(Special thanks to lzech216, Souless666, lenail125, and EmilyAnnMcGarrett-Winchester! Ya'll are something awesome!)

Chapter Seven

That day they made plans. The boys still had two days of school left that week, Bobby enforced that they both go to school despite whatever persuasion Dean tried. Norman wasn't exactly priority number one. The morning of Friday November 3rd, Dean and Sam would go to school like they normally did. Bobby would pick up Sam so they could pack up and prep for the hunt, and Dean would meet them an hour later when his school got off.

When Bobby's truck rumbled to a stop at the middle school, Sam broke away from his friends and made his way over. Bobby nearly jumped out of the truck out of pure instinct when a teacher darted across the front of the school and grabbed the kid's arm. Sam smiled at the guy and they exchanged a short conversation, but Bobby didn't like the look the man had. It was almost like Sam was some kind of four course meal and the man hadn't eaten in a decade.

After a little while Bobby felt the teacher was detaining him too long. His hand released his seatbelt however, just as Sam gave the man a smile and a wave. Sam jerked open the truck's passenger door and dropped his contents inside before hopping in himself. Bobby returned his eyes to the man to find that he'd followed Sam's steps all the way to the truck.

"Hey Bobby!" Sam chirped brightly as he applied his own seatbelt. When the kid didn't get a response Sam glanced over at his uncle and found him staring out into the crowd of students and teachers swarming the front of the school. "Hey, is everything okay?"

Maybe Bobby was wrong. Maybe the adult was just one of those teachers who cared about his students. Another part of him knew however that as a hunter, his gut was something to listen to. "Everything's fine kid." Bobby grunted. "Who was that guy you were talking to by the way? He one of your teachers?"

Sam blinked in confusion. Despite the older man trying to hide it, Sam could sense the worry he had. "Yeah, that's Mr. Robinson. He's my algebra teacher, he's real nice, but he keeps trying to sell me on joining his academic club. Why? Is everything okay?"

Bobby took his eyes off the crowd where Mr. Robinson had disappeared into. "Yeah, it's fine." He shook his head to clear it and buckled his seatbelt again. "Okay, let's get out of here, we have a hunt tonight."

Traffic with the just let out schools made getting home take a little longer, but eventually the truck was parked and the two were able to prep for the hunt. Sam helped Bobby clean the guns and prepare salt rounds. By the time Dean had his Baby parked in the front of the house Sam was packing the last of the shells with salt.

It would take about three hours to get to the cemetery. They didn't plan on being gone the entire weekend but Bobby insisted that they pack a bag just in case. Dean didn't panic at the notion. Even something as small as a potential witness could postpone the hunt. If anything the closer he got to hunting he felt his blood hum in excitement. Dean hadn't realized just how much he missed the adrenaline of the hunt. Even packing the guns up gave him a high.

The only time Dean faltered was when Bobby insisted they take his truck. There was a verbal fight but eventually they packed up the Chevelle and Dean took shotgun with a pout. Despite the hitch, the drive over wasn't too bad. Sure Bobby played some 60's songs that Dean would usually skip over and a lot of Johnny Cash but Dean didn't mind. He was just happy that Sam didn't seem too scared for this hunt. When they were on their way to the abandoned plant the poor kid had been quivering, and the tension thick. Here Bobby laughed and joked with them, and even tried his hand at some off tune singing. It was almost like they were a normal family taking a road trip. Even Dean forgot to give Bobby a hard time for leaving behind his Baby.

By the time they arrived in the town, darkness had fallen and the clock read sometime after nine. The cemetery was abandoned by then, not a single car in the place. In fact, it almost appeared to be abandoned for years. Vines were working their way up headstones, and some statues and headstones had prominent cracks.

"Man this place is a dump!" Dean blurted. A few stones had enough care that suggested family still visited and cleaned up their area. He hefted the duffle higher up on his shoulder and wrinkled his nose. "So where is ole Norm anyway."

