A/N: Split it into a two-parter to get it out quicker. Sorry that it wasn't soon enough.


When Frankie went downstairs the next morning, she saw exactly what she expected. Sam was dressed in his jacket and red flannel while zipping up the final bag for the trip. She knew it was his. It was the largest one. He turned his head to the entering girl and gave a small smile paired with a weak greeting.

She struggled to smile back when she approached him. She spotted her duffel bag in the small pile. Her fragile smile fell. It seemed like so long ago that she traveled to Bobby's house with it in tow. She shook her head of the unsure emotion coursing through her brain and slugged the bag over her shoulder.

"Mornin', Franks." She whipped her head to the threshold of the kitchen where Dean had just strutted in. He held up a cereal bar in his hand before tossing it to the girl on the other side of the room. She caught it with one hand and proceeded to unwrap and consume the mediocre breakfast.

Dean stepped further into the room to approach the girl. "Big day. You ready?"

Frankie gave a lazy half shrug. "As I'll ever be," she muttered with a full mouth.

"Eh, don't worry 'bout a thing. Anything goes screwy I'll be right there next to you."

'Or on the ground groaning like last time…' she thought. She voted against saying that aloud.

"You mean screwier than usual?"

"Trust me. Things get a lot weirder. This'll be a very… educational trip for you."

Frankie rolled her eyes with a huff. "Why do I feel like Arnold going on one of Miss Frizzle's wild ass shenanigans?"

"Oh c'mon. It's not gunna be that bad. Trust me. You might actually like it." Dean grabbed his jacket from the couch and tugged it onto his shoulders. "'Sides, you're more like Dorothy."

Frankie quirked a brow and cracked a smile. "Carlos…," she mocked. Dean made a move to roll his eyes, but that action failed as he nodded with an agreeing smirk.

Sam cleared his throat, which gathered the attention of Frankie and Dean. His face held a cold, steely gaze. "We need to avoid traffic."

And just like that, the small easygoing air that Frankie and Dean had built was sucked out of the room. Dean shoved a stern frown onto his face before snatching his bag. He didn't say a word as he walked around Sam and headed outside. Sam followed behind him, his attitude differing very little from his brother's.

Frankie sighed. This was going to be hard as shit. If they were already in a bad mood, the day was only going to go by slower. Which was… a good thing! Then Frankie had more time to get them to see how stupid their fighting really was. Nonetheless, she was going to have one helluva car ride to struggle through.

Frankie took a deep breath to cleanse herself of the stress already piling onto her shoulder. She turned around, forcing a small smile onto her face as she walked into the kitchen. "Guess I'm gone," she sighed to Bobby, sitting at the table. She rested a comforting hand on his shoulder as he scanned through various papers under him. "You sure you'll be fine here alone?"

"Yer really gunna ask me that every time you walk out this house, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Better get used to it."

The older man huffed, but it wasn't filled with spite. "Well, good luck then. With the case and the boys."

Frankie tightened her smile as she glanced to the front door. "I'm gunna need it," she sighed.

"Anyone's guess what's crawled up their crevasses this mornin', but I'm sure you'll get by."

"I hope so. Bye, Bobby. See you in a couple days. Don't die, okay?"

"Sure. See ya, kid."

She waked outside, immediately spotting the shining Impala in her usual parking space. What surprised her was the presence of a less shining Buick parked in front of the porch. Frankie's brows narrowed as she watched Sam shut the trunk to the unfamiliar car. He turned and sent her a tight lipped nod before ducking into the driver's seat.

Oh no. Oh crap, that put a damper on things. They were driving in separate cars? She looked over to Dean crouching into the Impala. He honked the horn twice, commanding her to hurry up.

Great. A couple hours of riding with just Dean. There wasn't anything wrong with that – aside from the discomfort from having lied to him and needing to avoid revealing her many secrets – but she had been preparing for a long car ride with both of her brothers. That was going to be the first step of stopping the fighting between them. Unfortunately, they stomped on that idea right out of the gate.

She shook her head as she walked to the back of the Impala and tossed her bag in the trunk. This was going to be harder than she thought.

Frankie approached the passenger side of the Impala and sat in shotgun. It felt wrong. That was Sam's seat. She felt very uncomfortable, and if Dean noticed he ignored the discomfort.

Dean drove the car down stretching straight roads, Sam following behind in his busted up car. The traffic was mild. The occasional diner or shopping district passed by the windows, but trees and powerlines were the prominent setting.

Frankie already felt the unease of the entire trip creep under her skin. She had a helluva lot to do before they solved the case. She had to somehow get Sam and Dean on neutral ground. It was easier said than done.

