Chapter Nine – Truth and Threats

"Why Lawrence?" Sam gritted through his teeth. His eyes traced over the birth certificate carefully. It could be another trick, he thought. Meg had done something similar back in Illinois. The victims (of the shadows) had been from Lawrence – but it had meant nothing. And here it was again. His own birth place. The target.

Dean paced the floor again – walking in circles seemed to be the only movement he could make. His hands fell limp to his side.

"It can't be that important," Dean decided. "Just because she was born there…" He looked back at Sam. "How long was she there?"

Sam's eyes darted back to the screen; he continued to read through other documents and replied, "Her family was only there for three years. Then they moved around a bit – Texas, Nevada, New York, then in Florida. Perry was born here."

The older Winchester sat down on the edge of his bed and said, "Contact Ash."

"Again?"

"Yes, Sammy," Dean ordered. "I want him to compile all of this information into a database – making any comparisons between-"

"Everyone, basically," Sam nodded. "I'll call him now."

O.O.O.O.O.

Doctor Michael Granger walked around his cherry wood desk to greet the young woman. He held his hand out awkwardly to shake hers, but found himself wrapping his arms around her back while hers went around his waist.

He smiled into her hair and when they pulled away, Michael touched her shoulder and said, "It's been a few weeks."

"I know, I'm sorry," Amy said softly. "I wish this visit wasn't just business…but I need your help."

"'Course," Michael nodded, sticking his hands into the pockets of his white coat. "Have a seat."

She sat down in a red chair with black cushions. Michael went back around to his desk and sat down. His hand went to his phone and he asked, "I can have a nurse bring coffee?"

"Oh, no." Amy smiled. "I'm fine."

Michael relaxed back in his seat and stared at Amy gently. "So, how are you?"

She cocked her head to the side. Amy dropped her shoulders and sighed: "'Been better."

The doctor asked, "I heard about your PhD, congrats Dr. Cromwell." He bowed his head playfully.

"Yes, finally…" Amy sighed. "And you? How's work been?"

"New hospitals get full quick," Michael laughed. "Things get busy."

Amy nodded in agreement.

The office grew silent for a moment. Michael bit his upper lip and narrowed his eyes at her. "I guess that look on your face is something Dean-and-Sam related."

"You're right," Amy whispered hoarsely. "They're in Florida…going after it…"

"Oh," Michael's breath grew heavy. "The…demon?"

"Yes."

"It's okay, Amy…" Michael nodded. "After the thing with the Egyptian curse…I'm pretty much open-minded to everything."

"Michael…" she began quickly. "I'm sorry…it's just…" She shook her head sadly. "I hate that I've involved you in this." She swallowed gently. "But you've been excellent help in providing me with information that I need. I never wanted you to be a part of this…I just…" She closed her eyes. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Amy…" Michael said soothingly. "I studied this stuff for myself. You filled in some of the missing blanks. It's okay how things turned out after all that…" He swallowed sadly. "You wanted to protect me…you didn't want me being a part of this because – really – I had no reason to be a part of this."

Amy turned away, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. "I only ended things to protect you…"

Michael laughed then, surprising Amy. "I know…" He chuckled more loudly. "And I'm still trying to understand why you told Dean and Sam that I left you."

Her grin turned sheepish. A blush had appeared on her cheek. "Sorry…" Amy laughed too. "I guess it was a girl thing. I couldn't tell Dean and Sam the truth…they would have been worried…I'm not sure why I lied – and why I made you sound like the bad guy – when really I was the one who ended things."

"I get it, Amy, I do," Michael reassured. "But…" He laughed again. "England?" he laughed once more. "Why England?"

Amy shrugged. "I've always wanted to go…I thought it was a nice little pretend-breakup story."

"Well, once again," Michael sighed with a playful grin, "apology accepted. So, how can I help?"

She liked how things were, Amy realized. Things could never be awkward for the two of them. Even after breaking up, they kept in touch. Amy was lost in the reality that she – in fact – had been the one to end things. If she had told Dean and Sam the real reason… The way things are now…would have happened much sooner…She felt sick and sad – all at the same time – wanting really to leave the room and never come back. She had lied. Amy understood this. She had created an alternate version of Michael: a man who was terrified after the Natiskawa ordeal – but he was really acceptable of the whole thing – a man who got a job offer to England and took it immediately to escape the horrors of the real world – someone who really understood the truth, who accepted it, and wasn't afraid – a man who couldn't look at Amy the same way anymore – a man who still loved her the same, maybe more, if it was possible…

She laughed at herself for her brief mental pause. Amy reached into her pocket and pulled out a white note card; she handed the card to Michael who accepted it seriously.

"Yvonne Donnelly…" Michael said as he read the card. "Sure. I can get some stuff on her. How much do you want to know?"

"Everything," Amy replied simply. Michael raised a brow – Amy added: "I want everything you can get on her and her family – immediate and second cousins, if you can – and I know your sources can not only get medical files but places where medical info might have been sent. Schools, colleges, work…"

"All that jazz," Michael grinned. "Yeah, I get it. I can e-mail what I can tonight. I'd give it a day or two before you get the rest."

"Thanks," the woman added quickly. Amy stood up, shifting her weight, signaling that it was time to leave.

Michael stood up quite gentlemanly. He walked around his desk, again, and approached Amy.

"Amy…" he asked gently. "You're not getting too deep into this stuff, are you?" He was obviously worried – and Amy didn't need psychic powers for that.