"I got a general location…" Bobby pulled out a paper that he had scribbled down the general location of Norman's grave on. After reading it he glanced around the cemetery and deflated a bit. "It's next to a tall oak."

Dean glanced around shining his flashlight in the destroyed place. In the corner there was a tall oak, and in the middle of the cemetery there was another shedding colored leaves. "Okay two tall oak trees. What else you got?"

Bobby had the sense to look sheepish. "Well, a tall oak tree."

"And what do you mean by next to?" Sam asked.

Both turned their heads to the youngest.

Sam cleared his throat, and enhanced the question. "Is it a few feet away? Or to the left or right of the tree?"

"Well, my source wasn't exactly clear when I asked, and I was focused on whether or not this would be safe." Bobby glanced at the paper and after a few seconds crumpled it and tossed it behind him. "Well-"

"Not splitting up!" Dean stated harshly.

"I wasn't going to suggest that." Bobby to be honest had thought it, but had given it a second thought. He didn't think either boy would be up for that plan. "I was going to say we start in the corner, span out a few feet and try the tree in the center."

Dean's face calmed. "Okay, I'm good with that plan." He nudged Sam's shoulder.

"Yeah that sounds logical." Sam gave the plan a nod.

So they started in the corner. They scraped away weed after weed from the headstones shining each of their lights on the engravings. One stone was completely illegible and Bobby made a mental note to return if Norman's hadn't been found. When they got far enough from the oak Bobby called to the boys and they diverted their attention to the tree in the center. They fanned out checking each stone, Dean sticking close to Sam.

"Got it!" Sam called excitedly as he ripped away the last of the vines. "Norman McCovy."

Dean crouched down and read the years to double check the years on the stone. "Yeah, it's our guy alright. Croaked 1986." He dumped the duffle on the ground next to the plot with a grunt. Slowly Dean yanked out two shovels and dropped them before the headstone. "Who's on digging duty?"

"Sam is." Bobby scooped up one of the shovels and tossed it to the kid.

The boy fumbled with the tool for a second but found his grip on it before it could fall to the ground. Sam bit his tongue at the argument wanting to come, but silenced himself. He had wanted this. He'd play by their rules. Instead he dug the blade of the shovel into the ground. "Just me?"

"I'm doing it too." Bobby admitted taking the second. "Dean's watching our backs."

Dean looked a little nervous at the notion of watching both his brother's and his uncle's back but he collected himself. "Yeah, I got you guys." He squeezed a choke hold on the rifle he'd been cradling throughout the entire search. He didn't say anything but he knew what Bobby was doing. Already he was scared of failing his brother. Dean stopped that line of thought. Nothing was getting to the kid though. Nothing!

The damn kid solidified his confidence when he smiled a wide toothy smile and told his big brother, "I trust you Dean."

Dean ignored the urge to pull Sam into a hug and rather gave the kid a whack in his shoulder. Sam gave a whine and freed a hand to put it to his shoulder. "Just think about digging runt."

Sam leaned up on the handle of the shovel. "Whatever. Unlike you, my brain can handle more than one thought."

Dean rolled his eyes and motioned to the plot with the gun. "Just dig."

The two worked hard on the hole. Sam kept up well with Bobby and kept at the dirt with a vigor. The entire time Dean kept a sharp vigil over the two his eyes darting around the graveyard for any sign of movement. Except for the branches shifting against the breeze there was nothing moving.

The two were about halfway down the grave when Dean, still watching their surroundings, quirked up his eyebrow at a random thought. "So, if this guy is an easy job, then why hasn't anyone taken care of him in the last nine years?"

Bobby paused in digging, and shoved the blade into the dirt. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and took in a heavy breath. It took a second for him to finally speak. "Well, creatures come in a sort of tier. The higher up the thing the more bragging rights you get."

"And ole Norm sits low on the scale." Dean concluded.

"Very low. Besides, hunters figure that there are more important hunts to take care of and pass over the small ones." Bobby reached for a canteen they'd filled with lukewarm water before leaving. He took a long swig and put it down, before resuming digging.

