Sam met Dean at the car. His brother shifted in the driver's seat as Sam strode up. Dean still looked pale and tired. He motioned to his wrist and waved to Sam to hurry. Dean's fingers thumped the dash with impatience. The car was moving before Sam had the passenger side door pulled shut.

"I told him I'd call back." Sam said. "You get them?"

"Yeah." Dean tossed a bag into his lap. "Three disposable cell phones. I disconnected the GPS, but I doubt it'll take them long to find us with all the damn towers. "

"They'll be able to triangulate the signal in a matter of minutes." Sam pulled out one of the phones. He didn't ask how Dean had paid. He was fairly certain he hadn't. Especially since he had no wallet. The thought didn't bother him at all. But the fact that it didn't bother him, made him feel a little empty.

Dean drove a few miles down the road and pulled into a grocery store parking lot. He grabbed at the bag. "Gimme a phone."

"Aleady?"

"Yeah. I need to call Cas."

Sam shrugged and handed him one. Dean dialed. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel while waiting for the angel to pick-up; eyes gliding over the dashboard. He scrunched his nose at the passenger side airbag light. Dean sighed. "Voicemail." Dean said.

"Leave a message."

Dean frowned at the phone. "I don't think he knows how to check it." Dean's mouth quirked. "I suppose it can't hurt, huh?" He spoke into the receiver. "Hey. I need to talk to you. Sam and I are in Virginia. Get here." He hung up.

Sam pulled a second phone out of the bag. His face twitched as he tried to hide a grin. He glanced at his brother. "You shouldn't be so bossy, Dean."

"What?"

"You." Sam pointed at him. "You shouldn't boss the angel around like that." Sam gave him a meaningful look. "Just because he has some sort of man crush on you, that doesn't mean you should take advantage." He patted Dean's shoulder. "Manners, man."

Dean stilled and turned with his mouth comically agape. "Cas does not have a damn 'man crush' on me, Sam." He spat out in a loud and rushed voice.

"Fine." Sam held up his hands. And maybe Sam had been waiting awhile to hit Dean with this bit of insight. Lighten the mood. Piss Dean off. Same thing. "Angel crush, then. Whatever." Sam nodded, keeping his face serious. Dean threw the phone at his head. Then he sat up straighter and put the car into drive.

"Let's do this." Dean said. "Call him, Sam."

Gibbs answered on the second ring.

"Sam. You ready to give yourself up?"

Sam rolled his eyes; didn't rise to the bait. "Like I said, you want to stop this thing from killing again, you need to listen to me." Sam heard road noise over the phone.

"Alright. Why don't you explain it to me." Gibbs said. "Who is it I need to save, Sam?"

Sam took in a breath. Dean poked him and motioned for him to hurry. Sam slapped him away. "Look. Just get to those people from the medic's office reports. Put them somewhere safe. Their lives are in danger."

"I'll need more than that to order protective custody."

Sam snorted at the attempt to lengthen the conversation. Dean mouthed 'Time' at him. Sam was about to disconnect when Gibbs's voice rang out again.

"Medic's been dead six days."

"Are you sure? How?" Sam was about to prod for more info when Dean reached over and slammed the phone shut.

"Dude…" Dean said, huffing in annoyance. "The idea is not to get caught again."

Sam turned to him. "Gibbs said the medic you talked to yesterday's been dead six days."

Dean shook his head and turned the ignition. "Son of a bitch."

They drove in silence for a few minutes. Dean pulled onto wooded road, checking the rearview mirror.

Sam pursed his lips. "What do you want to do? Go back to the medic's office?"

"I don't know. The feds are probably watching it." Dean glanced in the rearview mirror again.

"What's wrong?"

"Sherriff's deputy behind us." Dean bit his lip. "It's probably nothing. I mean, they couldn't have tracked us down yet."

"Yeah." Sam glanced in the side mirror. The lights on top the car in the reflection began to flash blue. "Dammit." Sam said, sinking into the seat.

**

Gibbs pulled into the brick driveway of Lieutenant Paul Tolk's split level home, one of the two names of the reports. No one had been able to get in touch with the man. The other individual, a Pauline Manny, was at the station. Gibbs stepped out of the car. He stared at the house. Tony rummaged in the trunk, ribbing McGee over the phone.

