I apologize for the long wait between chapters. I thought I was close to finished with this after I posted chapter three, but it turns out I was wrong. And then I got sick.

Hope you all had a safe and restful holiday season.

xxxx

Chapter 4

xxxx

Dean had to hand it to Luke. Even when he was pissed—and scared—he was willing to listen. After he'd finished bawling them out.

Being dressed down by the older man had smarted. Because he'd been right. And Dean wasn't going to lie about that—at least, not to himself. As much as he hated to admit it, Dean hadn't thought about the consequences to the Sweeds or anyone else, for that matter, if he and Sam were spotted. He'd only thought about how easy it would be for the two of them to get away. He hadn't considered what it would mean to those they left behind.

And thinking about those consequences now made his heart stutter in his chest.

Dean knew that in too many ways his world was Sam. It had been the two of them (three before, but even then…) for so long that he had a tendency to lose sight of what was beyond sometimes. He interacted with that "beyond" in the girls he slept with, in the victims he saved; but for the most part those contacts were fleeting, people passing through his world and back into their own with very little lasting impact.

There were exceptions, of course. Bobby had always been a connection to that "other" world—that world Sam had always longingly referred to as "normal." Not that Bobby was normal himself. But he seemed to exist in a sort of in-between state that allowed him to cross back and forth without much effort.

And over the years Dean had come to see the Sweeds as a place in "normal" where he and Sam could visit. Safe, easy. They'd been touched by Winchesters' own world and its monsters once, but largely—mostly—they were apart. And as much as he loved the Sweeds, they sometimes seemed to belong so completely to that other existence that they weren't even real.

But they were real – obviously. And, really, part of his world in a way that made his stomach twist thinking about the consequences to them if the feds realized that they'd been harboring two wanted felons… Luke disgraced, possibly fired or worse. Jo…. The boys….

Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes. What the hell had he been thinking? No wonder Luke had been livid. It was a wonder he hadn't told them to hit the road, don't let the door hit you on the butt on your way out, thank you very much.

Luke, though—once he'd finished verbally smacking Dean around— had seemed content to trust that he'd been heard, taking his own turn at listening while the Winchesters explained their reasons for coming.

When they'd finished, Luke had sat for a long time, brow creased as he thought.

Sam and Dean let him work it through, patient in spite of themselves, while the older man came to a decision.

Dean chewed on the side of his thumb, watching Luke.

"If you were going to follow up on this, what do you need to do?" Luke finally asked.

Sam glanced at Dean. "Usually we try to talk to local law enforcement," he offered with a rueful grin at Luke, who returned it somberly. "Look at the scene." Sam hesitated. "The body."

Dean nodded his agreement when Luke looked at him. "We try to talk to the family, too," he added, noting the way Luke's jaw tightened at that. "Research what we can once we've gotten some basics."

"I don't want you talking to the Santoses," Luke said grimly.

Dean and Sam exchanged looks.

"I'll tell you what they said, but I don't want you…"

"Luke," Sam said gently, "we know it's invasive. And we hate it. But a lot of the time it's the only way to get information that…"

"I can get you whatever information you need," Luke cut him off.

Sam opened his mouth to try again, but paused when Dean shook his head at him.

Let it go. For now.

"OK," Sam said instead. "Thanks."

Luke nodded. He clasped his hands in front of him, not meeting the eyes of either Dean or Sam. "I can't… I can't give you access to those places. I…"

"Don't worry about it," Dean said. "We can.…" He stopped. "Well, maybe, the less said about that the better."

When Luke's head came up there was a genuine if almost imperceptible smile on his lips. "Yeah," he agreed wryly.

xxxx

Luke hadn't given them access to the site where the body had been left, but he had told them where it was when he'd filled them in on what the official investigation was doing.

"I doubt there's anyone out there, but y'all still be careful, you hear? I don't know where all the feebies are."

Their "yes, sirs" had been automatic as they'd slid into the car.

There hadn't been anyone out there, just strips of yellow tape attached to stakes hammered into the hard-packed earth.

Sam crouched down next to the patch of scrub grass that still bore the signs of having been crushed under the weight of a body. He studied the vegetation and the ground below it, shifting blades of grass with a pencil.

"I can see some indications of blood on the grass, but nothing on the ground. So. Not killed here, but dumped."

"I guess the feds got one thing right," Dean drawled, jiggling the EMF reader as he walked carefully around the site. The lights jumped sluggishly, and Dean shook it again.

"Anything?" Sam asked, standing up to squint at his brother in the harsh sun. He huffed out a breath, lower lip protruding, trying to direct the air up to unstick his hair from forehead. One strand moved sluggishly, then resettled. Stepping over the police line, Sam used both hands to shove his hair out of his face.

"Not really." Dean was frowning at the instrument in his hands. "I don't think." He shook his head. "It flares a little, but…nothing for sure."

Sam nodded. It was about what they'd expected. If this was just the dump site, any spirit that might be involved wouldn't have been around long enough to leave much of a signature for the EMF to pick up. He sighed, wiping at a trail of sweat creeping down the side of his face.

Dean arched an eyebrow at him. "Those shorts keeping you cool?" he asked.

"Shut up," Sam shot back. "You're making me hot in those jeans and boots."

Dean smirked. "Please, Sammy," he said coyly. "We're brothers."

"Shut up," Sam grumbled again. The heat was making him grouchy. And with Dean's one concession to the heat being to forego his flannel over-shirt, his brother's lack of reaction to the temperature seemed patently unfair to Sam.

Sam grimaced at the slash of a dry branch across the back of his knee, bending down to rub soothingly at the scrape. He was wearing boots with his shorts – always a good look – because he'd known they'd need to tramp through some underbrush on the way to the site. But at this point he wasn't sure that the damage to his legs was worth the "cooler" attire. He sighed, wishing to himself that he'd listened when Dean had told him he'd regret the shorts—after he'd finished laughing uproariously at Sam.

"Big brother always knows best," Dean scolded him mockingly, as if he were reading Sam's mind.

"Shut up," Sam mumbled for a third time, reduced now to little brother rejoinders.

Dean grinned and moved ahead of Sam as they made their way back to the car, trodding down a path for Sam to step in behind him.

Sam smiled at the back of his brother's head, Dean's shoulders swinging jauntily as he stomped his way along.

"So. The body?" Sam asked.

Dean made a tsking noise and threw a glance over his shoulder at Sam. "Yeah."

"Tonight?"

The sun was on its way down, arcing slowly toward the horizon.

"Yeah."

xxxx

"There you are!" Jo spoke to the dog as he dashed into the kitchen ahead of her youngest and oldest nephews. She paused, giving the tall young man at the back of the pack a stern glance even as she scrubbed D-dog behind his ears. "You didn't take him with you, did you, Michael?" she asked. "I was worried!"

"Sorry, mom," the kid said. "Tommy asked and…" He didn't have to finish his sentence. She knew how it ended. The dog headed from her to the dish of water on the floor, drinking thirstily.

"Yeah," she sighed, putting her arms around the younger boy who was giving her a hug. She bent to kiss the top of his head and then pulled back sharply. She just managed to keep herself from pushing Tommy away.

What is that smell? she didn't say.

"How was your day?" she asked instead, trying not to breathe through her nose. He reeked of sweaty prepubescent-boy, muddy lake water and an underlying musky smell that was vaguely…

"Did you know they have skunk at camp?" Tommy demanded. He was still subdued for him, but no longer the shell of a boy who'd left that morning.

Jo blinked.

"He doesn't have his smell glands anymore, but he was really cool and I fed him, like, a ton of carrots."

Jo looked at Michael, not particularly happy to hear any of this.

Michael was getting himself and his brother a glass of water and answered her unspoken question without even turning around. "The owners found him this spring. They think he may have been a pet or something that got released, because he was pretty tame and already descented. He's kind of a mascot."

"He's real friendly, Aunt Jo," Tommy tried to reassure her, "but D-dog really didn't like him, did he Michael? We had to put him in the car just so I could get Stinky out of the cage and pet him. He…"

"He's had his shots," Michael said quickly. "And I made him put him…"

"His name is Stinky," Tommy reiterated, because he seemed to think his aunt hadn't reacted to the name with the appropriate level amusement. Jo smiled tightly at him.

"… back in the cage," Michael continued, "as soon as I realized Tommy'd actually taken him out."

The younger boy was reaching for the fridge, and Jo grabbed him by the collar before he could touch the handle of the refrigerator.

"Go take a bath," she told him, tugging the boy away from any potential contact with food and aiming him toward the door out of the kitchen.

"But I'm hungry," he whined, struggling slightly.

"I'm going to rename you 'Stinky,'" she told him. "Bathe first. Eat second."

"Aw, man," he protested.

"I think, 'yes, ma'am,' is the response you're looking for," she said with a raised eyebrow.

His lip thrust out, but he still slouched in the correct direction.

"Tommy," she warned when he didn't respond verbally.

"Yes, ma'am," he muttered

She ignored the rolled eyes, calling it a win for the moment. But hating the slump of his shoulders as he moved to obey. She bit her lip. "Dean and Sam are here," she offered.

"They are?!" Tommy flung himself back toward her, and she stiff-armed him away when he got close enough to smell again.

"Yes," she responded, trying to angle her nose away from him. "They're out right now, but they'll be home in time for supper."

"Yea!" Tommy cried. He twirled to his brother. "Michael! Sam and Dean are here!"

"I heard, squirt," his brother laughed, abandoning the water glasses he'd filled. He grabbed his little brother, and with a grin at his aunt, bent suddenly, heaving the boy over his one shoulder. Tommy was already giggling and struggling, and he shrieked when his brother slapped him smartly on the rear end. "Let's go get cleaned up."

xxxx

Jake got back from Daisy's house and the impromptu vigil among the local teenagers while Tommy was in the shower, and when the Winchesters straggled back in not much later, they'd asked him what questions they could about the girl and her family. They filed what he said away for the moment, both knowing they would need to sit down with Luke sometime soon.

They had dinner that night without Luke. But given everyone else's presence and energy at the table, his absence was barely noticed.

Tommy chattered determinedly at Dean and Sam, never mentioning the body or asking exactly why the Winchesters were there. The family let their youngest member set the tone for the evening, indulging and teasing until he'd worn himself out and was dragged upstairs to bed. Dean knew from the set of Jo's shoulders that she was planning on telling Tommy what had happened to Amelia when she tucked him in. He didn't envy her that job.

"So why are y'all here?" Michael asked the question as soon they heard the sound of footfalls above them.

"We read about the murder. We think it might be out kind of thing," Dean answered easily. They'd long ago stopped trying to hide what they did from Michael and Jake.

Puzzled, Michael sat forward with a quick glance at his brother. Jake mirrored his posture. "Why?"

Sam was just finishing up filling them in when Jo re-entered the family room.

Conversation stopped as Michael asked, "How is he?" Jake had told Michael about Amelia briefly while Tommy was still getting cleaned up.

Jo just shook her head, stopping next to Michael and running a hand gently over his hair. "How are you, sweetheart?" Michael and Amelia had run in the same social circle in school, even if they hadn't been close.

He didn't answer beyond leaning more heavily into his aunt and letting his eyes slide closed while she petted him.

"There's going to be a prayer vigil at St. Anne's tomorrow evening," she said gently. "Do you think you can get away from camp again?"

She tilted her face down toward him, and he shrugged uncertainly. "I don't know. I'll ask." He took a deep breath and shook himself. "I should probably get going." He pushed himself up from the couch.

"Honey, can't you just call? I hate for you to be doing all this driving, especially at night."

He smiled. "I wish I could, but I'm in charge of church in the morning, and I can't just dump that on someone at this point. I'm sorry." He gave her a quick, hard hug. "I'll be careful." He lifted a hand to Sam and Dean as he headed toward the door, knuckling the top of Jake's head as he went by. "See y'all."

Jo trailed after him unhappily. "Call when you get there?"

A nod and a last kiss, and he was gone.

Jo sighed. "Well," she said heavily. "We've got church ourselves in the morning. Jake, sweetie, you about ready to call it a night?"

To Dean's surprise the kid nodded and got to his feet. "Yeah. Night," he said to the Winchesters.

"Good night," they both said.

When Jo and Jake were gone, Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean. "Give it an hour?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

xxxx

Dean snagged the keys for the Sweeds' truck from their mudroom hook as he and Sam eased out of the house. An old pickup parked in the shadows was much less likely to be noted or commented on by the locals than the Winchesters' easily recognizable Impala. Dean whispered an apology to the car as they glided past her.

"She'll forgive you," Sam said dryly.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Doesn't mean I like hurtin' her feelings this way any better."

Sam had no comment.

Fake IDs and a smooth story weren't going to do them any good getting them into a place where they were known. An old fashioned B&E was order of the day.

Their hopes that the security system for the morgue would be fairly easy to evade were fulfilled, and Dean sighed in relief when the window he was opening slid up without a resultant pealing of alarms. He sent Sam a brief thumbs up where his brother was crouched at the corner of the building, having cut power to the security panel. Sam was at the window in a heartbeat, hand at Dean's heel, giving him a "helpful" boost across the sill.

Dean bit back a yelp as the added momentum almost toppled him onto the floor. He caught himself, though, and slid out of Sam's way as his brother slithered into the room. They took a moment, both crouched against the wall, to check-out the dimly lit space in front of them.

Sam pointed toward the wall across from them with the line of refrigerated drawers. "There," he whispered.

"Yeah," Dean sighed unhappily.

Dean started tugging open drawers while Sam crossed to the M.E.'s desk, digging through files and papers before unearthing the one they were looking for.

"Number 5," Sam said, just as Dean was drawing the appropriate tray out.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Here she is." He swallowed uncomfortably. Sam stepped up next to him and took a similar uneasy breath.

Squaring his shoulders, Sam drew back the sheet that covered the body, while Dean pulled the EMF reader out of his pocket. He flipped it on and the thin, rising squeal of the gadget made both Winchesters startle slightly. Quickly, Dean switched off the sound, and they watched the lights along the top of the little device flash and flicker insistently.

"Jackpot," Dean said quietly.

xxxx