Chapter 7

Dean gave Frannie and Karen a wary glance. Both held weapons, Frannie a shotgun and Karen the tire iron, and from their grim expressions, neither would hesitate to use them. He, on the other hand, was standing there with nothing more than his good looks. "Gimme the gun," he ordered as he held out his hand to Fran.

The look the pretty blond sent him was enough to make him question whether she'd turn the gun on him or over to him. Then at last, she reluctantly handed it over, her grimace making it clear that she would have rather kept it.

"Here, Fran," Karen offered as she handed over the tire iron she'd been holding.

Frannie accepted it with a grateful smile. It was obvious that she felt better with some means of protection. Dean watched as Karen then made her way to a display of auto tools. Sorting through the jumbled mess, she quickly found another tire iron, swinging the heavy cross-shaped bar, she glanced at Dean with a slightly shame-faced grin. "It's better than nothing."

Dean nodded and set about re-loading the shotgun. "Iron'll stop 'em in their tracks."

The hunter was well aware of the fact that both women were pressing closer. It was obvious that they'd decided in the grand scheme of things he was the lesser of two evils.

"And the vampires, you were serious?" Fran asked, as she continued to keep watch.

"Unfortunately, I am. Dead man's blood weakens them. Holy water for demons, silver for werewolves and shape-shifters, and fire."

"Fire?" they whispered in unison.

Dean shot the ladies a grin and shrugged as he closed the shotgun with a snap. "Yup, fire'll stop just about anything else."

With a gesture for them to follow, Dean moved toward the opening of the store. He wanted to be able to cover as much area as possible, he had little doubt that the Smith was now seriously pissed.

Both women followed with quick steps, obviously not interested in getting left behind. Once he'd picked a spot where he had a clear shot at nearly every corner of the shop, Dean dropped his duffle bag and glanced at his watch. "It's just after four, we can expect sunrise in an hour, hour and half."

"What do we do till then?" Frannie asked

Dean waggled his eyebrows at the pretty woman, making her blush. "Now, we wait. This is the more glamorous aspect of the job."

Karen gingerly cleaned off a display counter, wincing as the items fell to the floor. Once it was clear, she hoisted herself up to sit cross-legged on top. It was obvious that Frannie wanted to join her friend, but she was scared to let her guard down.

"I gotcha covered," Dean told her, reassuring them both.

Frannie blew out a relieved breath and jumped up beside Karen. Both women chose to put their backs to each other, making it clear that they were aware of just how much danger they were in.

"You said…job. You were kidding right? I mean this isn't really what you do for a living?" Karen questioned, her voice making it clear just how odd that seemed to her.

Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes, it wasn't the first time he'd heard that question. How could he explain that it was something of a legacy, a job that held little in the way of perks, but offered the satisfaction of saving people, of destroying evil. He went with simple, "Someone's gotta do it."

"So, you and your brother just ride around, killing…things," Frannie said with a nervous glance about the room, "and saving people?"

"Yup."

"So, you're like heroes?" Karen whispered, the awe in her voice coming through loud and clear. "I mean, honest to god heroes."

Dean felt an uncomfortable blush of heat stealing into his cheeks. It wasn't as if he didn't realize that what they did, it was simply that normally he was long gone before anyone could process that what they did saved people. "Yeah, well, I don't ride around on a white horse or anything, but, we do what we can," he said, brushing off the compliment.

"Maybe not a horse, but I saw your car. That is one sweet ride," Frannie said, forever earning herself a place in Dean's heart.

"That's my baby," Dean said with pride as he reached into one of his inner pockets and pulled out a bright yellow bag of peanut M&M's. Tucking the gun under his arm, he proceeded to dig his hand in, drawing out a handful of the brightly colored candies. "You girls hungry?"

"Ugh, starving," Karen said as she helped herself to some chocolate.

"Man, I love these, they're like my all-time favorite," Frannie said with a happy little sigh.

