An hour. She'd be back in an hour. She could handle those guys at the bar. That gave him an hour to get his head straight and figure out what to do about this fucked up mess.

But she wasn't back in an hour.

CHAPTER 25

"Shit, she's not answering the phone," Dean announced, snapping his own shut and standing up quickly. "It's been over an hour," he frowned, his agitation clear.

"Let's go get her," Sam agreed to the unspoken suggestion, rising to his feet also.

"I never shoulda let her go by herself."

Sam snorted. "Like you had a choice."

Dean tucked his nine millimeter in his pants next to Ruby's knife. "I could have stopped her," he admitted guiltily. He knew if he had asked her, she would have agreed to anything. But he had been angry and cold and had tried to order her not to go. That approach had never worked with her. "Damnit, I knew it was a bad idea."

"She can handle herself," Sam assured him, though he too was checking his clip was full as he headed after his brother towards the door. "If I know Tasha, she's probably hustling them in a game of knives."

Dean didn't turn around as he strode over to the Impala. "Yeah, and apparently you know Tasha pretty well," he spat, unable to keep the spite out of his voice. "Intimately."

Sam ignored the jab, knowing his brother's worry was fueling the malice and feeling guilty over the accuracy of the statement. He sank into the Impala's passenger seat, barely getting the door closed by the time the car was jolting him forward as Dean reversed and raced out onto the road.

The brothers were quiet for a few minutes, both worried and both feeling too awkward to admit just how worried.

"Maybe she left." Dean finally broke the silence. "I mean, things are kinda…"

"She didn't leave," Sam said confidently.

"We threw a lot at her today," Dean argued. He knew deep down she hadn't left but the thought of her taking off to get away from his pissy attitude was better than the alternative. He could think of several reasons why she wouldn't be answering her phone after going to see a bar full of biker gang members and none of them were pretty. "The whole Apocalypse thing is a lot for anyone to take in."

Not to mention the fact that I practically pushed her away.

"She didn't leave," Sam repeated. "Trust me, she wouldn't leave." He gave his brother a hard stare to get his point across. "She wouldn't leave you."

Dean swallowed at the implication of Sam's words, warm, fuzzy feelings of affection and hope sharing his insides with a renewed sense of dread at what they might find at Grimes bar.

The sense of dread was compounded when they pulled up outside the remote bar just as dusk rolled into twilight and saw Tasha's cheap, red sportscar still parked out front alongside a row of gleaming low-riders.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean cursed, his fear severely spiking. If she was still here, why wasn't she answering her phone? He exited the car quickly and strode up the front porch steps, Sam just two angry paces behind him.

Their reception wasn't any warmer than it had been earlier in the day, a sudden hush blanketing the room and several sets of unwelcoming eyes turning their way.

"I'm looking for the girl that was driving that little Fiero parked outside," Dean announced, trying his hardest to sound civil.

The same big guy that approached them last time sauntered up to them again. "Well if it ain't the Bon Jovi girls," he sneered.

"It was Led Zeppelin…" Dean started but Sam cut him off.

"Look, we're not Feds," he placated. "You know that. We're just looking for Tasha."

"She ain't here," a second biker interjected, coming up to stand next to the big guy.

"Her car's out front," Dean retorted through clenched teeth.

"You ain't listening," the big guy said slowly. "She ain't here."

"She was here though, right?" Sam asked, managing to keep his cool enough for both brothers.

"Lil' thing goes by the name Natasha?" the second guy sneered, gesturing the universal sign for a woman's hips in the air in front of him. "Oh yeah, mmm, she stopped by."

"Where is she you son of a bitch?" Dean hissed, taking a threatening step towards the guy, his fists balled and ready.

"I told you," the big guy repeated, surprisingly non-belligerent. "She ain't here. She left."

"Why don't you do the same, huh?" the second guy jeered.

"She's still here," Dean insisted, wondering if he should be getting ready to pull his piece but holding off since he didn't like the odds that most of these guys weren't also packing. "Tash!" he called loudly into the room, glancing towards the door to the back behind the bar. The only response was a chorus of laughter from the six men.

"Well, she was in the back with Roar for a long time," the second guy snickered, making a lewd gesture with his tongue inside his cheek. "Maybe she came back for seconds."

His laughter was cut off when Dean's fist smacked into the side of his face, sending him sprawling on the wooden floor. The big guy howled in surprise and anger and swung at Dean only to be intercepted by the just-as-big Sam. Within seconds, beers were being slammed down and stools were being knocked over as the other four men dove into the fray.