"McGee says a deputy may have spotted the Winchesters leaving downtown. He's pulling a stolen Ford Focus over near the origin of the last cell call."

Gibbs nodded. "We'll see if they call back." His eyes wandered over the lawn and front door. "It's quiet. Careful, Dinozzo."

Tony knocked on the door. No response. He did it again. Nothing. Gibbs walked to the window, peaked inside. Inside, he saw two men struggling.

"Dinozzo!" Gibbs pulled out his gun. "Break it down!"

Tony kicked at the door. The frame gave way, opening the house. Gibbs carefully entered. Tony followed, pulling out his sidearm. The floor was damp and mushy under Gibbs's feet as he moved forward silently on the carpet. He heard Tony's damp footfalls behind him. They entered the living room.

Inside, the man from the medic's office – the fake Kinsey – held Lt. Paul Tolk by the neck. Water spilled from the officer's lips like a macabre fountain. His eyes bulged as did his belly. There was no struggle now.

"Let him go!" Tony yelled from behind him.

Gibbs aimed at the man and stepped around him to block the back exit. The fake Kinsey's eyes darted from him to Tony. No fear shone in their depths, nor did any inclination to stop.

Bang. Bang. Tony fired. Two solid shots to the back. The man held his ground.

"Give it up." Gibbs said with his gaze trained on the man. "You're under arrest."

The bald man glowered back. He dropped the body of Paul Tolk and faced Gibbs. "Eight deaths for eight insults." The words had a formal flare, but the man delivered them in a voice rusty with age. "I take as I am entitled." Defiance flashed across his face. "Rules are rules."

"You kill a marine in my town, I take you down. And that ain't rules; that's just facts." Gibbs stood his ground. "I can bring you in cuffed or in a body bag. Choice is yours."

"No damn respect these days." The fake Kinsey sneered. "Insult upon insult. Your ancestor's knew how to honor my kind. None of this young and uppity crap." He twisted around on his feet, his sneer aimed at Gibbs, then Tony, then back to Gibbs.

"Alright." Tony stepped closer, pulling the man's attention back to him while staying out of his reach. "Calm down, Grandpa. Are we doing this the easy way or not?" Tony chuckled. "Cause I gotta tell you. The boss, there..." He nodded towards Gibbs. "Is itching for the hard way."

"Your kind owes three more tributes."

Gibbs raised his gun higher, setting his sights on the man's murky eyes as he turned. The fake Kinsey's face tightened in surprise. He moved forward. Gibbs fired, hitting him in the left eye. The bald man grabbed at his wound, snarling.

"Don't move." Gibbs warned.

The man exhaled in a long, raspy grunt. He caught Gibbs's gaze. Then his body splashed into a non-descript puddle like a popped water balloon. Gibbs and Tony held their ground.

Tony inched forward, patting the puddle with his foot. "Have you ever seen something like this before, boss?"

Gibbs inhaled. "No."

"You think we got him?"

Gibbs glanced down at the wet carpet. "Nope." He put up his gun.

"Yeah." Tony bent down near the body of Lt. Polk. "That's what I thought." He put his fingers over the man's pulse point in his neck. He stood up with a saddened expression. "I'll call it in."

**

Dean tapped the steering wheel watching the lights blink in the rearview. He turned to Sam. "Think this thing can outrun him?"

Sam sunk deeper into his seat. "Maybe. But not the radio." Sam patted his chest. "I have the guard's ID, but he doesn't look much like me."

"Right." Dean pulled onto the shoulder of the quiet road. He plastered on his best 'aw shucks' grin and waited. "We'll just have to improvise." Dean said.

Sam snorted. "Maybe we've been cursed with bad luck again."

"Nah." Dean watched the car pull in behind him. "Bad luck's our default."

The deputy walked up to the car. He had light hair and eyes and looked young. Well. He was about Sam's age, so maybe green was a better description. Dean rolled down the window.

"There a problem, Deputy?"

The deputy paled as he caught sight of Dean. He rested his hand on his gun. "I'll need you to step out, Sir." He gripped the gun tighter. "Both of you."

Dean nodded. "Okay…maybe we could talk about…"

"Now!" The deputy unholstered the weapon.

Dean blanched at the hysterical tone from the man. "Okay. We're getting out." He opened the door slowly with one hand while keeping his other up. Sam did the same. "Everybody's calm here."

