A/N First: I apologize for taking so long to post. It's been a heck of a new year all ready. Second: I have used the image of Harriet Hosmer as a background and anchor for the statue. She was probably the most prolific female sculptor of the 19th and very early 20th centuries. I have taken some license with her image and mean no offense or disrespect to her or her admirers. Third: I am hoping to post another chapter by the end of the week to catch up. We are getting there, slowly, I know. Remember, I prefer the angsty, epiphany style Supernatural's over the gory style. Please have patience and above all else, please review...even if you don't like it...constructive criticism is accepted. Thank you!

CHAPTER 9

Samson, Delilah, and Roger took an instant liking or super focused interest in Sam. Mrs. Seckla led Sam over to her plastic covered chintz sofa and as soon as he sat the troika surrounded him.

Sam rubbed his hands on the knees of his suit pants and stared concernedly at the animals, suddenly feeling Dean's fear of dogs creep up on him. With one eye on the dogs he used the other to watch the elderly woman pour him some tea, that he didn't want and wouldn't drink, "Ah, so, that statue. You do remember the one I mean?" He cleared his throat and leaned carefully over the tops of the dogs' heads to take the dainty tea cup and saucer set offered by Mrs. Seckla.

Settling herself comfortably on a wing back chair in the same chintz pattern as the sofa, "Not sure what you see when you look at me, big fella', but I'm not some feeble minded old bitty. I remember my entire life, beginning with my first day of school and ending with this moment right here. To quote a movie, 'Youth is wasted on the young.' Now, I have given that pretty little thing several of my family heirlooms. I will need a little more information in order to answer your less than vague questions. Drink your tea. It's getting cold!"

Sam grimaced at her directness and obvious clarity and did as ordered, and sipped at his tea, afraid of another telling off. The dogs were in his way of the coffee table so he held the cup and saucer in his hands and gave silent thanks that Dean couldn't see him in this precarious position.

Gathering his thoughts and what he remembered from the statue and the information Dean gave him he scooted up on the couch, "Mrs. Seckla the heirloom you gave to Dr. Alexander is about ten inches tall, made of white milk glass. It's of a woman bearing two torches with animals lying at her feet. You told Dr. Alexander that it was worth more than the rest."

Mrs. Seckla leaned forward and placed her cup and saucer on the coffee table, stroking Roger's enormous head before she sat back. She folded her frail hands in her lap and gave Sam a piercing look, "I heard what you said but I do not hear a question. So, let me answer the unasked. My grandmother, Mama Hattie, made that and the other figures I've given away. She was quite a prolific sculptor and that particular piece was her last before she passed away. Milk glass is a very difficult medium and her attention to detail was extraordinary. She sold many of her designs and prototypes to some companies and received no commission on any of the sales, just the flat, one-time payment," Sam noted some bitterness in her tone but didn't interrupt. "That particular piece Mama Hattie named Diana, which is my middle name, and the reason that piece is worth the most is that it has no seam in it. Mama used many mediums, marble, bronze, glass. She used molds on many of her pieces but not that last one. I'm not really sure how she did it, but she worked tirelessly for weeks. Trial and error. Many broken experiments and much alcohol. Mama Hattie liked her gin, ya' know."

"Mrs. Seckla," Sam tried scooting to the end of the couch and was met with a chorus of growls, Delilah's being the deepest and loudest, Sam let out a nervous laugh and scooted back, "Ah, sorry, sorry about that. Good doggies. Mrs. Seckla," Sam gestured towards the dogs, "is there anything you can do here?"

The elderly woman flashed piercing blue eyes at Sam, "Sam, Del, Roger, hit the road." The troika turned their heads in unison and regarded their tiny mistress and then sighing they each lumbered off in different directions, Roger settled beside Mrs. Seckla in a loud harrumph.

