Tyler has decided to stop bitching about all the hits and alerts this story is getting in comparison to the reviews because that is what lame people who are desperate for approval do :D! So there! I guess Supernatural readers are just a different crowd from the Dark Angel pack on this site. Thanks to those who do still leave their ten cents though. Enjoy and sorry its shorter then usual.

- Tyler

"Sheriff Fisher brought him home about an hour ago." Lisa was handing out beers as she spoke, the casual gesture doing little to belie the quiver in her voice that suggested she was anything but alright, "Said he'd broken into the Simmons' house while they were out. Mrs Kolt from across the street happened to see Ben and called the cops."

"Are the Simmons pressing charges?" Sam accepted the beer she extended to him with a sympathetic expression.

"The Simmons are the least of his freaking worries." Dean growled, and Lisa's glossy dark hair flipped up as she turned to look at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Means any demon within a hundred mile stretch of Cicero is gonna be on his ass like moths to a flame," The older Winchester declared matter-of-factly as he leant against the edge of a desk and popped the lid off his beer, "Considering the fact that Ben just lit'em up a giant signal fire by pulling out the rock salt."

"You're saying Ben's in danger?" Lisa's tone heightened slightly with tangible alarm, and Dean flashed her a wary, deadly serious expression in response. She turned to Sam for further light to be shed. He was wearing a slightly more empathetic version of his older brother's expression.

"Okay, so…what do we do?" Lisa proceeded to assimilate her information. She was good like that, Dean noticed. He had to give Lisa that – her level-headedness was damn handy in a tight spot.

"Well first off find out what the kid was up to exactly." Dean did his best to backpedal on the heavy as he took a swig of his beer and kept his eyes on the ground, "Could be all he did was pick a few locks and rummage through some stuff."

"Well, what else are we thinking that he did?" Lisa spread her arms in confusion, "I mean he's a fourteen year old boy, Dean…"

"Who happens to do his fair share of research when he thinks no one's checking his browser history." Sam forced out the words as though they left a bitter aftertaste.

"Dude you can check people's browser history?" Dean glanced at his brother with what was almost a worried expression, and both Sam and Lisa cast him patient glances.

"I dunno, man, I mean isn't that like an invasion of privacy or something? It's gotta be unconstitutional." Dean was clearly coming to grips with his own misdeeds on Sam's guest user Firefox, and Sam smirked dryly.

"Relax, man. I block most of your extra-curricular sites. God knows how many viruses I'd have otherwise."

"You…" Dean paused for a moment before continuing, "Your computer's programmed to do that annoying red flashing skull and crossbones thing?" He was moving from embarrassed to affronted, and Sam flashed him an innocent shrug, "And they're callin' it Big Brother."

"Guys!" Lisa's insistent word had both brother glancing apologetically in her direction, "If you're serious about this whole…" She waved a hand in front of her delicate nose which was scrunched briefly in contempt as the next words left her lips, "…demon thing, I suggest we talk to Ben and get him to tell us exactly what he did."

"Good call, except I think we all know what you mean when you say 'we' and 'us'." Dean clapped his little brother against the man's broad shoulders, "Up and at'em, Sammy."

"Me?" Sam's eyebrows arched incredulously before he laughed nervously, "Dean, what makes you think Ben's gonna listen to…"

"Nope. You owe me one for reining in the Prodigal Daughter, now go get'im Tiger." The second clap on Sam's back was more of a shove as Dean steered him towards the staircase.

"What makes you think he's gonna listen to me, and even if he does, what exactly am I supposed to do? Slap his wrist and tell him hunting is for grown ups?" Sam forced them both to halt at the foot of the stairs and lowered his voice in frustration.

"Just pull out the caring, sharing crap, some puppy dog eyes, I don't know!" Dean held up a hand to cut his brother off mid-protest, "Look, man, we're an inch off from war with Meg and the last thing I need is Ben sneaking around in the crossfire begging to get shot!"

Sam's hands fell to his hips and his tongue flicked across his lips before he looked up at Dean, "Then maybe Ben needs to hear it from you."

"Nice pass." Dean glared dangerously, handing Sam his empty beer and tromping up the stairs with a very visible angry cloud thundering over his countenance.

The door to Ben's room was cracked open, Dean noted, and the light was off, allowing shadows of silver afternoon cloud cover to dance on the rug outside the threshold. Dean squared his shoulders, closed his eyes, took a long, deep breath, then sniffed as he rapped his knuckles against the door.

"Ben, it's me."

"Come in, Dean." Cooed a voice…a voice that bore no resemblance to Ben whatsoever. The hunter's green eyes flashed and he shoved open the door, barging into the bedroom with his gun already drawn.

