Thank you so much Jenjoremy for powering through this chapter for me, and Gredelina1 for being my partner in fic crime. Thank you also to everyone that read, reviewed, alerted and added the story to your favorites. I had a great time watching emails come in and I was thrilled to see so many new names with old friends.


Chapter One

2005 – Palo Alto

Sam shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a peg by the apartment door. He could hear Jessica singing along to the radio in the kitchen, and he smiled to himself at the evidence of her happiness. He walked along the hall on light feet and stood by the door for a moment, watching her hips sway to the music as she washed dishes at the sink. On the counter was the debris of her baking—cookies he guessed from the smells in the air.

He crept up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She shrieked with surprise and started in his hold, turning quickly with a scowl on her face.

"Sam!" she scolded. "You scared me, you ass."

"I'm sorry," Sam said, ducking his head to kiss her on the lips. He felt her smile against him and knew he was forgiven, though when he leaned back she morphed her features into a scowl again.

"Sorry is not going to cut it, mister."

Sam tried to look repentant. "What do I have to do to make it up to you?"

She turned her back and fumbled for something in the sink. Spinning quickly she smeared dish soap suds over his face and mouth.

"Ugh," Sam said, wiping at his lips and sputtering to clear the suds that he'd breathed in.

Jessica laughed. "That'll teach you."

Sam wiped at the subs on his face with a cloth and grinned at her. "It will. Am I forgiven?"

She pretended to consider for a moment. "I guess I could be persuaded to forgive you, if you promise to never do it again and vow servitude to me from now on."

"How about the servitude without the promise?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "You'd rather be my slave than miss the opportunity to scare the crap out of me again?"

"Yes. Servitude to you sounds like fun. I can think of all kinds of ways to worship you."

"You can, can you?"

Sam grinned and whispered in her ear, "All kinds of ways."

Jessica wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. "Okay, servitude it is. And my first command to you is that you stay home this afternoon and meet this guy that I've got coming over."

"A guy, huh?" he teased.

"A reporter actually."

Sam pulled back to look at her. "What's going on, Jess?"

"It's about the attacks," she said. "I heard there were reporters in town, so I got hold of one of them and arranged for him to come by. I thought it might help."

"Yes!" Sam said excitedly.

"Don't get your hopes up, baby. It might not make a difference to anything."

"But it might," Sam replied. "Maybe the pressure of press interest will make them look at the cases again."

The oven beeped then and she pulled away from Sam. "My cookies!" Grabbing a pot-holder from the hook beside the stove, she pulled open the door and leaned back as steam billowed out. She reached in for her tray of cookies and set the tray down on a cooling rack and switched off the stove before turning back to Sam who was smiling fondly at her.

He loved to watch Jessica bake. He supposed it was one of those things he'd missed out on growing up—watching his mom bake—since she'd died before he could remember, and so he appreciated the domesticity of it now. He didn't think he'd ever had a cookie that wasn't prepackaged until he met Jessica. His father definitely wasn't the sort to bake with him. Study help was more his forte. Still, Sam wasn't complaining. It was thanks to his father's encouragement and support that he had managed to get into Stanford.

"What's got you smiling?" she asked.

"I love you," Sam said simply.

She beamed at him. "Who wouldn't? Now, get your butt into the living room and clean up your crap before he gets here."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam said, giving her a lazy salute. He turned and hurried away before she could throw something at him.


An hour later, after Sam had tidied the lounge to Jessica's exacting standards, there was a knock on the door. Jessica rushed to answer it, and Sam stood to greet their guest. He heard Jessica chatting animatedly as they came along the hall and then they appeared in the doorway.

The man was younger than Sam expected, probably only a few years older than Sam himself, and he was dressed casually in jeans and a plaid shirt over a t-shirt.

Jessica gestured to Sam and said, "This is my boyfriend, Sam. Sam, this is Dean Aframian."

Dean started slightly at Jessica's introduction, and a flicker of something that could be pain crept across his face. He quickly schooled it into a smile though and held out a hand to Sam.

