Sorry for the delay folks, but I got caught up with work again. But I think you'll be happy to know this is extra lengthy and there is a bit of dark and lightness in this chappie…okay, a lot of lightness! Plus there's a bit of Greek mythology in here, Hannah style! Enjoy!

The pain was only brief, but the humiliation lasts forever. A scowl worked its way on Jared's face as he laid on the ground inwardly cursing himself—well, more at the banana peel that sent him tumbling down the short flight of steps. If Hannah had seen him sprawled at the base of the paved walkway, he'd never hear the end of it. Thanking his lucky stars his wife was busy attending to the mess in the kitchen, he laggardly pulled himself up. Still grumbling about his little mishap, he snatched up the bag of trash and made his way over to the trashcan.

"Well…that must've been a show," he mumbled waving to the few neighbors outside either mowing their lawns or trimming their bushes.

A small ache festered, growing the further he walked. Tossing away the bag, he paused a moment to rub his backside. The pain was bearable once it managed to subdue, but that still hadn't laid off the heat rising in his cheeks. Next time he vowed to never overload the garbage, in case another banana peel or something similar happened to fall and he would tread on it. He was fairly certain his ass didn't want a round two.

A dent now marked in his dignity, Jared trudged back up the porch and into the house. Hannah was still busy cleaning, dancing and humming to her favorite tune. She waved and tossed the broom up in the air as though she were in a flag core. It was a risk of breaking any and everything inside the small space, but that's how she liked to clean. Jared was glad she only hummed, because if she had found her missing walkman (that he secretly hid) then the area would become more of a construction hazard zone. And he would have to fix and replace nearly everything…again.

Marching from the kitchen, Jared came around and plopped on the sofa resting his head back, grimacing at the small twinge from his backside. Twisting to the side onto his hip, he caught Sam on the other side staring at yet another book. Occasionally he saw the boy sneak a peek over the rim and stare at something across the room. Jared followed the traveling gaze and saw it rested upon a soccer ball planted in between the main bookshelf and the fireplace. Quickly he noticed Sam look back down as if he hadn't wanted his imminent desire exposed.

Feeling the need to bury his already brewing attitude over his embarrassing moment, he figured playing a little bit of his favorite sport would do that. And if a certain little boy wanted to, who better to play with? Sometimes he would ask his wife to play, but he learned his lesson quick. He truly did love his wife, but a bat would have better eye-foot coordination in the daytime.

"So Sam, whatcha reading this time?"

The child jerked, as though he were found out. "Oh…uh, a book I found in my bedroom."

"Is it good?"

Sam closed the cover. "Uh, yeah. But it has a lot of big words in it."

"Yeah, I've come across a few of those. Totally hate it when you have to look in the dictionary for every other word. Usually, I just throw it over my shoulder and call out 'next'," he said throwing a hand over his shoulder.

"Oh," Sam nodded, "Is that why there's a big mess of papers and books all over the floor in the other room across from mine?"

Jared paused, his smile faltering. He had totally forgotten to clean that mess up. But it wasn't like he could help it; tax season and the IRS can be a real pain in the patella. Phew, that was a long while back! "Yea. Pretty much…Sooo, do you want to read your book outside for a little bit, get some fresh air?"

The book instantly was put to the side. Sam's face beamed, his eyes hopeful. Then as though there was a switch involved, he bowed his head despondently. "I c-can't go outside. I'm not allowed."

That was unexpected. Jared bucked back in confusion. "Who said?"

Sam's head remained down, his hands twisting nervously in his lap. "No one. I just…just feel like I'm not allowed…to go outside."

A bemused expression kept permanently plastered to Jared's face. He scratched his head, trying the best way on how to respond…because it totally threw him for a loop. "What? Are you allergic to the sun or something? I'm sure it'll be fine. Do you want to go outside?"

Sam perked up, slightly hopping on the cushion. "Am I allowed? Can I?"

Surprised, Jared sat back. "Y-yeah little man, you can. No one's stopping you. And I also you see you staring at the soccer ball over there. Do you know how to play?"

When the child shook his head solemnly, Jared said, "Okay, okay. That's no big deal." He shakily stood up holding out his hand. "Come on. Why don't we take the ball and go to the park?"

Excitably Sam hopped up and grabbed his hand half-shouting in a litany. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

"No problem," Jared smiled, "I may not be what I used to be, but I think I can still kick a ball."

"That's okay, I've got a broken arm," Sam raised his left arm. "We'll just call ourselves the Kicking Wounded."