It all happened so fast that neither Winchester had any time to really think. They were no strangers to a fight and could usually take one or two decent fighters on but they were outnumbered six to two. Dean got a few good punches in and a kick to the mouthy guy he had hit first but was soon knocked to the ground. He felt a boot land solidly in his gut and, despite the pain and loss of breath, managed to wrap himself around the leg, a move that effectively prevented the detrimental second kick. Before the kicker figured out he could still land his knee to the side of the hunter's head, Dean swung his fist upwards into the man's thigh, giving him the mother of all Charlie-horses. The maneuver almost worked and he rolled away from the guy to his knees but never made it to his feet before another man landed a punch his side that laid him flat on the floor again.

Sam, meanwhile, was using his size to his advantage and had managed to stay on his feet, though he still wasn't faring much better than his brother. He was backed against the pool table but kept swinging, even ramming a fisted pool ball into the side of the big guy's head. He could see Dean was down and his heart almost stopped when his brother's shirt pulled up enough to uncover the nine millimeter in his waistband. Sam saw a rough hand snatch it but was unable to draw his Glock as two men had him leaned back over the table and weren't letting up. He pleaded to anyone or anything that might be listening up above that they were just disarming his brother and wouldn't choose to use the weapon on Dean.

As if mocking his last thought, a single, shattering shot rang out just as a hard fist landed on Sam's jaw, knocking his head sideways and causing blood to spew out of his mouth onto the green felt of the pool table. A stab of fear seared through his heart and he was pretty sure he made a whimpering sound as his blinking eyes quickly sought Dean back out, images of finding him bloody and dying once again flashing though his mind.

But Dean hadn't been shot. In fact, he hadn't done the shooting either. All the men in the bar froze, including the Winchesters, and turned to see a guy of about forty standing at the end of the bar with a shotgun aimed at the ceiling, specks of plaster still raining down on the counter. He was stocky, bearded, and heavily tattooed, even for a biker.

"Just what the fuck is going on here?" the man snarled, his tone unmistakably authoritative.

The men that had been taking turns hitting Dean backed off a step, allowing the hunter to roll stiffly to his knees. Sam shoved roughly at the two guys in front of him, though they were backing off anyway, and straightened himself up to his full height.

"Don't you think we got enough problems right now without killing two civs in my bar?" the newcomer demanded hotly, clearly aiming the question at the six bikers and not the hunters. This must be Rory 'Roar' Grimes, the business partner of victim number three and President of the gang.

Sam used the distraction to move forward and hold an arm out for Dean, wiping his bloody chin with the sleeve of his other. Dean accepted the help to his feet and Sam could see the agony in his brother's movements.

"These guys came in swinging, Roar," the big guy defended, pointing at Dean. "And he was packing." One of the men held up Dean's gun to show their leader.

Roar swung the shotgun towards the brothers. "You got the nerve to come packing into my place of business?" he demanded. "You suicidal or just stupid?"

"We're here for the girl," Dean spat back, trying to look as unhurt as he could manage though every part of him was screaming in pain from the beating he had just taken.

Roar narrowed his eyes. "Natasha?" he asked. "You're the fake feds that came by earlier?"

Sam nodded quickly. "Yeah, look, we just came by to help. Seems you got a problem and we uh … we deal with that type of problem."

"Where's Tash?" Dean cut in, not interested in discussing the case right now. He didn't have the patience for Sam's diplomacy, not when Tasha could be in trouble, possibly even in the back room of the small building, twenty feet from where they now stood.

Roar lowered his shotgun. "She left," he said with a shrug.

"Bullshit!" Dean challenged. "Her car's still outside and she's not answering her phone."

The big guy stepped forward. "You callin' Chief a liar?" he fumed.

"If the shoe fits…"

Roar cut off Dean's reply, raising a hand in the air. Sam noticed the gang leader did actually look genuinely surprised at the news Tasha was missing. He also noted that Roar's authority was absolute, for not one man made a single move against the Winchesters. Lucky for Dean, he thought, wishing not for the first time that his brother could keep his cool when his emotions were running high.

"Look," Roar said calmly, "Your little filly was here. She and I came to an arrangement and then she left. I watched her walk right out that front door, the perfect picture of health."