Sam shook it and said, "Sam Hydeker. Good to meet you."

"Would you like a coffee, Dean?" Jessica asked.

"I'd love one," he answered.

Jessica beamed and left Sam and Dean alone. Dean looked around the room, taking in the brightly colored pillows and throws, and said, "Nice place you got here."

"Thanks," Sam said. "It's all down to Jess. Before she moved in, I ate off packing crates and sat on a beanbag chair.

Dean laughed. "I know what you mean. I'm not a homemaker either.

Jessica came back into the room with a tray bearing coffee and a plate of cookies. She set the tray down on the coffee table and said, "Shall we sit?"

Dean took the lone armchair while Jessica and Sam took seats on the couch, sitting close with their hands linked.

Dean took a notebook from his pocket and said, "Hope you don't mind if I jump right in."

"Not at all," Sam said. "Ask whatever you need."

"I understand you witnessed one of the animal attacks," he said.

"Animal!" Sam scoffed.

"You don't think so?"

"I know it wasn't," Sam said. "That was no animal."

"Can you tell me about it?"

Sam took a breath and said, "I was walking to the library to meet Jess after her study group. It was late, around ten. I was cutting through Arboretum Grove and I heard something in the trees. It's not unknown for kids to meet there to make-out, so I didn't really pay attention at first, but then I heard a woman scream, so I followed the sound."

"You went towards the sound of screaming?" Dean asked. "Wouldn't it have made more sense to call the cops?"

"Maybe it would have," Sam said. "But who knows what could have happened to that woman before they got there. I followed the sound, and that's when I heard the voice. It was real low, a man's, like a growl, and it sounded threatening."

"Did you see anything?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "I was running, but whoever it was, they were faster. When I got there, the woman and man were gone."

Dean scribbled a note on his pad and turned the page. "And you're sure it wasn't an animal's growl you heard?"

"I'm certain," Sam said.

"You told this cops this?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sam said, a hint of anger in his tone now as he remembered the cops' mocking and inaction. "They don't believe me. They think I overheard some lover's tryst and got confused. But the day after it happened, they found a woman's body at the stadium, and that's only a mile away."

"And that was…"—he checked a page of his book—"Amanda Prior?"

Sam nodded stiffly. The name of the woman he thought he should have saved brought a lump to his throat. Perhaps if he hadn't hesitated, if he'd gone to the sound straight away, he could have done something to help—he might have been able save her life.

Dean leaned forward in his seat. "You think it was a human killing?"

"It definitely wasn't an animal."

"There's all kinds of animals out there," Dean muttered.

"I know," Sam said seriously. "I'm pre-law. I've seen evidence of all kinds of monsters in the world. You never expect it on your doorstep though."

"No, I guess you don't," Dean said thoughtfully. He tucked his notepad back into his pocket and picked up his coffee. Taking a sip he smiled and said, "This is great coffee."

"Have a cookie," Jessica encouraged.

Dean took a bite of one and sighed appreciatively. "Damn, these are good."

"It's all Jess," Sam said proudly. "Like I say, she's the homemaker here."

"Yeah, and you better appreciate it," she said, elbowing him. "I'll not have time when I am a famous lawyer."

"I do," Sam said seriously. He felt eyes on him and he glanced at Dean to see him watching them with an amused if little wistful expression.

"I should get going," Dean said taking a final sip of his coffee and setting it down on the table. "I need to meet with my partner to exchange information."

"Okay," Sam said. "Hey, if I give you my number, will you let me know if you find anything out?"

"Sure," Dean said easily.

Sam stood and grabbed the notepad beside the phone. He jotted down his number and handed it to Dean who tucked it in his pocket. Dean handed him a business card in return.

"Hold on!" Jessica said quickly. "Let me just grab something." She darted out of the room and came back a moment later with a baggie. She scooped the remaining cookies from the plate into the bag and held it out to Dean. "For you and your partner."

Dean looked surprised but pleased. "Thank you. That's really nice of you."

"You're welcome," she said.