Sam relaxed back into the couch and started to look around the parlor. His eyes settled on a black and white photo of a woman working on a marble slab. He set his cup and saucer on the coffee table and made his way to the mantle where the picture sat. Sam pointed at the picture and looked towards the old woman, "Your…your grandmother is …er…was Harriet Hosmer? THE Harriet Hosmer? She…her biography never mentioned a marriage or…or children."

Mrs. Seckla gave Sam an amused expression, "You don't say. To say that Mama Hattie was a woman ahead of her time is an understatement. I didn't get to know her at all, really, and mother was raised by friend's of Mama Hattie's. You see, my grandmother was a bit of a free spirit. And when she found herself in … hmmm… trouble, she thought through her options and decided keeping the baby, my mother, was her only recourse, her only legacy, besides her art. But, she also knew that she didn't want to be tied down to motherhood. She gave my mother to family friend's with explicit instructions that she know who her real mother was and that her lifestyle wasn't suited to raise a child. Mother told me everything on my wedding day. Mama Hattie was a very special lady. Very special. Now if you don't mind. You've tired out this old woman and not in any way that I would be excited to write it down in my diary." Her tone was so matter-of-fact, Sam was taken aback.

The tiny woman placed her hand on Sam's back and scooted him to the door, Roger on her heels. Sam turned to thank her for her time but the door slammed in his face before a single syllable could be uttered.

He turned away from her door in stunned silence. Being a trained hunter from a very young age, Sam was used to looking and noticing all manners of behavior and things out of the ordinary. He noticed the kids in the street playing their summer games, lawn sprinklers watering the parched neighborhood grass, the quiet humming and buzzing of bees gathering nectar to take back to their hives. Nothing out of the ordinary, but that feeling of paranoia was still with him. He ran his hand across the back of his neck as he made his way to the Impala.

What he didn't notice, however was the tiny, ancient woman watching him with shrewd blue eyes from her parlor window through lace curtains, petting the gargantuan animal at her side.

While Sam was visiting with Mrs. Seckla, Dean had continued to troll the internet for more information on the handful of no information they had. The little website he'd found that had him so excited at first turned out to be a labyrinth of vague and unverifiable information. He was hoping the old woman had more information.

He'd taken a few detours through the internet to stop at a few of his favorite sites, the last one kept him otherwise occupied for about 45 minutes, man did he love those Busty Asian Beauties!

Bored of the internet and hanging out in the hotel room he decided to take a walk, clear his head. He was tired, no, exhausted beyond words. The dreams, seizure, and whatever that weird episode was in the bathroom had him freaked out, to say the least and adding to his list of phobias: flying, dogs, and now fear of sleep? Like he needed that shit.

Dean thought talking to a few of the locals about Jimmy Caldwell about his character, besides the drug dealer crap, would garner some more information. Maybe someone knew of some occult behavior he'd been into or he was dating some chick who he pillow talked to about his extracurricular activities, or maybe said chick was a witch casting revenge spells. He knew he was reaching, but he knew there was something to grasp, he just couldn't see it.

He laced his fingers together, stretched them out in front of him and cracked his knuckles. He made the mistake of closing his eyes, the stark white "room" appeared behind his closed lids and the disembodied voice started speaking, "You must fi…" Dean's eyes flew open and he jumped up, knocking his chair over, "Son of a bitch! I don't know who you are but I will find a way to gank your sorry ass!"

Dean ripped his leather jacket off the back of the other chair and high-tailed it out of the room. He dug his hands in the pockets of the jacket searching for the Impala keys, "Shit," he scrubbed his hand through his hair. Sam had the Impala. He spun around looking at the hotel door he'd just exited, "Shit! Shit!" He hung his head, he'd forgotten to grab the hotel room key.

Sighing his resignation, Dean put one foot in front of the other and headed towards the main part of town. Thank fuck, he thought, the hotel was just at the end of the main street.

