June 6th, 2006

Duluth, Minnesota

Anchor Bar & Grill

Charlie Warren

"Sláinte," Charlie said before throwing back her shot of whiskey and slamming the glass back onto the bar. "Can I get another?" she requested, gesturing to the bartender.

He nodded with a smile and filled the shot glass. "Rough night or are you celebrating?"

Charlie smiled back. "Let's go with both," she told him, pulling the glass back towards her and swallowing it down.

"Oh yeah?" he inquired, making an attempt to be subtle.

"Mhmm," she mused as she thought of what she could tell him. "I just closed a case at work."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Case? So, do you work for the police or something?"

"FBI," she supplied, reaching into her jacket to pull out her badge. "Special Agent Julia Monroe, at your service."

"Wow," he said as he leaned forward to get a closer look. "Monroe? Like Marilyn Monroe?"

Charlie's smile dropped slightly, a little disappointed that he focused more on the name than the title. "Yep, just like Marilyn," she agreed, flipping it closed and putting it back. "So, you know my name but I don't know yours."

"Where are my manners?" she asked before holding his hand out. "Mitch Tyler?"

"Tyler?" she questioned, grabbing hold of his hand. "Like Steven Tyler?"

His smile dropped slightly with embarrassment, well aware of how terrible that line had been. "Yeah."

She was admittedly a little proud of herself. "Do you think you could make me a-" she cut off when her phone went off. She let out a sigh as she pulled it out and checked the caller ID. A wide smile stretched across her face when she saw the name. "Excuse me," she told Mitch before spinning around on the bar stool and answering. "Hey, honeybuns."

"Sammy's gone!"

Dean's panicked voice had her on alert. She turned back to the bar, slapped down a ten dollar bill and started towards the door. "Alright, just take a deep breath and tell me what happened," she told him, weaving her way through the crowd of people.

Dean did just that, loudly pulling in a deep breath and letting it out. "We were leaving the bar and I went to the bathroom and when I got outside the keys were by Baby and Sammy was gone," he explained. "Charlie, no one's seen him. I've asked everyone."

"Where are you?" she questioned, pushing through the front door and out into the parking lot.

"Kugels Keg in Hibbing, Minnesota," he answered, his voice starting to even out.

She stopped short. "I'm in Duluth."

He was quiet for a moment. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," she said, shrugging it off and continuing forward. "Listen, I can be there in an hour and I'll help you find him, okay?"

"Okay," he said, his voice a little soft. "Charlie, what am I going to do?"

"We'll find him, Dean, I promise," she assured him. "Hang tight, okay? I'll see you in a little bit."

"Thanks, sweetheart."


Kugels Keg

Hibbing, Minnesota

Charlie Warren and Dean Winchester

Dean paced in front of the bar, his head bowed and his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. Ever since he had gotten off the phone with Charlie his anxiety had somewhat quieted, the reassurance that he wasn't on his own in this calming him down. For what felt like the thirtieth time he pulling his phone out to check the time, debating whether or not to call Charlie and see where she was. His thumb was hovering over the Call button when the roar of an engine caught his attention. He watched as a black motorcycle pulling into the parking lot and came to a stop a few feet from him. His worry was momentarily replaced with surprise when the rider removed their helmet and familiar blonde hair tumbled down their shoulders.

"Charlie?" he found himself asking.

She looked over to him as she killed the engine and climbed off, her helmet hanging off the handle bars as she walked towards him. "Have you heard anything?"

And just like that Dean's anxiety was back. "No."

Her frown deepened at that, her arms wrapping around his neck once she was close enough to him.

Dean didn't hesitate to hug her back, his face dropping to bury into her shoulder as he pulled in several deep breaths.

"We'll find him," she assured him, running her hand up and down his back. "I mean, he's seven feet tall how hard could it be?"

He barked out a laugh before pulling away from her. "So, uh, where's the Camaro?"

"Massachusetts."

"And Courtney?"

"Scotland."

He looked to her in surprise. "Seriously?"

She waved him off. "I'll explain later," she told him. "Tell me about the hunt."

