"I need to go home right now."
Andrew's chest was thundering as he opened Sam's laptop and hastily started searching for flights. He should have told Hannah what was really going on back home. He could have warned her, but he was scared. Hell, he should have told Sam and Dean about it too, they would have given him some better advice. Stupid, stupid, hindsight.
Dean forced the laptop shut, "Woah, woah, you need to slow down alright. What's going on?"
Andrew started pace as he usually did when he got anxious, "There is something after Hannah and, I don't know, but I just know it's something like what you guys hunt."
Sam pulled out his tablet from a drawer and started sifting through his program he developed to narrow down all possibilities. Okay, he created it with Charlie, but it was his idea to begin with. "Give me all the details."
Andrew instead started off to his room, yelling at them as he went, "I don't have time for that!"
They followed, Dean responding. "Hey we need to know everything you know. You can't just go back halfcocked thinking you can save her."
Andrew pulled his bag to the bed and hastily threw his belongings together, "And what is stopping me?"
Dean stepped up, "We are. Kid, you just got your ass saved, which I would like to remind you was because you let your guard down." Dean hated the way he sounded, it was so much like his father, but back then it really got his attention and made him a hell of a hunter. Not the best method, of course.
"Well I'm sorry I went my whole life not knowing who my father was to know that this shit existed!" Andrew was getting angry now.
"Right and now you know, noobie!" Dean was getting angry too.
"For all I know she could be dead and I wasn't there to protect her."
"And if you were there, not knowing about this life, then what good would you have been then, huh, what makes you think you could have been better at protecting her?"
Sam had enough, this brought back too many memories. "Stop it, both of you!"
Andrew shook his head. "I'm not wasting time here." He grabbed his extra pair of shoes and threw on a new, bloodless T-shirt. "I'm going home. If you're going to stop me, take a hint from the djinn and whack me."
Sam stepped in between them, seeing that specific look Dean had in his eyes when a person would even suggest such an act and it would remotely seem like a good idea. "Andrew, we really need you to trust us. We both screwed up in the last twenty-four hours, but we didn't stop until we got to you. You are in no shape to be going at this alone, so let us help you."
They both gave Andrew a brief moment to calm down, allowing him also to finish packing. "Alright, what are you suggesting?"
"The last time you talked to Hannah was there anything off about her?"
Andrew shook his head, "No, but there was stuff going on around campus. It made her really uneasy, so I told her to hang tight at home until I returned."
"Okay, what was going on around campus then?"
"Some student got murdered, but they only declared it because that was what the wounds looked like."
Sam started researching quickly about recent murders in his nephew's city. There was a few, but specifically the campus one had to be significant. He got past a few security firewalls of the police and press and found pictures of the scene. "Okay, no forced entry, no signs of foul play, obviously not suicide. But on the other hand there are a few missing persons. Reports said there was no sign of struggle there either, like they just stopped and vanished."
Dean stepped behind his brother and perused the images as well. The blood stains on the floor got his attention quick. After all these years, since they got The Yellow Eyed Bastard, he still watched for those signs. "Sam, zoom in real quick right there."
He pulled the screen up for his brother and Dean took the moment to take a finger and trace the stains. It had been a long time since they had seen that sign. It was long before all the Hell and Heaven crap and life was simpler than fighting through post-whatever-hell they had been through.
Sam was short of gasping, "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"
"Yeah," Dean answered.
"What?" Andrew asked. "After all this you're going to leave me in the dark again? Tell me!"
"Demons, Andrew. Take what you need right now, we'll send for the rest. Sammy, load up."
/ / /
They all assembled outside of the bunker, backpacks filled with two guns, extra ammo, silver knives, the works to kill a demon or two. Andrew on the other hand carried his few important travel documents and ingredients for summoning rituals. The look was not complete without Andrew sporting one of Sam's extra flannels, oversized but manageable.
The moment Dean stepped out the door he called for Cas.
"You really think he's gonna show?" Sam asked. "He told you why he didn't the first time."
"Yeah, but this involves Andrew," he said. "He's linked to him too so stay optimistic."
"Could we please not refer to me in third person, I'm standing right here." The brothers ignored him for the moment. "Look we are wasting time, I can get us flights now and we would be there in a about eight hours, but I have to do it now."
Dean shot him a glare. "There is no way we are flying, especially when we can use a better alternative."
Andrew was exasperated at the waste of time, then Sam stepped up behind him and whispered, "Last time we flew he threatened individuals with a fork. No way is he going to get on a plane."