Dean nodded his agreement as he glanced over to where Sammy and Melanie stood, heads bent toward each other in conversation. "She married too?" Dean asked, having already taken note of the wedding bands that both Frannie and Karen wore.

"Nope," Karen replied as she glanced toward Sam and Melanie. "Single as they come."

"Huh," Dean replied as he gave the beautiful red head another glance.

The sound of a bell drew Dean's attention away from Sam. With a curse, he watched as Earl walked into the store. The man made it only as far as the first set of shelves before he paused, obviously put off by the disheveled state of the store and the five sets of eyes that now swung his way.

"Uh, Melanie?" Dean called out, as he gestured toward the trucker. "Do you think you could…"

888

"You know that was really great," Sam said as he idly began searching the shelves for salt. "I mean, what you did for Flo, I admire that."

"Thanks, I just wanted to help her," Melanie said as she tucked a piece of her flame-red hair behind her ear. She shot the younger hunter a sidelong gaze and shrugged. "But, I mean, you of all people have to understand that. You must help spirits move on all the time."

Sam avoided her earnest gaze and rubbed at the back of his neck. How did he find the words to explain that the spirits he dealt with on a day-to-day business were so warped that they no longer responded to much of anything other than both barrels of the sawed-off.

"Yeah, well, I mean what Dean and I do is a little different. We usually deal with angry spirits." There, thought Sam, that sounded pretty good, much better than admitting that they rarely bothered to try to communicate with spirits as they were too busy getting beat to hell and back. Being thrown up against a wall had a tendency to turn you into an 'act first ask questions later' kind of guy.

Melanie nodded earnestly and wandered down the next aisle. Sam shot a look at his brother, taking note that he seemed absorbed in speaking with Frannie and Karen. With Dean, though, appearances were deceiving. His brother was, no doubt still keeping watch that knowledge helped to ease the tension that gripped the younger hunter.

"So, Vampires?" Melanie asked as she turned to face Sam.

"Apparantly," Sam said with a low laugh.

"And…." Mel drew the word out.

Sam shook his head and asked, "And…?"

"What else? I mean if ghosts and vampires are real than what about….werewolves?"

Sam at last came across the foodstuffs aisle, and there was the welcome sight of a row of dark blue Morton Salt containers. As a kid, that deep blue container, with the little girl in her bright yellow dress was as familiar to him as Aunt Jamima was to most kids. More times than Sam wanted to count, he'd seen that container, sitting on the table ready to be used as a last defense.

"Here, just gather up as many as you can carry," Sam said as he put action to words and grabbed up a bunch of the salt containers. "Werewolves are real, and it does take silver. Sometimes, the movies do get things right."

"Huh," Melanie said, a slight shiver running through her body. "Good to know. What about demons, you know Rosemary's baby, the Omen, that kind of thing?"

"Definitely, demons and possessions can happen."

Arms full of salt, Melanie sent Sam a wink. "I'm, so totally, not surprised. I swear, my fourth grade teacher was possessed."

Sam was shocked by his own burst of laughter. "Is that right? Well, I'll give you a tip, next time say 'Christo' and watch the eyes, with demons it's all about the eyes."

"Will do, Sam," Melanie said, "I'll have to remember to give that a go next time I run into her at the grocery store."

They were both laden with salt and heading back toward Dean when Melanie asked, "What about Stephen King, I mean come on, you can't tell me something's not up with that guy?"

This time, his laughter was such that he kept dropping the salt containers. As he fumbled to get a hold on them once more, he caught his breath and said, "Actually, Dean checked him out. He was like fifteen and he'd just finished reading Pet Cemetery. He swore up and down till he was blue in the face that King was actually a demon. A flask of holy water at a book signing was enough to convince Dean that whatever the man is, he's not a demon."

"No," Melanie said, "he did not." Her laugh rang through the building.

Sam shook his head and gestured toward his brother. "Scouts honor, you can ask him yourself. Dad was none too pleased when we were escorted out of the store."

