The non-descript Ford looked strangely out of place amid the beaten up trucks and sedans of the quiet town. Idling as nonchalantly along the sidewalk as he could manage, Bobby kept one eye on the two occupants of the car and headed carefully in their direction.

Seeing an opportunity opening, Bobby delved into his jeans' pocket for some change and veered towards the soda machine. He frowned as he stood before the large dispenser and peered at the reflection in the shiny plastic casing. Watching the two men talking and wishing he could see enough to try and read their lips in the reversed, blurry image Bobby entered his quarters carefully and made his selection.

Grabbing the ice cold can and chancing a quick glance directly into the car parked behind him, Bobby could feel his heart racing and it was all he could do not to flee back to the garage in a panic. Instead he somehow managed a casual lope back along the street and stepped inside the now closed garage doors.

"Well?" Dean demanded anxiously, standing from his weary lean against the side of his car and trying to read Bobby's sombre expression.

"No doubt about it." Bobby responded quietly, "Federal plates."

"Dammit!" Dean spat angrily, closing his eyes and lifting his hands to his head.

Ellen stared at Bobby in disbelief and then turned her attention to Dean, watching in concern as sorrow and dread washed over his suddenly pale face. "Hell …" She sighed cautiously, "You'd better get out of here …"

Dean flopped his arms by his side and spun to face her, pointing insistently at the open hood of the Impala.

"I'll finish the damned car!" Bobby argued quickly, "Take my truck. Get the hell away from these guys!"

Stunned and uncharacteristically quiet, Dean groaned and turned away from them, hanging his head with a loud sigh. He then took his phone from his pocket and entered the code, closing his eyes once more as he lifted the cell to his ear. "Sammy! We've got trouble ..."

Ellen took her eyes from Dean and shook her head in dismay as she met Bobby's equal concern. She then saw the doubt that crossed his face and felt adrenaline surge through her. "Don't even go there, Bobby Singer!" She hissed in warning, crossing the distance between them in a couple of angry strides.

"You sure …?"

"Shit, Bobby, remember who you're talking to!" Ellen retorted in restrained fury, "I know how to cover my tracks, goddammit!"

Bobby nodded slowly, offering only a shrug in response and stepping past her to head across to Dean. The younger man had finished his call and was staring in silence at the cell in his hand. Placing a gentle pat on Dean's shoulder, Bobby spun back to Ellen and tossed her a set of keys. "Take my truck and go get Sam."

Ellen nodded in quiet agreement.

"Dean - "

"I'm staying."

Bobby gasped slightly, "No, Dean, you need to - "

"I'm staying, Bobby." Dean repeated, a little louder. He lifted his head and met Bobby's worried frown with a determined shake of his head. "They want me more than Sammy … he'll have a better chance of getting clear." He looked away from the disbelief in the older man's eyes and nodded towards the Impala. "And two of us will finish this much faster."

Ellen hurried forward to add her voice to the protest but then saw the warning glare Dean shot her and swallowed back her response.

"Please." Dean affirmed sternly.

With a small nod, Ellen glanced at Bobby and then frowned as she peered through the workshop. Seeing the rear exit, she took a deep breath and hurried across the garage.

Without another word, Dean stepped round to the front of the Impala and collected one of the remaining engine parts from the nearby shelf. Frowning in concentration, he studied the newly cleaned component and leaned under the hood.

"Just typical, huh …?" Bobby offered quietly and stepped up beside Dean at the front of the car. "Just think of all the mystical bastards you've faced and won … and now it's the damned humans that are being a monster pain in the ass …"

Glancing briefly up at Bobby, Dean saw the timid smile he was offered and understood the older guy was simply trying to lighten the mood but it wasn't helping. "Yeah … guess I screwed us up real good, Bobby."

"And what in the hell does that mean?"

"I got complacent." Dean shrugged, "Made errors."

"You can't - "

"No?" Dean suddenly straightened and faced Bobby squarely. "How else would you explain it? Huh? No one else left a trail for them to find."

Bobby regarded Dean for a moment and saw the sadness and bone-weary exhaustion in his watery green eyes. "You can't take it all on like this, Dean … sometimes … hell, sometimes it's just damned bad luck." His lips tightened and then slowly smiled beneath his unkempt beard. "Not everything is on you …"

Dean scoffed dryly and dropped his eyes back to the task at hand. "Sammy been filling your head with his dewy-eyed nonsense, huh?"

"Not all of it is nonsense."

Dean appreciated the gentle wit in the response and could not help but smile. He nodded and leaned down to affix the component. "I guess …"

Sensing he might be getting somewhere, Bobby laughed easily and handed Dean another of the final few parts to reattach. "And he's right about taking a break every once in a while … no one can keep going the way you do." He tapped the hood of the Impala lightly, "No matter how well you seem to be doing, too much stress and you blow a gasket."

