Time for another really long chapter and some good news. First off, the news. I just finished the story on Word. 81 pages, a whole lot of words, adn totally worth it. Surprisingly, not the longest story I've ever written. So, look for chapters 12-21 soon, then say good-bye to wormholes (possibly) fior good. You know me and sequels: I just can't resist another good chance to mess with these boys.

Oh, and speaking of the boys... here's that chapter I mentioned!

Dean had insisted that they go back and thank Caleb again before heading to Manning, had insisted on saying good-bye. Sam was actually glad he had, because if it hadn't been Dean's idea, he would have wound up being the main suspect. Why would a murderer voluntarily return to the scene of the crime, especially with a guest in tow?

Caleb was dead. The crime tape was stuck up around his house and the police were pushing neighbors back. A local newswoman was telling the camera that he'd been stabbed to death in his own home, with no sign of forced entry.

Sam's stomach twisted as he heard that. Had the murderer been the one to drag Caleb off the phone the night before? Had Sammy actually heard his friend's killer knocking on the front door? He supposed that it was completely possible.

"Man," Dean breathed, surveying the scene with a look of dismay on his thin face, "some people are just crazy, huh? Knock on a guy's door and stab him to death? What do you think the motive was?"

Sam shrugged. "No way to know. So, hit the road?"

Dean nodded, walking with his brother back to the car. "Let's head out to Colorado, home of the Rocky Mountains and the Stanley Hotel. Hey, that gives me an idea. After we're done with the demon, you wanna check in and see if the place goes all 'Shining' on us?"

"Nah, I'm gonna be heading home," Sam said, "got a wife and kid to take care of."

Dean frowned. "Right, yeah. Just a quick question, though. How am I supposed to get back home? I don't have a car."

"I'll take you home."

"Oh. Back to Connecticut?"

"Yes, Dean," Sam nodded, "back to Connecticut."

Dean stopped beside the car. "Hey, man, can I drive?"

Sam stood and stared at him. Finally, something familiar coming out. He tossed his brother the keys and moved around to the passenger side. "Sure thing."

Dean caught the keys, smiling, and pulled open the driver's side door. He slid in behind the wheel and adjusted the seat and mirrors. "This is great, huh? Just the two of us, out on the road. Like we're a family again."

"We never stopped being a family, Dean."

"Sure we did," the elder shrugged as he started the car and pulled away from Caleb's house, "back when we got separated. And then when I ran away, we still weren't a family. Even when they let me out. But we're back together now, and nothing can tear us apart, right?"

"I guess," Sam replied, staring out the window and wondering who on Earth would have wanted Caleb dead.

"We're gonna keep in touch, aren't we?"

"You don't have a phone or computer."

"We could write. You know, letters. Snail mail still exists, Sammy."

Sam sighed. "I suppose, but I'm kind of busy, you know, trying to piece my life together again." The truth was, he wasn't even sure he was going to stay in that world. He was hoping on changing things in the past enough that this present would never happen. He wanted his wife and daughter, sure, but was it really worth it if Dean was miserable, poor, and crazy?

"I can help you. I was kind of afraid to tell you before, but I've been keeping up on what's happening to you. I saved up some money after they let me out and hired someone to find you. After that, I kept up surveillance on my own."

"You've been stalking me?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were happy," Dean defended, "I wanted to keep you safe."

"But how were you keeping tabs on me if we lived on opposite sides of the continent?"

"That was tricky," the elder nodded, "but I, uh, bought a few little cameras, broke into your place a few years back, and set them up. I've got the TV in my bedroom."

Sam blinked. He let out a slow breath. He stuck a finger in his ear to make sure that nothing was changing his ability to hear correctly. "You've been watching me?"

Dean glanced at him quickly. "I had to make sure you were safe." There was such innocence in his voice that Sam was tempted to forgive him.

"Dean," he said quietly, "no offense, man, but that's kind of creepy. And I wouldn't go around telling people that if I were you. They'll think you're crazy."

"Did Caleb tell you that?"

"Um, yeah, actually, he-" Sam didn't have a chance to finish his sentence due to lack of consciousness. Dean had pulled a bloody knife out of his pocket and whacked his brother over the head with it, effectively silencing the younger man.

"Sorry, Sammy," Dean mumbled as he pulled the SUV off to the side of the road, "but I can't lose you again. Not now. Not when we were so close to being a family." He got out of the car and went around the back to grab his handcuffs. No, nothing was taking his brother away, not again.

When Sam woke up, his first thought was that Dean had stuffed him in the trunk. It was dark and cramped and his head hurt. Then, he realized that the Impala had been left in Manning in 1989. Scratch the trunk theory.

He opened his eyes and looked around. It had seemed dark because they were driving through a growing storm and the sun was setting behind the cloud cover. Rain beat at the windshield as lightning forked across the sky, reflecting in Dean's eyes as the crazy man obeyed every traffic law, careful not to get pulled over.

Sam was in the backseat of his car, laying sideways, with his hands cuffed behind him. He had no idea where they were going or when the weather had turned bad. Hell, he wasn't even sure what time it was.

"Dean," he muttered, surprised to find that he hadn't been gagged, "where are we?"

"On our way to Manning," the elder said, keeping his eyes trained on the road as the severity of the storm increased.

"We're still gonna hunt down the demon?"