The younger Winchester couldn't help but admire the blue-eyed girl as she broke up in peals of laughter.

"Uh, Melanie?"

It was his brother calling for the pretty woman that brought Sam back to reality. He glanced over at him and couldn't help but grimace as he followed Dean's gesture toward the front door. There stood Earl an uncomfortable look on his face.

"Do you think you could…"

888

"Well, poor Earl's had his last piece of pie. Your girl Melanie has quiet the touch," Dean said as he accepted a few of the salt containers that Sam brought him.

Karen could easily pick out the frustration in the younger man's voice as Sam snapped, "Knock it off, Dean."

"What?" the older man asked his hands outstretched to show his innocence. "I'm just saying, she's handy to have around, saves me from all that touchy feely crap."

Sam rolled his eyes and snapped, "Yeah, cause, you're usually so sensitive."

"Hey, man, just cause I don't buy that whole 'you're okay, I'm okay crap' doesn't mean that I can'—"

"Yeah, actually, that's exactly what I mean," Sam interrupted, "I mean take that women in white, I think the closest you got to discussing your feelings was when you called her a bit—"

"Dude, she'd possessed my car. MY CAR!" Dean yelled. "I barely let your freaky ass in it, and I'm supposed to let Casper take it for a cruise around the block?"

Karen watched the exchange with interest, she couldn't help but be amazed by the brothers words. She had a feeling that she was getting a real insight into just how dangerous and weird their lives were. Her only hope was that Melanie was listening as well, the girl could use a dose of reality to counter the warmth of Sam's sweet eyes.

"And let's see, how about the Wendigo? Was I supposed to try and reason with him before or after he ate you?" Dean snapped. His gun was no longer at the ready, as he faced off with his brother.

Sam seemed equally pissed off, and Dean's comments only increased his anger. "That's not what I'm saying, and you know it. It's just you're so cut off, man, I mean, come on, we saw Mom's spirit and you never said a word about it, you just shut me down every time I try and broach the subject."

"What am I supposed to say, Sammy? That I was brokenhearted. That the idea that she sacrificed herself to save us, kills me, 'cause it does. Every damn day, it does."

Whether it was the little kid version of his name, or simply the pain that rang through in Dean's voice, Karen wasn't sure, but she watched as Sam visibly eased up. The tension seemed to slip away from his body, leaving him looking much younger and more vulnerable than he had only moments ago. "Yeah, dumbass, that's what you're supposed to say. You're supposed to tell me that I'm not the only one, being eaten up from the inside out."

Hands resting on his lean hips, head hanging down, Dean muttered, "Yeah, well you're not." Raising his head, he met his brother's gaze. "You're not the only one."

The brothers locked gazes for a moment and at last seemed to come to a truce. Though they spoke no words, Karen had no doubt that they'd come to some unspoken agreement. Dean was the first to break eye-contact. With a lopsided grin, he muttered, "Bitch."

Sam's expression was a mixture of resignation and humor, and his answering reply of "Jerk" turned his brother's small grin into a full-fledged, mega-watt smile.

Karen found herself stunned for a moment as she gazed at the two handsome men.

"It's like staring into the sun," Frannie murmured, obviously as riveted by the sight before her as Karen.

"I'm gonna get me one," Melanie replied as she eased up behind Karen and Frannie.

It was Frannie that turned to the red-head with shake of her head. "You can try, honey, and he might let you put a rope on him for a bit, but eventually you're gonna have to let him go. Guys like that aren't the settling kind."

"But what a ride it would be," Karen said with a sigh.

Frannie and Melanie both turned to stare at the brunette, before bursting into laughter.

"Come on, I'm married not dead," Karen replied with a wink before she too broke up, laughing hard.

888

"Okay, so we're down Earl and Flo, at least that's two less that Smith has to torture," Dean muttered to his brother as he eyed the Winchester's charges.