Dean glanced back at the people ambling out of the bar and shook his head. "You know what, there's a motel five miles back. You can look through everything we've found."


Sota Motel

Hibbing, Minnesota

Charlie Warren and Dean Winchester

Charlie let out a frustrated sigh and slumped back in her chair. "So, John marked the town for possible Phantom activities, there's lore about Phantom's, and the town has the highest missing persons per capita than anywhere else in the state," she summarized.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, dropping down into the seat next to her and holding out a beer.

She took it with an appreciative nod. "So are we banking on a Phantom taking him or do you think it's something else?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," he answered. "I want to say Phantom but something doesn't feel right to me."

She nodded in agreement and twisted the cap off the beer. "Usually Phantoms make the air around them hard to breath. The effect takes a day to wear off. I didn't get that in the parking lot, did you?"

He thought for a moment before shaking his head. "No, nothing like that."

She hummed as she took a gulp from her beer. "There's a species of Phantom that don't have that trait but they're indigenous to Asia..." she trailed off. "It could be something other than Phantoms."

Dean ran a hand across his face. "I don't care what it is as long as we get Sam back," he grumbled.

Charlie scooted to the edge of her chair and reached out to run her fingers through his hair, remembering how it had calmed him down before. "Sam's a great Hunter, he'll keep himself safe till we can get to him," she assured him, her voice soft.

He leaned into her hand as he grimaced. "I shouldn't have let him out of my sight."

"There's absolutely no way you could have known this was going to happen," she told him. "This isn't something you worry about happening, it's something that blindsides you. You can't blame yourself for this."

His jaw clenched at that. "He's my responsibility, Charlie. I'm supposed to keep him safe.

Charlie bit down on her bottom lip to keep a few choice words about John from coming out. Instead, she pulled in a calming breath and brought her other hand up to thread through his hair. "Do you trust me?"

He seemed surprised by the questioned and let out a small laugh. "Course I do."

"We're going to find Sam" she stated, her tone leaving no room to argue, "and we're going to get whatever took him."

Dean swallowed at that and glanced off to the side, his tongue running over his bottom lip before drawing it in between his teeth.

Charlie's eyes dropped down to watch his mouth, her own lips parting as she pulled in a steadying breath. Her thumbs ran across his cheekbones absentmindedly, the touch getting him to look back at her. She blinked lazily and pulled her eyes away from his lips, twitching in surprise when she found him watching her. Knowing that none of this would help the situation she gave him a soft smile, squeezed his jaw slightly before letting go. "Did you want to go out looking for him?" she questioned, pushing herself from her chair and walking over to the bed she had thrown her bag onto.

He snapped out of whatever daze he had been in and twisted around to look at her. "Uh, yeah," he answered. "I-I know it might not get us anywhere but-"

"You won't be able to sleep anyways," she interrupted with a knowing tone. "We might as well make use of the time," she mused, unzipping the bag and pulling out the black sweatshirt she had stashing in it. "D'you mind if I take a shower before we go?"

"Woah, woah, 'we'?" he asked, getting up from the chair. "Sweetheart, I'm not going to make you go with me. It's past midnight and you just got off a hunt. Stay here and get some sleep."

She rolled her eyes at that. "Dean-"

He shook his head. "No arguing. Just because I can't sleep doesn't mean you shouldn't. One of us needs to be bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning," he said, attempting to make light of the situation.

Charlie smiled despite herself. "How about a compromise?"

He raised an eyebrow but gestured to her. "Let's hear it."

She turned to face him as she crossed her arms. "Since there is a possibility of this being a Phantom splitting up wouldn't be smart," she stated. "I'll go with you but I'll sleep in the car."

"You can do that?" he asked, giving her a skeptical look.

"That's insulting."

"Alright, but only if you actually sleep," he told her, pointing a threatening finger at her. "I don't want to hear you complaining about being tired tomorrow."

Charlie scoffed. "Because I'm the one who complains," she pointed out, waving her sweatshirt at him. "Can I still shower? I was taking out a nest of Ghouls about three hours ago."