"No. We're gonna live there. I figure Elkins' cabin's been abandoned for years now. No one would look for us up there. We'd be safe."

"Safe from what?" Sam asked, shaking his head slowly and trying to clear it. What had his brother hit him with?

"From them," Dean answered, squinting as another bolt of lightening tore across the constantly darkening sky.

Great, Sam thought, closing his eyes, paranoid delusions. What else could possibly go wrong today?

"Hey," Dean muttered from the front seat, turning his head slightly to look back at Sam, "you all right? I mean, I hope I didn't hit you too hard."

"You attacked me and now you're asking if I'm all right? Maybe Caleb was right." Suddenly, Sam understood. Asking to say good-bye was all part of the plan, all to prove his innocence. "You did it, didn't you? You're the one who killed Caleb. That was his blood on your shirt last night."

Dean nodded slowly. "I didn't want to, Sammy. You have to understand that. I didn't want to. But he was trying to tear us apart. He wanted you to leave me again. I just couldn't let that happen. I had to stop him before he got to you. I wasn't too late, was I?"

Sam sighed. "In Pennsylvania, you killed a cop, didn't you?"

"I didn't want to do that, either, Sam. She saw my face, though. What was I supposed to do? She would have called them and reported it. She would have told them I'd hit her and stolen her cuffs."

"So you killed her?"

"I had to make sure you would be there when I woke up."

"Dean," Sam groaned, "you killed a person. An innocent person. Caleb was innocent, too. He just wanted to help. So did Missouri."

Dean stiffened as another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky and the rain began to let up. "How'd you know about that?" he whispered.

"I had a dream. You were a kid and she wouldn't help you kidnap me. Why'd you kill her?"

"I couldn't let her make a liar out of him," Dean said quietly, his low voice barely audible over the rain pattering off the car, "I just couldn't. Dad didn't deserve that."

"So you murdered her?"

Dean nodded. "I rang the doorbell and she answered the door. At first she didn't know who I was. She invited me in. We sat down and talked for a while. Then I pulled the knife. I stabbed her eleven times, one wound for each year I'd been alone. She screamed, but she deserved it. She shouldn't have told me he lied. He never lied to me."

Sammy shook his head. "You're crazy, man."

"Who do you think made me that way? I was doing just fine before they took me and messed me up. I was all right until they took you away. If it hadn't have been for them, I'd be fine right now."

He doesn't get it, Sam thought sadly, he doesn't know it was my fault. That, or he's not letting himself get it. Maybe to him I can't do any wrong.

"Dean," he said, "I'm sorry."

"So am I, but you need to trust your big brother on this one, Sammy. Things will be better once we get to Manning. No one can mess with us once we're there."

The SUV drove along as the rain started to let up and the pounding in Sam's head ceased. They drove for a while in silence before Dean pulled off into a rest area. It was night, and the place was abandoned. The elder man pulled into a parking space and stopped the car.

"Gotta take a leak," he grinned, slamming the door and locking it before heading up to the rest station.

Sam sighed, relaxing as much as he could in the uncomfortable position. He was certain that Dean wouldn't hurt him; some things never changed, no matter where you were, but he was still worried. He was worried about Jess. And Ava. He missed them now more than ever before.

Headlights flashed outside as another car pulled into the rest station. Some weary nighttime traveler who'd had enough of the open road, or maybe just needed a potty break. Either way, Sam was shocked when the door to the SUV was suddenly pulled open.

He sat up, the cuffs cutting into his wrists, to look at the person who had broken into his car. It was Jessica.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked urgently as panic wiggled its way into his system.

"I was worried about you," Jess explained, shoving her keys back into her pocket, "I was trying to find you. I figured I'd just take all of the main roads to Connecticut and then double back. I recognized the car in the lot and pulled in. Sammy, what did he do to you?"

She helped him sit up and began trying to pull him from the car. "Jess," he hissed, "you have to leave. Now. I can take care of myself. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Stop being so noble," she snapped, "you've been handcuffed in the back of your own car and your head is bleeding. Now come on, I'm getting you out of here."

He slid from the car and she put her arms around him, heading for the Buick she'd bought with her own money just a few years back. It wasn't exactly Soccer Mom material, but it would do until Ava got into school. Sam struggled a little at first, but finally gave in and let himself be pulled to the small car.

Suddenly, a shot rang out in the still night air and Jess fell to the ground, blood pooling on the cement as the wound in her stomach emptied the crimson liquid from her body. Sam fell by her side, on his knees, not even bothering to turn around and see who had shot his wife. He already knew.

Dean walked up beside his little brother. "It's better this way, Sammy," he said serenely, "no one's gonna tear us apart now. I won't let them."

Anger bubbled up within him suddenly and Sam whipped his head around, ignoring a splitting headache that seemed to come from nowhere. If he hadn't been cuffed, he would have lashed out at the older man, trying to hurt him in any way possible. Instead, Dean went sailing back through the air, across the parking lot, and landed squarely on one of the stone picnic tables that had been set up. His head hit the cement loud enough that Sam could hear it through the fog of his grief.

There, at the rest stop, kneeling over his dead wife's body, Sammy knew what he had to do. He had to make things right, once and for all. He couldn't keep doing this. He needed that gun.

Oooooh... Dean's a murderer. What could possibly go wrong now? Guess you'll just have to stay tuned and find out!