Warnings: Rated T for language and themes typical of canon. Un-betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Disclaimer: Maybe by the time Firefly finally gets that reboot...

-X-

Chapter 9

Start Again

"'The Boogeyman' doesn't exist," Morgan protested, his expression a mixture of disbelief and anger.

"Right," Dean said with a drawl, "Just keep a hold of that pipe or something that doesn't exist is going to kick your ass. Man, that'd be embarrassing.

Dean looked to his brother as the tumblers of the lock finally clicked into place. "Took you that long? Losing your edge there, Sammy."

"Shut up," Sam said with a huff. He stood and stepped away from the door just in time to avoid it as it opened. Dean would have laughed at the startled expression on his face, if it weren't for the gun, held by one of the agents inside, being aimed steadily at him.

"Morgan, what's going on?" the man demanded. His lethal stare shifted only briefly toward the other agents.

"Long story, Hotch." Right, that was his name. Rhymes with scotch.

"Which can be explained later," Sam pointed out, "If you're done pointing a gun at my brother, now would be a good time to make sure the monster we pissed off can't come back."

The man's face tightened in what Dean suspected was an attempt to hide his surprise. Behind him, one of the agents behind him must have given him some sort of signal because the gun was slowly lowered and holstered.

"Good. First, we'll need a lot of salt. The rock salt for ice should work. Someone should also go out and grab a few more pipes. We got lucky, there's a load of pure iron ones in the blue pick up outside."

The kid behind Hotch paled and covered his face with his hands. "Mum's gonna kill me," he groaned.

"Better her than the Boogeyman," Dean said cheerfully before turning to the agent in charge, "So, Hotch-"

"It's Agent Hotchner," the man corrected firmly.

"Whatever you say 'Agent Hotchner'. They're your agents, so it's up to you and them what all of you do or don't do. But I would suggest following my brother's advice and saving the hostilities for later. Deal?"

Hotch gave him a considering look. "Deal, but I'm keeping an agent on each of you at all times."

"So long as they can keep up."

-X-

By the time all the windows and doors had been salted the lights had already come back on. Reid's sigh of relief had been heard across the room, even though the Boogeyman had only made two more appearances in that time. Dean supposed the agents all had a right to frayed nerves after their first meet and greet with the supernatural. Newbies.

They had adjusted pretty well though, especially that Rossi guy. Older guys were usually harder to convince - not that he would ever imply that the man was old to his face. He'd seen Caleb learn that the hard way with Pastor Jim. Being a man of God, it turned out, did not stop you from smacking a teenager upside the head when he says something stupid.

Now they all sat in the bullpen clutching mugs of coffee and rubbing tired eyes. Well, most of them; Dean hadn't seen that smith kid's eyes open in a while.

"How is this even possible," Hotch asked, rubbing his forehead. At least his doubt had been pretty well destroyed when he'd swung a pipe through the creature himself.

"Well, Hotch-" the man shot him a pointed look, "-ner, do you want the long or short version?"

Before he could answer the one with the goatee, Rossi, spoke. "Just give us the long version. Get it over with."

"It's like we told your agents before," Sam said, "Some spirits don't pass on when they die. They stick around as ghosts and, eventually, start taking out their anger and regrets on the living.

"But some of them are special, like a Woman in White or a Boogeyman. The method and reason for their death changed from regular spirits to something else entirely."

"See, a Boogeyman can be created when a kid is killed by their abusive parents," Dean explained, "Not always, but sometimes. That's why they target other kids who've disobeyed their parents. Usually, they still remember that 'bad kids' get punished. At least, that's what our source thinks."

"That would explain some of the victims," Reid said, opening a couple of files with one hand as he downed another cup of coffee, "Matthew Kelly was a frequent runaway and got in trouble for fighting, Dante Green was causing trouble at school - nothing that got him worse than a detention, but still."

"And I heard Kanade arguing with her mom when we fist checked in," Sam told them, "It didn't sound like the first time."

"But what about the other two?" Morgan asked, "Danica Rogers' grandparents thought she could do no wrong, and Ellie Miller's seemed to be the same."

"Yeah, that was the impression we got," Dean said, not an ounce of guilt.

"They were out after dark," Prentiss said suddenly, "When I was little; one of my nannies would tell me that a woman would take me away if I didn't come inside before sunset. What I don't get is their ages. You said kids, and I heard these stories when I was really young. Ellie is ten; everyone else is older than that. Why wouldn't it go after someone younger?"

"This is a creature that has power because kids believe in it. They're right around the age when childhood fears stop mattering for most kids; when they stop believing," Sam grabbed a map off a nearby desk, "Now, our source says that if it feeds on enough fear it'll go dormant and we'll lose it. Last time it showed up was about fifty years ago and it took seven kids. That means we'll most likely have two chances before it and the kids are gone."

