Gibbs stared at the water. Dean didn't surface. Ziva waved her hands in confusion from across the lake. Gibbs scanned the area feeling tense and angry. He shouldn't have brought the suspect here. He knew the smart ass was thinking about escaping. But he felt like there was more to the story. Something about the Winchesters wasn't right… He could feel it. He'd thought he might get answers at the pond. But he didn't expect an escape plan as dumb as 'jump, handcuffed, into the freezing pond'. Gibbs glared at the water. The kid wasn't coming up. And he wasn't stupid. Which meant...

"He has a way out." Gibbs turned and stumbled down into the woods. He glanced around, feeling fury burning in his gut. The half-light of evening made everything lay in shadow - indistinct and threatening. A branched cracked to his right. Gibbs turned. Dean Winchester stood fifty feet away, shivering, and partially hidden by a tree. They locked eyes. Dean waved at him with his bound hands and ran flat out, disappearing into the trees.

"Dammit!" Gibbs pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. He ran towards where he'd seen the guy while hitting the speed dial. "McGee. You put the locater in Dean's cuffs before we left, right?"

"Yeah, boss. But he's with you, right?"

"Not anymore." Gibbs moved forward cautiously.

"Oh."

Gibbs didn't wait for any questions. "Track him. He'll ditch the restraints as soon as he gets the chance." Gibbs paused, feeling an idea forming.

"Give me a sec." McGee paused. "Boss, he's in the woods, nearing the road. I'll send a team in right away."

An image of Sam flashed in his mind. "No." He paused and turned back towards the path. "No. Tell them to hold back as long as possible. But get a visual."

"Um...okay. Is there a reason or..."

Gibbs smirked. "Because, McGee. He's going to contact his brother. And I'd rather have them both." Gibbs tromped back to the path. "And don't lose him." He slammed the phone shut. He saw the flashing of lights from the other side of the bank. He strode around the water to Ziva. She was talking with the first agents to arrive.

Gibbs pulled her aside. "He's in the woods. We've got a trace on him." He motioned to the arriving agents. "Make sure they check the water. I want to know how he got from this pond." Gibbs pointed at the water. "To those woods. See if he's hiding anything else here." More people arrived. "He doesn't get away."

**

Okay. The chains were a problem. Dean wanted them off. He wanted them off now. He could admit it. He slunk down against an Oak tree. He heard the whiz of cars from a nearby highway. Highway One, a stray thought supplied. It registered in his head that he should be running. Gibbs had seen him in the woods – the guy caught on even quicker than he thought – and had looked pissed as hell. The area would be crawling with police in no time.

He held up his hands. The metal appeared dull in the fading light. He grabbed a small twig from the damp ground. His hands shook as he tried to maneuver the stick and unlock the chains. Snap. The wood splintered.

"Dammit." He grabbed a second, sturdier looking twig. Fishing out the remnants of the first attempt, he tried picking the cuffs again. Snap. Frustrated, he bent sideways and slammed the metal against the tree. Nothing happened. He did it again. And again. And one more time until his wrists stung and the cuffs clanked brokenly. He thought that they'd busted but when he looked down the metal was stubbornly still in place.

Dean banged his head against the trunk. Not gonna get them off then. He glanced up at the branches above his head. The limbs of the tree swayed with the growing breeze. He looked back down at his bound hands. They trembled in the cuffs. He stared for a long minute.

The image morphed in his head into something else. Suddenly, the cold hurt his skin. It burned. Oh god, he was… He stifled a gasp, blinking rapidly. No. No. He was in the woods. The woods. And it was cold. Cold. Not hot. Not. Hot. He lumbered up. His whole body began shaking. The cold seeped down from his skin into his deep center. Cold. Clean and quiet air. Not choking with smoke, sulphur and deafening screams.

"Right." Dean pushed the unwanted images down deep. Hid them and locked them away and hoped to hell they'd stay there this time. He took a deep breath, feeling oddly comforted by the chill in his body. He glanced around. His ass needed to get in gear. NCIS was chasing him. He felt his brain slowing. Maybe that water was colder than he thought? He bit at his lip and concentrated. He should track down Sam. He shivered in his chains. Sam would know what to do about the cuffs and the wodnik and NCIS. He stumbled through the trees along side the road willing his feet to keep moving.

**

Gibbs watched the circus as men and women in various uniforms investigate the woods and the water. Three guys were hauling in large spotlights to light the darkening area. He tapped his fingers, impatient for McGee and Dinozzo to arrive. His phone rang.

"Where are you, McGee? We have a visual on the suspect yet."

"Traffic. On our way. Uh…bad news boss…

Gibbs lips twitched down. He waited. McGee seemed to be hesitating on the other end. "Out with it, McGee." Gibbs snapped.

"The…uh…transmitter…it's stopped transmitting."

Gibbs was sure as hell he hadn't heard that right. "What?"

"About two minutes, ago. There's a team close, but they haven't actually seen him yet. Last location about a mile south of exit 405 off of highway one."