"Yeah," the man who had made the lewd comment earlier chimed in, "The perfect picture." Again with the hand gestures.

Dean fought for control, knowing the guy was just trying to get under his skin and knowing it wouldn't do Tasha any good if he got killed before he could figure out what these guys had done to her. "You want me to break your nose to match that fat lip?" he seethed with barely restrained anger.

"Okay," Sam butted in, stepping between Dean and the goading man and addressing Roar directly, "Then one of your men followed her out coz her car's still parked out there." He pointed towards the side of the parking lot where the Fiero sat.

"I said, I didn't touch your girlfriend," Roar repeated slowly, his patience clearly nearing its limit. "Neither did any of my men. I gave an order she be left alone and my orders are followed." He jerked his chin towards the front door, indicating for the Winchesters to exit. "Let's take a look outside," he offered.

Sam and Dean didn't argue, neither sure what to think at this point. They stepped outside into the darkening evening and scanned the parking lot, intensely aware of the seven men following them out.

"Tash!" Dean hollered off the porch into the air. A few seconds of deathly silence followed as all of the men listened for a reply.

Years of hunting together had made the brothers perfectly in tune to each other's thinking and neither spoke as they both stepped quickly down into the gravel parking lot and began to look around. Sam walked around the side of the building while Dean made his way immediately for Tasha's car parked on the far side of the Impala. The bikers all stood on the porch watching in what seemed like curious amusement.

Sam found nothing but Dean soon called him over, his urgent cry hinting of bad news. The younger Winchester jogged over to where Dean was holding up a single Pontiac key with two silver bands threaded onto the keychain. Sam's breath caught when he recognized it. Those were Tasha's parents' wedding bands. She would never simply drop those.

"And blood," Dean announced, his eyes wide with fear as they bore into Sam's. He was shining his flashlight on the top rim of the Fiero's door.

Sam took a closer look himself and saw what Dean was pointing at. There was a smallish smear of fresh blood on the thin silver strip just above the driver's door. Both brothers spun to face the bikers on the porch but found them already making their way over towards them.

"You wanna revamp your story?" Dean said accusingly to the advancing men. "There's blood on her car that wasn't there before." Sam had to wonder if Dean was even aware of how ridiculous threatening and antagonizing these men was at this point. Between the seven of them, they had a shotgun, Dean's gun, and probably countless more weapons. The outnumbered Winchesters only had Sam's Glock and a few knives.

Roar let out a long sigh that almost sounded like a growl. "This is the last time I'm gonna tell you this," he said slowly. "I didn't touch your girlfriend. Neither did any of my men. She was here – I ain't denying that – but she left over half an hour ago. It seems we have a problem that she knows something about. She offered to help. Now why would I harm someone who was gonna do me a solid?"

"You know who the spirit is, don't you?" Sam blurted. He needed to get these guys on their side. Dean's fear and worry were clouding his judgment, fueling his angered responses, and not getting them any closer to finding Tasha.

Roar gave them a long look and nodded. "Yep. Shane Kewitt, goes by the name Dirt. Or went by the name Dirt. Rode a custom American Ironhorse Legend. That bike was one of a kind. I'd recognize it anywhere."

"Have others seen it?" Sam had his hand splayed gently in front of Dean, his gesture to shut up and follow his lead. Thankfully Dean seemed to be taking heed for he remained silent.

Roar nodded again. "Yup. Your broad said you three could take care of Ol Dirt, put him to rest." The sentence was phrased almost as a question.

"You've seen it, haven't you?" Sam pressed.

A third "Yup" from Roar.

Awesome, thought Sam. Now they had something to bargain with. The leader was on the chopping block, on the spirit's hit list.

Dean had obviously calmed down enough for rational thought to take hold for he seemed to figure out where Sam was leading this. "Look," the elder Winchester said with as much calm as he could muster, "We can take care of your problem but first, I need to know where Tasha is."

Roar had his arms folded in front of his barrel chest, tattooed biceps bulging. "I swear she walked out half an hour ago. None of my men touched her or followed her outside."

"Someone snatches a girl right outside your bar and you don't notice?" Dean couldn't hide his skepticism.

Roar arched an eyebrow and breathed in a sharp intake of breath, clearly having just thought of something. He turned to point at a security camera mounted above the porch. "Points right at your broad's car," he announced. "We sometimes need to know who's coming our way," he added by way of explanation.