"Then what is the better alternative here?" he growled back, getting very impatient.
The flutter of wings caught his attention.
Cas had returned, and for Andrew is was real. He wasn't half conscious or even unconscious, so this was real. He was looking at an angel on his own volition.
"I see that you need me, but make it quick," he said.
"We need to get to Andrew's place right now," Sam stated.
"What for?"
Dean stepped up, "Andrew's girl is in trouble and crap is going down over there okay, a big load of demonic crap. And you know I sure as hell ain't flying."
Cas nodded, "I can do that, but you realize that getting you three there is going to require some energy, I can't be drawing any more attention to you than I already have." Cas stepped to the three of them. Sam and Dean grabbed Andrew, who was still confused by what was going on, by his shoulders. "You'll have to wait before I can respond to any more calls."
Dean nodded, "Just get us there."
Andrew glanced at the three of them, "Wait, what?"
No one answered, because Cas had laid a finger on both brothers and in a blink of an eye they were standing in the middle of Andrew's living room.
He was surprised and turned three-sixty to fully grasp that he was back in his own home. "What just happened?"
Dean shrugged, "Better than first class."
Andrew dropped his bag on the chair by the window. The weather was dreadful and it was early morning. The apartment was still dark and he flipped the lights on. His place looked like it was ransacked. The couch was disheveled. There was broken glass where their coffee table was along with a busted steel frame. A coat closet door was busted open, and the little kitchen had food spilt on the floor. There was a knife on the floor. Andrew picked it up and studied it; there was a small trace of blood along the edge. Things were not looking good. Andrew ran to their bedroom where the door was still open. It looked untouched; Hannah was a little OCD about their bedroom, hoping to one day have the kind you would only see in the Martha Stewart catalog. She wasn't very good in the kitchen, but she felt she could make up for it where it really counts.
Andrew took a breath of relief. At least whoever has her didn't go that far (as far as he knew.)
Taking in another deep breath to contain himself he cough at the smell of the air, now realizing that it smelled like rotten eggs.
He returned to the living room to see that Sam and Dean had already begun their own investigation of his apartment.
"This place stinks of demon activity," Dean stated.
Sam huffed, "No kidding. Seems kind of lazy though for a demon."
"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking. They're usually a little more subtle and neat, like a serial killer."
Andrew pulled the busted closet door aside, listening to the brothers talk amongst themselves. He had another idea in mind. A year before he purchased a gun and kept it secret from Hannah. He hid it under a bunch of boxes, deep in the closet on the top shelf where she couldn't reach it. He pulled the cold pistol out from the box and a few bullets along with it. Whoever, whatever, had Hannah was going to pay.
Dean caught sight of Andrew loading his pistol, "What the hell do you think you're gonna do?"
"What we should be doing instead of wasting time," Andrew replied. Dean was getting tired of the sass, but he could accept that it came with the genes. "We know what it is so let's pull some spell out of my bag and find out what where these sons of bitches are."
Sam shook his head. "It's not that simple, Andrew."
Andrew was exasperated. "Why am I not surprised!"
Dean grabbed the bag and began to clear some space on the floor, "Maybe you didn't finish your reading assignment, college kid, but if you didn't already know, our family has a history with demons. We have to go about this a different way." He started drawing on the floor while Sam began to put the ingredients together. "All demons are not the same. They're all nasty assholes, but they have different motives. Different demons, different powers. The more you know, the better chances you have of kicking their asses back to Hell."
Andrew watched carefully what his father and uncle were creating. He had seen it in one of the pages in their journals. In Sam's it would be under his makeshift index of summoning rituals. That was in white. Sam tossed Andrew a can of spray paint from the bag. "Now you get to make your first devil's trap. Don't screw it up, no pressure."
Andrew obliged and in his haste tried to make each simple and circle as perfect as possible, checking with his own notes he brought along.
When they finished the living room looked like it belonged to a satanic cult temple. "No way I'm getting my deposit back now."
"We'll comp you, kid," Dean said, lighting a match. He tossed it into the bowl in the middle of the circles.
There was a small flash of fire which promptly dissolved into smoke. Andrew would say later the place got colder when it was all over. He hoped when it was done it would give him a signal of where to go, or some kind of oracle to guide them. He didn't get either. Instead he heard a voice, Scottish, from behind them.
"Moose. Squirrel. It's been a long time."
Figured I slip this in during my day off. Hopefully I get more of those now that job number one has cut everyone's hours due to company budget. Review if you would. I love hearing what you guys think.