She laughed and said, "Too deep? You're the one in the same plight to save the world."

"To do what I can, yes," Michael breathed softly. "It's just…" He shifted his weight too. "You're not this demon's target…" He moved closer to her. He whispered stiffly, "This is Dean and Sam's fight…"

"Stop worrying," Amy pleaded gently. "Look…Michael…" She stared straight up into the set of large blue eyes. "You heard about Grammy and that's what led you to want to help but…" She turned away, taking a step back. "But I'm not getting in too deep." She tried smiling. "I'm fine."

She turned to the door swiftly, placing her hand on the knob; her body was halfway through the door when Michael called her name: "Aimes."

Her head peered back inside.

Michael took a deep breath and said, "The reason…for…us ending…" He gave her a not-so-comforting look. "You did it to protect me…and I understand…and you need to understand…that…what's happening with Dean…" He stared at her sadly. "Dean's doing the same thing you did."

She found no words to reply with. Not even a helpless expression. She nodded her head. Not in agreement or understand…just a sign that she had heard Michael.

He watched her back turn and she left, closing the door behind her, watching her shadow disappear from the hall.

O.O.O.O.O.

"Ash is doing it now," Sam sighed as he rested his head back on the pillow. He rubbed his forehead and continued, "He's compiling everything into a database – compare and contrast sheet – on everyone and anyone who could be involved in all this-"

"Hell…" Dean finished. He was resting on his own bed; his head was deep into a cushioned pillow. He rubbed his scruffy chin and turned to stare at his brother. "It'll be okay, Sammy," Dean reassured, watching Sam sigh and close his eyes.

"Maybe…" Sam relaxed a bit more. "I just…god…" His hands were balled into fists. "First Duane…now this thing with Lawrence. There has to be some pattern."

"Otherwise we're dealing with a nasty case – the worst of 'em all – don't you wish Scooby and Shaggy were here?"

"You're doing it again."

"What?"

"Jokes," Sam snapped.

"Sorry Mr. Serious…" Dean muttered. "Just trying to laugh it up, remember?"

"We can laugh or we can be serious on this whole subject…" Sam reminded. "You're so-"

Sam's cell began to ring. He thought it was Ash and sighed annoyingly. His hand reached for the phone, stared at the caller-ID, and turned to Dean.

"What?" Dean mumbled.

"The number…" Sam whispered. "It's private."

Dean's eyes grew big as Sam answered the phone quickly, "Yes?"

"You're such a speedy pick-up," Duane's voice was heard laughing.

Sam's nose flared. Dean knew who it was.

"What do you want, Duane?" Sam growled.

A small sigh was heard from the other end of the line. "Like I said before Sammy Boy…" He chuckled. "It's not what I want…it's what he wants…"

"And what does he want?" Sam demanded, sitting up in bed now, looking as if he were ready to charge out the door.

"You" was the simple reply, but it sent chills down Sam's spine.

"Sorry," Sam snapped back, "not really into that sort of thing."

"I was offering a trade," Duane explained.

"You've already taken my dad," Sam hissed angrily. Dean was up and reaching his hand out for the phone. "My mother…my girlfriend…and innocent woman…so many others…how many more do you want?"

"Your death is not what we want…" Duane replied. "Your life is the whole purpose. You exist for a reason…"

"Sorry," Sam mocked, "my purpose has nothing to do with yours."

"Well…Sam Winchester…" Duane sighed disappointingly. "I thought we could make this easy…" He paused, obviously for effect, and said, "Looks like more people are going to die."

"What-"

"You thought killing Grammy was bad?" Duane laughed. "He enjoyed killing her. She was fun." He was laughing.

Actually laughing. It took all of Sam's strength to convince himself to not let his grip break the cell phone.

"Think of the others, Sam…and it's not just killing…it's the taking away part that's fun…" Duane said simply. "Ava…" He said her name in such a way that Sam thought he had no right to even speak of her. Sam was about to protest and threaten Duane about her whereabouts, but the demon continued: "And your friends at the bar?" Duane laughed. "The girl…the daughter of the bartender…she's out now being some rogue hunter…we can find her easily…all your other bar friends…and…wait…we can't forget Amy…"

"Don't you-" Sam threatened-

"I don't think you realize the position we're in Sammy," Duane sighed. "Not even those you love…your friends…even people you met…we can find them all…kill them all…or just make some new additions to our family."

Sam's nose flared again; Dean was still reaching for the phone.

"I think it's time we have a nice little reunion…" Duane suggested slyly. "After all…we haven't seen each other since Rivergrove…" Duane giggled again. "And Sarge…"

Sam remembered Sarge – he was a good man in Rivergrove – Sam remembered Sarge left the town with Duane-

"And Sarge…" Duane repeated gently. "He was the last one I saw since that place…then again…it was my fault mostly…" Sam could almost envision the bastard smiling… "I chucked his body into a river…after cutting his throat…"

"I'm going to kill you…" Sam breathed deeply. His voice was so gentle, yet terrifying at the same time. "I'll kill every last one of you."

"I look forward to it…" Duane said simply. "But anyway…back to that reunion Sammy…I thought we'd pay a nice visit to that adorable Aurora's new home…"

Sam's eyes grew wide. It was too late to say anything. The call had ended.

"What what what?" Dean panicked, seeing the look on his brother's face.

"Dean, we have to go, NOW!"

O.O.O.O.O.