Dean turned to Sam and held out a hand again. "It was good to meet you, Sam."

Sam smiled widely. "You too."

"You take care now," he said, and then walked to the door, Jessica following.

When she came back, she smiled at Sam. "That went well."

"It did," Sam agreed. "He was a good guy."

Jessica raised an eyebrow. "You can tell from that conversation."

Sam considered, realizing how strange it seemed, but then he nodded. "Yeah. I can."

Jessica shrugged and grinned at him. "Now… about that servitude…"

"Yeah?" Sam asked interestedly, a smile curving his lips.

She laughed. "Yeah, stud. I could use a study partner."


As Dean walked back to the car, he heard laughter coming through the open window of the apartment he'd visited, and he smiled at the sound. They seemed a good couple, happy. Sam especially seemed like a good guy. He'd tried to help the third victim, Amanda, even though he'd had no idea what he was walking into, and it was obvious that he was beating himself up about being too late. Dean, who saw everyone as monsters, hunters and civilians, thought Sam had the right mindset to be a hunter.

When Jessica had introduced him, Dean had felt the pang of sadness he always felt when presented with someone that shared his lost brother's name. It wasn't like it was an uncommon name, and it had happened so many times before that he'd lost count, but repetition didn't inure him to the pain. It was the name that had triggered the familiarity he'd felt when looking at Sam, too. It was as if he'd known Sam in a past life. It wasn't him though. It was never him. It could never be him. Sam was gone.

Sadness sweeping through him, Dean yanked open the Impala's side door, treating her with less care that he usually showed, and threw himself in behind the wheel. He sat for a moment with his hands draped over the steering wheel and sighed. He needed to get himself together before he got back to the motel and saw his father. He took a few deep breaths and shoved down what he was feeling so he could get on with what he had to do. Only when he was satisfied he was in control again did he start the engine and pull away from the sidewalk.

Their motel, the E-Z-Nites, was located a few miles away, and Dean was soon pulling up outside their small double room and cutting the engine. He grabbed the cookies Jessica had given him and climbed out.

He knew John would have heard him arrive, but the curtain didn't twitch which meant he was deep into something. Dean thought he knew what it would be. His suspicions were confirmed when he opened the door and saw John standing at the rear wall staring at a vast map of the USA with colored ink dabs dotted across it. This map was old and familiar now, as they had been carrying it around the country with them for eighteen years. Where other people had family photos on the walls, Dean and John had the map. It was the crux of their search for Sam's killer. Every lead and clue was marked on the creased and worn paper.

"Anything?" Dean asked.

John shook his head without turning.

Dean sighed. It wasn't like he'd really been expecting anything, and if there had been even a flicker of news, John would have called him, but it seemed his heart always hoped.

"How did you get on with the cops?" Dean asked.

"Huh?"

"The cops, Dad. You went to talk to them…" He trailed off as he understood. "You didn't go to see them."

"I've got time," John said. "It's early still."

Dean checked his watch. "It's past six."

John turned finally and looked at Dean, his dark eyes confused and tired. "It is?"

Dean nodded sadly. "Yeah, Dad."

There was a time in which John's eyes had burned with life at all hours, when John was a virile man that had seemed strong enough to carry the world on his shoulders. That was before though, before the search, before the map became their focus, before Sam died.

Now John was a shadow of who he had been, sustained only by his thirst for revenge against the creatures that had stolen his wife and son.

"I'm sorry," he said, rubbing a hand over his thickly stubbled jaw. "I'll go tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure," Dean said, making an effort to hide his disappointment. It wasn't John's fault he had lost track of time, caught up in his thoughts. It happened to Dean, too. Even if it didn't, he was in no position to blame John for anything—not after what he had done all those years ago.

"So, I met with a couple students today," he said, hoping to engage his father in their current hunt. "One of them was close when the third victim was attacked."

John looked interested. "Did they see anything?"

"No. He heard enough to make me think we're on the right track though. He said there was a man there, and he threatened the woman somehow. He is sure he heard a man's voice though, not an animal."