Gibbs grit his teeth. The blood rushed through his veins. His voice came out in a growl. "That was the failsafe, McGee. You telling me it's not working?"

"Yeah…I…ah…guess so."

"Tell the team to move in. Now. Last known location. Do a sweep of the woods."

"Called it in the moment we lost the signal, boss. But they haven't found him yet."

Gibbs hung up the phone. Great. Instead of catching them both, they were going to lose them both. This entire night was a disaster.

"Gibbs!"

Gibbs turned to see Ziva motioning to him. He stomped over.

"Yeah?"

She nodded to the bank. Two men were fishing a bloated body out of the pond.

One of them, a tall guy with a beard, turned to him. "This your guy?" He asked.

Gibbs moved in closer. "No. It sure is hell isn't." He walked over and turned the left wrist. A teardrop mark marred the gray skin of the body.

**

Dean heard voices in the woods - low whispers carried on the wind. It didn't matter if they were real or in his head. They weren't good. He was sure of that. So he picked his feet up and ran through the trees. And despite the fact it was cold as the arctic and his mind was moving at a snails pace, he was glad for the wind. It hid the loud cracks of his footfalls on the forest floor. He ran as fast and far as he could until he stumbled onto a side road with a gas station.

He snickered and snuck around an old pick-up. It was unlocked. And he wasn't feeling so cold now. Had stopped shivering, even. True, it was getting a little harder to concentrate, but it had been a long day. And he might not be able to pick his cuffs open, but he could sure as hell hotwire a car with them on. He could do that in his sleep. He pulled the handle. His hands slipped off.

"Ah…Fuck it." Dean tried again. The door opened. He grinned, got inside, and got the truch started. He pulled out of the lot. He hoped Sam would be at the meeting spot. Somewhere, deep in his head, it occurred to him that not shivering was actually a bad thing. He turned the heat on. Cold air rushed out. Dean sighed and tried not to crash the truck into anything or anyone. Ten minutes later, he pulled into the Dover motel lot. He congratulated himself for remembering where it was located. He stumbled out of the truck and hit the concrete hard. He decided the best plan now was to lay there for a moment and rest.

A moment later, Dean was pulled from his would be rest on the pavement by a horrid smell. He scrunched up his nose and looked up. A figure with dopey hair, dressed in NCIS security gear, towered over him.

"Sammy!" Dean said, trying to pull himself up. He grinned dumbly at his brother. Sam grabbed his arm and helped him to vertical. Dean sniffed. "Dude, you smell."

Sam frowned. "Yeah." Sam glanced around the lot with a wary expression. Dean guessed he was looking for police and federal agents. Sam turned back to him, apparently content they were alone for now. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded.

Sam pushed him toward a gray Ford Focus in the lot. "The wodnik is going to kill again. We've gotta move fast before…" Sam paused. His eyes raked over Dean's wrists and hands. "Geezus, Dean." Sam huffed and continued to maneuver him to the car. He pushed him inside. "You're freezing. And what the hell did you do to your wrists?"

"Jumped in the pond."

Sam gave him a disbelieving stare. "The pond with the wodnik? Dean, what the hell? The thing could have been home." His brother sounded pissed. He shook his head and continued talking. "Like I was saying the wodnik is following a pattern. We need to stop it before…"

"Before…" Dean repeated. Sam's lips twisted down again and he stared at Dean more appraisingly. Dean didn't know what Sam's problem was. Kid always had some problem or another. Maybe he was pissed Dean had jumped in the pond? Dean leaned back against the seat. "He's a commuter…" He mumbled.

Sam's face twisted in confusion. His eyes focused back on Dean's wrists.

"No teardrops." Dean held up his hands. "Banged 'em against the tree." The words came out slurred. "Want 'em off." Dean felt himself getting agitated again. He leaned into Sam's space. "Now, Sam. Now!"

Sam's eyes widened in concern. Dean would have found it comical, but everything was starting to dull out of focus. He thought he heard someone calling for him, but he was too tired to really give a damn, and let his eyelids fall shut.

**

Three hours and no trace of the suspect. Either suspect. Agents were still scouring the area, but Gibbs knew they wouldn't find Dean. Sam hadn't surfaced at all since he walked…yes walked…past the gate. He paced around the desks, glowering at Dinozzo, Ziva, and McGee. They hurried around, frantically looking for a lead.

Tony waved a printout in front of him. "A stolen vehicle was just reported near to the last known whereabouts of one Dean Winchester."

Gibbs nodded. "Find him." He headed for the elevator. He needed a cup of damn coffee. He turned back. "Find them both."

The elevator door opened. Abby stood inside. She bit at her lower lip and looked at Gibbs with big, concerned eyes.

"Abby?"

She held out a piece of paper. "It's a note. Sam left it for me in the lab, Gibbs." Resolve flooded into her expression. "You should see it." She nodded. "Yeah. You should see it. Here." She handed him the paper. Gibbs looked at it.

Abby –

I'm not what they say I am. You have to know that. Check my file – the evidence doesn't add up. If you run into something else you can't explain, call the number at the back of this and leave a message. I'll help."

Sam.