"Wonderful," Morgan sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, "Tell me you at least have some idea where this thing is keeping them."

"...Kind of," Sam pointed to a spot on the map near the bend of a road and right at the edge of an area of dense forest, "This is where the Blackbird Motel is now, but Mrs. Irving has an old newspaper article in the lobby. There used to be an inn there before it burned down and the land was sold.

"The owners, Richard and Anna Maxwell, were killed in the fire so I looked online just in case. Turns out, their eleven year old son, Thomas, died in an 'accident' sixty years ago. He fell down the stairs. Less than ten years later, the Boogeyman shows up."

"So they killed him and now he's the Boogeyman."

"That's our theory, anyway."

"That's as far as we got before Kanade was taken," Dean said, "Power went out before we could find out where the kid was buried."

"We're pretty sure he's keeping everyone somewhere in the woods near the motel," Sam assured them, "Sometimes when dad was gone on a really long hunt he would leave us with a friend of his. There was a cave I would hide in whenever I was mad. Well, until a cougar almost found me." Dean had wondered what they'd told Sam it was. He followed everyone's gazes to the map again. That was a lot of forest to comb through.

"I'll check with JJ; see if the search's found anything," Hotch announced, standing up moving away from everyone else with his phone.

"There are three cemeteries in town, but-" Sam began before he was interrupted by the colourful blonde woman.

"He's in Clearview."

When she felt their eyes on her she looked up and elaborated. "Thomas Maxwell is buried in Clearview Cemetery; the one closest to the beach."

Dean blinked and raised an eyebrow. "We just gave you the name."

"Well, I had to wait for my system to reboot," she acknowledged with a small smirk.

"I don't think we were really introduced, Agent...?"

"Penelope Garcia. Technical Analyst."

"Well, Penny, you are a goddess."

"Sweetheart, you have no idea."

The box of confiscated items suddenly rumbled violently, startling them all. Deputy Noble stood and opened it, pulling Dean's vibrating phone from inside.

"You have a call," she said, tossing it to him. He caught it and glanced at the caller ID curiously.

"Hey, Sammy, why are you calling me?"

"I forgot my phone in the motel room," Sam confessed with a shrug.

Dean gave the still buzzing phone a considering look before shrugging his shoulders and answering it.

"Mr. Dean? Are you there?" the voice on the other end asked, "When are you coming back?"

Young, female. Yuki? "I'm right here, Yuki. We'll be back soon, promise. Why do you have Sammy's phone?"

"... It was on the ground."

"...Where?" The girl hesitated again.

"... I dunno."

"How did you get in our room?"

"Kai unlocked the window - um."

"Oh. Tell him 'good job' for me, okay?"

Sam shot him a glare. "Stop corrupting them."

"Alright, alright. Yuki? We're heading back soon. You've still got that bracelet I gave you, right?"

"Of course. Oh, but one of the beads broke. I'm sorry." He bit back a curse.

"Is Kai still there with you?"

"Yeah, he's searching your bags."

"Don't tell him that!" He heard in the background.

"Oops."

"Never mind. There should be a big bag of salt near the door. I need the two of you to make a big ring of salt in the middle of the room. Make sure it's thick and solid, okay?"

"Why?"

"Do it. There should also be jugs of water in the bathroom. The ones with the beads in them. When you're done with the salt I need you to stay in the circle with that water until we get there. If anything moves, throw water on it."

"But, why?"

"Just trust me, okay? And don't hang up the phone; just leave it in the circle."

There was a moment of silence until, finally, she agreed and set down the phone. Dean listened to her as she spoke to her brother before putting his own phone on the table and faced the expectant gazes of his brother and the FBI agents.

"Please don't suggest splitting up," Garcia said, not looking up from the satellite photos on her laptop screen, "Anyone who's seen Scooby Doo or a horror movie knows that's a bad idea."

"Well 'gang', some of you'll have to go to the grave to salt and burn this son of a bitch. The rest of us need to head back to the motel. Yuki and Kai are about to be its next victims."

"You're sure?" Prentiss asked, already grabbing her jacket.

"When you grabbed us, I gave Yuki a turquoise bracelet. If a bead is broken, that means -"

"An ill intentioned spirit has taken an interest in her," Smith interrupted, still half asleep and fading fast, "Mum's a professor of history at UMM. Turquoise supposed to be a protective charm for a lot of cultures, including several Native American groups." He yawned, not seeming to notice anyone's stares.

"Well," Sam said, standing abruptly, "Who's coming grave digging?"

-X-

I'm back~ Pretty dialogue heavy and a bit short, but the boys had a lot of explaining to do and I couldn't go further without an awkward ending to the chapter.

Only a few more chapters and we'll be done, so my thanks to everyone who's stuck through it with me. Good night and see you next chapter!

As always, reviews are welcome and appreciated.