Their main subject of argument in recent days was her. Which was just great. Dean wanted her in the fight, Sam wanted her nowhere near the fight, and Castiel expected her to be as far away from the fight as possible. Did her opinion matter at all?

She wanted to be in the fight, too, but she knew it wasn't that easy. Take away all troubles having to do with her selling her soul or the brand on it and she still had shit to worry about. She went ballistic when she found out that her mother lied to her all those years. With such emotions tied to her, would she do something similar if Sam or Dean were in trouble? Would she go ballistic again? Would she end up seriously hurting them?

She closed her eyes and swallowed down a lump in her throat. She had to stay on topic. How was she going to bring them to neutral ground about her?

Suddenly, the radio turned on and was immediately buzzing with static. Frankie whipped her head over to Dean who was twisting the knob while keeping his eyes on the road.

"Let's get some tunes up in here, huh?"

Frankie supposed he was feeling the awkward air in the car as much as she was.

The radio hissed and blurted out the occasional station before it found one that came in clear.

"Just another heart in need of rescue. Waitin' on love's sweet charity!"

"Aye, there we go. You like this song, right?"

The lump in Frankie's throat resurfaced as she listened to that damn song chime through the speakers. David Coverdale's blaring voice soon melted into her mother's off pitched squeals.

"'Cause I know what it means, to walk along the lonely street of dreams!"

"Turn it off."

Dean snapped his head over to the girl, but she had forced her gaze out her window to avoid any clear emotions from being displayed. "What?" he asked.

"And here I go again on my own! Walkin' down the only road I've ever known!"

"Just- please change the song. Please."

With narrowed brows and a confused frown, Dean's fingers returned to the knob.

"Like a drifter, I was born to walk-"

The radio hissed a series of faint notes before another station tuned in. Dean lowered the volume so it wasn't booming throughout the car.

"I'm sorry. I coulda sworn you said you liked that song."

Frankie shook her head, watching the light reflection of her hair against the glass bounce on her shoulders. "I used to."

"Hey, say no more. I get it. Songs can bring up some crap memories. 'S why I change the station every time Cat's in the Cradle comes on." Frankie nearly turned her head back to Dean with a curious expression, but before she could act he had cleared his throat to move along from the subject. "So, y'know, this might be a good opportunity to learn more about you. I feel like I don't know half the important things I gotta know."

"Like what?" Frankie was speaking with half passiveness and half curiosity.

"Like, what's your favorite kinda music?"

"That's important?"

"Oh hell yeah. You don't just know someone without knowin' what they listen to. That's conversing 101."

Frankie snorted. She was pretty sure that wasn't the real reason and that he was just trying to fill in the silence, but she complied nonetheless. She adjusted herself in her seat, but kept her gaze out the window. "Okay then. Well, let me see. My favorite music…"

"You do know, don't you?"

"Shut up, I'm thinking." Dean snorted as he passed a car going too slow ahead of him. Frankie watched as Sam did the same in the side mirror. "Um… well I listened to a lot of Rascal Flatts in high school."

"Who?"

"They're, uh… they're a country band."

Dean stuck out his tongue with a mocking, "Bleh."

Frankie sent him a playfully indignant look. "Well, alright, your honor. Didn't know I was on trial here."

"No, no. That's… your thing. I mean, it makes sense for a hick like yourself."

Frankie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well I'm not one to pass up a decent classic rock hit every now and then."

"Now we're talking."

"But I'm not married to it like you so obviously are." Dean gave an understanding nod. "I'll admit, a few Rascal Flatts songs are pretty wishy washy, but I guess if I had to pick something solid, something I would call my favorite…," Frankie looked up to the roof of the car as if it had the answer, "I would give that title to Big Band. Yeah."

"Really? Big Band?" Dean peeked a quick glance at her. "Kinda old for a twenty-something year old."

Frankie shrugged. "My grandma had records. Played them a lot when I was young. And… after she passed I still kept them around. Sorta kept her around, too, y'know?"

Dean narrowed his eyebrows with a short hum. "Like those notes your mom left you?"

Frankie bit down on the inside of her cheek. She leaned deeper into her seat, pushing herself harder against it to try and feel any sort of security. "Yeah. Like that."

The car drifted back into silence. Dean kicked his ass over mentioning her mom like that. He knew it was too soon to bring her up, yet he did anyway. He tried to find some way to lighten the mood again.

"But other than that I don't have a lot of other music I listen to," Frankie continued, much to Dean's relief. "Oh! Well, I know country's really not your thing, but I do like listening to Johnny Cash when he comes on the radio."