And at that Dean laughed gently, shaking his head in mock dismay. "Ooh, low blow, dude!" He grinned up at Bobby and then suddenly sobered, swallowing back the unexpected lump in his throat as he beheld his friend's concern. "Yeah … I hear you …"

"Good."

"You're getting soft in your old age, Bobby."

Bobby gasped, "Hey! Less of the 'old', you little - "

Dean frowned at the abrupt halt and stood up straight, watching Bobby's worried eyes darting around the garage. And then he heard it; the hiss and crackle of interference on the radio and then the silence of lost signal. A gentle flicker of the overhead lights then made the pair of them both duck instinctively and Dean stepped a little closer to Bobby. "Oh, this can't be good…"

Husking a groan in response, Bobby followed Dean to the trunk of the Impala and took the salt-loaded gun he was offered. He then heard noise outside in the town and frowned as he headed for the door.

Dean slipped a silver hip-flask into his pocket and loaded a few salt rounds into his own shotgun. He watched as Bobby carefully opened the wide garage door and peered cautiously through the small crack. Wind suddenly picked up beyond the aluminum doors and Dean tensed as he heard it screeching overhead. And then he frowned as he focused on the strange high-pitched sound and was unsure if it was caused by the wind.

"Crap …"

Intrigued, Dean closed the trunk lid and hurried over to Bobby. Straining to peer over the older man's shoulder and through the small opening, he watched the flock of black birds that swept down from somewhere above them and flew towards the centre of the town.

There must have been twenty or so of the crow-like creatures and they suddenly halted, swarming in a whirlpool-like pattern at the edge of the quiet road. His gaze falling from the birds to the familiar blue-grey sedan, Dean's frown deepened. "What the hell …?" He then gasped as Bobby swung the door wide and stepped out into the forecourt. About to protest, he saw Bobby raise a hand to still him and backed down obediently, curiosity and dread making his heart race.

Bobby squinted as he peered out into the fading light and watched the birds land one by one on the car they had targeted. He looked in on the occupants and held his breath as they suddenly began to panic, their bodies darting about and rocking the car back and forth. Sure he could make out frightened shouts from within the vehicle, Bobby then heard the engine then roar into life.

The birds lifted into the air rapidly as the sedan reversed from its parking space and the squeal of skidding tyres pierced the quiet evening before the car made off at speed. Flocking together, the birds turned and ascended above the buildings and headed North. With a groan of dismay, Bobby watched them disappear from sight and his shoulders sank. "Oh no … Sam!"

The sudden urgent knocking tore him from his book and Sam flicked his head up towards the door. Frowning, he clambered from the bed and padded across the small motel room to unlock the door.

"Sam!" Ellen tumbled into the room and grabbed his arms tightly. "We gotta go!"

"What?" Sam gently shrugged free of her grip and moved back from her. "Where?"

"Anywhere but here." Ellen replied breathlessly and peered around at the belongings scattered across the furniture. "Why haven't you packed? Dean told you to - "

"It's okay." Sam smiled quickly and reached out to place his hand on Ellen's shoulder. "I know what Dean said, but it'll be okay."

"Hey?" Ellen frowned up at him in confusion and watched him nod gently. "Are you stoned, or something? The damned feds are - "

"I know."

Unable to fathom how Sam could be so calm, Ellen watched him smiling and nodding in reassurance. She stepped closer, about to continue to convince him otherwise, but a gentle knock at the door interrupted. Instinct made her reach behind her to touch the pistol snugly concealed in the waist of her jeans and she took a few cautious steps towards the door.

Turning back as she reached the door, Ellen saw that Sam was now suddenly serious and her heart was thudding against her chest as she went up onto tiptoes to peer through the tiny spyhole in the door. Gasping slightly, she beheld the strangely disfigured image of the suited man and sprang back from the door as if it had stung her. "Shit! They're here!"

"It'll be okay."

"What?" Ellen spun at him, gaping open-mouthed at the return of his gently smiling calm.

Sam gave a small shrug and stepped forwards, reaching past her to grasp the bolt and unlock the door.

"Sam!" Ellen blocked his path and pressed her hands into his chest, moving him backwards. "Are you crazy?"

"No." Sam held her astonished gaze for a moment and the smile fell from his mouth with a weary sigh. "I'm tired." He closed his eyes and let his head flop down, groaning softly. "I'm tired of running."

"What?" Ellen let her hands slide from his chest and then grabbed his arms, giving him a rough shake. "Listen to me! Snap out of it! You need to get out of here!" She saw his head shaking in dispute and gave him another, stronger shake. "Sam!" Another knock at the door made her flinch and she could well imagine the Fed preparing to burst into the room at any second.

"Not this time."

Ellen watched Sam lift his head and something inside her froze as she met his weary but determined eyes.

"We can't escape them forever." Sam urged quietly, "I'm not running any more." He carefully shrugged from her grasp and gave her a quick, apologetic smile as he moved her aside and slid back the bolt.

"Sam, no!" Ellen breathed, retreating back into the room as she watched him open the door.

Tbc ...