Adventures in Babysitting Part 1

Week One

Sam, Dean, and Angela were sitting silently in the dim light in Rufus' cabin. Sam was sitting at the table and Angela was on his lap, while Dean sat on the couch. Sam's arms were around Angela's waist, keeping her close. Sam looked over at Dean, then away. When Sam was no longer looking directly at him, Dean looked at Sam, then away.

~/~\~

Week Two

Sam took an address book out of a drawer and opened it.

Dean had made a list of what the numbers could possibly mean. Each item was crossed out and Dean sighed deeply.

~/~\~

Week Three

Dean pinned an article titled 'Biggerson's Recalls Contaminated Meat: Customers Report Illness After Eating Turducken Slammers' to a board holding their research. Also on the board were several articles about Dick Roman.

Sam put two duffle bags on a table. Angela went to the fridge and grabbed a beer, opening it before she handed it to Sam. Sam leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek as he took the beer.

"Dean, Angie and I talked, and, you know, um…I wonder if—if we…I mean, should we be telling people?" Sam asked. "I mean, people he knew."

"How long ago did I give Frank these numbers?" Dean asked. "It's been a few weeks, right? What, is he nuts, or is he just being rude?"

"Probably both," Angela muttered.

"Dean, I-I asked you a question," Sam said.

"Unless, of course, something happened to him." Dean continued. "He can't get to the phone because a Leviathan ate his face."

"Yeah, also a possibility." Sam nodded.

"We should go check on him," Dean suggested.

Sam sighed. "Dean, do you want to call Bobby's people or not?"

"W-why is—why is that our job?" Dean asked.

"Because who else is gonna do it?" Angela shrugged.

Dean shook his head. "I'm not calling anybody. If you want to, you go right ahead."

"We don't want to call anybody," Sam replied. "You kidding me?"

A phone in one of the duffle bags started to ring. The three hunters looked at the bag and then at each other.

"Well, I'm not getting it," Dean said.

Angela took out the phone and flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Is Bobby Singer there?" a young girl's voice rang through.

"Uh, no." Angela frowned. "He's, uh…I-I-it's not, but I'm a friend of his."

Dean picked up a flask that was in the duffle bag, sniffed it and put the lid back on.

"My dad asked me to call Bobby Singer specifically." The girl replied.

"He's…not here, but, look, if you need s—

Angela frowned when the line went dead.

"Who was it, babe?" Sam asked.

"Just some kid," Angela replied.

"For Bobby?" Dean raised his brows. "Girl Scout cookies?"

"I think maybe…" Angela trailed off as Dean grabbed a full bottle of beer from the table. "Maybe a-a hunter's kid? I mean, she sounded pretty scared. You know, I have caller ID. Maybe we should go find her. We—we can check on her."

"What about Frank?" Dean asked.

"Dean, I-I agree with Angie, I think we should go find this girl first," Sam replied.

"Guys, Frank's been working on the numbers that Bobby spent his last breath on, and you want to back-burner that?" Dean frowned.

Sam and Angela looked silently at Dean.

"Fine." Dean conceded. "You go check out girl scout. I'll find Frank."

"Fine," Sam replied. "But you know what? On one condition—if Frank is just spinning his wheels, then you bail out on crazy and come meet us."

Dean looked at the beer bottle in his hand, which was now empty. "And thanks for drinking my entire beer."

"No one touched your beer," Angela replied. "Sam's in over there."

"You probably drank it without noticing." Sam shrugged.

"Right," Dean muttered.

~/~\~

Angela knocked on an apartment door, Sam standing next to her. The door opened to the length of a chain lock.

"Hi, uh…we spoke on the phone earlier." Angela looked at the young girl. "Uh, I'm Angela, and this is my fiancé Sam. You sounded like you needed help and we were in the area."

"How'd you find me?" Krissy asked.

"Your dad is in Bobby's address book," Sam replied.

"So, where is he?" Krissy raised her brows.

"Bobby?" Sam asked. "He, uh…He's passed away. Look, um—

"Krissy."

"Krissy." Sam nodded. "We get it. You don't let strangers in. But, if your dad said you could trust Bobby, then you can trust us, too."