"Hey now, that I can agree with. I like a few of his songs, uh… The Gambler! Now that's a good song. Do I have any of his cassettes…?" Dean rummaged around his collection of cassette tapes for a few seconds before his face evened out to a thwarted gaze. "Nah. Still, least we got something in common."

As the conversation died out, the car threatened to resort back to its quiet state. Frankie avoided it by quickly changing the subject. "So what do I need to know about the case? Was there anything else in the reports?"

Dean adjusted his grip on the wheel as he glanced over to the girl. "Sound pretty eager for someone who's 'not ready' to go on a case." Frankie made a move to respond to the man, but with nothing to say that wouldn't give away her reluctance to go on the case she shut her mouth and turned her gaze forward through the windshield. Dean lingered his gaze on her, wondering over her off reaction, before looking out the glass as well. "No. Not much else. Just the names of the victims, their parents, and their last whereabouts. I have the article in the backseat if you wanna take a look."

Frankie reached behind Dean's seat and grasped the papers. On them was the printed article stating everything he had told her. "It says the first three kids were taken from the same place. Some daycare facility. Guess we know where to look."

"I thought that, too," Dean said with a nod. "Read about the latest victim."

Frankie switched papers and read the bit about the fourth child. "'Dalton Harris, aged four years old, was victim to a near kidnapping in his… family's residence last Monday evening. Loren Harris, Dalton's mother, had just arrived home after work to find the intruder standing over his crib before they fled through the open window of the second story house. Authorities have not confirmed the connection between these disappearances.'" Frankie slapped the papers onto her lap as she looked over to Dean. "Well that changes things."

"Eh, well… maybe it doesn't. We'll know as soon as we get there, but I'm thinking we can maybe solve this a little faster if we find some sulfur at the crime scenes."

Frankie thought over 'sulfur' for a few seconds before making the connection. "You think this has some demon affiliation?"

Dean sent her an impressed look. "Maybe. Could explain where they've been for the past couple weeks."

"And if it's not?"

Dean hesitated, his mouth open and biting back words he was unsure of. "Eh, we'll figure it out. I got a kryptonologist with me. We'll solve it in no time."

Frankie smirked at his obvious mistreatment of her self-declared title. "Cryptozoologist."

"Right, right. Never hurts to have a monster expert on a hunt. By the way, you got any idea off the top of your head what this thing might be?"

"Eh… baby nabbing is kind of a popular thing with cryptids and monsters. Kappa, fairies, hags, Aswang typically target unborn fetuses but in this day and age I guess they can't be too picky."

Dean chuckled and nodded. "Ain't that the truth."

"I won't really be sure until I see the crime scenes. Of course… having a body to examine would be helpful, but that doesn't seem feasible yet. Best thing we can go on is what Dalton or his mother might've seen before the thing fled."

Dean nodded. "Don't worry. We got plenty of interviewing ahead of us. I wasn't kidding when I said this would be educational." Dean furrowed his brows when he remembered a crucial detail of their plan. "Hey, what size suit do you where?"

Frankie's eyes widened as she snapped her head over to her brother. "Excuse me?"


After a trip through the drive through at a burger chain, an awkward stop at a thrift shop for a decent suit, and numerous bathroom breaks, they arrived just outside of Shelby by midnight. They were all exhausted and ready for a much needed rest.

They pulled into the first motel they spotted before entering Shelby and purchased two rooms. This was the second time Frankie was aware of the horrible snag in her brothers' relationship and in her plan. Sam took one bedroom for himself, leaving Dean and Frankie in a room together. Well… at least this time Frankie wouldn't have to give up her bed.

Frankie sat on the edge of her grimy, moth-eaten bed as Dean brushed his teeth and kicked off his shoes at the same time. She stripped her feet of her socks, enjoying the fresh air hitting her toes. But the trivial leisure didn't distract her from the bigger issue.

Not only were her chances of fixing their riff becoming more and more inaccessible, but she still had no idea how she was going to pull the feat off. With little to go on, she would have terrible luck in being successful. So to find an edge to work with she would need some sort of mindset between her brothers.

She glanced over to Dean spitting in the sink and wiping his face off with a rag she was certain wasn't properly cleaned. She grimaced, but focused on her current emotion. "Hey, Dean."

"Yeah," he answered while unbuttoning his shirt to reveal another one underneath.

Frankie swished the words she wanted to say in her mouth, tasting them to make sure they were right. "How's this gunna work? Y'know, with you and Sam doing all the talking at the interviews? I mean, y'all can barely look at each other."

Dean nodded understandingly. "Look, we may not agree on things right now, but we still have a job to do. This gig was never about personal stuff anyway." Frankie looked away as Dean changed out of jeans for sweatpants. "The people come first. Always. The family business is just as much about saving people as it is about hunting things."