Dean's heart sped up at the stroke of luck. "Let's see the footage," he demanded stepping forward towards the bar.

"Hold up there, Romeo," Roar stopped him. "I need some assurance you're gonna deal with Dirt before I give up my only leverage."

Dean glared at the guy. Apparently the Winchesters weren't the only distrustful ones. "I'll take care of your murderin' spirit biker," he said with a hard edge to his voice. "But not coz I wanna help your ass or your band of merry men here," he waved at the men behind the gang leader. "But because it's what I do. I kill supernatural sonsabitches. No exceptions. But I can tell you this," he jabbed a finger in the air at the group of men. "I don't do anything until I get the girl back, safe and sound. That's my price." He held Roar's stare for a moment, neither backing down before Dean finally continued. "So if you want to get your vengeful buddy off your tail, I suggest you help me find her."

Roar's face broke out into a grin. "You know what?" he laughed finally, easing all the tension out of the air. "If you didn't look like a bitch and drive a pussy's car, me and you might actually get along."

Dean realized the insults were Roar's way of saving face while agreeing to his terms so he gave the leader a smile in return and let them slide. "Hey, I can't help it if I'm pretty," he smirked, getting a few laughs from the men as they turned to go inside. Sam gave Dean a look of relief, clearly amazed that Dean had swallowed an insult to his baby even for Tasha's sake. The brothers followed the group in.

They were patted down and relieved of the remainder of their weapons, apparently the house rules before being allowed into the back room, which was Roar's office and living room and possibly even bedroom all in one. Just the big guy and Roar accompanied them, the remainder of the men going back to their beers. Roar didn't waste any time in turning the small TV to face the room and fiddled with the VCR behind the desk to rewind the forty minutes or so to when he claimed Tasha had left the bar.

The video was grainy but it was still pretty light out so they got a good view of the parking lot. The Fiero was already there and Roar fast-forwarded slowly until Tasha appeared in the screen. Dean swallowed as he watched her head towards her car in, as Roar had put it, the perfect picture of health. She dug in her jacket pocket for her keys and was just unlocking the door when she seemed to slam forward, her front pressing up against the glass before she stumbled backwards, staggering to stay on her feet. There was nobody else in view and nobody had touched her.

"What the fuck…" Dean breathed, his eyes glued to the screen.

Her car key fell to the ground and she spun around quickly to face her unseen attacker. She had her knife in her hand already though she had drawn it too quickly for any of the men to actually see the motion. Her eyes seemed to focus on someone not in view of the camera and an unmistakable look of fear crossed her face. She recovered quickly and lunged forward almost immediately, knife slashing.

For four agonizingly slow seconds, she was out of the camera's range. When she moved back into view, another figure came with her. They could see the back of a man and he and Tasha were fighting. She was fast on her feet and dodged a hard fist before deftly sinking her knife into her attacker's shoulder. The big guy in the room actually cheered out loud.

Dean couldn't spare a thought to appreciate the biker's support because the man in the video simply yanked the blade out and squared off against Tasha again. She was standing about six feet away from her car and she quickly reached around to pull her Glock out of her jeans but before she could raise it enough to fire, she went flying backwards and slammed into the Fiero's driver's door. Although there was no sound to the nightmarish video, Dean swore he heard the sickening crack when the back of her head struck the door frame. Yet the man hadn't touched her. In fact, he still stood about ten feet away, one hand simply outstretched towards her. She was slumping against the door now, struggling to stay on her feet, the knock to the head making her fight for control of her senses and motor functions.

"A demon!" Dean hissed, realizing this could be a whole lot worse than the horrors he was imagining if Tasha had actually been a victim of Roar and his gang.

"A what?" Roar demanded, but Dean ignored him, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen.

The man stepped forward towards the stunned Tasha, prying the Glock out of her hands and tucking it in his own pants before reaching forward and twisting a hand roughly up in her hair. He jerked her forward, leaning down and speaking some words into her ear before turning and yanking her away from the car. Dean could literally feel his heart twisting in pain as he watched the man drag her forcefully away, holding her up by the hair as her feet hadn't regained the strength to support herself yet. He stood staring at the screen for a long moment after they were both out of the camera's view.

"It was a demon," he croaked finally, his eyes searching out Sam's, needing to find Sam's. "Fucking Lillith."

Sam was shaking his head. "Rewind," he demanded, a command Roar wordlessly obeyed.

"It had to be," Dean continued. "See the way he flung her with the mojo?"

