Close Encounters

From the previous chapter:

Although he had been the one to suggest they separate, a creeping feeling of foreboding unsettled Frank. He just couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong. And about ten minutes later when the temperature suddenly dropped and frost slowly crept up the windows, Frank knew he was right...

And then he smelled the sulfur a moment before something slammed into the side of the van!

Chapter 10

"You and Sam don't look very much a like," Joe spoke easily as he and Dean jogged down the dark and wet road, hopefully in the direction of Dean's car. An avid athletic enthusiast, the blond-haired teen had no trouble maintaining a quick pace…and a conversation.

Dean cast a disbelieving look at him, having no trouble keeping up with Joe either. Since the tender age of four, the hazel-eyed hunter had either been training to hunt, or actually hunting and that kind of life bred a certain kind of body; the kind that kept up and kept him alive. He cocked an eyebrow, amused. "Whereas you and Frank are such freakin' identical twins, huh?"

Joe blushed and grinned. What could he say? Blond-haired and blue-eyed, he took after his mother, while his dark-haired, and dark-eyed older sibling was their father, born again. "Well you know…"

The older man snorted. "Geez, it must be a pain in the ass for your folks to tell you apart."

"Nah, not really," the younger Hardy played along, immediately warming up the brash hunter. "I got the puppy dog eyes."

Dean laughed out loud as he shook his head. "I think that is definitely a little brother thing….Sammy has it happening like nobody's business. One power pout and a dash of puppy dog eyes and he's enough to sell an Eskimo air conditioning!"

"How's your head?" Joe asked after another moment, his vision straining forward for any sign of the black car. They should be seeing it soon.

When Dean gave him a questioning look, he elaborated by indicating his own forehead. The hunter touched the obviously forgotten gash and winced. "Fine," he said and then threw the question back at the young detective. "What about you? You're not going to pass out or anything, are you? I cross the line at hauling other people's baby brothers around – now baby sisters…well, that's a complete other story."

Joe grinned – he really liked Dean. "Nah, I'm fine. I've had worse."

"Now why doesn't that reassure me?" the older man asked but the blond teen only shrugged and kept jogging.

"Dunno," Joe admitted, still smiling. Curious about his companion, he pressed, "So I know your Dad is up state 'working'," he'd learned that two nights ago when he first met the Winchesters, "but what about your Mom? Where's she?"

Immediately Dean tensed. He didn't look at Joe and his voice, when he spoke was curt and dissuading. "Dead."

"Sorry," Joe mumbled, chagrined at his own curiosity.

The next few minutes passed in silence, each runner lost in his own thoughts, until they saw a looming shape on the side of the road and recognized it as the Winchesters' car.

"Sweet," Dean exhaled as he fished out his keys and glanced at Joe. He smirked, "Shall we go get the kids?"

Joe whistled in appreciation as he waited for Dean to unlock the door. "Nice," he complimented. "67 Impala. Impress-ssive." He drew the last word out as he ran an appraising hand over the hood. "Your Dad the original owner?"

Dean pursed his lips, pleased that the teen appreciated the car. "Nope. My Mom was." His gaze softened as he glanced at Joe and admitted, "She loved this car."

"Can't say I blame her," Joe offered as he slid into the front passenger seat and nodded his head in approval when he saw just how meticulous the interior was. His blue eyes shone brightly, he loved muscle cars. "I'd kill for a chance to drive her."

"Dude," Dean mock-glared. "You'd better be talking about my car."

Joe blinked at him in confusion and then blushed as he realized what he said. He opened his mouth to say something but the hunter just grinned and started the car, effectively cutting him off. "While you digest your foot, I'll get our brothers."

Shoving the car into drive, Dean skillfully executed a 180-degree turn and tore off in the direction they had just come.

It was time to get Frank and Sam.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

"What the hell?" Frank yelled as he was tossed against the passenger seat when something slammed into the side of the van.

Behind him Sam scrambled to sit up, his eyes wide and uncomprehending, and then a loud high-pitched screech forced his hands over his ears.

"Frank!" he yelled, frantically grabbing for the older Hardy's arm. "We gotta go!"

Although he was also covering his ears against the horrid wails, Frank heard Sam and quickly scrambled between the seats and into the back with the younger teen. The van shuddered and groaned when something slammed into it again, this time moving it slightly, pushing it towards the edge of the road.

Sam was struggling to get the side door open.

"Move!" Frank wasted no time on niceties, pushing the younger boy away he deftly unlocked and then slid the door open. He held his arm out, keeping Sam behind him as he ducked his head outside and glanced around, but saw nothing.

The air, bitterly frigid around them, was deathly silent. The only sound – his and Sam's breathing – was cruelly loud and it set his nerves on their very edge. What was going on?

A motion out of the corner of his eye was the only warning he got before Sam threw his entire weight into Frank, knocking him out of the door and flat onto his face.

"Sam!" he grunted as they grappled on the ground. He didn't want to hurt the already injured kid, but Sam didn't seem to have the same predilection as he elbowed Frank in the face. "That's it," he growled when his nose exploded in pain. "No more Mr. Nice Guy."

He moved to subdue the young hunter but Sam jerked away, staggered to his feet and leaned against the side of the van for support. Breathing heavily the kid winced and shot Frank something akin to an apologetic look.

The eighteen year old opened his mouth to ask what the hell was wrong with him but stiffened, realizing with a sickening clarity as he saw what Sam was holding, exactly what was up…

Sam had gotten his gun and right now, it was aimed directly at Frank.

Crap.

"Whoa, easy there Sam," Frank tried to soothe, slowly starting to rise. But before he could say anything else, Sam yelled:

"DOWN!"

And fired.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Dean slammed on the brakes, sending the Impala into a skidding stop next to the van as the sound of a gunshot reverberated through the night.

Exchanging one horrified look with Joe, he shoved open the door and raced towards the front of the van, barely a moment behind the quick-moving Hardy.

Both men froze momentarily, shocked by what they saw, as the acrid odor of rock salt and sulfur permeated the air, thick enough to make them cough…

Lying on the ground, unmoving, was Frank Hardy.

Dean immediately sought out his younger brother. Sam was slumped down on the ground, the gun still held in his shaking hands.

"Sammy?" The older hunter moved cautiously towards his brother as behind him, he heard Joe trying to rouse Frank. He crouched down in front of his distressed sibling and asked softly. "What did you do?"

Sam looked at his brother, his eyes wide and confused. "I-I think—" he swallowed hard and shivered, unable to keep the horror off his pale and bruised features. "I th-think I s-s-shot h-h-him! Oh G-G-God D-D-Dean…" and then he bent over and retched.

Next chapter: Monday :)