Dean grimaced at that and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, course you can shower," he answered. "You don't have to ask me."

She gave a shrug and started for the bathroom. "Just being polite," she mused.


The Impala

Hibbing, Minnesota

Charlie Warren and Dean Winchester

Charlie let out a frustrated huff and sat up from the backseat. "I can't sleep," she stated, the buzzing of her ribs healing making it impossible for her to lay still.

Dean looked back at her in the mirror, an amused look on his face. "I hate to say I told you so..."

She pointed a finger at him. "Not once did you tell me that I wouldn't be able to sleep in the car!" she argued. "You just said that I better not complain in the morning."

"Yeah, well, that still stands," he told her. "If I hear one peep out of you-"

"Oh, what are you gonna do?" she asked, leaning against the front seat to rest her head on his shoulder. "Huh?"

He smirked at that. "What do you want me to do?"

She let out a snort. "See this is why I hate phone sex."

"Woah!" he exclaimed, twisting around slightly to look down at her. "Where the hell did phone sex come from?"

Charlie pulled a face. "What do you want me to do?" she mimicked in a deep voice. "That's always what they say after you've given a rather vivid description. Don't ask me what I want you to do just tell me!"

He glanced between her and the road for a few moments. "You, uh, you don't have a lot of luck with guys and kinky stuff, d'you ya?"

She hummed in agreement. "Remind me later to tell you about the sex swing incident," she mused with a grimace. "Now that was bad."

Dean thought to ask but a part of him really wanted Sammy to be there for it, knowing that his reaction would make it all the better. "I guess a guy really takes his life into his own hands when he decides to sleep with you, huh?"

"It's not my fault they can't handle me," she huffed with a pout.

"It sure isn't," he mused with a smirk.

Charlie was a little surprised by his sincerity but didn't press on it. "Would you kill me if I climbed over the seat?"

"Are your boots off?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Mhmm."

"Just watch the leather."

She did just that as she threw her leg over and hoisted herself forward, lowering down into the passenger's seat expertly. "I'm not an amateur at maneuvering in cars."

"I can see that," he chuckled, actually looking a little impressed. "You got any interesting car stories?"

"Do you mean sexy car stories?"

"I did not say 'sexy'," he defended.

"But it was implied."

"It was implied."

She laughed and reached forward to turn the radio up a little higher. "I don't think you've earned sexy car stories," she told him, a pleased smile stretching across her lips when the new song started.

And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder

One of the four beasts saying,

'Come and see', and I saw, and behold a white horse

There's a man goin' round takin' names

And he decides who to free and who to blame

Everybody won't be treated all the same

There'll be a golden ladder reachin' down

When the man comes around

Dean cleared his throat and glanced over to her. "I found the tape a few weeks ago at a gas station," he explained. "I've been drivin' Sammy crazy with it."

She beamed at that, a little proud of herself for turning him onto it. "Do you know what the song is about?"

He shook his head. "It's biblical though, right?"

"'And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see. And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer'," she recited. "Revelations. The Four Horseman."

His eyebrows shot up. "You have that memorized?"

"Are you really that surprised?" she asked with a pointed look.

He thought for a moment before shaking his head. "No."

She rolled her eyes and slumped a little further into the seat. "Anyways, the entire song is riddled with Biblical references but it's mostly about the Apocalypse," she explained with a soft smile. "People just sing along without knowing that's what it's about. I've always found that a little funny."

"Well, not all of us have such an extensive knowledge about scriptures, sweetheart," he said, taking his hand off the wheel to pat her knee. "Us simple fold just like the music."

Charlie let out a snort of laughter. "You're far from simple, honeybuns," she told him, grabbing hold of his hand to play with her fingers. "You made an EMF reading out of a Walkman."

He shrugged the best he could. "Ah, that wasn't too hard," he said, glancing down at his hand to watch her fingers fidget.

"Modestly doesn't suit you," she mused, pressing her palm against his to compare the size differences. "Or, it doesn't suit your facade."

His brows furrowed. "My facade? What the hell does that mean?"

"Facade, noun, a superficial appearance or illusion of something," she defined.