Krissy shut the door, undid the chain, and opened the door again. "Just so you know, 911's on speed-dial. One button."

"Yeah, sure. Note taken." Angela replied as they walked into the apartment.

"So…you two are sales-people, too?" Krissy asked.

"Yep." Sam nodded. "So, your dad's on the road right now? Been gone a while?"

"He usually calls every night."

"How long has it been?" Angela asked.

"Five days," Krissy replied.

"It's just you and him, huh?" Angela asked gently. "I know how that is. We both do." She gestured to Sam and herself. "Look, um…Sometimes on the road, crap happens. So, we'll help you track him down."

"Really?" Krissy asked.

"'Course," Sam replied. "Did he happen to say where he was going?"

"Said he had a couple leads near Dodge City." Krissy shrugged.

"And does he have a desk or something where he keeps his stuff?" Angela asked.

Krissy led the two older hunters into another room.

"Do you mind making some coffee?" Sam asked. "Thanks." He smiled softly when she nodded.

Sam looked through the desk and Angela looked through the closet. She turned on the light and moved the hanging clothes. On the wall were missing persons notices and articles.

"Sam…" Angela trailed off.

~/~\~

"Krissy," Sam said as he and Angela walked into the kitchen.

"Hey, listen, so we think we got an idea where to start," Angela explained. "So, we're gonna go. Uh…Can I borrow this?" she held up a framed photo of Krissy and her dad.

"Yeah." Krissy nodded.

"Thanks," Angela replied.

"Here. Here's a number, in case you don't hear from us in the next couple days." Sam scrawled a phone number down. "Don't worry. I promise we'll check in."

"Don't say that," Krissy replied. "That's what my dad said."

~/~\~

Dean drove up to Frank's house and got out of the car.

~/~\~

Dean walked through the mostly empty house with his gun drawn. "This can't be good." He muttered as he looked around.

Dean turned to the sound of a gun cocking and raised his own gun. Frank was pointing a shotgun at him.

"Well…hi." Dean greeted.

Frank just stood there, not lowering his gun.

"Frank…We're amongst friends here." Dean said. Frank just scoffed. "Okay, acquaintances." Dean corrected.

"That's just what a Leviathan would say." Frank final spoke.

~/~\~

"Frank. I'm not a Leviathan." Dean assured.

"Oh, sure." Frank scoffed. "You're not a Leviathan. Dick Roman's not a Leviathan. Gwyneth Paltrow is not a Leviathan."

"Yeah?" Dean asked.

"Trust me," Frank replied.

"Okay. You know what, Frank?" Dean asked. "I think you've been doing a little too much research."

"They're anywhere, anyone," Frank replied. "Who's to say this ain't the day they come for old Frank who knew too much?"

Dean sighed. "They bleed black goo, right? You want to see what I bleed?"

Frank pointed his shotgun at Dean's foot.

"Oh! Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dean stopped him. "Let's take the guns out of it, okay?"

"Okay," Frank replied hesitantly.

Dean put his gun on the table and took a knife from his back pocket. He made a cut on his forearm, red blood appearing. Frank finally lowered his shotgun.

"See? Red-blooded American." Dean said before wiping his knife on his sleeve. "Now…" he held the knife out to Frank. "Your turn."

"Oh! Whoa. Look, I'm obviously not—

"Fair's fair, douchebag," Dean replied.

Frank sighed and took the knife. He made a cut on his palm, red blood appearing, and handed the knife back to Dean.

"Yeah." Dean wiped the blade on his sleeve again. "I'm glad we could share that together."

"Grab your gun, come with me," Frank instructed. "For God's sake, don't make any noise."

~/~\~

Dean and Frank pulled up at a barn containing a trailer.

~/~\~

Dean looked around the trailer. "Why the downsize?"

"You! 'Hey, Frank, go dig up some dirt on Richard Roman'." Frank retorted. "That night, I was burned off ever IP I had. Ears on my phones, eyes on my house…"

"Wait—Dick's got people watching you?" Dean's brows furrowed.

