I now own season 5 on DVD, but the Winchesters sadly did not come with it.

.~o()o~.

"Mmmm," Leah sniffed. "Don't you just love the smell of old books? They smell just like knowledge and secrets."

Sam laughed. "More than just about anything else. I love going into the dusty corners and searching the backs of the shelves and finding the ones that haven't been checked out in about fifty years and knowing that I am the first person to crack it open since my grandparents were children."

"And then you wonder about their history. Did the library buy them new or do they have some kind of sordid past? Maybe they belonged to a murderer or perhaps some money-grubbing old miser who held onto them until his death when his relatives donated them here," Leah replied, eyes shining.

"One of these days," Sam said, looking down at her, "I am going to take you to Bobby's. He has books both old and strange, some of them from other lands and written in other languages."

"I'd like that," Leah smiled as Sam began to lean down for another kiss. Leah placed her finger on his lips, halting his forward motion. "I hate to put a damper on this wonderful moment, but sudden;y this picture of Dean popped into my head and he is saying, 'are you going to read those books or make out with them?' It's kind of killing the mood."

"You're right," Sam sighed. "We do need to get some work done."

"But if you're really good, we can take a little break later," Leah winked impishly.

"Rare books section?" Sam grinned roguishly.

"Where else?" Leah whispered, letting the words hang in the air like a promise. Then she became all business. "Where should we start?"

"Well, Dean and I were searching for suspicious deaths in the area, but with no way to narrow things down, we found nothing. We didn't even have a time frame to work in. However, when Dean and Shelby ran into those ghosts earlier, they called him Edward Randall and said he would pay for his crimes. They also said something about a motherless child. So if you want to look at histories of this area, specifically ones with family trees, you can look through the appendices for any mentions of Randall or his family. I am going to be looking through their newspaper collection. Unfortunately their whole computer system is down so I will have to do this by hand," Sam pouted.

"Aw. . .muffin. . ." Leah laughed and planted a quick kiss on his protruding lower lip. "Let's go, the faster we crack this, the more time we have for. . .recreational reading."

That was all Sam needed to apply himself to his work. Soon, both were completely absorbed in their respective research. Leah had a huge stack of dusty, leatherbound books and Sam was almost surrounded by crooked piles of yellowing newspapers. There was no sound but the turning of antique pages and the occasional sneeze from one or the other when they stirred up the dust.

"Hey, hold on," Leah suddenly sat up in surprise after an hour and a half. "There was a village there."

"Where?" Sam asked.

"About a mile from where you took that unexpected swim. Get this. . .the mayor. . .his name was Edward Randall."

"What happened to the town?"

"No one seems to know. There were only about 80 people living in the town. They had been quarantined because of a sickness that attacked the whole village. Then, one morning, when someone from a neighbouring town came to drop off some medical supplies just outside the village and it had simply disappeared, nothing left but ashes, and not enough of them to suggest the entire village burned. There is no sign that anyone ever lived there," Leah looked up from the book she was reading. "No one even went back to resettle the land. Most people believe it is cursed."

""What was the date that it disappeared?"

"January 18th, 1938. Do the papers go back that far?"

"Not all of them, but they saved a few with bigger stories, collectors editions, if you will. There are no more than a couple issues a year, but a town disappearing has got to merit that kind of remembrance. If we're lucky. . ." Sam's voice trailed off. "Here it is."

"The small village of Hensley, gone without a trace." Sam read. "Hold on, there was one survivor, a little boy named Andrew O'Shaughnessy. They found him out wandering by Flathead Lake, more than three miles from the village. He was only six years old. He could. . ."

". . .still be alive. I'm going to see if I can find him in the phonebook." Leah walked quickly to the librarian's desk and soon returned, flipping to the H's as she did so. "Alright, O'Shaughnessy, A. Sr. and in this years phonebook." She jotted down the address and stood. Sam began to gather their things. Then, as one, their eyes were drawn to the small room off the main one, exuding the aura of old leather and dusty yellow pages, an antique sign above the door, announcing the treasures within. Sam sighed.

"We'll come back," Leah spoke.

"You promise?" Sam asked wistfully.

Leah pulled Sam's face closer to her and whispered seductively in his ear. "You just try and stop me." She giggled when he gulped.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Sam whispered huskily as he claimed her lips with his own once more. They drew apart guiltily at the sound of a loudly clearing throat from the vicinity of the librarian's desk.

'Oh, we are never going to get any work done if you keep doing this," Leah whined.

"Me?' Sam protested. "I'm a man, how the hell do you expect me to keep focused when you use that tone of voice?"

"Ok fine, I won't say anything like that in that way if you promise to stop touching me until we have all the information we need."