Sam's quip sent his foster parent into a full-blown laughing frenzy. Tears welled up and his face turned crimson as he picked up the soccer ball. Wiping the moisture off his left eye with his shoulder, Jared called out to his wife. "H-honey…ha ha…I'm taking Sam to the park. We'll be back soon."

"Okay," he heard her answer from behind the door, then suddenly a loud crash echoed followed by "Oh shish-kebabs!"

His laughing debut automatically ceased and he hung his head down at the sound of the shattering glass.

"Sorry honey, I'll fix it!" Hannah called.

He huffed shaking his head once more. "No ya won't," he muttered before hollering, "See ya later!"

-

The butcher knife came down with great speed. Instantly the victim was sliced in half, the two halves flopping down on its sides. The knife came down again and without remorse cut the two halves into quarter pieces. The roll of lettuce didn't stand a chance. The horror never stopped, only with it dying a swift death by being torn into pieces and placed inside a large bowl. The tomatoes quivered with fear as they were next.

Hannah worked laboriously in making dinner. After massacring the carrots, red peppers, and cucumbers, her tossed salad was beginning to take shape. She shook the bowl and flipped the contents, intent on mixing them well. At hearing a small humming, her attention was turned to Sam sitting at the bar table immersed yet again in another book. Looking up from chopping the tomatoes in halves, Hannah asked. "So did you have a great time at the park today, Sam?"

Sam's head shot up with a look of provocation. "Oh yeah! We had a lot of fun."

"Really? What'd you do?"

"We mainly played soccer. Mister Jared showed me how to kick the ball. And…and…and…he said you have to do it on the side of your foot, not the front because it hurts a whole lot. And…and…not only that, but you have to keep it in front of you, so that you can keep your eye on it and watch the other players too and…"

Hannah gazed in aw at the little boy's excitement. He was speaking over a mile a minute it seemed. She wondered if he was saying it all in one breath.

"And then he showed me what position he played, and he kicked it to me. I kept missing it though…but not as much as he would miss it when I kicked it back to him. I felt bad, he kept limping a lot."

Hannah gasped for air, apparently unaware of the breath she was holding. It was like she was saving oxygen just for him. Though she was happy for the child's excitement, she couldn't help developing a certain feeling of sorrow for her husband. She sauntered over to his chair and pulled the boy into a hug from behind.

"I know. It's hard on him. Probably because it's so easy to over-exert himself, but he really misses it a lot. But…it was even better for him that he had someone to play with, get him back out there. Cuz Lord knows I can't hit a ball even if it's right in front of me. Knowing him, he appreciated it a lot!" She pecked Sam's cheek, then tickled his inside, snorting into his neck when he squirmed, forcing the child to laugh and squeal.

Hannah laughed still attached to the small body so that he wouldn't fall off the high-chair. Then a sweet smell permeated the air. She sniffed and sniffed, following the scent back to… Sam? She took another whiff. "Have you been in my lattes again?"

There was a little snicker before a short "I'm sorry." Sam turned in his seat. "I can't help it, I like the taste."

Hannah smiled ruffling his hair, "I know right?"

Suddenly there was a low rumble beneath their feet followed by a string of curses. Both Hannah and Sam gazed at each other in surprise, hearing the loud angry voice echoing from somewhere near the kitchen cabinets. "Ooh, that doesn't sound good. Hun, cover your ears."

As Sam did so, Hannah curiously strode back in following the storm of cursing. Searching near the bottom cabinets, she found the source of her husband's tirade echoing from a vent in the floor. It was apparent something had happened as tiny wisps of black smoke was seen rising from between the bars. "Hmmm, I don't think he knows the vent is connected to the basement. Figures…we haven't been in this house for very long."

Sam giggled as she tapped her foot and pursed her lips in trying to figure out what to say. "Uh Jared?" she yelled loudly into the vent. "JARED!"

The cursing stopped. "Hannah?"

"Everything okay down there?"

"Yeah, well…yeah, everything's fine. Just don't come down here for awhile," Jared called back, "Where're you calling from?"

"Look at the vent."

"The vent?"

"Yep. The vent."

A mumbling was all that echoed before "Oh I see it. You can hear me?"

"Uh huh. Every word."

"Oh," Jared said softly chuckling nervously, "Crap. Is Sam there with you?"

"Yep. He's at the table."

A loud clang sounded. "Oh shi—snicker doodles!"

Both Sam and Hannah laughed. "Close one there babe!"