The deputy aimed his gun at Dean's head. Which made Dean very uncomfortable. Especially when the deputy's hand began to shake.

"Heh." Dean motioned to himself and Sam. "We're gonna cooperate."

"Put your hands on the car. Keep them where I can see them!"

Dean placed his hands on the top of the car. He caught Sam's eyes across the hood. Sam shook his head and cut his eyes at the deputy.

Dean cleared his throat. "Look. There's gotta be a mistake, deputy. What's this even about?" He shifted back.

"Stay put!"

Dean stilled.

The deputy reached into his shirt radio. "I've got two white males, match the description of a set of BOLOs sent out yesterday." His voice sounded shaky. Sam caught Dean's eyes.

"Sir." Sam said using his earnest tone. "This is a mistake. I have identification."

The deputy moved his weapon towards Sam. Sam held his palm up. He slowly moved his hand towards his pocket.

Dean held his breath, watching Sam. He heard the barrel of a gun click. Huh? He turned to the deputy, just in time to see him pull the trigger.

"No!" Dean charged the deputy. He wrestled the gun from him. Pulling back, he hit the deputy hard with the gun barrel. The man stilled. Dean jumped up.

"Sam!" He ran around the side of the car. Sam hobbled up, blinking in confusion.

"Why'd he shoot at me?" Sam grabbed his shoulder.

Dean patted him down. "Because he's a twitchy idiot who shouldn't be allowed near a gun and whose father's probably sheriff. You okay?" Dean glanced around. It was the middle of the afternoon. Someone would be driving down the road soon.

Sam grimaced. "Yeah." His lips twisted down and he pulled his shoulder closer.

Dean ran back around the car. He grabbed the unconscious deputy, none to gently, and pulled him into the back seat of the Ford Focus. "Well take the squad car." Dean said.

"Okay. But I'm shot."

Dean stilled. Sam lumbered towards the deputy's car.

"You're shot. You said you were okay."

"Had worse." Sam grimaced. "I think." He added with a weak smile.

"Let me see, Sam."

Sam frowned. "Get us out of here first. And make sure the LoJack on the car is turned off." Sam let Dean open the door. He plopped down in the passenger seat.

"And I'm bossy?" Dean contemplated him. "You sound okay." Dean said. "Keep pressure on that. And if I think you need a hospital, you're going to the hospital. Fed's be damned."

"Dean…" Sam looked pale, clammy. "I've been shot before. We didn't need a hospital."

"That doesn't make me feel better, Sam." Dean got into the driver's seat. He pulled the deputy's car onto the road and scanned the highway for a good hiding place.

"We can't go to the hospital, Dean." Sam huffed, sounding annoyed. "You should call Gibbs back." Sam closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. "Warn him about the medic. He's gotta be the wodnik."

"He's probably figured some of that out." Dean pulled the car behind a large billboard. He leaned across the seat towards his brother. "Sam?" Dean said. Sam didn't answer. "Sam?" He said again, feeling his blood pumping faster.

"What?" Sam squinted at him, his face twisted with pain and irritation. "I'm trying to relax here, Dean."

Dean reached over and made Sam move his hand so he could get a look at the wound. "You need a doctor. And meds."

Sam huffed. "You're my doctor. Patch me up. Get some whiskey."

Dean glared at him. It was getting cold again. Dean rubbed his arms for warmth. He rummaged through the car until he found a first aid kit and blanket. "I'm gonna bandage that." He dumped the blanket on Sam's lap.

Sam grunted.

Dean paused. "You liked that doctor at NCIS right? The autopsy guy." Dean asked, watching his brother.

"I'm not dead, Dean." Sam turned towards him. His pained expression turned suspicious. "Why?"

"I'll…you know…nab him."

Sam laughed, but then his face twisted in pain at the movement. "Nab him?"

"When he leaves the building. Then you'll get a doctor and Gibbs will have another reason to listen to me."

Sam stared at him for a moment. "Dude, Gibbs is gonna kill you if you do that."

"Heh." Dean bit his lip. He looked away. "You might be right. But you'll have a doctor." He pulled the blanket over Sam.

Sam pushed it away and back at Dean. "You're still cold."

"But I'm not shot." Dean pushed it back. He rubbed his hand over his face. "I should've hit that guy a few more times."