CHECKING IN

Sam finished his cereal and ran to the sink. Climbing up onto the stool, he carefully washed and dried his bowl and spoon and laid them on the counter.

Eagerly he ran to his watching brother. "Park?"

Dean ruffled his little brother's hair. "I promised, didn't I? Go get your coat, Sammy."

Five minutes later, the two boys were walking into the little park located just a block from their motel.

The little girl Sam had made friends with the day before was already there. The two exchanged loudly enthusiastic greetings and ran to the swings, where they were soon soaring high into the sky, trying to outdo one another.

The girl's mother, her nose stuck in what looked like a paperback romance, never looked up.

Finding a bench with a patch of sunlight playing on it, Dean sat back and relaxed, content.

This town had been great for them. Their neighborhood was safe. The motel was quiet and clean - no drunks or hookers - and the owner didn't seem to care what they did so long as they were quiet and the rent got paid.

And Sammy loved it. He got to play with kids his own age, be out in the fresh air - act like a normal 5-year-old for a change.

Dean usually couldn't wait to get back on the road after days of being stuck with babysitting duty. But this place? It was almost like being normal. He'd miss it.

There was a sudden movement off to the side and Dean jumped up, hand flashing to the knife underneath his jacket.

Relaxing, he grinned as a small black dog ran up to him.

"You scared the crap out of me, you little schmuck," he said to the dog.

With a friendly bark and doggy grin, the animal held out its paw.

Dean's eyes widened. "No way! You wanna shake?" He dropped to his knees and shook the proffered paw.

"Do you know any other tricks? Uh - sit!"

The dog barked again and sat back on its haunches, waving its front paws in the air.

Dean rubbed the animal's head enthusiastically. "Good dog! How about play dead. Can you play dead?"

The boy shouted with laughter as the dog fell onto its side, whining piteously. "Oh man, this is awesome. I gotta show Sammy."

Smiling, he looked over toward the swings.

"Oh, crap."

The little girl had gone. He could see her and her mom getting into their car on the other side of the park.

And his brother - sweet, trusting, friendly Sam - was talking to a stranger,

The dog chasing after, Dean tore over to his brother. Sam was staring up at the talking stranger - a tall, fair-haired man in jeans and jacket - green eyes wide with fascination.

Ignoring the man, Dean grabbed Sam's hand. "Time to go!"

"But we just got here!"

"Don't argue!" Dean hissed. "You know you're not supposed to talk to strangers!" He pulled his brother toward the street.

Sam started to protest. Dean hushed him with a quick glare.

"Good-bye, Sammy," the stranger called after them. "It was nice to finally meet you!"

Upset, but still determinedly friendly, Sam called, "Bye!"

"It was nice meeting you too, Dean!"

Surprised, the older boy glanced back. The stranger, dog panting at his feet, smiled at him. And his eyes flashed a luminous yellow.

Dean paled and jerked his protesting brother into a run. They ran all the way back to the motel. Once inside, he locked the door and windows, warded the entries, pulled the curtains closed, and settled his brother in front of the television.

He kept his gun within easy reach.

Tucking Sam into bed that night, Dean asked casually. "You remember that guy at the park, Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Did you tell him my name?"

The younger boy shook his head, yawned. "He already knew. My name, too. Maybe he's a friend of Dad's?"

"I don't think so," Dean said slowly. "What did he say to you?"

"He was kind of weird," Sam grinned sleepily. "He said that I was his favorite. He said one day I'm going to rule the world. Isn't that funny?"

Dean laughed; not very convincingly, but Sam didn't notice.

Can we go to the park again tomorrow, Dean?"

"We'll see. Maybe."

"I hope so. Maybe I can see Janie again before we leave." Sam snuggled contentedly into his pillow. "Night, Dean."

"Night, Sam."

Silent, thoughtful, Dean washed the dinner dishes and straightened up the rest of the room. He checked and re-checked the wards and the locks; peeked outside occasionally.

When the phone rang late that night, he was waiting up for it.

"Dad?"

"I think you need to come get us."