Foreword:

Whoo!!! Chapter nine! I'm really excited and I don't know why. Once again, the comments are amazing. Love to all those who give them. Off we go…

Disclaimer:

I do not own Sam or his brother Dean. Nor do I own any member of the flock.

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"The legendary Dean Winchester. I was hoping one day I'd meet you." Fang was still smiling as he settled the gun into the waistband of his own jeans, still holding Dean suspended in the air. Dean tied to speak to his assailant, but all he could muster was a sort of gurgling as his air supply was diminishing by the second.

"Nothing to say, Dean? That's fine I'll start." The Fang said, as if trying to make conversation. "Where's your brother and the flock?"

The demon dropped Dean and his legs buckled. He stumbled to the ground on all fours, trying to reinstate the flow of oxygen to his brain. "Who are you?" He managed to croak.

Fang tut-tuted. "Now Dean, I asked you a question." Fang said, emphasizing question with a kick to Dean's stomach. Dean grunted in pain and launched into a coughing fit.

"Well, it seems I plum forgot where I put them…" Dean said sarcastically as he gained his feet and looked Fang in the eye.

"Oh, Dean. I'm disappointed." The demon admonished.

"Sit on it and spin, you demonic son of a bitch." Dean snarled.

"Doesn't matter. I'll find out anyway." Fang said.

He brought the butt of the gun hard against Dean's head. Dean crumpled to the ground before he even registered the movement.

The demon crouched down next to Dean's still form and felt in Dean's pockets. He found the matchbook from the motel from the left jacket pocket. Dean had developed a habit of grabbing one when they had them, cuz you never knew when you'd need to set something on fire; a habit that had gotten them up to their necks on more than one occasion.

Fang smiled as he read the name clearly printed on the cardboard. He looked up at Dean's closed eyes.

"C'mon, Dean. It's time to go meet little brother and all your new little friends." He chuckled as he picked up the keys to the Impala.

"Damn, Dean's taking a long time with that coffee." Sam observed as he rubbed his tired eyes and settled onto the unused bed.

"Get some sleep. I can keep watch." Max had become restless, and after she explained the accelerated healing her body seemed to be doing, he hadn't objected to her getting up and half limping, half pacing the small room.

"I think pretty soon, I won't have any say in the matter." Sam admitted. "I was wondering if I could ask you a question."

"Depends on the question." Max answered.

"Well, I was wondering about your parents. Did you…ever find them?" Sam asked carefully.

"That's not an okay question to ask." Max said off-handedly, peeling back her bandages to peer at her wound again.

"Stop that. I'm sorry, I was just wondering since…" Sam trailed off.

"Since what?" Max asked, replacing her bandages and looking up to meet Sam's eyes.

"You're a great kid. All you guys are. I'm just saying that you're the last people that deserve this kind of life."

"You sound like you know what you're talking about."

Sam was a little surprised by this. He thought about the escape he tried to make to Stanford. He thought about what Dean had said, about how the job had only brought them bad luck. About how to protect the ones who couldn't protect themselves, they had doomed themselves to walk in the shadows. They had sacrificed their lives, weather or not their hearts were still beating had become irrelevant over the long years of solitude. The only saving grace for Dean was Sam and Sam for Dean. They were all each other had left, just like Max had her flock. The parallels were becoming apparent.

"Yeah, yeah I guess I do." Sam finally said.

Max was silent for awhile, and then spoke. "Okay, Sam now can I ask you a question?" She asked, lying down on the bed after getting tired of pacing.

"Shoot." Sam said, closing his dry eyes.

"Where do you go after you…you know…uh, die?" Max asked. Sam eyes snapped open.

"Well, nobody knows, honey, not even me or Dean. Why do you ask?" Sam said, rolling his head over to look at her.

"I just…well, I just wanted to know that there's…a better place, you know? I need to know that this isn't it." She spoke with a faraway look in her eyes, looking into the mirror at her disheveled reflection. "I want to know that there's a place for us. The Flock and I after…you know."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Sam answered. "Man, do I know what you mean."

Sam tensed at a knock on the door.

Sam looked out the peep hole and saw the back of Dean's head, like he'd knocked and turned away from the door.

Sam had just opened the door when a thought occurred to him.

Dean had a key, didn't he?

No sooner had he thought that then the door swung open and the chords of physic energy holding Dean into a standing position fell away and he crumpled, still unconscious from the blow to the head he'd received at the hands of Fang earlier.

"Dean!" Sam lunged forward to catch his brother before he crashed to the floor and dragging him to the bed that he's just vacated.

Fang breezed into the door. "Well, isn't this cozy? Ah, Max. How's the leg?" He jovially, turning to her and ignoring the Winchesters.

Max had already gotten her feet under her. She stood in as much as a defensive position as she could muster, keeping most of her weight on her good leg.

"You're not Fang, don't pretend to be." Max said with a steely edge in her voice.

"Aw, Max. Now I'm hurt. We can't be fighting when we go pay the flock a visit. It might scare them." Fang said, smiling evilly.

"Hell with that. You're not getting anywhere near the flock while you're…in… Fang." Max said with a mixture of confusion and determination.

"Oh, we'll be seeing them soon. I have some business with little Angel." Fang said. "Rather, my father does."

"And whose that?" Sam piped up from Dean's side.

"Well, he's got many names, but you should know him by the color of his eyes. " Fang grinned. "They're real yellow."

Sam's face blanched as Fang's demonic laughter filled the room.