"Do I look like I know?" Frank asked. "You think it's easy to see this deep into what's real and also be bipolar with delusional ideation? There is no pill for my situation, sweetie pop, so, yeah, best guess—the bigmouths are onto me. Next question."

"Alright. Well, what's the word on the bigmouths?" Dean asked.

"Their tentacles are everywhere. I-I'm looking at bankers, military high-ups…"

"This is why you didn't call me back." Dean frowned.

"Hey, cut me some slack." Frank shrugged. "You called me like four days ago."

"I called you four weeks ago, Frank!"

"What? No. Really?" Frank frowned. "Days, weeks—quit busting my chops."

"What, are you kidding me?" Dean scoffed.

"You cool your heels, Buster Brown."

"Frank, I paid you 15 grand for this!" Dean exclaimed.

"Yeah, I get that—

"No, you don't get that! Dick Roman is every card in my hit deck." Dean interrupted. "You understand that? Those numbers, they got something to do with him, okay? Bobby died for those numbers!"

"Look, I'm sorry about Bobby," Frank said sincerely. "I really am. You know, this one time, we were in Fresno, and we got stuck-

"No. No, no, no." Dean shook his head. "I'm not gonna play 'this one time with Bobby' crap, alright? I'm not gonna get all warm and fuzzy with somebody else who barely knew him."

"Just trying to make friendly conversation." Frank defended.

"This is not a friendship, Frank. I'm paying you!"

"Hey. You know what you need? A little LSD, a little shiatsu—

Dean shook his head. "I'm out of here."

"Hey, you want to know what those numbers are?" Frank asked. "Bupkis. They're not lottery numbers, license—

"I know that, Frank. Thank you." Dean sighed.

"Which leaves us little else to do but probability generate."

Dean raised his brows. "Come again?"

Frank sat down at a computer. "You run most reasonable possibilities for a Levi-related five-digit number written by a dying drunk, you come up flat. Know what you start to wonder? 'Hey, maybe I'm missing a number'."

"Well, how do you figure?" Dean asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Frank replied sarcastically. "Because Bobby was dying of brain trauma. I just had a tickle there was a reason nothing was popping out at us, so I set up a program to run possibilities for six numbers, seven, eight. But good news."

"Good news?"

"Never had to go past six, because this…my little lamb," Frank punched something into the computer. "Is coordinates."

"You sure? To what?" Dean asked.

"A field in Wisconsin."

"No. No, Bobby didn't give us coordinates to some patch of weeds in Cheeseville." Dean denied.

"No, he gave you coordinates to a parcel recently purchased by William, Inc., a subsidiary of," he made a trumpeting noise. "Richard Roman Enterprises."

"So, what do we do?" Dean questioned.

"Stay away. Or, if we're stupid…we go there and set up surveillance."

~/~\~

Sam and Angela were in the morgue with the morgue attendant.

"Matthew Havlena—found in a ditch off the interstate." The attendant explained.

"Cause of death?" Angela asked.

"Missing five pints of blood couldn't have helped. Puncture wounds—femoral arteries and carotid."

"So, what? Some kind of animal attack?" Sam asked.

"Or a vampire." The attendant replied.

Sam and Angela looked at the man without smiling.

"Huh." The attendant muttered. "That…usually gets at least a chuckle."

~/~\~

Sam and Angela were walking outside. Sam had the phone on speaker.

"Find Frank?" Angela asked.

"Yeah." Dean's voice rang through. "Those numbers? Coordinates. Dick bought some land. We're headed there now."

"Wait, wait, wait." Sam frowned. "You're just gonna drive right up to—

"Relax. It's a field, not the Death Star." Dean replied. "Dick's at a TED Conference. It's all over The Huffington Post."

Sam chuckled. "Wait, wait, wait. Since when do you read?"

"Know your enemy, Sam," Dean replied. "What's going on with the girl?"

"I don't think she even knows her dad's in the life." Angela sighed. "So far, we got three missing truckers and one blood-free body."

"Good times," Dean replied. "Alright, well, keep me posted."

~/~\~

Frank opened the trailer door as Dean hung up.

"Got the equipment arranged," Frank called. "Come and get your costume on. We can scoot."

Dean frowned. "Costume? What?"