The sound of a siren brought Dean out of his thoughts. He stopped his progress and watched as a black SUV flew by, he swore the side read: Omer Veterinary Clinic, but it went by so quickly he convinced himself he was mistaken, "Must have said medical clinic," he grumbled to himself.

One of the things Dean had come to realize about every small town across the country was that though they might not have much in the way of entertainment, shopping, or culture, every single small town, okay, maybe not every small town, but nine out of ten had at least one bar! And Omer was no different.

Dean entered Wobbles and smirked. Yup, he thought, looks the same as every other dive he'd been in. He walked up to the well worn bar and grabbed a stool, "Barkeep! Beer, whatever's on tap and a shot of whiskey, whatever's in the well will work." Dean spun around and took in the patrons of the bar. Half a dozen regulars, or so it seemed to Dean, were gathered around the pool table, laughing, making bets, and arguing over what trick shot to try next.

There were a few patrons sitting at tables and eating…eating, Dean thought, food. He spun back around to the bartender, "Hey you serve food here?"

The bartender, a man whose skin color and hair were both gray, his fleshy lips drooped on the left side and his eyebrows threatened to consume his sight, regarded Dean with rheumy disdain, "Best burgers in the damn county, sonny." The man's voice was gravel over glass and thick like mud.

Dean's face lit up in the first real smile in, fuck, who knew how long, "Sign me up. The works." Dean slapped the bar and laughed. God, he loved food!

He was sipping his beer when a vaguely familiar shock of blonde hair caught his attention, "Keep! I'll be there…take your time." Dean slid off his barstool and walked to the back of the bar, he stopped beside the familiar figure and leaned over to make sure he knew, yup, his heart leapt in his chest and other things stirred further south.

"Hey doc, want some company?" Dean asked with a devastating smile.

Doc Alex looked up at him with those golden brown eyes, shimmering and glassy. Dean noticed a silvery trail of dried tears on her cheeks, "Hey, doc. What's goin' on? Maybe I can help…I…I mean my partner and…we can help. Just talk to me."

She snorted out a laugh, "Kill the bastard."

"I'm … I… uh…what?"

She laughed again, "Martin. Blankenship. Death is too good for that no good cock bite."

Dean smiled a little more to himself. He slid slowly into the chair opposite the vet, cupping his beer in both hands. He watched as she threw back a number of shots, slamming the small glasses on the table, "Whoa whoa whoa, slow down there. Don't you have patients to see later?"

She snorted again, "Cancelled the day. Being in a small town sometimes really just blows the big one. Ya' know? Everyone knows everyone's secrets but no one will do a GOD DAMN FUCKING THING! BASTARD!" Her tirade brought several heads around and a couple of the pool players started heading their way.

Dean put his hands out to them letting them know he had everything under control, "We're cool guys. We're cool," turning his head back to Doc Alex, "You want to quit with the cryptic and fill me in. I have been known to be pretty helpful on occasion. Doc, Kate, talk to me." Dean reached his hands out and stopped her from taking what looked to be her seventh shot.

She leaned back heavily in her seat and Dean reluctantly lifted his hands from hers as the bartender brought his cheeseburger, chips, giant pickle, and pickled egg and plopped the basked down in front of him with a grunt.

Kate Alexander cocked an eyebrow, "Looks good," she spun her head around calling to the bartender, "Hey, Horace. The same for me. Thanks." She spun back around to Dean, "Eat. Eat and I'll talk."

Dean cocked an eyebrow back at her and nodded. He picked up his burger and took a big bite. His eyes rolled in his head, and while chewing, mumbled, "Great burger."

Kate chewed her bottom lip deciding how much she should reveal, then sighing, "Getty Blankenship is 14 years old. Her real name is Margot. She has a little sister, Mimi…uh…Merriam…she's 10 years old. Their mother passed away a few years ago. Martin's their father. He's … uh… he's a bastard." She looked down and started fiddling with her hands in her lap.