"Alright, you want to shake on that?"

"Very funny," Leah said, mock glaring at him. "Car, now!"

.~o()o~.

"Well," Dean coughed nervously. "This is unexpected. Cas, care to shed some light on the situation?"

"On what situation? This is Nathan, your brother. I thought Samantha had already made that clear," Castiel asked, confused.

"On the reason he is speaking so clearly perhaps."

"He has advanced verbal skills for a three year old."

"And how come no one knew. Why does he know you?" Dean asked, frustrated. "Honestly, Cas, trying to have a real conversation with you is like trying to dig a hole in water."

"Dean, that would be quite impossible, water is. . .oh wait, I understand, you are subtly trying to convey the fact that my communication skills are lacking. Some may argue it is simply that you are incapable of listening." Cas spoke solemnly.

"Hey, I am a great listener, isn't that right, Shelby?" Dean protested.

"Well actually, Dean. . ." Shelby began, only to be cut off mid-sentence.

"See, everyone agrees, now can you please give us the facts? Why do the demons want Nathan, and why did you tell him to keep his verbal skills a secret? Why do you know him at all?"

"The facts are simple, Nathan is John's son and your brother. He also is far more like Sam than is good for him. He has all the potential Sam had at birth, but his powers have not been tempered by the demon blood. The demons want to know what will develop so they are watching for the signs. The first sign that these powers are in him is, as you would put it, freakish intelligence. I was hoping the demons would decide he showed no signs of the power and leave him alone, but it doesn't appear to be working. I have been the Winchester angel for generations, guarding their secrets and protecting the line, Nathan is simply the latest in a long line. Of course, he is special in that I revealed myself to him so young."

"But. . ." Dean was confused. "I thought Sam's powers came from the demon blood."

"Because that is what everyone wanted you to believe. The Winchesters have long been holders of the power. Demon blood does have that ability, as was seen in all of Azazel's special children. With Sam, it was more about binding him and strengthening that which was already there. Did you never wonder why Sam was Azazel's favourite? It was because Sam had the potential within him already. His strength would be limitless."

"But why Nathan now? He hasn't been given the demon blood. They have no hold on him? Why do they want him so badly."

"I can't tell you that yet. I am sorry, Dean. Some things must remain secret," Cas spoke plainly.

"One more thing," Dean's voice grew so quiet, the others had to strain to hear him. "If you are our family angel, where were you the night my mother died? Where were you when that yellow-eyed son of a bitch bled into my baby brother's mouth?"

Something very close to sorrow overtook Castiel's face. "I am sorry, Dean. I was there. I had to watch and I could do nothing. I know the light your mother was, but it wasn't the plan. You and your brother. . .you needed to become who you are today."

"Screw your plans!" Dean shouted. "You are a heartless bastard. You watched her die and you did nothing and you let hell throw a net around Sam so big he is still fighting to crawl out from under it." Shelby came up behind Dean and slipped under his arm. He crushed her to his side, drawing strength and comfort from her warmth and softness.

"It nearly ripped my heart out to watch your mother die," Castiel's voice was grim. "And to allow evil to mark its territory in your brother's soul went against everything in me, but I knew the plan and I had to believe that this would make a difference. Do you want to win a tiny little battle, or do you want to win the war?"

"Oh, I want to win the war, but I want to do it without you putting Sammy and me at the front as your brainless pawns."

"It's the plan, Dean. I can't change that."

"And what about Nathan, do you plan on also turning him into a stone-hearted hunter, hell bent on revenge."

"No," Castiel's face softened. "My instructions are to give Nathan a childhood." He stopped pensively before shaking his head. "Talk does nothing. I have arrangements to make and questions that I need answered before I can tell you anything else. Call me if you need anything else." and he was gone.

"Wait, come back!" cried Nathan. And Cas was once more standing in front of them. "You forgot my hugs and kisses." Samantha had been wondering where her baby had gone, so she was relieved to discover he had not left, replaced by some stranger. He was still her affectionate little boy.

A half smile appeared on Castiel's face as the little boy rocketed into his arms, squeezing him tight and planting many exuberant, sloppy kisses on his face. "Will you still be here to protect me while I sleep?" the little boy asked sadly, little lip trembling.

"Have I ever missed a night?" Castiel said firmly.

Dean could not remain angry when he saw how tenderly the angel held the little boy. He only wished the angel had protected Sammy that way.

"Alright," Dean said gruffly, a small catch in his throat. "We will deal with this spook, but the moment you have answers, you get your butt back here and enlighten us. Hell is not claiming another Winchester."

.~o()o~.

I anxiously await all your feedback!