Thanks again for the wonderful reviews! Jessalyn-Laine requested the boys give Rae a bath, and this chapter was loosely based on that, even though the bath doesn't last very long.

Ch6 – Demon Motives & Girl Hair

"But Dean, it just doesn't make any sense," Sam protested for the hundredth time as he paced their motel room, occasionally kicking a toy out of his way. "Why would a demon want to take over a company? Demons don't care about money, do they?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, they do say it's the root of all evil, right? So why not?" He rested a hand on top of Rae's head, then jerked it back. "Eewww."

"What is it?" Sam jumped up, expecting to see ectoplasm or supernatural slime. Instead all he saw was dirty hair. "Dude, you really need to wash her hair."

"Huh? Why? What's in there?" Dean prodded her greasy hair with one finger.

"Oil. Dirt. It's what happens when you don't wash your hair." Sam felt like he was explaining it to a child. "Didn't you know that?"

"Uh. No." Dean wiped his fingers off on his shirt. "Rae?" She turned to look at Dean. "When you take a bath, are you washing your hair?"

Rae flashed him a winning smile before returning her attention to her cartoons. Sam smirked. She had only been around them for about a week but Rae was already picking up some of Dean's worse habits.

Dean switched off the television. "Rae. You need to go wash your hair. That's pretty disgusting."

She wrinkled her nose at them before switching the television back on. Dean watched with an open mouth. He turned to Sam.

Sam held up both hands and backed away. "Dude, don't look at me. You're the one who wants to adopt her." He chuckled as he sat on the edge of his bed.

Dean looked around, for once at a loss for what he should do. "Sam!" he hissed, moving close. "Come on! I don't know anything about girl hair!"

"Oh? I do? Why? Because of Jess?" Sam crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"No!" Dean looked nearly ready to explode. "Because you have girl hair!"

Sam just shook his head. "It's not gonna work, Dean. Wash it at least twice with shampoo then use the conditioner."

Dean shook his head, burying his face in his hands. "I can't. It's not right."

"What? What are you talking about?" Sam leaned forward.

Dean looked up suddenly. "I can wash her hair in the sink! That would work!" He grinned.

"Dean. Just do in the bathtub." Sam could not understand why this concept was so difficult.

"But I didn't buy her a bathing suit!" His eyes blazed with fury at Sam.

Sam leaned back, hoping he was out of his brother's reach. "But why would she need…" Oh. He didn't want to see her naked. Sam thought back over the past few days. Each time Rae was told to take a bath, Dean would fill the tub with water and then close the door after she went in. As long as she came out smelling better than she went in, Dean made no comment. Even if her nightgown stuck to her wet body, Dean said nothing.

"Dean. Remember when Dad gave us baths when we were little?" Sam was trying to sound reasonable. "You kinda have to see someone naked in order to give them a bath."

Dean sneered at Sam. "That's sick!"

"It's not sick, Dean! Ask her! Ask Rae!"

Dean's face went blank. "What did you say?"

"I said ask Rae if she thinks it's sick. It's what parents do, Dean." Sam felt like he may have missed his calling. He would have made an excellent professor, or life skills instructor.

"Ask Rae, huh?" Dean looked down at her, a real smile forming on his face. "Hear that, Rae? Uncle Sam wants me to give you a bath. What do you say?"

She shrugged, not looking away from her cartoons.

"Go get ready to take a bath, Rae," Dean was still smiling and looking at Sam when the girl turned off the television.

Sam was getting an uneasy feeling. What was up with all that smiling? "Something wrong, Dean?" he tried to keep his voice neutral, but Dean was kinda freaking him out.

"You called her Rae," he said simply before following the girl into the bathroom. Sam could hear his voice echoing in the tiny room. "Okay, so now I have to learn about girl hair, huh? This really sounds like a job for Uncle Sam, you know."

Sam scratched his head. What was all that about? So he called her Rae, so what? Wasn't that her name? Wait. No, it wasn't. Her name was Clementine. Sam smacked himself in the forehead. By calling her Rae he was condoning adding her to the family! He did not mean to do that! Sam looked at the partially open bathroom door. Or did he?