Dean waited for her to continue, but she remained silent until Horace plopped another basket of food in front of her, "Thanks Horace."

She still hadn't continued the story, so Dean inquired, "He abused his kids? Beat them?"

Kate took a bite of the pickle and snorted, "Yeah, amongst other things." She still hadn't looked at Dean.

Realization dawned on Dean's face, yet he couldn't stop himself from asking, "You mean he…"

Kate raised her eyes to him and a look of disgust colored her face. She cocked her eyebrow at him again, then nodded her head.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, chewing food neither one tasted.

Kate finally broke the silence, "As far as it can be determined, he never… Mimi was never…anyway, he seemed to focus his attention on Getty. This morning he seemed to focus an awful lot of attention on Getty. Mimi found her on the living room floor. That was the interruption from Theresa this morning. I guess Martin had taken off. Those guys over there at the pool table? Yeah, they're waiting to cut his nuts off. Small town. Good news travel fast."

Dean closed his eyes against the horror rolling around in his head and was relieved at the sight of blackness behind his lids. He said it once and he'd say it every day until the day he died, demons he got, people were crazy, he shook his head at the thought.

Kate continued behind a bite of burger, "Martin just left her there. Those good ol' boys over there heard through the grapevine and showed up here waiting for him. He would come here after…every time…yeah, so they're waiting for him." Her mouth grew dry and she tossed her burger back in the basket, scattering chips on the table, the pickle was perilously close to rolling out of the basket and onto the floor.

Dean, likewise, tossed his burger back in the basket, he rubbed his hands together thinking, "Where else would he go?" Suddenly, all thoughts of Jimmy Caldwell's disappearance fled his brain and all he could think about was using Martin Blankenship to practice his torture skills ala Alastair.

She shook her head back and forth, "I don't know. He's not exactly a pillar of the community, ya' know? He just left her there." Kate started sobbing. Her hand flew to her mouth and suddenly she was up and running for the ladies room.

Dean stared at her empty chair and making a quick decision, walked over to the pool players, "Hey guys, I'm with the state police. I'm looking for Martin Blankenship? Any of you fella's seen him around?"

All six heads turned and glared at him. The pool players crossed their arms over pool cues and flannel covered chests, one of the players, shorter than Dean, with about fifty pounds on him stepped up, "We're lookin' for Marty, too. I guess it'll be a race to see who gets to him first, right officer?" He fiddled with a toothpick hanging out of his mouth.

Dean smirked, "Yeah, I suppose you're right. So, ah, you know of any other place where Marty would go…a hide out or a girlfriend's place?"

The six pack laughed and the same player spoke, "Marty ain't got no friends in this town. He certainly ain't got no woman neither. 'Cept for those two little girls, he ain't got nobody. And pretty soon, those little girls won't have him to worry about. And believe you me, cop, that's the best thing that could happen to those girls." The man turned back to the pool game, indicating the conversation was over.

Dean turned back to his table and saw that Kate had made it back. She looked green and clammy and worse for wear.

Sighing Dean sat back down with her, "You okay?"

She nodded quickly and laid her head in her hands, "They won't find him. He's gone, just like the others."

Dean's head snapped up, brow furrowed, "Others?"

Kate nodded slowly, "This town's been full of strange disappearances for years. I know of at least four disappearances in the last six months, five now with Martin. They all just disappear without a trace."

"Without a trace," Dean muttered. Clearing his throat, "Why, uh, why don't you let me walk you home? I can't have you disappearing on me and you're in no shape to drive," he flashed her an awkward smile.

Kate clicked her tongue and flashed him a dazzling smile through the greenish tint of her skin and the greasy sheen of sweat covering her face, "Are you hitting on me?"

Dean had the decency to look sheepish, "You're in a vulnerable place right now. Do I seem like the kind of guy who would take advantage of a woman in such a state?"

Kate threw her head back in a loud laugh, then leveled him with her golden brown eyes, "Absolutely."