John moved to the table where all the notes and pictures they'd gathered for their current hunt were spread out. He rifled through the pictures and pulled out the one they'd pulled from the online news page of Amanda Prior. He tapped it with his index finger and said, "Vampires."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I think it's got to be."

The deaths were being reported as animal attacks because the throats were mangled, but John and Dean believed it was because the vampires were covering the bites marks. In the police and ME's reports Ash had hacked into for them, it said there was not enough blood found at the scenes to account for the amount the bodies had lost in the attack.

"Okay," John said tiredly. "You ask around tomorrow about any newcomers to the area. See if you can dig any suspects up. I'll go by the PD and do the same."

"Okay. No problem. I'll check in with the kids I spoke to today, too. They seemed cool."

John nodded distractedly. "Okay."

"Have you eaten anything?" Dean asked, glancing around the room for signs of a meal.

"No, I was waiting for you."

That was unlikely, Dean knew. John had more likely gotten lost in his thoughts and forgotten to eat again. Dean was going to have to take better care of him.

He raised the bag of cookies in his hand and said, "Today's witness' girlfriend gave us cookies. Have one of them while I clean up then we'll go out to get something."

"She gave you cookies?" John asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah," Dean said with a laugh. "Go figure."

He handed his father the bag and made his way into the bathroom, listening for the rustle that would tell his father had obeyed.

He remembered the days when John would have been on his ass to make sure he and Sam ate while he was gone. That hadn't happened in the longest time though. John remembering food and sleep and everyday care had all been lost with Sam. Now… now he was different.


"Eight ball, corner pocket," Dean said smugly.

"You cannot make that shot," the guy Dean was playing said scathingly.

Dean shrugged and bent over the table, lining up his cue and taking a couple practice passes. He grinned as he took the shot and the ball bounced from the cushion and rolled smoothly into the pocket.

Dean straightened with a grin on his face. "How about that?" he said. "Turns out I can.

He reached for the bills on the side of the table but the man slapped his hand down on them. "You cheated!" he accused.

"Being a better player isn't cheating," Dean said.

"And how come you were loaded a few minutes ago and now you're sober."

"Good metabolism for alcohol?" Dean suggested.

"You hustled me."

"You let yourself be hustled," Dean said as he brushed aside the man's hand, picked up his winnings and turned away.

He felt the disturbance of air as the man took a swing just in time to move out of range.

"What's going on, Dean?" John asked, materializing at his side.

"Nothing," Dean answered. "Just talking."

John stepped into the uncomfortably close in the space of Dean's would-be attacker and growled, "Touch my son and I will make sure it's the last thing you ever do."

The man stepped back and said with clearly false bravado, "Sure you will."

Dean caught John's shoulder and held him. "It's okay, Dad. We're done here. Right?"

"Sure we are," the man leered then strutted away, fists swinging at his sides.

"Are you okay?" John asked Dean intensely.

"I'm fine," Dean said easily, accustomed to John's reaction after years of it. Dean could fail to eat for days and John might not notice, but faced with an attack on his son, he was there in an instant. He was always attentive to danger even if other needs went unnoticed.

"Let's get another drink," John suggested.

Dean could smell the whiskey on his father's breath and knew, since he'd left him with a beer when he went to play pool, John had started on the chasers in his absence. He nodded though and followed John to the bar.

He was trying to gain the attention of the bartender who was chatting with a rowdy group of youngsters Dean guessed were from the college, when there was a wave of cooler air as the door opened and a couple walked in. Dean raised a hand automatically in greeting as he recognized Sam and Jessica.

John followed his gaze and the color drained from his face.

"Dad?" Dean said, concerned. "What's wrong?"

John blinked twice as though trying to clear his vision and said in an awed tone, "Sammy?"


So… What do you think so far? This story is a departure from my norm, as it's not as hunt focused as they usually are, and characters we know and love from canon are changed by circumstance here. It's been a tough but enjoyable write, and I'm really hoping you enjoy it.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx