Almost five states away, in a motel that was a near replica of the one the siblings were in, their father sat in silence, lost in thought. It was during such nights, nights with no activity, that the loneliness really came home to roost. It was only then that John allowed himself to feel the losses he had suffered. He missed his Mary; it was an ache, ever present but no longer debilitating. What was debilitating, was how much he missed his children; all four of them. That was why he tried not to think about them too much, choosing instead to concentrate on his mission, on his quest to save them, but during quiet moments like this his emotional guards fell away and the void in his heart made itself known. He hadn't seen any of his children in a while. He had intentions to. In fact, he had actively been trying to get to them since he'd sent them on the poltergeist job, but something always got in the way.

He realised sadly that he didn't even have a picture of Emily, heck, even the few pictures he had of Sam and Dean were dated. The very latest was one in which they were ten and fourteen respectively. Picture taking opportunities had not really presented themselves frequently in their nomadic life, but if John was being truthful, he had to admit it was he who was picture shy, and his hangups had rubbed off on his sons. He vowed that the next time he saw his children, he would take them, with his sons most likely kicking and screaming, to one of those photo booths and take pictures with them. He smiled as he thought about how each of the three would react to that. Dean would shield his siblings and probably begin an exorcism, Sam would look at him in wide-eyed shock and suspicion and Emily would watch them all in puzzlement wondering why everyone was making a big deal out of something so everyday.

In the silence, John also vowed that when all this was over, his four children would all get together. Adam needed to meet his siblings, and it would be great for the others too. Feeling a little better, he looked down at the information he'd collected. With a wry smile, he fleetingly thought about how he needed to stop tearing pages out of library books when he got tired of writing things down, and embrace technology instead. That would make Sam happy.

The bloody colt was proving elusive so he was reading up on any demon lore he could find to see if there were other ways of killing Azazel, and if he could figure out which evil s.o.b. was after his daughter. John had learnt with shock and annoyance, that Azazel wasn't the demon that wanted to kill Emily. It appeared like there were two factions in the demon world. He had been hoping he could end both quests with one dead demon. Uh, well, he'd always known life sucked, so that wasn't new. He had two demons to kill. Along the way, he'd destroy any monster he found. He rechecked his gun, turned off the muted TV and the lamp on the nightstand and with a sigh lay down on the second bed. Sleep though much needed was slow in coming.

Unlike the Winchesters, Gray encased in Nathan Wood's body didn't need to rest. He drove through the night headed to Gentryville. Back to where Emily Avis Raines had come from. Gray did not question why his master wanted the Emily girl. He didn't care. He was just glad to be out of that hell hole, literally speaking! He knew it was unusual for a demon as young as him to be enlisted for anything, no matter how minor. He also knew that the other demons had looked at his appointment with unconcealed envy and hate. He didn't care about that either. Demons weren't known for their support and goodwill anyway.

He had started the search as soon as his master had left. Slacking on this job was not punishable with a small slap on the wrist as his predecessor, Damien had fatally learnt. Using the manmade resources Damien had had but not used, Gray had traced the girl to Brandon with relative ease. Then the trail had seemingly run cold. In the general vicinity of this town, she had suddenly stopped using her credit cards and her phone had been switched on and off intermittently for a few weeks before it had been turned off permanently.

Gray had not been deterred. Using a picture he had pilfered from a pink haired girl in San Francisco, who hadn't heard from his mark in ages, Gray began asking around Brandon. He had learnt that Emily had worked two completely different jobs in the town and had even rented an apartment. He was going to follow the jobs as leads because they were more likely to go somewhere, when he'd found out from an annoyingly chatty woman that the day the girl had checked out of her apartment, was the day she had been admitted to Sanford Hospital. He'd instead decided to go with that lead. Hospitals kept much better records than diners anyway.

At the hospital, he had been thwarted by the overly ethical, unbending nurse he found on duty. She'd adamantly refused to give him information on the girl despite seeing his license. She'd argued that he was not a law enforcement officer and his license held no power. He had felt a rage so deep that only his master's words not to draw undue and unfavourable attention to his meat-suit, had kept him from tearing out the unyielding woman's heart where she sat. He could not afford to burn his disguise.

His master really couldn't have chosen a better skin-puppet. Nathan was handsome and suave without being overbearing. He was charming and engaging and most people, responded to him. Children and animals didn't seem to like him very much though, but Gray supposed it wasn't the meat-suit's fault as much as it was Gray's. After all, children and animals were more perceptive to the paranormal. Aside from his looks and personality, Nathan was also a registered PI who had both a BSIS (Bureau of Security and Investigative Services) exposed firearms permit, and a concealed weapons permit and could therefore carry a concealed gun. Packing heat was not so important to Gray, since his powers though not as formidable as other demons' powers far outstripped a gun but carrying a firearm for some reason gave people pause and gave an added sense of importance to the puppet he was wearing.

With an annoyed growl at the woman who remained completely unmoved, Gray had commandeered Nathan out of the hospital and into the bathroom of a nearby convention centre where he made him cuff himself inside a stall before head-butting the wall to knock him out. Gray then exited his meat-suit in a burst of black smoke.

The woman at the front desk had been impenetrable to him; he wasn't strong enough to get into someone with no chink in the armour. Damn, he hated emotionally stable humans! So instead Gray had travelled through the vents of the hospital until he'd found a good candidate. Wearing the new body of the cute nurse with serious body image issues, he'd returned to the front desk.

"Can I use the computer for a minute?" he'd asked using the nurse's honeyed voice. The other woman had smiled brightly and moved over. He'd quickly typed in Emily's name and hit dividends immediately.

The girl had been treated for self-inflicted cuts to her arms. Of course Gray knew a reaver had had a hand in it. The imagined wordplay had made him chuckle lightly. He'd read on. The girl could have signed herself out of the hospital as she was legally an adult, but because her mental state had been in question, she had been signed out under the care of a guy named Bobby Singer on condition that she regularly check in with her psychiatrist who had been named as Jim Murphy. Both men's addresses were duly listed. Gray had written down both addresses, admiring his temporary meat-suit's neat penmanship, then he'd smiled his thanks at the first woman and walked away. He'd abandoned the nurse's unconscious body in a janitor's closet and returned to the bathroom where he had left Nathan.

The man had been awake, which was amazing given how hard the blow to his head had been, and he had been trying to kick down the door of the stall. If Gray had been just a minute longer, his rather confused but pissed off meat-suit would have been discovered by the janitor who had at the moment been heading into the bathroom with a wary look on his face. Gray had forced his way back into Nathan and unlocked the cuffs, just as the janitor opened the door.

Feeling jubilant with the information gathered, Gray had immediately headed out to find Bobby Singer. To his utter disbelief, the address was fake. Well, actually, the address existed, but the abandoned warehouse that occupied it was clearly not this Bobby Singer's home. Gray had been pissed to say the least. Jim Murphy's address was just as fake. It was an empty lot.

Gray had been at a loss. There were three Robert Singers, five Robert Songs … he had checked just in case … and two Jim Murphys in the phone book, and he was fairly certain the names given at the hospital were fake anyway. What the hell? Who were these people who had signed the kid out of the hospital and where were they hiding her? Why were they even hiding her? Who was she to them? This kid wasn't supposed to know or have anyone devoted enough to help her like that; everyone that could have, was supposed to be dead.

Having no choice, and having wasted too much time already, Gray had gone to the office Emily had worked at. Another dead end. They had her information on file, but most of it was not helpful. He knew she had vacated the apartment so that address wasn't relevant, the phone listed was turned off, the social security number was pointless, and the listed next of kin were Jackie and Wade whose legal guardianship had ended the day Emily had turned eighteen, but whom she had then given durable power of attorney. Gray had to admit that if nothing else, the girl was smart.

Fortunately, that office visit hadn't been completely useless. He had gotten Jackie and Wade's address. He'd headed back to Brisbane, San Francisco. Another dead end. The girl had called the couple once every month, until three months back. However, they were not overly concerned about this because she had informed them she was going backpacking with friends in Europe for the better part of the year. Apparently, she was on a find-yourself quest, which they thought was very brave of her. Gray had wanted to bash Jackie's head against the wall until her brains stained that sunny yellow room, but he had restrained himself. The two were not lying to him. He knew it was the kid that had lied to them. He'd checked. She'd never left the country. If she had, then she had to have used a false passport. That seemed highly unlikely. The kid was not that sophisticated and besides, she didn't have a reason for using fake identification. He didn't think she had any concept of just how much danger she was really in, he didn't believe she knew that she was wanted by a demon. Still, he wondered why she had lied to the undynamic duo. Was she hiding something?

He had also learnt from Jackie and Wade that Emily had originally left home on a find-my-biological-parents quest, and had only decided to go on the find-myself quest when she'd failed to locate them. Gray had dismissed that information, not finding it prudent, but now he had to wonder. The kid was smart, no doubt about that, but she was naive, and yet she had suddenly pulled off a disappearing act when all the events prior her hospitalization pointed to a rather clueless teenager, who had used her credit cards and left a paper trail so easy to follow, it bordered on ridiculous. So either she was dead, or she had somehow met someone who had clued her in and helped her. Why else had Damien failed to find her with his scrying when he had been able to find her once before? Gray knew the kid's adoptive parents and her birth mother were dead, the souls of two of them roasting downstairs, but he suddenly realised something … the girl must have found her biological father!

As Gray had raged about that, he'd also reached another conclusion. Whoever the kid's birth father was, the man was aware of the supernatural world and had enough knowledge to not only keep her alive, but also to conceal her. He also obviously had enough grit to take her in even though she had a target on her back and was likely to bring monsters to his door. It seemed very likely that the man was one of these hunters Gray had heard the other demons talk about when he had been downstairs. Some demons spoke of hunters with fear, others spoke with hate filled bravado, but they all consistently spoke with grudging respect. And there were hunters whose names were outright legendary. With Gray's luck, this kid was likely the spawn of one of those! Gray had then began to realise that he was fucked either way. Whether he found the kid or not, he was most likely not getting out of this intact.

Jackie and Wade didn't know who Emily's father was. The kid had never told them. That information had made Gray so angry, he could have cursed the sun out from the sky. Just his luck! So Gray was going to have to track down Emily's adoption records, which wasn't going to be easy, then use information from those records to track down her birth records. And that was even assuming the father's name was on record. From his master's accounts, Gray knew the girl's birth mother had been a bit of a loony. All that meant one thing … Bureaucracy! Aside from hell, there was probably nothing Gray hated more than bureaucracy.

Before taking the bureaucratic road, he decided to return to Brandon and check out the diner. He didn't really think he was going to find anything there, he just didn't want to leave any stone unturned. Maybe, if despite all his efforts, he still failed to find the girl, his master wouldn't be too angry.

So back to Brandon and to the diner he drove. A waitress whose breasts were threatening to fall out her blouse came up to him. Her name tag read Wendy.

"I need to talk to your manager!" he told her using his harassed officer voice. She walked away, wriggling her hips more than necessary. He rolled his eyes and waited, leaning insolently against the counter. She returned and led him round back to the manager's office, which was really a cubicle with an inflated sense of worth calling itself an office! The manager, Carl got up to greet him and before sitting back down, he adjusted his pants over his paunch.

"How can I help you Mr…."

"Wood. Nathan Wood. I'm looking for a girl, Emily Avis-Raines. She worked here before."

"Yes she did, but she isn't here anymore. What is this about? Is she in trouble? Are you some kind of cop?"

"I'm a private investigator. I'm looking for her on behalf of her parents. They're worried about her. They've not heard from her since she left home."

"She told me her parents were dead." Carl said suspiciously.

"Well, she lied. Most runaways do that."

Carl gave Nathan a hard look and for a minute Gray thought the man could see him through his meat-suit. "So what exactly do you want from me?"

"Information. About where she might have gone, or who she might have gone with."

Carl knew runaways lied. He also knew teenagers run away from home all the time for all sorts of reasons, many of them non-issues. However, Emily had struck him as an intelligent, level headed kid and he doubted she had run from her parents to get their attention or for the sake of drama or because they did not understand that she wanted to live her life her way. Besides she hadn't looked like a kid who had been mistreated or unloved or rejected. And the grief in her eyes, when she told him she had lost her parents had been real and he believed her. Furthermore, she hadn't behaved like she was on the run; for one, she drove a car anyone would notice, classics stood out that way, and hers was exceptionally noticeable with its obviously professional restoration. Secondly, she hadn't been skittish, she hadn't been looking behind her shoulder all the time or jumping at shadows. Also, all that aside, she was legally an adult and her decisions were her own. If she had left home in a quest for independence, then her parents should respect her decision. But most of all, Carl did not like or trust the man in front of him. He couldn't articulate why, but he felt something was off about Nathan Wood. So with a slight sneer, Carl answered dismissively, "I do not concern myself with my employees' personal lives!"

"Can I talk to your other employees then?" Gray refused to be deterred by this Geppetto wannabe.

Carl could not think of an excuse to refuse the man's request so he said sure. He could have told Nathan to come back later and just interview June because she was the only other employee he had seen Emily interact with, but Carl decided to keep the information to himself. Let Nathan talk to everyone, let him waste his time. Carl wanted to chuckle as he thought about how each individual would annoy Nathan.

"You can use my office!" Carl offered cheerfully. "I have to go buy supplies anyway!"

Nathan's eyes narrowed as Gray realised Carl might be laughing at him. Carl stood up, refused to shake hands with Nathan and walked out of the room. Gray confirmed the man was indeed taking the piss when the first person he sent in was Wendy!

An hour and a half later, Gray was fuming. How Carl had managed to keep the diner running with a bunch of morons as employees was beside him!