He crept closer to the bathroom, despite the fact he could hear every word uttered perfectly. Dean was reading the instructions on the shampoo, as if he had never used it before. Sam took another step closer. He could almost see them now. Dean was mumbling something about bathing suits. He peeked around the door. Rae was sitting in the middle of the tub, waiting patiently. Dean was measuring out a lump of shampoo in his palm.

"Wait a minute!" Sam shouted, the echo of his voice startling him. "You have to get her hair wet first!"

Dean shot him a look. "My hands are full of goo. How exactly am I supposed to do that?"

"Hang on," Sam raced over to the complimentary coffee pot and mugs. He grabbed one of the mugs and rushed back. "Here," he held out the mug, careful to look at Dean and not the girl.

"Again, my hands are full of goo," Dean's voice was patient, which was the only reason Sam looked down at his brother's hands. Dean had smeared shampoo over both palms.

"The directions did not say to do that," Sam said pointedly.

"Yeah? You read directions your way and I'll read 'em mine." Dean glared back.

"Fine," Sam huffed. He squeezed between Dean and the wall. Was this bathroom always so tiny? The walls felt like they were starting to close in. Sam reached down with the mug, filling it with tub water. "Rae, look up." She did and Sam poured the water carefully, keeping one hand on her forehead to stem the flow from going into her eyes. Sam kept doing it until he was fairly certain all of her hair was wet, even though the tiny room was growing smaller. He stood, taking a deep breath. "Okay, now."

Dean nodded and rubbed his hands lightly over Rae's head. "Work it in, Dean. You need to get a good lather going."

"Thank you, Vidal Sassoon." But Dean did not rub any harder.

"Dean, she's not made of glass. She won't break." A wave of dizziness hit Sam. This bathroom was definitely getting smaller. "Let me know how it goes," he stumbled out of the tiny room. Even the motel room felt too small. Sam made his way to the door, despite the fact the walls were threatening to crowd him into a corner. He burst out of the room, breathing heavily. Outside. This was much better. He sank against the building, the wall to his back and the parking lot in front of him. Much better.

"Sam! Sammy!" He could hear Dean bellowing from that tiny closet you could barely refer to as a bathroom. Sam was still breathing hard, he could not possibly answer his brother. So he sat there, willing his heartrate and erratic breathing to slow.

Sam studied Dean's car, which was directly in front of him. It used to be Dad's car. They traveled all over the country in that car. He remembered how the whispers at different schools varied, depending on where they were. Some kids loved the car, thought it was super cool. Other kids just saw something old and out of date. Sam hated to admit it, but he usually agreed with the latter crowd. He had always wanted something new, something no one else had ever driven. But to be fair, he was not sure anyone other than his father and brother had owned that car. It was Dean's most prized possession. Over the years, it even seemed to have absorbed Dean's personality. It was old enough to almost be a one of a kind. Sam was pretty sure no one else had a '67 Impala as a daily driver. So it was unique, powerful, and strong. Like Dean.

"Dude!" The door was cracked open. "What are you doing out there?"

Sam did not look back. "Just getting some air."

He heard the door close. Sam considered going inside, but he was just starting to feel like himself again. Then the door opened again. Dean sat next to him.

"I've been thinking about the demon," Dean said, also looking at the car.

"Yeah?" Sam relaxed against the wall. He had expected Dean to tease him about racing outside. He was trying to decide if he was relieved or concerned to have escaped it.

"I think you're right, there must be something else going on. Just money is enough for, say, a shapeshifter. But you'd think a demon had better plans." Dean sighed, relaxing against the wall.

"Where's the kid?" Sam asked. "Get her hair done?"

"Yeah. No thanks to you." There it was. "She's watching cartoons." Wait, was that all? Didn't Dean want to tease him more than that?

Sam chanced a look at his brother. Dean was staring stoically at his car. There was no trace of mirth in his face. He was concentrating on something. Sam could see his lips moving, a bad habit when Dean was figuring something out in his head.

"What kind of company did the McDermots have?" Dean asked, staring thoughtfully at the Impala.

"It's more of a holding company, really. They started with managing a business, then expanded into acquiring different companies. They're pretty diversified." The air was passing into his lungs easily now. Sam thought he might even be able to handle going back inside the room. "Want me to check?" He stood, stretching his back and shoulders.