"But… wait, I thought family always came first." When Frankie looked back over at Dean, he was on his bed and lifting the covers over his body.

"Not in this job."

Frankie followed her brother and burrowed under the blankets of her bed. She propped herself up on her elbow as she looked over at Dean. She bit her lip, hesitating her addition to the conversation. "What if Sam was in trouble? Like, if a monster or demon got to him and was about to kill him, but was also about to kill some random dude. Who would you choose?"

Dean met her gaze with furrowed brows, a suspicious glint in his eyes. "What's with this kinda talk? Why're you bringing it up now?"

"I-I'm just… trying to figure out where my loyalties should lie. If I had to choose between you or an innocent person-"

"You save the person."

Frankie felt a twinge in her chest. That didn't seem right either. "But if saving you meant we could save even more people, then should I still save the one random guy who wandered right into the supposed claws of the monster? I mean, he didn't even try to stay away from the danger, I mean really!"

"Frankie," Dean grunted. She closed her mouth and swallowed at the steely sound of his voice. He noticed her submissive reaction and sighed. He rubbed his face before propping himself up on his elbow as well. "Look, this job is about saving people. We don't just let people die."

Frankie bit her tongue to stop and think about her response. She pressed on despite her conscience throwing a fit. "What about those demons we killed? Their meat suits were innocent people, too. We let those people die."

Dean looked down at the carpeted floor that separated their beds. His chest rose and fell with a burdened sigh. "We can't save everyone. We'll try, you bet your ass we will, but… no matter what case we work on, someone will get hurt. Even die. It's part of the whole process. It's crap, but it's the one we got. To save everyone else, sacrifices hafta be made. If that sacrifice is us, then dammit, it'll be us."

Frankie held onto his words and stuffed them in her mind. She would have to remember them when she was faced with her future enemies. God knows she would choose her brothers over innocents. She couldn't live on if her remaining family died, too, especially at her hands. Stubborn as it was, she didn't want to lose them, to be alone.

She lifted her eyes into his. He had been looking at her, a curious glint behind his tired gaze. "One more hypothetical." He was pestered, but nodded. "If you had to choose between Sam or me." That pestered expression drastically changed into a look of shear insult. "Who would be the sacrifice there?"

"Frankie, why the hell are you asking me this?" All she could do was half shrug and avert her eyes. "You look at me." She stared a nasty nick on the nightstand. "Look at me." Feeling his brash tone quiver her bones, Frankie forced her eyes into his intense pupils, darkened by his furrowed brows. "I will never make that decision unless I'm met with it. I'm not gunna spend a single goddamn moment answering that question unless I have to and even then I won't give an answer. Don't you ever ask me to choose between you or Sam, I don't wanna hear that again. As long as I'm breathin' that situation will never happen, do you understand me?"

Frankie was both disappointed and relieved to not have an answer to her question and nodded at the man. He muttered a curt, "G'night," before rolling over and waiting for sleep to claim him.

Frankie rolled over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. She got both an answer and nothing at the same time. Dean told her what she needed to know, and that was that none of them mattered. It was the people who mattered. If they died in the process then, hell, that was just part of the job.

But when paired with just family, when no innocent lives were at risk and it was just them, the fidelities changed. Dean would rather not choose between Sam and herself. He might even offer his own life in return. That told her something crucial: that even though Sam had mucked it up big time, he would rather see him a walking disappointment then a dead one. She could work with that. Now she had a place to work back from.

The sloppy details of her plan drifted from her mind as she succumbed to sleep.


Frankie flattened her hands over the lapels of her blazer as she observed herself in the mirror. Her hands slithered across her chest to straighten and tighten her dark yellow tie. Her eyes lifted to her face, assessing her hair forced into a tight bun. She liked the look of her hair in the professional updo, but the sight of her ear sickened her and she took it down.

She wiped away a small smudge on her pink lipstick. Dean had advised against the makeup – what little she used – but she thought it best to use a fully professional look. Her brothers could pull off moderately combed hair and a little stubble, but flushed cheeks and cracked lips? Didn't really sell the whole FBI agent thing.

The one thing she was actually unsure of was the tie. It was definitely more of a guy thing. Most professional business women she had seen didn't wear them. She looked over her shoulder to Dean as he tied his black oxford shoes.

"Do you think I should go with the tie?"

Dean looked over to the girl and narrowed his eyes on the yellow necktie. He shrugged. "What the hell. It's two thousand nine. Go crazy. Not too crazy 'bout the color." Frankie smirked as he grimaced and tied his other shoe.

