Chapter 3 Garth

"So, what does Garth need help with?" Dean asked Sam the question as they drove north towards Grantsburg, Wisconsin. Garth Fitzgerald IV, their friend and fellow hunter, lived there in semi-retirement with his wife Bess. Dean and Sam hadn't seen him in several months, but he had called that morning to say that he might need some help. "We'll head out now" – Dean had told him without even waiting to hear what the help might entail – "send Sam the details," and they had packed up and left the bunker within fifteen minutes.

That was the sort of friend Garth was – if he needed help, Sam and Dean were not going to hesitate. Not that the friendship had always been that warm. The Winchesters' relationship with Garth had started out as one of incredulity, followed by annoyance, followed by acceptance, and finally – even Dean would have to admit – a strong affection. Garth was unique.

An unfortunate encounter with a werewolf had landed Garth in his semi-retired state. He still kept his ears out for news which he passed along the hunter network, but he no longer actively participated in hunting. Most of his time was spent running a half-way house of sorts. Dean referred to it as Garth's Home for Wayward Werewolves, but the official title was The Lupercal House. It was a place where humans who had been bitten by a werewolf might learn to survive in society, and hunters far and wide knew about the place. The farm in Grantsburg, which had belonged to Bess' father and had once hidden an extended family of werewolves, quickly gained as much notoriety in the hunter community as the most well-known hunter bars.

Sam and Dean had been completely appalled.

"Times are changing, guys, you gotta keep up," Garth said when the Winchesters approached him with fears for his safety. "Who else is going to find the new lycanthropes and know they need help? I'm not worried. Hunters are smart. They know we're trying to save people here, man."

"Hunters aren't smart," Dean had groused to Sam afterwards. "You know that – I know that. Why doesn't Garth know that? Hunters are dumber than hair, no offense…"

"Yeah, none taken."

"…and they're panicky, too. Some of those guys are just as likely to come shoot him as they are to come looking for help."

"Garth does know that, Dean. He just chooses to see the best. That's just Garth for you."

And, amazingly enough, it seemed to be working. Hunters knew that if they were tracking a werewolf and encountered a bitten victim, there was an option other than just killing them outright. They could be taken to The Lupercal House for evaluation and possibly even rehabilitation. And in fact, over the past several months, more than a few hunters had shown up at the farm with newborn werewolves bound and shackled in their vehicle. Garth and Bess took them in, assessed them, and did what they could to help them. They had several success stories – werewolves that could control their actions, control their transformations, pass as human. Of course, it didn't always work out.

"Is this something to do with one of his werewolves? I knew it was a bad idea. I told you, didn't I…?" Dean continued, but Sam held up his hand to forestall any more questions as he finished reading the email that Garth had sent. Dean looked disgruntled, but held his tongue, staring morosely through the Impala's windshield at the twisting two-lane road ahead. Sam was silent for several more seconds, his eyes darting rapidly back and forth over the screen of the phone he held, and Dean had just opened his mouth to begin asking questions again when his brother finally spoke.

"Wow. No, nothing to do with werewolves at all. It looks like vampires. But who killed them? And why would they just kill them like that and leave them…?"

"What the hell are you talking about, man?"

"Garth's picked up something around his area. Apparently, he's got ties with all the surrounding law enforcement. He tries to know someone in every county who will, and I quote, 'do me a solid by checking the morgue for fangs or whatnot and not asking any questions'." Sam grinned as he read the wording aloud. Garth was nothing if not resourceful. "So, these weird deaths have turned up..."

"Dead vampires, is that what you're saying?" Dean asked, still confused.

"Yeah, dead vampires, but more…" Sam explained that bodies had been found in pairs, each dead vampire was with an exsanguinated victim. "Not just random though, at least not with this last pair he found – the vamp and the vic knew each other. I mean, like really knew each other. The last pair was an ex-wife and the brand-new wife."

"So, each pair of bodies is a vamp and a blood donor, huh?" Dean mulled that over for a bit as he turned into the first gas station they had passed in a while. He got out of the car, his brow furrowed, walking to the back to insert the gasoline nozzle. Then he leaned against the passenger side of the trunk. "Where were they found?"