There sat Meg, her booted ankles crossed over each other, a wide grin spread on her malicious features.

"You know I love what you've done with the place. The uh stars on the roof? Very Disney World."

"Where's Ben?" Dean growled out the words with the promise of a slow and painful death hanging on each one, and Meg half-laughed, half-scoffed.

"You think I wanna tell you?"

"I think you wanna live." Dean cocked his handgun, and Meg tutted at him petulantly.

"Dean, Dean, Dean. Haven't we crossed this bridge? All that toy will do is damage my vessel."

"How'd you get in?" The older Winchester moved a step closer as Meg uncrossed her legs but maintained her smile.

"Ben let me in. Well, he might as well have. You know I gotta say, climbing out the window?" She raised an eyebrow at the open window behind her, "What exactly was he running from?"

"You got five seconds to tell me where my son is."

"Your son." Meg pouted in mock empathy, "That's cute, Dean. Really, I'm moved. A little disappointed as well, but…I guess now that the big bad Winchesters have gone all Family Ties on my ass, what's one more bastard child in the mix?"

The blast of the gun was abrupt, as was the gasp that left Meg's lips as she slammed back against the wall from the impact of the bullet through her chest. She panted several heaves of breath and glared up viciously at Dean.

"You shouldn't have done that…"

"Where is he?" Dean was already in her face, demon-slaying blade shoved up under her chin, "I swear if you don't tell me, I will waste your sorry ass after I make you wish you had!"

"I don't have him!" Meg yelled above the sound of her own flesh sizzling as the knife broke skin, "Not yet…but you can bet I'll find him first."

Sam appeared in the doorway, gun drawn. Nate was suddenly behind him, tottering on the tiptoes of her boots to try and get a glimpse over the giant blocking her view.

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam queried sharply, and Meg coiled to strike, gripping Dean's wrist and using it to toss him against the cupboard. Sam jumped forward, firing off a round of buck salt that caught Meg in the chest and slammed her into the wall behind Ben's bed. Sam's palm was up in a flash, and a cold wind blew fiercely through the open window as the light bulb flickered viciously. Meg was pinned, wrists to the wall, but her eyes glowed yellow, and she let out a laugh as the bulb burst and Sam staggered back, blood streaming from his nose and his chest heaving from exertion.

"Out of gas there, Sam?" Meg tore herself free of the wall, crouching on Ben's bedspread ready to pounce as Dean attempted to rise to his feet, dark red liquid leaking from a cut on his head. Nate had entered the room now, kicking the door shut behind her as she ran towards the demon, halting in her tracks only as Meg flung up a hand and slammed the girl face first into Ben's giant closet.

"Never liked her much but after the little stunt she pulled?" Meg's smug grin was gone now, replaced by a dangerous blank stare of malice as she watched Nate crumple into an unconscious heap on the ground, splintered wood falling in a cascade, "I'm thinking slow and painful death." She glanced up with raised eyebrows at the stricken brothers, "All opposed?"

The sudden sound of a gun cocking registered, and Meg's eyes shot towards the doorway to see Lisa's petite silhouette…and the rifle in her hands.

"Me."

Lisa fired, the kickback causing her to stumble. The shot that had been aimed for Meg's heart caught her in the shoulder, but the sheer force of the powerful rifle hurled the slim demon through the open window.

Dean hastened to the sill and stuck his head out of the window, but Meg was already gone, and only the well-kept geranium bushes greeted his sight. He slammed a hand against the window pane.

"Damn it!"

"Dean, what's going on? Where's Ben?" Lisa's eyes were wrought with fear and the rifle in her hands began to quiver slightly. Sam quickly reached out and relieved her of the weapon as he recovered his strength.

"Ben ran off. They don't have'im." Dean was feeling his pockets, "Where's my keys?"

"Oh god is that…blood?" Lisa covered her mouth with the sleeve of her sweater and Dean glanced at the hand he had swiped across his forehead.

"I'm fine, it's just a scratch."

"I meant her!" Lisa pointed frantically at Nate as she stirred and groaned, a small puddle of blood leaking out onto the carpet as she did so.

Sam was already at her side, crouching down on giant legs and checking her for injuries, "Hey, hey, hey – just take it easy, alright?"

"M'fine." Nate mumbled as she allowed him to ease her into a sitting position, "It's nothing a bottle of Jack and some ice won't take care of…" She winced and curled to the side as she palmed the back of her head, "Ugh that BITCH"!

"I'll call 911." Lisa made for the phone before anyone could snag her.

