Dean woke early, his fingers tangled in Callie's hair, her legs twined with his, and it took him several careful minutes to get himself free. He dressed quietly, carrying his boots and gun belt out of the room with him, taking one more backward glance at her sleeping form before pulling the door shut behind him.

He pulled his boots on and buckled the gun belt in place before heading down the back stairs into the kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee wafted towards him and he breathed deep of the aroma as he went to the cupboard for a cup. "Mornin', Griz," he greeted him, and the old man grumbled a reply as Dean helped himself to the dark, steaming brew. He leaned on the corner of the table, watching as Griz turned to reach for the salt, his head tilting as the gruff old cook studiously avoided looking his way. "We got a problem, Griz?" he asked softly, and the older man bowed his head for a moment before speaking hesitantly.

"Ain't my place to say nothin'," he mumbled, and continued with his cooking.

Dean sighed, then continued. "It is your place if I'm asking, Griz."

The spatula was laid carefully beside the stove, and the old man's gnarled hands braced themselves against the counter on either side, his head still low. "Miss Callie don't need no more hurt in her life, Sheriff. She's had enough. You'll be leavin' here sometime soon, I reckon, and you're bound to break her heart, the way things are goin'. I just don't want her hurt no more."

Dean stared at the floor for a bit before answering, his voice subdued. "You're right, Griz. She deserves better. I don't want to hurt her, either. I hope you know that."

Griz's cloudy blue eyes looked Dean in the face as he turned. "I know you don't mean to, Sheriff." Dean gnawed the inside of his lip thoughtfully, then nodded, grabbing his cup and heading into the saloon, leaving Griz to turn back to his stove. "I sure do know that you don't mean to," he mumbled, giving the fried potatoes a stir.


Dean sat in his office, his feet up on the desk, staring into space as he went over and over the case in his mind. The dead boys' faces, the native shaman with his blank stare, Tanner's veiled threats, all swirled around endlessly without a solution. Griz's words were weighing on him as well, and... damn it, he knew the old man was right. He swung his legs down with a frustrated sigh, reaching beside him to open the drawer and pull out the bottle of whiskey he kept at hand. He was just raising the glass to his lips when Sam came walking through the door.

"Well, I'll be damned. He did manage to get you back here," he remarked, draining the glass and pouring another shot.

"I can see things are going great around here," Sam commented quietly, his brow furrowed as he stared at his big brother, who was avoiding eye contact. "What's going on, Dean?"

"Nothing. Just need this case done so we can get the hell out of here. What'd you find out?"

Sam stared back at him silently for a few seconds, then pulled up a chair. "Well, we were right about the witchy thing. Seems like the Tanners were pretty down and out, always, before Chuck's grandfather. Then, all of a sudden, they couldn't do anything wrong. They started accumulating land, struck gold in one of their mines, and started gaining power in the state. We couldn't find anything concrete, but Bobby and I agree, there were enough whispers and hints of things in the history that they had to be using the dark arts to give themselves a boost. I'll give Chuck credit, he's a good actor. I thought he was too stupid, but I think that was all an act to get close to Callie's husband. I think Matthew Dalton may have been Tanner's first victim, and I think he not only wants the Dalton property, he wants Callie. That's probably why you got shot at in the first place, Chuck doesn't appreciate the competition."

"But why the shaman?"

"I think it just gave him easy access to the kids. He's always within sight of his men or at the saloon, so he looks innocent. The blood of children... that's some powerful dark magic he's using."

Dean stood up, tossing back the remainder of his drink. "Well, I say we go blow Chuck Tanner off the map. We know he's behind this, we just kill him and go back to the future."

Sam stared back at Dean, concern on his face. "You know, we could be wrong."

"You're not wrong. I can feel it in my gut, Sammy. This guy is bad news."

"You know, history says he was the next territorial governor. We can't just shoot him down, who knows what we'd change."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Dean shouted, then shoved his hands in his pockets, his eyes squeezed shut, his teeth clenched. "Sorry. I know you're just as frustrated as I am. But we've got to stop this guy, Sam. Before he kills again. And before he goes after Callie."

Sam nodded. "I know, Dean. Maybe someone should try to head out to Tanner's place? Have a look around? I don't know." He looked warily at Dean before continuing in a quiet tone. "And I know you won't like this, but the best way for us to do that is Callie."

Dean's head snapped up, his eyes full of fire as he glared at Sam. "No! That's not an option, Sam, what are you thinking?"

"Don't you think that should be up to me, Dean?" He turned, surprise mixed with the anger on his face, to see Callie standing in the doorway, a covered tray in her hands. "I brought you some food." She walked into the room, turning to close the door, and moved gracefully to Dean's desk, setting the tray down, then nervously rubbing her hands down the sides of her skirts. "If you believe Chuck is behind this, and you need someone to get inside his place, to be able to hear what's going on, then I am the best way to do that. All I have to do is tell him I've changed my mind, that I'm afraid to stay at the Silver Birch, and that I'll feel safer with him. He'll be easy to manipulate. Then I can keep my ears open and report to you at the saloon."

Dean was shaking his head before he even spoke. "No. You don't understand what that asshole is capable of. Callie, I won't let you do this."