"I can take over if you're getting tired old man." Dean smirked to himself not daring to turn around and glance at the two. Through all this he was determined to watch for everything.

Bobby took another deep breath before responding. "Look you whipper snapper. I can dig father and longer than you can."

"Suuurre." Dean drew out.

"Is there an official tier system?" Sam finally asked when they got another foot down. Sam reached up for the canteen and took a short break, while he glanced at his stiffened older brother. "Like some set of rules?"

Bobby stopped as well and sat quiet for a second waiting for anything to peek his interest. So far there was nothing, despite the obvious chill in the air, the crickets were still singing and the usual sounds came from all around. "Nothing quite set in stone. Usually it's set in the amount of danger. Werewolves are set pretty high with claws, bloodlust, and intelligence."

"Vampires?" Sam asked.

"I have never personally taken care of one but they're pretty up there." He wagged his fingers at the boy and Sam capped the canteen and tossed it over. "Spirits are a little harder. Where more physical beings have some pretty set parameters as far as intelligence and general sharpness of claws, or teeth, spirits are more tested on time, viciousness, and abilities. Your friend at the plant, I'd rank him pretty high up there. I mean he had 12 victims alive and anyone dumb enough to get close to the damn place when he was dead usually ended up toast. Not to mention the amount of time he had to work on his abilities." He didn't miss Dean flinch. "Defiantly not for beginners."

Sam dug the shovel back in after the short break. "What was your first hunt, Uncle Bobby?" He gave a sharp exhale as he dug up another shovelful of dirt and tossed it to the side.

"Well, after Karen-" Bobby started casually but didn't finish his first sentence. "I was a bit inexperienced, and a little too eager to get into the business. Your daddy wasn't the only one who got a little gung ho. I was in Montana following a kitsune. She got my blade, and was about to slit my throat and some jack ass comes rushing in to my rescue. Moron took me under his wing and taught me everything afterward."

For the first time Dean broke his gaze away from their surroundings and turned to look at Bobby. "Who helped you?"

"Rufus. Although never tell him I told you ever admitted out loud that he saved me." He joined back into the digging and gave a breathy grunt with each shovelful. "He's been trying to get me to admit that to him since day one."

Bobby didn't miss Sam's curious glance. He was interested if Sam was a bit shocked that his first attempt at hunting, as an adult, went wrong.

Meanwhile Dean was just humored. Dean turned back laughing. His laughter broke though as he ducked down in time to avoid an unidentified flying object. Bobby dropped his shovel and grabbed Sam putting his back to the object as it bounced off the headstone and into the hole. It solidly thunked into Bobby's back with a force that even made Bobby gasp in pain. Bobby kept Sam pressed against him as he glanced around for more projectiles.

"You see him?!" Dean barked harshly his eyes roving around.

"No." Bobby reluctantly released Sam who kept close even after. "We need to continue," Bobby ground out. "Before Norman builds up the energy to continue throwing-" He scooped up a sharp angled rock. "-things at us."

Sam picked up his dropped shovel. "Still got us Dean?"

"Yeah." Dean stated curtly.

They dug with a newfound strength, all conversation died out. It wasn't until Sam pushed down on the wedge with his foot and he heard the sound of splintering wood that they even stopped. Dean even offered a short glance down the hole.

The smell instantly assaulted them. Sam remained down there long enough to help clear away enough dirt from the top of the casket, but accepted Bobby's laced hands to boost out of the hole. Standing just to the side Bobby pulled open the pine box and pulled it open to expose a grinning skeleton. The man's suit lay in tatters around the man's remains. Sam passed down accelerant and salt and Bobby gave the body a good dose of both. He passed the items back up and with a little help from Sam pulled himself out of the hole.

Just as he was preparing to reach in his pocket for his book of matches when a man materialized a few feet away from Dean and flicked his wrist. As if he knew the man's intent Bobby flew back, and narrowly hit a headstone and sliding some feet away from the boys. Dean pulled the trigger on his gun and fought the kick back. Norman's image dispersed before the salt round could go through him. Even before Sam reached Dean's side, Dean's fingers gripped Sam's coat and dragged him over.