Sam swung his legs out of the car and stood, stretching widely and yawning.

"That's the other thing," he said. "They were found in an abandoned warehouse – no attempt to burn the vamp body or even really hide the bodies or anything."

The Winchesters stocked up on a few snack items and filled up coffee cups. They were soon back on the road, Sam having taken over driving duties. Dean perused Garth's email.

"That don't sound like hunters," he pronounced, and Sam shot him an exasperated glance. Dean looked slightly affronted. "I'm just saying – dead vamps usually equal hunters. Clearly this is something else."

"Yeah, Dean, I think that's why Garth called us."

It was late evening when Dean turned the Impala onto the gravel driveway that meandered past the farmhouse and on to the barn and various outbuildings beyond. He pulled to a stop just beside the stone walkway that led up to the front door. They walked to the porch and were just about to ring the bell when Dean noticed the neat little sign hanging on the door: THE LUPERCAL HOUSE. Dean sighed. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to for Sam to know what he was thinking.

"Let it go, dude. It's not why we're here."

Just then, the front door was flung open by a widely grinning Garth.

"Long time, no see, mis amigos!" He engulfed Dean and then Sam in a full-on hug and then stood aside and waved them into the farmhouse's front living room. "Bess is just cleaning up supper stuff, she'll be along in a bit. Have a seat guys. Man, it's great to see y'all."

"It's good to see you too, Garth," Sam said as he took a seat on the couch. Dean was still standing in the doorway, scrutinizing the room and the hallway, his gaze intense and alert. When Sam loudly cleared his throat, Dean's attention was drawn to the niceties at hand.

"Yeah, good to see you…" Dean's voice was still distracted, his eyes still searching for any signs of danger. Then he managed to bring his focus fully on Garth's face. What he saw there surprised him. Son of a bitch looks happy, like truly happy –

"Sorry, my bad, I'm just…you know what, never mind." Dean joined Sam on the couch. "Always good to see you, man," he finished, his voice warm. Garth beamed.

After that, they got down to business. The last two bodies had been found just a couple of days ago. Two previous victims had been found roughly six weeks before that.

"The Pine County sheriff's office is saying this last one was a "murder-suicide". Rock Creek police just called both of theirs 'accidental deaths'," Garth said.

"Murder-suicide?" Dean asked, incredulously. "So, first chick just stood there while she got all her blood drained, and then second chick managed to chop her own head off?"

"I guess the head chopping could have come first," Sam mused. "Then tear up your own neck…"

"Don't try to make it sound reasonable, dude…"

"I'm just saying – if I was a cop trying to make sense of these deaths, that's how I might lie to myself."

"Alright, seriously? That's the stupidest…"

As they argued, Garth looked from one Winchester to the other with glee.

"Man, I have really missed you guys," he said with a chuckle.

Just then, Bess appeared from the kitchen.

"Hello, Dean…Sam…"

The men started to rise to greet her, but she waved them off.

"I'll be back down in a bit. I have to get this little thing to bed first." That was when the brothers noticed that a child was clinging to the back of Bess' skirt, hiding behind her legs. Bess gently drew the tiny figure around in front of her.

"It's okay, sweetie. That's just Mr. Sam and Mr. Dean. You can go ahead and say goodnight." She nudged the child forward. The little girl looked to be about four years old. She had curly brown hair, and when she glanced up shyly, they caught a glimpse of warm brown eyes. As she hesitated, Garth turned towards her and held his arms out encouragingly. That was all it took. She hurried across the room, right past the scary strangers, and straight into Garth's embrace. She threw her arms around his neck, and he lifted her up, kissing the top of her head.

"Goodnight, sunshine," Garth said.

"G'night, Daddy," the little girl replied. She kissed Garth's cheek and gave him a tight hug. He set her on her feet and she rushed back across the room to Bess, who swept the child up into her arms.

"I'll be back," Bess said, addressing herself to Garth, not making eye contact with either of the Winchesters. He nodded at her reassuringly, then turned to face Sam and Dean. They were both staring at him as though he had just sprouted a second head.

"Daddy?" was all Sam could manage to say. Dean was speechless.