"Just because you made love to me doesn't give you the right to order me around, Dean Winchester. You're starting to sound like him, do you know that? I have my own mind, and I run my own life. It makes perfect sense to me that I should go out there and see if I can help end this nightmare. So, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go pack a bag and have Smitty take me to Tanner's place. Just come in for breakfast like usual, if I have any information for you, I can give it to you then."

Dean's eyes were dark with restrained anger and worry as he reached for Callie's arm. "Don't do this, Callie. I'm asking you not to do this. You don't understand what kind of a monster we're dealing with here."

"Apparently you and Sam think he could be the kind of monster that murders children. I don't see how it could be much worse than that." She stared into his eyes for a moment, determined to ignore the pleading there. "Please let me go, Dean."

He closed his eyes, and with some effort, released his hold on her arm. Callie stepped towards the door, glancing between him and Sam, then gathered her skirts in one hand and left, hurrying down the street as fast as she could.


"I hate this," Dean hissed under his breath as Tanner escorted Callie into the saloon, a proprietary hand on her waist as he threw a victorious glance Dean's direction.

"Just take it easy," Sam answered quietly. "He's just trying to push your buttons."

"I'd like to push him," Dean grumbled, "preferably off a cliff."

Sam snorted softly, glad to see Dean's lips curve slightly in what almost looked like a smile. "And how are my favorite lawmen this morning?" Callie asked cheerfully with a sidelong glance to Chuck's table.

Sam grinned. "Well, that one's grumpy," he said with a nod to Dean. "How's it going?"

She smiled as she filled their cups, speaking softly. "Slow. I'm in my damn room all the time, how am I supposed to find anything out? I think tonight I'll sneak out, wander around a little."

Dean was glaring at her, and she rolled her eyes. "I have to get some information somehow. If he sees me, I'll just say I was restless, or had a nightmare, or something. Don't worry so much."

She turned away, but Dean had taken hold of her hand, and she turned back trying to ignore what she saw in his eyes. "Callie, I don't want you risking yourself. I want you to come back."

She gave him a forced little smile, her gaze dropped to the floor. "Well, if there's one thing life has taught me, it's that we don't always get what we want." She pulled her hand gently from his and walked away, and cursed softly under his breath.

"Where are they?" Dean whispered in a low growl to Sam as they sat in the Silver Birch, downing yet another cup of Griz's strong coffee. "They should be here by now, Sam. I've got a bad feeling about this. I think we should head out to Tanner's, see what's going on."

"Maybe she's sick."

"Maybe he just won't let her leave. Maybe she finally did see something last night. Anyway, I can't just sit here and think about 'maybe.' I need to make sure she's okay." He stared at Sam, determination shining in his green eyes, until Sam ducked his head a little and nodded in agreement.

"All right. At least let's say we're out there investigating the shooting. It'll give us a reason to talk to some of the hired hands. See if any of them can give us a hint about what's really been happening."

"Works for me. Let's go, Deputy."

Sam's glare burned holes in Dean's back as they pushed through the swinging doors and out into the gloom of the day, the sky overcast and the air damp with impending rain.

Tanner's place wasn't far, less than an hour on horseback, and they reined the horses to a halt at the fence surrounding the huge yard. They tied the animals to a rail, then headed up the cobblestone walk towards the house. A couple of very unfriendly-looking wranglers stood near the door, staring intently at the brothers as they approached. "Pretty sure Mr. Tanner wasn't expecting no company today."

"Pretty sure I don't give a damn. We're here on business, so tell your boss he's got company, whether he likes it or not." Dean's eye narrowed as he replied, staring the other man down until he ducked his head and turned to go inside.

"Take it easy, Dean. We don't need trouble right off the bat."

"Depends on whether they start it right off the bat." The hair was already standing up on the back of Dean's neck, a strong sense of foreboding making him feel very much on the defensive. After a couple of tense minutes, Tanner's lackey appeared in the doorway, motioning them inside with a jerk of his head, and Dean flashed a contemptuous look towards the other hired man still standing near the door, his arms crossed over his chest, watching them as they walked in.

"Down that hall, first door on the right," Tanner's employee muttered begrudgingly, then stepped back outside and closed the door behind him.

Dean's hand moved to his gun for a moment, and after a breath and a glance at his brother, they moved down the hallway. Tanner's overly loud, overly cheerful voice met them at the door. "Sheriff. Deputy. Please, come on in. Join us."

They walked into the room, and that sense of something very wrong at the pit of Dean's stomach surged. Tanner sat lounging in an overstuffed chair, one booted foot crossed over a knee, his arm around Callie, who was perched on the arm of the chair near him. She smiled brightly at them, rising to her feet, but her hand remained in Tanner's as she spoke. "Well, if it isn't the Winchesters! Welcome! May I get some coffee for you gentlemen? Charles and I are so glad to have you visit! Aren't we, Charles?"

"What the hell's going on, Tanner?" Dean's voice was low and menacing, but it drew nothing but a condescending smile from the man.

"Calliope, honey, please go and ask the cook to bring in some refreshments, would you?" Dean's eyes widened at his use of her full name, but she smiled down affectionately at him and put her hand gently to his face. "Of course, Charles." She looked back up at them, smiling once again. "Please do excuse me, gentlemen." She turned and swept gracefully from the room, and Tanner grinned arrogantly.

"So. What can I do for you, Sheriff?"