"Great, 'n I'll call Bobby. We're gonna need all the backup we can get." Dean pulled out his cell phone, and Sam glanced up sharply from his daughter.

"I think she cracked her skull." Cold, harsh panic was raging just below the hunter game face that Sam was still adopting. Blood was seeping through the fingers of the large hand he was using to cup Nate's head.

"Dean!"

"Okay! Look, just…" Dean was close to snapping, but he forced the broiling tension back under the surface as he ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes for a moment, "take her to the hospital. I'm gonna get Cas and his buddies on this one, see if I can track down Ben before Meg gets her paws on him."

"You sure?" The very fact that Sam didn't hesitate to voice his assent spoke volumes more then the doubtful eyebrow raise he threw Dean's way. His older brother knew him like the back of his calloused hand.

Dean flailed a dismissing hand at Sam before turning back to his cell phone, "Bobby, that you? Listen man, I need a favour…"

Sam's lips pressed together tightly but he returned his attention to the matter at hand, "Okay, come on." Nate was swaying in his grip now, and Sam scooped an arm under her legs and another around her shoulders, hoisting her up and standing in the process.

Nate's head lolled back, and her eyes were bleary and turning as pale as her skin as blood dripped from her hair and ran down the sleeve of Sam's khaki jacket.

"Sam…" She muttered between clenched teeth as he ran them both down the staircase with determined urgency.

"Sam." Nate persisted more forcefully, and he opened the front door with a twist of his fingers as he breezed through it sideways, Nate's limp legs banging against the frame as he did so.

"Just…don't talk." He ordered tersely, and the blip of his car unlocking was shortly followed by the back door opening and Nate being placed along the back seat of the car.

"Oh for fuck's sake, would you look where I'm pointing?" Nate's final yell was short-fused and quivering with the unshed tears her pain was evidently stirring up. Sam turned to look over his shoulder in the direction of Nate's shaking finger and froze at the sight of three, tuxedo clad men with blank faces standing a few meters off from the car.

Sam swallowed matter-of-factly and straightened to face the angels as the oldest of the batch stepped forward with a genial smile that belied the ice in his vessel's grey eyes.

"Sam." The angel folded his hands in front of him and gave the younger Winchester a once-over, "Back from the dead?"

"I take it that's a rhetorical question." Sam slammed the door to the car shut behind him and met the angel's pace with his own, eyes cold and calculating and every bit as deadly.

"Actually we are all…" The angel glanced briefly at his colleagues, who shifted, before returning his gaze to Sam, "rather curious. Perhaps you could enlighten us."

Sam's glimmer of a downward smirk had the angel raising an eyebrow.

"No? Just a hint then."

"Maybe some other time." Sam turned to head towards his car, walking around to the driver's seat, and the angel scoffed at the brazen snub.

"You're wasting your time on that filth in your backseat, Samuel."

Sam paused and met the angel's eyes with his own, eyes blazing cold flames.

The angel smiled knowingly, "Your daughter is already damned. You, on the other hand? There's still room for negotiation."

Sam returned the smile with one of his own as he opened his car door, "No there isn't."

The angel's eyebrows fell dangerously as the Ford pulled out of the drive and onto the quiet urban street. He held up a palm at his colleagues as they stepped forward.

"You're letting him go?" One of the younger angels queried blankly, and his superior's lips twisted as the taillights of Sam's car disappeared around the curb.

"Sam Winchester has immunity. You know this – and so does he." The latter words came out with a bitter aftertaste.

"But the girl?"

"She lives – for now." The angel glanced up at Ben's open window and caught sight of Castiel, who was watching his fellow celestial beings with an emotionless expression.

The angel turned on his heels and headed promptly in the opposite direction, "We may have need of her sooner rather than later."

Castiel watched the angels disappear from view before he turned to Dean, who was hanging up his cell phone.

"Bobby's on his way…what?" Dean cast his celestial compadre a wary stare, "Cas, what's happened?"

"You need to come with me." Castiel lifted two fingers, but Dean was highly adept at artful dodging after years in the angel's company, and Castiel huffed in frustration as his fingertips met with vacant air.

"What for?" Dean demanded belligerently, and Cas sighed through the rest of his explanation.

"I know where Ben is."

Hospitals were dangerous, sinister places for a hunter – for Winchesters in particular. The reams of officials roaming its halls were almost as messy as the spirits. One never knew what to expect; a pair of handcuffs or a bite in the throat.

Either way, Sam had grown up with an instilled loathing for hospitals. He could already feel the adrenalin, cautious and wary, pumping through his veins as he walked quickly alongside the slight, African-American nurse to his left.

