a minivan anyway).

When she arrived, it was to see a hole punched straight through the house. The old Impala was sitting in what had been the house's living room. On the hood were her sons and despite the fact that Sam's shirt was slightly bloodstained, she felt a smile break across her face at the sight.

"Unorthodox," she said, her eyes flicking appraisingly over the scene, "but effective."

Dean's face split into a broad grin as he hopped off the hood and walked over. Mary expected a handshake, but instead, he pulled her into a tight hug. Huh. He must have been more worried than he'd let on.

"You were useless," he said, squeezing her shoulder and taking a step back. "That what you call driving?"

"Just because you can't go under sixty-five," Mary groused, though thinking back, she hadn't let off seventy the entire way. "Sam, what are you doing here?"

Disgruntled, Sam got off the hood and walked over. Mary, fine-tuned to her sons, was all too aware of the way he kept his arm a bit too tightly to his chest. He hugged her, too, though he kept a little more withdrawn than his brother.

"Dean dragged me out of bed. Something about you being in trouble. What was it?"

"I'll tell you later."

Her hunt for the yellow-eyed demon wouldn't be knowledge for her sons until he was dead. They would want in on the fight to kill the thing that had destroyed their lives, and she couldn't have that. It was the most dangerous thing she'd ever undertaken, and that was saying something.

Both of them opened their mouths and Mary shook her head, the same look on her face that had stopped them dead in their tracks as kids. It was the look that said 'this is on a need to know basis and you don't need to know.'

"Don't you have that interview?" Mary asked, diverting the attention as quickly as she could.

Sam nodded. "I can drive."

Dean hopped in the Impala and Mary tossed the keys over at Sam. Giving her son a little salute, Mary pulled open the back door and collapsed on the back seat. It had been a long time since she'd done it-probably since Daddy had taken her on that werewolf hunt as a teenager and she'd all but passed out in the end-and it was stranger still to have her son be the one behind the wheel.

"How's it going with school?" Mary asked drowsily, propping herself up so she could see Sam's face in the rearview mirror.

Sam smiled. "Applying is a nightmare, but if everything goes well, Jess and I'll stay at the apartment and go to Stanford for the last three years."

"They'd be stupid not to take you."

Mary meant it. She and John, they were both made of stern stuff, but John had gone military and she had gone hunter before either of them had thought about school. Both of her boys had managed to achieve some great things, even with the shadow of her hunting hanging over them.

"Thanks," Sam said, smiling at her in the mirror.

"And Jess?" Mary asked.

She'd met the girl three years ago after she and Sam had started dating, on their winter break. Jess had been very sweet, introducing herself and talking to Mary about the Grand Canyon and the road trip she and Sam wanted to take. Mary liked her-she had a very nice smile.

A different sort of smile ghosted across Sam's features. It was softer, more tender. Mary recognized the look as the one she'd caught John with when she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. It would always be a glimpse, just a snatch because he would always be sure to wipe it off his face before she could get a proper look. Both her sons were like their father in that respect. It took a practiced eye to see them.

"Yeah-uh, she's good." Sam cleared his throat. "Things are-things are good. Look, Mom, you should probably get some rest. I've got it."

He didn't need to tell her twice. Mary rolled over and dropped right off. Her dreams were chaotic, filled with flames and smoke burning at the back of her throat, flashes of yellow eyes and the symbols Jim had shown her drenched in blood. Nightmares were something she was all too used to, though, so Mary simply rolled over every time she woke up and ignored them.

"You want to stay for a bit?" Sam asked when they finally got back to his and Jess's apartment. "We've got one of those roll-out couches."

Mary shook her head. "Last thing your girlfriend wants is to find your mother passed out on the couch. Good luck at that interview."

Sam leaned back and she kissed him on the cheek. Then, she watched as he disappeared into the apartment. Dean, who had driven back with them ("It's on the way, Mom, relax!") idled outside for a few minutes as well. It was like when they'd been kids and she'd waited outside their friends' houses until she was sure they were safe inside.

Something was wrong. An acidic taste caught Mary in the back of the throat. Thinking it a leftover from her nightmares, she ignored it until she saw Dean get out of the car.