Dean looked up from his seated position. "Yeah. Holler at me when you got something."

Sam paused before opening the door. "You're not coming in?"

"When you got something," Dean repeated, his gaze fixed to the sleek black body of his car.

"Um, okay." Sam stepped inside the room. He headed for the table and his laptop. Rae was watching cartoons, her hair dripping onto her formerly dry clothes. Sam paused. Damn it. He reached a long arm into the bathroom so he would not have to actually step inside, at least not yet, to grab a fresh towel. He leaned over the girl and began to towel dry her hair. She put her hands up, trying to push him away.

"Come on, Rae. Do you really want wet hair?" Sam held up the towel, ready to start again. She nodded. "Too bad. Come on," he attacked the wet head with his towel. She squirmed away, racing to the far side of the room.

"Oh, don't think it's going to be that easy!" Sam leapt over the nearest bed and her eyes went wide. He nodded with a grin. "Come on, now."

She tried to dash past him, but Sam's reflexes were too fast. He snagged her with one arm, pulling her in close. At the look of terror on her face, he changed tactics. Instead of rubbing her hair with the towel, he threw the towel over her head and tickled her. Her whole body wriggled in silent laughter as she sank slowly to the floor. Sam whipped off the towel. She sat panting on the floor. He tried to take advantage of her current state to dry her hair again, but she jumped to her feet and tickled Sam. He gave up. Her hair could just dry on its own. Sam lay in the floor, pretending to squirm from the tickle attack.

"Is this a private party or can anyone join?" Dean's voice asked from above. Sam opened his eyes. His brother was standing over them, a small smile on his face. Uh-oh.

Rae turned her attack on Dean instead. Sam got up and looked around for his laptop.

"Oh no, you don't," was the only warning he had before a solid mass crashed into him, hurtling them both onto Sam's bed. Strong fingers worked his ribcage and a heavy weight was on his stomach. When he opened his eyes, he saw Dean sitting on him trying to tickle him.

"Forget it, Dean. I'm not ticklish anymore." Sam sat up, knocking Dean backwards. How he wished he could have done that when they were kids.

"Wanna bet?" There was an unsettling gleam in Dean's eye. Dean lunged at him again, rolling them both onto the floor.

"Dean!" Sam growled in frustration. "I told you, I -" His body jerked. What was that? No, not there. Don't – not there!

"That's more like it," Dean crowed as Rae joined him in tickling Sam.

Sam gasped for breath. The bathroom was better than this! He tried to worm away, but Dean was nothing if not tenacious. Dean tickled him until tears ran down his face, until he could not breathe, until he would have begged for mercy if he could have.

Finally Dean stopped, sitting on the bed above him. "Not ticklish, huh?"

There was not enough air in the room to fill his lungs. Sam gasped lungful after lungful, trying to get enough. The last time he had felt that desperate was in Riverside. Wait. Riverside? He sat up, his eyes wide. He had to check. Sam sprinted for his laptop, wrenching it open like a man on a mission.

"Sammy? You okay? We didn't just make you have a vision or anything, did we?"

Unable to trust his voice yet, Sam shook his head. Finally it was booting up. Connected to the open wireless network. Sam pulled up the site he saved from the other day: the McDermot company's holdings. He scrolled through the list until he found what he was looking for. He spun the laptop around for his brother to see.

"There," he panted, still out of breath.

"What?" Dean moved closer, reading through the list. He looked back up at Sam. "What? I don't get it."

Sam took another large gulp of air. "Riverside. They own the clinic there."

"Yeah? So?"

Sam sat down. How could Dean be so thick? He waited until his breathing returned to something approximating normal. "I've been thinking about what you said. About how that one was the one that got away? And that girl? She said she had been waiting all day to infect me."

"Right. Which didn't work."

"Right. But I've been wondering about it. The whole thing felt like a huge experiment, you know? Try it out on a small town, see how fast it spreads, who is infected first, who never gets infected, how it affects different people. And what better place to monitor an experiment than the local clinic?" He had been trying to bring this up for weeks, but it had never been this clear in his mind before. That plus the fact Dean refused to discuss Riverside or anything that happened there.

Dean's jaw was clenched tight as he stared at the screen. "Son of a bitch."