Author's Note: This story is set after my other fic "No Rest for the Wicked." If you haven't read that and don't want to, you can still read this! There are just three little things that happened in NRFTW that you should know:

1. Sam saved Dean from Hell—that whole nightmare is over.
2. Sam is powerful now because he accepted his powers, and all the demons (except Ruby) are in Hell because he sent them there.
3. Ruby—while as sarcastic and annoying as ever—has proved herself to be an ally of the brothers.

Enjoy!

Dean Winchester let out a sigh and sank down onto his hotel bed. The old mattress springs squeaked and groaned underneath him as he kicked his boots off and lied down, resting his head against a pillow. He shut his eyes and tried to ignore the pounding headache that had built to a crescendo over the past hour and a half.

The room was completely silent—just the way he wanted it. Sam had left a few minutes ago to pick up dinner—after practically shoving some Tylenol down his throat and ordering him to take a nap.

Dean sighed again and rolled onto his side. "Damn it…" he muttered. The headache definitely wasn't going away.

"You should have taken the pills sooner." A voice said, amused.

Dean's eyes snapped open and he jolted into a sitting position, his gun pointed in the direction of the voice.

Ruby raised an eyebrow at him from where she was sitting in chair a few feet away. "Is that really necessary?"

Dean's eyes narrowed. "You—you—damn it, Ruby!" he scowled, lowering the gun. "How did you get in here?"

Ruby shrugged. "The door was open…and to be fair, I did knock first."

"Yeah, well, you can leave now. I'll tell Sam you said hello."

Ruby didn't move. "I found a job that you might be interested in."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Since when do we need you to find us anything?"

"Bobby always calls to alert you and Sam to situations of the supernatural nature…why can't I?"

"Well sweetheart, Bobby's…well…Bobby. And you aren't him."

Ruby laughed. "Very well spotted, Dean. You are a genius."

Dean let out a groan. "Just leave before I accidently shoot you."

"No." Ruby said firmly. "I'm not leaving. I know perfectly well that you and Sam aren't on a case right now, and there's a situation in Pennsylvania that I think is right up your alley."

"What part of no don't you understand?" Dean muttered.

She ignored him. "People have been disappearing—"

"They always do." Dean interrupted.

"—and there is no known cause or reason for the disappearances."

"So that makes you think the issue is supernatural?" Dean demanded skeptically. "It's probably just some psychotic madman hacking people up with a chainsaw and then hiding all the pieces in his basement so that he can eat them." He paused when he saw Ruby's amused look, "Or something like that, I don't know." He finished tensely. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to take a nap."

"It's supernatural." Ruby protested.

"How do you know?" Dean pressed. "What makes you so sure?"

Ruby sighed angrily and bit her lip. "Because…" she began, talking slowly as though every word was painful to say, "I already checked it out…and I couldn't find any cause for the disappearances either. People kept disappearing, even while I was there."

"So what, you want us to help you out?" Dean said incredulously. "You can't seriously believe that we'd—"

"Sam already told me that you'd do it." Ruby cut in. "I talked to him when he left the room a little while ago."

Dean scowled. "Oh. Great. Fantastic. Then why exactly are you bothering to ask me at all?"

Ruby shrugged. "Sam told me to talk it out with you."

Dean let himself fall back against the mattress again. "What the hell…does he want us to bond or something?"

She shrugged. "I don't know." A small grin formed on her face. "How's your headache?"

Dean propped himself up on his elbows and glared at her. "It got worse the moment you stepped through the door."

"Fantastic." She said.

"I'm glad we had this talk." Dean replied, "Next time I'll just shoot you."

Ruby stood up. "Looking forward to it."

"Bye, Ruby."

"Nighty-night, Dean." She walked out, slamming the door extra hard behind her.

Dean shut his eyes and groaned. "Sammy…you're soo gonna get it…"

Meanwhile, in Pennsylvania—

"—so anyway I told him, I says, 'there's no way Mark would ever settle down with Betty.' You remember Betty, right son?" Frank Morgan demanded, leaning back in his chair. He peered through his spectacles at the man sitting across the table.

Jerry stared down at the newspaper he was reading, oblivious to his father's question.

"Jerry?" Frank prompted loudly.

Jerry's eyes snapped up and met his father's gaze. "Uh…sure, Pop." He said he said hurriedly, trying to remember what the question had been. "Betty? You mean that dark haired woman that Mark was always proposing to?"

Frank snorted. "Dark haired? She was a blonde, Jer. Platinum blond, with the bluest eyes I dang ever set eyes on."

"Yeah." Jerry said disinterestedly, looking back down at his newspaper. "She was real pretty, Pop."

"Pretty? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Mhmm…" Jerry muttered, completely engrossed in an article.

Frank continued, oblivious to his son's lack of attention. "I still can't believe he married her…she had that squeaky voice, remember? And everything she cooked tasted like cardboard…" he paused, suddenly deep in thought. "Oh wait, no, no, I'm thinkin' bout Eloise. You know, that girl that works over at the diner. Her mother just had a heart attack, you know."

"…oh?" Jerry muttered, absentmindedly filling the silence.

Frank nodded. "Poor old gal…and only fifty-five years old! That's a shame…that's a real shame, that is."

"Mmhhm…" Jerry muttered.

"I've been meaning to drop by sometime and see if her daughter needs anything, but every time I think about it—" He paused suddenly, listening.

Jerry glanced up. "What is it?"

Frank chuckled and shook his head. "Oh nothin'—Muffin's just scratching on the front door. I guess I forgot to feed her today." He reached for his cane and slowly stood up.

Jerry smiled slightly, putting aside the paper for a moment. "Do you want me to do it?"

"Nah, you just keep reading that paper." He said, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "I'm glad you came to visit, Jer, I don't want you doing anything."

"I don't mind—"

"Hush." Frank scolded lightly, his eyes twinkling. "I may be an old coot, but I can still manage to feed my own cat."

Jerry laughed. "Old? You're not old. What are you now, thirty-five? Thirty-six?"

Frank opened a cupboard and pulled out the bag of cat food. "This may come as a shock, son, but I'm eighty-seven."

"Gosh, really?" Jerry gasped in mock surprise, "I swear you don't look a day over thirty."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Don't make me chase you down and beat you with my cane…" he threatened, his grin widening.

"Wouldn't want that." Jerry said, "I'll just read the paper."

"Good." Frank replied, walking towards the door. "I'll be back in a minute."

One minute passed.

Two minutes…

Three minutes…

Jerry glanced at the door for what felt like the hundredth time. "Pops?" he called out worriedly, hoping for an answer.

Nothing.

Jerry waited twenty more seconds before he stood and walked to the door. He opened it and peered outside. No one was there. It was dark, and the streetlamps shone brightly, reflecting light off of puddles on the sidewalk. It was still raining, and a clap of thunder echoed through the night.

A calico cat poked her little head inside the door and rubbed up against his leg. He looked down at the cat for a moment, and then his gaze shifted to her empty food bowl. His worry spiked. "Pop?" he called out loudly, walking out into the rain. "Where are you?" he paused, the silence making his heart race faster. "Where are you?!"

Thanks for reading, PLEASE REVIEW and let me know what you think so far!