~/~\~

Dean looked around the field. "What the hell's so special about this place?"

"I love a mystery," Frank replied. "Now get up in that cherry picker and act like you're fixing something."

Dean and Frank were wearing grey overall uniforms and hard hats.

"I don't know how to drive that thing." Dean gestured to the truck.

"You think I do?" Frank scoffed.

"Well, why do I got to be the sap—

Frank pointed to his own uniform, then to Dean's. "This one says 'manager'. That one says 'technician'. Sometime this month?"

Dean rolled his eyes and climbed up into the cherry picker. "Come on." He muttered. Dean clipped a carabiner from his safety harness onto the cherry picker and put it in motion. "Okay…Up. Moving."

Frank looked around through binoculars and saw several surveillance cameras. "Oh, crap. Come on down, Tarzan!"

Dean frowned. "What?"

"Get down here," Frank repeated. "We need to move. They got this place wired up the wazoo."

"They're watching us right now?" Dean asked.

"Nah, nah, they're just watching Cheech and Ed from Ma Bell." Frank sassed.

"You know, it's gonna be a little difficult to set up surveillance if there's, uh, surveillance everywhere," Dean noted.

"Right." Frank nodded. "So, we need to tap into theirs instead."

~/~\~

Frank tapped some keys and the computer screen showed the field.

"Alright, now what?" Dean asked.

"You look horrific," Frank replied. "When was the last time you really slept a night?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Let's just work, alright?"

"This is it. We watch the screens. I can take the first shift. You're no use if you can't even…"

Dean immediately fell asleep and started snoring lightly.

"Keep your eyes open." Frank finished.

Dean's phone vibrated in his pocket, but he didn't wake.

~/~\~

Sam and Angela were looking at John's journal while Sam left Dean a message.

"Dean, hey. So, we think this guy was hunting a Vetala. Um, Dad took one down back in the day. Silver knife to the heart, twist, they're done." Sam explained. "He says they're maladjusted loner types—like to knock a guy out, drag him home, feed slow. So, if Krissy's dad got grabbed, there's a chance he might still be alive. Be nice to get this girl's dad back home to her, you know? Alright, we could use your help. Call us."

~/~\~

Sam and Angela walked into the diner and towards Marlene.

"Excuse me," Angela said. "Your manager said that you might be able to help us."

"Sure." Marlene nodded. "What can I do for you?"

Sam held up a picture of Krissy's father. "You ever see this man?"

Marlene looked at the photo. "I…might have served him the other day. I think he may have gone to talk to that girl out there."

Marlene indicated the suggestively-dressed woman that was currently outside.

"Thanks." Angela nodded.

~/~\~

"Hey!" Angela called as they walked out of the diner. "Can we talk to you for a second, uh…" she read the name on the necklace that the woman was wearing. "Sally?"

"You ever see this man?" Sam asked, showing her the same picture he showed Marlene.

"No." Sally shook her head.

"You sure?" Angela asked.

"It's not safe here. Somewhere private." Sally whispered.

Sally walked between the parked trucks and the two hunters followed behind her.

"Something's happening around here. I'm afraid I'll be next." Sally said.

"Tell us what you saw," Sam replied.

"I don't know what I saw."

Sam and Angela drew their knives as they heard someone approaching behind them. Marlene grabbed Sam by the wrist and throat and shoved him against a truck. Sam dropped the knife.

"Sally, run!" Angela yelled.

Sally's pupils became almost vertical and her teeth became pointed. She grabbed Angela and twisted her arm so she dropped her knife. Sally forced Angela to her knees and bit into her neck, causing her to yell in pain.

"Angie!" Sam yelled as he fought against Marlene.

Angela fell unconscious on the ground. Sally turned and kicked Sam's legs and he dropped to his knees. Sally held Sam's head as Marlene bit his neck. Soon Sam fell unconscious as well.

A/N: Hey, guys, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm currently working on The Born-Again Identity right now, and ugh, I just want Sam and Angie to be happy! Something always gets in the way and it hurts my heart :( Also, thank you so much for the recent reviews! Your feedback means the world to me :) Love y'all.

~Emily