Wendy who barely had any shifts with Emily, was adamant that Emily had been banging the manager. She had no proof, she just knew. Well, Gray knew jealousy when he saw it. This one would make a great addition downstairs. Oh how he wished he could snuff out her light.

Sheryl another waitress, had not crossed shifts with Emily even once. That didn't stop her from theorizing how the girl had really got that classic ride of hers. Gray had groaned in annoyance.

The other three girls were new and hadn't met Emily. Gray dismissed them before they began to speak. The dishwasher guy had had a crush on Emily and never told her. He'd pissed and moaned about his missed chance in such detail that Gray wanted to bitch slap him.

There were two cooks, one a seasoned drunkard who was so good at his job, he could cook in his sleep, but then again the menu wasn't gourmet or anything. He'd slurred when he told Gray that the kid had been competent. He had not elaborated or added anything else. Gray hadn't asked. He was glad the man was reticent, and he didn't know what he might uncover if he scratched the man's surface. The other cook had called Emily a snob because of the way she spoke, carried herself and because she never used the employees' bathroom. "She thought she was better than us!"

Seriously, any more of this and Gray was going to blow up the whole diner with everyone in it. Screw the consequences.

Then June Stills walked in. She was pretty if one liked the pale, fragile look. The only reason Gray, who was so angry he couldn't form full sentences, spoke to her was because she'd worked the most shifts with Emily.

June spoke in a disjointed way, like she was thinking numerous things at the same time and didn't quite know how to organise them. "Emily didn't belong here! No, she was good at her job, very focused almost like she was trying to prove something. Maybe she was. You never know with such people, driven people, always trying to be better than they are! She was sweet and generous … I sure hope she's okay … but it was in a kinda impersonal way, you know. She gave me all her tips, covered for me if I broke a plate or a glass and boy am I clumsy, yet she didn't really say anything about herself. Like I would tell her all my problems, and she'd sympathize but she'd never tell me hers. Sometimes it felt like she was judging me. I think that's why the others didn't really like her. I think they felt inadequate around her. Me? I think she just had trust issues. Or maybe she had nothing going on, so she had nothing to say. It's hard t ..."

Gray sighed. Another dead end. "So she never, not even once talked about herself?"

"You don't understand, outside of taking orders, she barely talked. She was like a Stepford waitress!"

"Great!" Gray huffed.

"If not for that guy she used to talk to after her shift, I'd have thought she had one of those social disorders, you know, like autism or something?"

"She had a boyfriend?"

June laughed, "No, he was old, about fifty. I thought he was her father, but when I asked her, she said her father was dead. Only real personal thing she ever said to me. She said he was her uncle. They got along really well ... wish I had an uncle like that. Mine are all dicks!" she added wistfully.

"This uncle?" Gray pressed.

"He'd come in at the tail end of our shift and sit in one of the booths and order a beer and a pie and when she got off, she'd buy a pot of coffee and sit with him. They'd talk for hours and she'd be like this totally different person! I swear it was like the only time she smiled each day."

"Is he a patron of the diner?" Gray was excited. He couldn't believe his luck.

There was a slight pause as June considered the question and thought back. "No! In fact, the first day she started here was the first time I saw him here and now that I think about it, he hasn't been back since she left!" June spoke with slight wonder in her voice, like she hadn't considered this before now. "He wasn't her uncle, was he?" she whispered in a scandalised voice.

Gray resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Why did all the people working in this place have sleazy thoughts? "Did she ever tell you his name?"

"No. But once they were out in the car park as I was leaving and I heard her call him Bobby."

Nathan's eyes widened as Gray realised that the name, at least the first one, had not been fake after all. "Can you describe this man?"

"Umm … white, old, had a beard, and wore a cap. I wasn't really checking him out, I'm sorry."

"No, you've been of great help." Gray wanted to move her along. "When you were in the carpark that time you spoke of, did you see what he was driving?"

"Some old car! Couldn't really tell what color." she trilled.

Of course she hadn't noted the plates either. Still, this was more information than he'd had before. He left the diner in a hurry.

He spent another week visiting all the Bobby Singers and the Bobby Songs he had found in the phone book. He'd spoken to the last one today, and no, he hadn't found his man. He decided not to bother with the John Murphys.

Now Gray had no choice but to brave the bureaucracy of civil offices, for what could only be a lesson in patience. "I will not rip anyone's head off. I will not nail anyone to a desk. I will not explode any computers," he intoned as he drove in the dying hours of the night, headed for Gentryville, Indiana.

As the miles passed, he cursed his assignment. This kid was proving to be so much trouble. Who the hell was she? And why did his master want her anyway?