"What? No, I know what the word means," he defended. shooting her a glare. "I meant, what the hell does it have to do with me?"

She watched him for a moment before shaking her head. "I won't call you on it because it'll just make you defensive," she stated, flexing her fingers against his, "and I'm father fond of you when you're like this so I'd rather not ruin it."

He shifted his hand so he could thread his fingers with hers. "I thought I was always like this?" he asked, his voice a little softer.

Charlie dropped her eyes to watch their hands. "You're different when no one is watching you."

"You're watching me."

She shook her head. "I don't count," she dismissed.

"You'll always count."

She had to keep herself from looking at him, a part of her thinking that if she did he'd shut down. "You posture when people are watching," she said, slumping over till she was pressed into his side, her head on his shoulder. "When you know they're not, you relax and you let yourself be yourself."

There was a moment of silence. "I let myself be myself?"

"Mhmm," she hummed, turning her head slightly to breath in his leather jacket. "My dad calls it Hunters Complex," she said. "With the kind of job that we have, saving people, hunting things, we can't allow ourselves to be 'just people'. Because 'just people' don't survive the monsters or the darkness. We need to be something else. Something bigger than it all. And the worst part is that we can't let the 'just people' see what we really are."

"And what are we?"

"Just as scared as they are."

Dean let out a grunt. "I'm not scared."

"If you're not scared than you're dead," she countered, the words her mother often said flowing out easily.

"Fear is what gets people killed."

"Impulsive decisions and stupidity is what gets people killed, "Charlie argued. "Fear doesn't have to be all consuming. You just have to know how to use it."

"Use fear?"

"Mhmm," she hummed again, her free hand coming up to wind around his arm, all but hugging it to her chest. "I'll each you sometime."

He chuckled at that and looked down to her, not at all surprised by her cuddling. "I look forward to it, sweetheart," he told her, his voice going soft again. "So, Courtney's in Scotland?"

"With Godfrey," she answered with a laugh. "Normally we don't let him in the field because he panics, but he gave a rather passionate speech about returning to his homeland that she couldn't tell him no."

Dean would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised. "Godfrey's Scottish?"

"Oh yeah, kilt and all."

"You're kidding," he snorted.

She all but giggled. "Don't worry, he only wears it on special occasions."

An unsure laugh left him, a part of him wanting to crack a joke but the other part knowing she was in a very good position to do something very painful to him. "He sounds like a cool guy."

"He seems to think so," she mused with a soft smile. "I love him though."

Dean nodded softly at that. "I didn't think Hunters took vacations."

"They don't," she agreed, "but they do go on treasure hunts. They're following a lead on something we've been looking for. It's the first solid lead we've had in months."

"What are you looking for?" he asked before giving a small shrug. "Maybe I've heard about it."

She wondered for a moment if she should tell him, if he and Sam had managed to hear something about the Colt during their time away from John. Though she was religiously rebellious against John she found a string of thought telling her to keep him in the dark. When everything came to light her reluctance to tell him about the gun would be overshadowed by her and Courtney working for their father.

"Charlie?"

She snapped out of her thoughts. "It's nothing occult," she lied quickly. "It's a Godfrey family heirloom. Court and Godfrey are at an auction where it's being sold apparently."

"Huh. I didn't think people actually had family heirlooms."

"Families as wealthy as The Godfrey's do," she answered with a small shrug. "His line can be traced back to royalty."

"Damn," he grunted.

She laughed softly and let her eyes slip closed, the buzzing from her ribs healing finally vanishing and the sleep deprivation setting in. She pulled in a deep breath and let out it slowly, her mind finally going quiet.

Dean lanced down at her when he heard her sigh, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he saw her half unconscious. "D'you want me to turn the music down?" he offered, wondering how he was going to do just that with her grip on his arm.

"It's okay," she answered, her voice muffled against his jacket. "Night, honeybuns."

"Night, sweetheart."


I'm not even going to try to think up an excuse for how late this is. Sorry about that. There's going to be at least three parts to this episode though, if that makes anything better.

Let me know what you guys think!

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