Boom!

And just like that horrid, horrid night, panic spiked through her.

"Come on!" Dean shouted, pulling his handgun from the inside pocket of his jacket as if that's going to do anything, as if he can fight whatever's in there.

Dean's world was black and white. He thought that all enemies could be destroyed if you had the right weapon. Mary was starting to think that wasn't the case, but she launched herself out of car in record time and drew her own handgun. John's, one of the only things to survive the fire.

"Stay back!" Mary screamed, praying against all hope to the angels she didn't really believe were listening anymore that her son would listen to her for once.

They took the stairs three at a time, Mary deeply jealous of her son's longer stride. By the time they reached Sam and Jess's apartment, Mary could see by the orange glow of the flames.

"Whatever you see in there, you have to listen to me!"

Dean wasn't listening.

"Dean!" she screamed, her voice breaking on the name. "Do you understand?"

He looked up, expression wild and Mary knew that he was thinking the same thing she was (are we going to lose Sam please don't make us lose Sam I can't take another fire please please please). They locked eyes and then Dean gave her a small, curt nod.

She kicked the door in. The flames hadn't reached the living room, so they sprinted across it and the kitchen, knocking oversized law textbooks and free sheets of notebook paper out of their way. Dean reached the door to the bedroom first, so he took the honors of flinging the door open.

Mary could see the exact moment that he realized. Dean had never seen John die-he'd only ever heard her accounts, only remembered the panic and the flames and the order that had carried him not only through that night but all the nights to come. Now, for the very first time, he saw it. Mary burst into the room, one last prayer dying on her lips, because the figure plastered to the ceiling wasn't her baby.

It was Jess.

She should have hated herself for the relief so strong it nearly knocked her over, but this was a hunt and the time for the self-hatred came after hunts, so she wrapped her arms around her screaming son's chest and fought for every step of ground backwards.

"Take your brother!"

Dean had been frozen, eyes locked on the figure on the ceiling, mouth forming an O that might have been comical, but the second he heard her voice, the moment shattered. He took the job of hauling Sam out the door, punching and fighting every single step.

Mary knew from past experience that the flames couldn't be stopped so she didn't try. Jess was dead the moment the demon had decided to make an example of her. Instead, Mary stared around the room, heat blistering her skin, fighting away the memories because there was nothing she could do better.

"Scared?" she called out into the flames. "I know who you are, Yellow-Eyes. I'm not afraid of you, no matter how many light shows you put on. I'm going to find you and I'm going to kill you. That's a promise."

With that, she slammed the door on Jess's petrified face and sprinted for the parking lot.

/

It was the next morning, after the fire trucks and the questions and the police and the hastily made-up lies before Sam broached the subject. Mary knew it was coming. She knew all too well what it was like to have your past catch up with you and burn a person you loved.

"That thing," he said hoarsely, voice still scratchy from the screams. "That thing that killed Dad. It went after Jess, didn't it?"

Dean's head snapped up, his chin leaving his chest where it had been resting, deep in thought. Mary met them both square in the eyes. No point sugar-coating it. There never had been.

"I've been trying to kill that thing for twenty-two years," she said, voice clinical, detached, as if it were a case that she didn't have her heart and soul in. "I've been getting closer every day. That's where I was. That's why I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to get involved."

Sam laughed at that, sharp and bitter and wrong on his lips. "Too late. I want in."

She'd been expecting that, but it didn't make it any easier. Mary recognized the fire reflected in his eyes. She'd seen it in her own for the last two decades.

"Me too," Dean said.

Mary had seen that coming, too. He wasn't going to let his younger brother take the swan dive without him.

"There's something you have to understand. If you do this, start hunting, there's no going back. Once your name is out there, there's always gonna be another battle, always gonna be another person to save. It's not gonna leave you alone because you want it to. It's not gonna end. This ain't a year. It ain't ten. It's your life, however long it is, and I need you to understand that."

"I'm in," Sam repeated, not looking at her.

"Not gettin' rid of me that easy," Dean added, his eyes gleaming.

Mary's hands clenched into fists at her sides. Perpetual motion. The same old song and dance. A neverending circle.

"We've got work to do."