"Bobby!" Dean called his hands still gripping Sam's coat sleeve and eyes firmly watching his surroundings. "Bobby! You okay!"

There was an uncomfortable amount of silence then Bobby finally released a breathless groan. "Good."

They weren't out of the woods yet though. Mr. mild mannered, cat loving accountant was just a little peeved about his grave being dug up. And as predicted he was pitching a fit; big freaking surprise.

"Sammy?" Dean poised an unspoken question in the kid's name.

Sam didn't need to have Dean expand the request. He dug in his pockets and felt the book of matches that had some bar's name on the label. "Yeah."

"Okay, I've got your back. I need you to light up and throw it down; fast." Dean instructed quietly, sighting down his weapon, his finger twitching close to the trigger. "The second this guy thinks we're up to something he's going to do something."

Sam didn't vocalize his agreement and Dean didn't need him too. From the side of his vision Dean saw Sam's hand slip to his pocket again. A proud smirk widened on Dean's face. The kid may be hard on himself about a lot of things, but he was pretty awesome. Not many kids would have their cool in situations like this.

"I got it." Sam finally said his hand wrapping around the small match book in his back pocket. "You ready?"

"Yeah."

Sam pulled out his matches and pulled a single match free. Norman made his appearance behind the boy and grabbed his shoulders. Rock salt went through the accountants head before Sam could utter a sound. As Norman disappeared Dean glanced appreciatively at Bobby getting into a standing position his raised gun smoking.

"Now Sam!" Bobby called.

Before Norman made another appearance Sam lit the single match and pressed it against the others causing the whole book to go up. With a single flick Sam dropped his flame into the grave. The second the flame made contact with Norman's doused up skeleton it up in a bright flame too. Sam stepped back in shock; Dean pulling him along by the hood of his jacket away from the blaze.

A loud wail echoed through the cemetery and a bit of the chill disappeared as well. Sam wasn't sure if he could account that on the fire now in front of the small family, or the sudden lack of spiritual activity. Sam was so focused on the flames that he gave a little jump when Bobby slipped up behind them and patted both boys on the shoulder.

"Good job, boys." Bobby praised. He drew in a long tired breath stretching his tired muscles.

Sam turned around and gave his Uncle a glance searching for injuries. "Hey, you okay Uncle Bobby?"

"'M good." Bobby straightened under Sam and Dean's scrutiny. "A few bruises, nothing I can't handle. Norm didn't get to either of you though?"

Both boys shook their heads. Although Dean made sure to glance into Sam's eyes to make sure the kid wasn't hiding something. Content the kid wasn't concealing any injury he released a pent up breath. "You seemed to get the brunt of it. Norm didn't take a liking to you."

"Don't suppose he did." Bobby gave a breathless chuckle and shifted a hand over his shoulder to the tender spot on his back where the rock had hit him. "I should have brought a few beers. Maybe sit down and talked it through."

Dean watched Bobby rub the spot but didn't mention getting first aid at the moment. "I don't know. Accountant, he had like what? Twelve cats? Doesn't seem the beer kind of guy to me. I'd say appletini."

"It was six…" Sam broke in. When he got a glare from Dean, Sam shrugged. "I pay attention."

"You have such a nerd brain." Dean snorted. He crouched to stick the sawed off into the duffle, and as he stood accepted the shovel Sam pushed into his hands. Dean notched up an eyebrow but sighed in agreement when Sam motioned his head towards Bobby. "Bobby, me n' Sam will fill up the hole."

Bobby made move to question the boy's sudden interest on digging, but caught Sam's concerned gaze. "Fine," he reluctantly grunted in agreement. "You two fill the hole up."

(Thank you so much for reaching the end of this chapter! If you enjoyed it then please leave a review!

-and sorry, I may have left a bit of a spoiler the beginging of chapter six. I got a tad excited.)