Nate, on the other hand, seemed to have no aversion to hospitals whatsoever, and had even in her muzzy state proceeded to inform the nurses that she needed a double dose of morphine 'real snappy-like, sisters'.

Sam was just waiting for the inevitable 'does the patient have a drug problem' drilling.

"So Mr…Whitman?" The nurse raised her eyebrows at her clipboard as they walked briskly down the hall, "Your relation to the patient is…?"

"Uh uncle?" Sam knew it sounded more like a question than a response, but it had thrown him off-skelter.

"Nate suffered a hairline fracture to her skull. Thankfully it appears there was no internal damage. All the cranial scans came up normal and she's been stitched up without any problems."

"Great, so when can she leave?" Sam queried as they paused outside the ward where Nate was pulling on her ankle boots and for all intents and purposes ignoring the doctor who was speaking to her.

"Well there's a concern being raised in regard to the seriousness of her cirrhosis." The nurse cast cautious eyes up at Sam, and he frowned in confusion.

"I'm sorry – what?"

The nurse sighed and shuffled through her notes, "In running all our customary scans, we discovered that Nate is suffering quite a progressive case of liver cirrhosis."

"Cirrhosis?"

"A condition in which the liver slowly deteriorates and malfunctions due to chronic injury." The nurse explained patiently, and Sam's eyebrows arched.

"Injury?"

"In Nate's case, prolonged alcohol abuse." She nodded, "Scar tissue replaces healthy liver tissue, partially blocking the flow of blood through the liver. Scarring also impairs the liver's ability to control infections, remove bacteria and toxins from the blood…"

"I think I get the picture." Sam waved a hand to stifle the dreary dialogue.

"I'm sorry if this is difficult for you."

"No, it's fine. Um," Sam's eyes squeezed shut briefly before he addressed the nurse once more, "is there a treatment?"

"Mainly?" The orderly raised her eyebrows, "A change in diet. I'm recommending Nate for nutritional therapy, and it's vital that she avoids alcohol, caffeine or any other form of drugs."

"Okay." Sam did his best to cloak his bafflement as the nurse opened the door to the examination room. Nate jumped off the table and flashed an acid smile at the nurse before hurrying towards the door.

"You didn't have to stick around." She muttered at Sam as they headed through the hospital lobby, "Ben's missing. I mean, shouldn't you be out prowling the streets with a toothcomb or something?"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay. Besides, if I left you alone, you would've split and made off with all my answers." Sam shrugged off his blood-stained jacket after a wide-eyed stare from a group of grade-schoolers by the elevators.

"Answers?" Nate tapped the rug in front of the sliding doors with her foot impatiently when it didn't open immediately. A thin trickle of blood streamed clandestinely from her ear, and when Sam frowned at it Nate returned the expression.

"Don't think you can cow me with your little Fear the Reaper routine."

"You're bleeding." He snapped tightly, and she narrowed her eyebrows and felt the warm liquid before bringing her fingertips in front of her.

"Huh."

"Huh?" Sam raised his eyebrows, and Nate wiped her fingers on her jacket as they exited the hospital.

"Just excess fluid from the fracture. Doc said it might happen. No te preculpas as they say in espanol."

"I…" Sam forced a calming breath as Nate breezed past cars backing out of their lots, barely managing to avoid being run over in the process, "…you are definitely Geri's."

She paused and crinkled her nose, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that whole nihilistic, devil-may-care…"

"He may, but I doubt it."

"Shut up for a second." Sam reached into his jeans pocket as his cell phone began to buzz. Nate rolled her eyes compliantly and slung herself into the passenger's seat of Sam's Ford after a menacing eyebrow-raise from the hunter as he held his phone to his ear.

"Dean."

Nate slammed the door shut and proceeded to rummage around in the backseat of Sam's car until she found what she was looking for. She settled back in her seat and unscrewed the lid of the half-empty bottle of red label with great satisfaction.

"On my way." Sam flipped his cell phone shut as he slid into the driver's seat and shut the door behind him, "Put that away before we get pulled over."

"Relax, Mr Narcophobe. We're still in the freaking car park." Nate took a generous swig of the bottle she had evidently taken out of her jacket en route to the hospital. "Speaking of which, it might go faster if I drive."

Sam coiled to snap out a vehement no, but for some reason a far more condescending response shoved its way through his lips.

"Do you have a permit?"

He knew she was looking at him as though he were high.

"Do cats land on all fours?" Nate patted the wheel, "Scoot over and let a pro show you how its done in 2020."

Sam laughed caustically as he moved her hand off the steering wheel and pulled out of the lot, "Maybe in 2020."