"Hey while I gotcha on speaker-vent, is dinner almost ready?" Jared's voice echoed out.

"Almost," Hannah replied.

"Good. I'll be up in a few. Just gotta clean up down here first."

"You get right on that," she stepped away coming back to the chopping board. "Ha, that was funny. For a second there I thought I was hearing Zues's voice and any minute he'd be sending a lightning bolt at my as—tush."

Sam uncovered his ears. "Mrs. Hannah, what's Mister Jared doing down there?"

"Uh I don't know. I think he's trying to rebuild the carburetor," his foster mom answered.

Sam donned a peculiar look. "What's a car-bator?"

Hannah snorted at the mispronunciation of the term. "Um…actually, I don't know. Some new car part he's been raving about. Couldn't really tell ya what it does cuz that stuff goes way over my head," she made a swishing noise throwing a knife-free hand over her head. "So as long as he knows what he's doing, I'm good to go. Seriously, I wouldn't know what to do without my husband."

Sam turned back to his book. He flipped another page of the colossal-sized tome he was currently into. Catching a few snippets about Greek Mythology from earlier, he became confused at a particular part, his inner geek failing to interpret. Only when Hannah mentioned the god Zues, it sparked his interest. Swinging his legs to and fro, he gazed at Hannah innocently, ready to ask a question. "Mrs. Hannah, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure hun. Fire away…depending on if I know the answer to the question, of course."

Sam hesitated, thinking of a way to ask. "Um…did Zues have a family?"

Pausing in her work of slaughtering the chicken into strips, Hannah looked up. Part of her lip curled into a smirk; possibly from understanding why exactly Sam would ask such a question. And she was more than glad to answer; Greek Mythology was possibly her favorite subject.

"Sure did. All I can really tell ya is he had a father and a mother and had six brothers and sisters."

"Six?" Sam exclaimed open-mouthed.

"Hmmm hymph. His parents were busy! His mother was Rhea and his father was Cro…" she cocked her head to the side, "Cronus? Yeah."

"Cro...nus?"

"Yep…uh if memory serves me correctly he was the sky and Rhea was the Earth. But in the beginning—as one of the tales go—Cronus found out about a prophecy of one of his sons rising against him. And of course with all tyrants, he couldn't let that happen…So you know what he did to his kids?"

"What?"

"He ate them."

"He ate them!" Sam shrieked, clearly disgusted.

Hannah nodded slicing more of the chicken. "Yippie skippy, gobble gobble," she placed the chicken slices into the large bowl, "Ate em' all up. Poseidon, Hestia, Demeter Hera…"

"Even Hades?"

"Even Hades. All of them, except for Zues."

"Why?"

"Eh," she shrugged, "Apparently his mother grew a backbone at the last minute and wanted to save Zues when he was a baby. So she deceived Cronus…or Saturn in the Roman verse, switching the baby with a thing of stone, thanks to the help of Ge and Uranus."

Sam shrunk into himself sniggering, "Uranus."

Hannah shot him an odd glance before continuing. "Anyway, so while Daddio was busy snacking on the decoy, Rhea had Ge raise Zues on an island. Crete, I think? Little did big Ol' Saturn know what his wife did, but later on when Zues grew up, he came back, beat the dog snot out of him and took his throne. Made him upchuck his brothers and sisters—"

Sam's upper lip curled. "Upchuck…like," he imitated vomiting.

"You got it!"

"Yuk…but I thought Zues married Hera?"

"He did."

"So he married throw up…eww," Sam cringed.

"Hahaha, exactly…but she shapened up after awhile."

As much as he loved the version of the story, Sam was still stumped on one thing. "But I thought he had a lot of wives?"

"Nope, just the one," she corrected. "I mean he had many affairs, meaning he messed around with other women."

"So if he liked a lot of women, then why didn't Hera kick him out of the house like any other wife would?"

"Hmmm, good point. But I don't think she could. See Zues was the all mighty powerful. Would you want to take on that and boot him out?"

"No."

"Right. But Hera had her own way of getting back and she was just as conniving and powerful. Instead of going after her husband, she just went after the women he…uh, he uh, did it…with."

"Oh. So is that what happened to Calypso? She did something with Zues and next thing she knows she turned into a bear. And then something happened, I forget, and she became the Big Dipper in the sky."

Hannah appeared starstruck. "Dang."

Excited that he managed to dazzle Hannah with the knowledge he ascertained, Sam went on. He felt like he had just been given permission to have the whole candy store to himself. "And then there were the three brothers, right? Zues took over Heaven. Hades took over the underworld. And Posodo—"

"Poseidon," Hannah corrected.