Sam was staring intently at the screen, re-watching the last moment when the man turned and dragged Tasha away. His face was sideways on to the camera at this point and Sam paused the tape before closing his eyes with recognition.

"It's not a demon," he told his brother, his voice heavy with dread and fear. "It's Diego."

Dean's eyes shot open and Sam could literally feel the jolt of shock stab through his brother. "No," the elder Winchester blurted, shaking his head. "He had the mojo. Demon mojo."

Sam swallowed. "I recognize him from Tasha's dream back in May," he explained reluctantly. "With the dreamroot remember?" He pointed to the paused screen and the handsome Spanish man displayed there. "That's him. That's definitely him. Did you see the look on her face when she turned and saw him? She definitely recognized him. He's found her. He's got her."

Dean hadn't heard anything past 'Diego'. He stared blankly at the screen, unaware his heart had missed two full beats.

Sam spun to face Roar and the big guy. Now it was his turn to be mad. "How does this happen right outside your bar and nobody sees anything?" he demanded, his voice rising in both pitch and volume.

Roar and the big guy didn't seem bothered by Sam's show of temper directed at them. In fact, both of them were frowning and obviously pissed, but their anger was aimed at Diego.

"Who is this asshole?" Roar asked, jabbing his finger at the screen. "He's got some fucking nerve taking a broad from my property. Hell, she could have been my broad. Nobody does the Bastardos like that."

"Yeah, nobody crosses us," the big guy echoed. "You just tell us where he is and we'll get your filly back," he offered, giving Dean an encouraging pat on the back and actually sounding genuine.

That's when the reality hit Sam. "I don't know where he is," he admitted, stealing a glance at his brother who still remained silent. "I have no idea where he would go or what he's driving or even if he's alone." His own heart sank with each admission and his hope with it.

"What does he want with the girl?" Roar asked.

Sam gave Dean an apologetic look before answering. "He wants her dead," he said.

"Why?" the big guy pressed.

"Revenge," Sam explained, not sure why he was bothering filling them in. There wasn't much they could do now. "He's killed everyone in her family. She's the last one and he plans on finishing the job."

"And you got no clue where he'd go or how to find him?" Roar pushed.

Sam shook his head.

"Then she's as good as dead," the big guy said somberly.

Sam found his throat constricting at the sound of the biker's words. His heart was beating with incredibly slow, thunderous, painful beats, and his chest was tied in a painful knot. He realized he was fighting back tears and he looked once more at Dean.

The elder Winchester was pale and his face was drawn, jaw clenched in restrained emotion. He was clearly suffering but was surprisingly holding it together. Sam wasn't sure if he was going to be able to do the same. They had nothing. No leads, no clue where to look, and Diego had a forty minute head start. Hell, Tasha was probably already dead.

That last thought hit him hard and his breath hitched as he caught his brother's eye. "Dean, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I … I don't know what we can do. We lost her. I don't know what to do."

Dean looked up at him, green eyes steady. "We find her."

"How?" Sam shrugged his shoulders, pitying his brother's denial. "Where? She's probably already…"

"Don't say it!" Dean snapped. "Don't even think it."

"Dean, I hope not too, I just…"

Dean cut him off again. "We got two days."

"What?"

"Her mother and her aunt," Dean explained, refusing to believe for even a second that Tasha was gone. "Diego took two days with both of them, remember?"

A bolt of renewed hope shot through Sam. He remembered now that when Tasha's aunt had been killed, the body was covered in vampire bites and various other wounds that were indicative of a long, slow, painful death. "That's right," he breathed. "He made the aunt suffer first…" His heart lurched again with the realization of what that meant for Tasha, his relief suddenly short-lived.

"Same with her Mom," Dean pointed out. "Tasha and her father were out of town for a few days when it happened and the bastard dragged it out." He turned to face Roar. "We've got two days," he said simply.

Roar nodded. "We're in. We'll help in any way we can to find her and you take care of Dirt for us. I think it's a fair deal."

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A/N: Sorry again for the delay - holidays are crazy and not ideal for writers :-) I have to say thanks to all of you who have been reviewing. I try to answer you all individually but just in case I've missed anyone, thanks a million - It means so much. And thanks also to all those who favorited and alerted the story, it's very encouraging to know so many of you are enjoying it and following along. I'll try to post more quickly now that life's back to normal. Hope you all had a great holiday season!