All three woman stood gathered in a tight group, each one held a tire iron and was eyeing her nearby surroundings with care. Dean had to hand it to them they were quick learners. He did, however, raise a questioning brow, when they all broke out in peals of laughter. The sound was sweet, despite the hint of desperation he could clearly hear. He wondered, vaguely, what they could find funny given their current situation.

"What?" his brother questioned as he noticed Dean's focus.

"Nothing," Dean said, as he grimly eyed their surroundings. "We've got to get them out, Sam. All of them."

His brother nodded, and clapped Dean on the shoulder, "We will, now let's get them set. I'll feel better once they're inside a salt ring."

"Right," Dean answered as he swung into action. "Girls," he called out, drawing the focus of three sets of pretty eyes. "Sam and I are gonna make a circle on the floor. You are going to stand inside it until we give you the all clear. Do I make myself clear?" Dean made sure his tone left no room for doubts.

"What about you two, you'll be in the circle with us right?"

Dean closed his eyes with a groan, leave it up to the ringleader to question him. "No, we'll be outside the circle ensuring that you're safe. That's our job, we make sure you get out alive. Your job is to shut up and do as you're told."

Sam's hiss made it clear that the kid felt Dean had been too harsh. At the moment, the elder Winchester couldn't care less. As long as the girl's did as they were told, he didn't really care who he offended.

"Fran, did you hear that? Next time Dean's got a knife to his throat, you're to just squeal prettily and watch him die," Karen snapped.

With a growl, Dean punctured the canister he held in his hands and began laying a line. As Sam quickly followed, adding his own salt to the ring, Dean concentrated on counting backwards from ten to allow his temper to cool.

At last, sufficiently calm, Dean gestured toward the circle that he and Sam had created. "That's exactly what you should do. Better that I take a hit than one of you. Now, get in the circle and stay in the circle. As long as it holds, you'll be safe."

At his words, Karen paled. It was obvious that she didn't like the idea of him sacrificing himself. However, she also wouldn't risk her friends' lives. "Let's go ladies," she said with a sniff. "The man speaks and we jump."

The sarcasm in Karen's tone was hard to miss. Honestly, the hunter didn't really care, as long as she did what was necessary he could ignore the rest. "See, was that so hard?" he questioned Karen with a wink, once all three ladies were inside the ring of protection.

Dean took Karen's middle finger salute as her answer. With one last grin, he turned his back on her and took up his position near Sam. "How long?"

Sam glanced toward his watch and then out the window. "I'm figuring another hour, but that's just a best guess."

"'K, that's fine, we can do an hour in our sleep."

"Dean," Sam exclaimed with a groan. "Why do you insist on saying shit like that? Every time you say it's going to be easy, something goes wron—"

Sam cut his words off with another groan as the overhead fluorescent lights suddenly went dark. "See," the younger man hissed.

"Actually, I can't see shit," Dean muttered. Without light from the overheads the building was pitch black. "I'm thinking old Smith is taking offense at our well laid plans."

"Guys?" Frannie called, her voice edging toward panic.

Sam's low voice was soothing and calm. "It's gonna be fine. Just stay in the circle."

Dean retraced his steps toward the bag he knew lay nearby and took a knee. The first thing he came across was his zippo, with a flick of his thumb, he brought the lighter to life. The small flame was like a beacon in the dark. It cast wavering shadows over Sam and the surrounding area. Using the light, Dean began to dig around in the bag once more looking for the flashlights he knew he'd included.

"Sam!" Melanie called, her voice shattering the quiet of the night.

Dean glanced up just in time to see a shadow just over his brother's shoulder. Before he could do much more than grab up the shotgun he'd set on the floor, Sam was knocked off his feet.

The blow was a solid one and it drove the younger hunter across the floor toward the opening that led deeper into the building. One minute Sam lay stunned and the next something grabbed him and began dragging him outside of the faint ring of light that Dean's zippo provided.

With a roar of anger the older hunter was on his feet, racing after his brother. "Stay in the circle," he commanded, as he left the store.

TBC