"Yeah that guy, took over the sea."

"You got it honey."

"Yep and Poseidy—"

"Poseidon."

"Uh huh, he married Cleito and made the island of Atlantis," he smiled at his brilliance.

"That's right?" Amazed, Hannah blurted, "Wow, you're really precocious aren't you?"

Sam stared at her, his eyebrows forming a deep 'v'. "What's that mean?"

"Uh… It just means you're well beyond your years."

"Oh, okay…Um, what does that mean?"

Hannah chuckled, "It just means you're really smart."

"Oh! Thank you I guess," he blushed.

Wiping the slime off her hands on the back of her jeans, she picked up the large salad bowl and brought it over to the dining table. Catching sight of the large Mythology textbook, she asked, "Is that where you learned that from?"

Sam sent her a look of pure innocence nodding his head.

Walking back over to get the bread, she said. "Man, you really must like to read if you're reading from that dusty old thing?"

"I love to read."

"Oh good. Did you use to read a lot before?"

"I guess," Sam shrugged.

"Well in that case, I have a whole box full of books up in the attic. If you want, I can get those and you can take a look at them. It's mostly a lot of old books like Charlotte's Web and Treasure Island. A lot of stuff like that."

"Really!" His eyes beamed like fireworks. Hannah had never seen him so excited before. "Yep, but dinner first."

"Okay," he replied hopping off his stool and heading towards the main dining table.

Minutes later, the basement door opened and out came a grease-covered Jared. Sam couldn't help but stare, as well as Hannah. He was covered head to toe in black stains, including his face and hair. There wasn't a clean spot on his body. He probably could've passed as another person if it weren't for his green eyes and bad leg.

"Hey honey?" Hannah called out wide-eyed. "Car part fixed?"

Jared puckered his lips. "Maybe," he said passing by her, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek. She quickly dodged the intended soot-covered smooch, but yelped as he grabbed a certain part of her anatomy. "Jared! You…" she began to scold, "Go get cleaned up."

She brought over to the table the loaf of baked bread and set it neatly by the salad. "Oh yeah, plates and silverware," she muttered to herself heading back. Sam looked after her and tried hard to stifle a laugh at the large black handprint on the back pocket of her jeans.

At that moment, it was difficult to comprehend the type of feeling that rained upon him. "Family," he whispered. For the first time Sam had thought about it, he couldn't recall ever being this happy. In a way, it was like the void, the small chuck missing in his heart was filling up. No matter how determined he was, there was no way he could smack the smile off his face. It was like it was permanently carved there.

--

John pulled the Impala up beside a large redwood. He overlooked the scene approving of the grove of trees encircling around him. A cliff's edge loomed a few yards away, housing breath-taking scenery of mountainous terrain. Any more beautiful, the scarp would have been labeled as 'picture-perfect'. It seemed like a quiet and secluded spot in backwoods country, coveted for unwanted interruptions.

Sighing in his seat, he stole a glance at his sleeping son, resting peacefully against the passenger door. He patted his head softly, pulling his leather jacket over the scrawny shoulders. The white device visible from the inside of Dean's ear shown like a beacon and it only sparked an unmitigated sense of anger, his insides twisting unpleasantly. It stood as a reminder of what he came to do. After concluding his son was comfortable, John turned off the engine and exited the vehicle. His other friends Bobby and Caleb sat on the hood of Caleb's mustang. Tiredly he joined them, also appreciating their grizzled appearances and haggard expressions. It wasn't far off from his own.

He took a deep breath. "Hey Bobby? Caleb?"

"John?" Bobby nodded.

"Where's Dean?" Caleb asked, expecting to see the little tag-along.

"Sleeping," John pointed at the beloved vehicle, "In shotgun."

"How's he doing?"

John rubbed his eyes as well as his five o' clock shadow. "Exhausted. Been having trouble with the new hearing aid. It makes him dizzy and without his crutches now, he still is having a hard time trying to maintain his balance. The doc said it'll take a while to get used to. But it just upsets him all the more."

"Sorry to hear that Johnny," Bobby pitied. "But he's a tough young boy. He'll come through."

John nodded his head in agreement. "I know he will. He hasn't stopped yet. But he's got a long way to go…Alright, anything from our friends?"

"Little bit. Many of them, including Bob Harvelle now, are starting to search warehouses, run-down shacks…the like. Jim said that mostly the direction he could figure, the bastards kept circling around north Montana," Bobby briefed.

"We've also got information on Scrieber," Caleb answered picking up a large folder. "As you know with my contact, there is no one better. It took awhile, but he managed to get some juicy details…" he opened it, pulling out a county-jail mug-shot of the man. John took it and studied the photo, instantly logging the man's facial features into his databank.

"Turns out this guy was practically a nobody," Caleb went on, "Had a bad childhood…typical with his father a classic drunk and his mom the town's main whore. The guy grew up unhinged. His criminal record started at the age of thirteen when he smashed in a teacher's car window and now I want to say is as long as my arm, no joke. Had a lot of assault and batteries, breaking and entering…yada yada yada," he handed John the papers as he read off them. "There isn't much about him except that he's your typical sociopath."

John looked up from the paperwork. "What about now? Does anyone know anybody he talked to recently?"

It was Bobby's turn to cut in. "We've been around to a lot of people. Guy doesn't have any living relatives at this point, either that or they refuse to say their related. But nothing's turned up yet."

Bobby's information sent a surge of impatience welling up with John. It may have been his irritation or exhaustion that fueled the attitude. But all he knew at that point was they were no more closer in tracking and locating Sammy than they had a month ago. "Come on guys, it's been three and a half months. We gotta do better than this," he yammered, "It's not like these guys fell off the face of the earth. They've got to be around here somewhere."

Bobby huffed. "John, we're doing the best we can. And I know it seems odd, but it's like the guy doesn't exist anymore. You heard what that guy said over a month ago. He left town without any warning or telling anybody who he was with. With that kind of trail, it's gonna take time."

"He's right John," Caleb spoke up, taking the papers from John's outstretched hand and placing them neatly back into the folder, "We want to find Sammy too, but with our resources, there's not much else to do."

The deadly sense of rage began to uncoil like a cobra. John gritted his teeth. "This…that's not good enough! We have to do better!"

"Then what do you want us to do Johnny, huh?" Caleb defended, "Because right now, my hands are tied."

"I don't know…do something! Put up missing posters if you have to. I don't care what it takes. If we have to knock on every door in all fifty states, then so be it. I'll do whatever I have to, to get my son back and filet those bastards to an inch of their life!" he yelled, dismissing the look of hurt in his fellow friend's eyes.

Bobby hopped off the hood, his hands spread in defense. "Okay John we get the point. No need to get riled up now. You'll need that for later…but for right now—" the ringing in his vest pocket sounded. Immediately Bobby fished it out and answered it. "Hello?"

A look of recognition and relief replaced the sullen tired look. "Hey Jim. You find anything…what?"

John and Caleb couldn't hear the other end, but from the look of trepidation Bobby donned, they figured the news couldn't have been good.

"Alright thanks Jim. We're on our way," the grizzled man said before shutting off the phone. He turned back to the group and said feebly. "One of the missing kids has just turned up. In a place not too far from here. They're at a hospital and according to Jim, it's not pretty."

"How'd he find this out?"

"A friend of his called. Says he's been listening to his police scanner and he heard the message about six hours ago. Jim's already there and is waiting on us. If we go now, we can get there within the hour," Bobby said, already heading towards his Chevelle.

The other two hunters gave each other a shrug and a nod, immediately setting out for their vehicles. By the time John jogged to the Impala, Caleb had his Mustang roaring to life and waiting on Bobby to lead the way. Within minutes, the three vehicles raced down the long dirt road.

Bobby was right. It had only taken them a short while to get to the Sandrover Medical Sinai in mid-state Oregon. Following Jim's advice, the trio pulled out their best cheap suits and posed as Fed's for this trip's subterfuge. Jim alerted them to follow the main hallway to the elevator shaft that led to the fourth floor. By the time they arrived, there was a lot of commotion circulating on that particular hallway. Many staff members bustled about, hurdling towards a specific room, apparently eager to see something. Hospital security hung about in trying to force back the curious onlookers. And there was police and medical persona galore.

The hunters each forced their way through and spotted Jim in his pastor suit, who waved. Without saying a word, Jim pointed a finger through the glass pane. Curious, the three hunters peered inside and each froze in shock, fixed with horror.

Ooh, wonder what it is they saw. Stay tuned to find out in the next chappie. An incredible thank you goes out to Monkeymuse for the idea about Dean's hearing device and for all her insight on the deaf matter. Thanks doll, you're a blessing! Also, the mythology section is one version I borrowed from my Mythology textbook by Mark Morton and Robert Lenardon. I had to put it in there, it's a great read!