When the two were put together, they walked out of their room and next door to Sam's. Frankie stood behind her brother as he knocked on his door with the side of his fist. He only needed to knock twice before Sam opened the door, standing in his nice black suit and red striped tie.

His eyes landed on Frankie. He scanned her outfit with a satisfied nod. "You look good," he said. Frankie gave a small smile.

"C'mon," Dean briskly hurried. Sam hardened his gaze as he closed the door to his room and followed Dean to the Impala.

Frankie was surprised that Sam was riding with them. After all, he brought his own perfectly terrible car to use, but she supposed an FBI agent wouldn't look very credible in a rusty old Buick.

She climbed into her seat behind Dean, feeling more comfortable than in shotgun. Dean got on the road and drove off to their first destination, which was, no doubt, the daycare where most victims were taken. In the meantime, the car was silent.

Frankie looked at the back of both of her brother's heads. She didn't get to act before, but now was her chance. She tapped her thumbs together in her lap, searching for something to start up a conversation.

"I was wondering about the case," she spoke up, her voice surprisingly even and collected, "about what thing could be taking these kids. I've been thinking that this could maybe be a pukwudgie."

"A who-what-now?" Dean blurted.

"Pukwudgie. It's a creature described by the Wampanoag tribe in Native American folklore. They're indigenous to North America and have been known to steal children in some instances. Uh, the pukwudgie, not the Wampanoag people." Frankie cleared her throat as she narrowed her sights on Sam. "Whuduya think, Sam? Any idea what's taking the kids?"

Sam perked up in his seat. He obviously was not expecting to be singled out, but seemed receptive to her attention. "I don't know. Not yet. Honestly, I think this might have something to do with demons."

Frankie also perked up in her seat. "Oh yeah? Dean thought demons, too. Y'all think this could have something to do with Lucifer or something?" Frankie waited for them to answer, hoping that they would collaborate on an answer. Instead, she was met with a short silence followed by Dean's level voice.

"I wouldn't go that far, but, hell, anything's possible. We'll find out more when we get there."

Frankie was a little disappointed by Sam's lack of contribution, but her hope perked up when the man cleared his throat and opened a folder in his lap.

"Well, I don't know about Lucifer, but I have been doing some digging around and I've found a connection between the victims." Frankie slightly leaned forward in her seat, showing interest in the development. Dean showed interest as well by turning his head slightly towards his brother. "Aside from the fact that all four of the children regularly used Hopewell Childcare Center, the families are all active members in the community. Mr. Mcculloch is president of the PTA at a local high school, Mrs. Crawford runs a soup kitchen in town, Mr. and Mrs. Hodson are on the board of directors of the homeowner's association, and Mrs. Harris is vice president of the local community theater."

"So, what? This thing's targeting the kids of soccer moms and workaholics?" Dean questioned.

"I guess with so much to do outside of the home, it's easy to snatch up their kids."

"But why not nab any other child at the daycare?" Frankie inquired. "I mean, if they're already there then what's the difference if their parents aren't watching them? What makes them so special?"

"I don't know. Maybe there's some sort of feud between them and the monster?"

"Oh yeah. Monster gets beef for using above ground sprinklers and owning fences taller than five feet. Kidnapping the kid of an HOA board member makes perfect sense," Dean quipped.

"Not sure why demons would care about thespians and members of the PTA," Frankie added. "Maybe there's some other connection."

"Maybe," Sam said. "Let's hope we find one before another kid turns up missing."

"Or worse," Frankie muttered. Silence followed, though she didn't mind it this time as they soon approached their destination.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the daycare center. It was a colorful building with a red and orange awning covering windows with rainbow lettering spelling out 'Hopewell Childcare Center.' Children's screams could be heard from an outdoor playground behind a wall with each large brick illustrated with different children's paintings. It seemed like a run of the mill well-funded daycare center.

"Remember, Franks. Let us do the talking," Dean instructed. She nodded as he reached back and handed her something: a small folded item that looked like a leather wallet. "Take this. It's a badge. Take it out when we do."

Frankie felt a surge of excitement bubble up inside her. She was going all James Bond in this bitch. She opened the badge and frowned at her picture.

"I didn't have one ready for you, so I just used one of Sam's and colored in some lipstick. Just don't hold it too close to anybody and they won't notice." Frankie wasn't impressed, but she hid it with a half-grateful smile.

Sam, Dean, and Frankie entered the building. They were immediately hit with the smell of crayons and lemon Pledge as they strolled under the soft AC positioned above the door. The lobby was empty, but the ring of the bell on the front door signaled a young man in a pastel blue shirt with the center's name written across his chest. He approached the trio behind the front desk with a beaming smile.

"How can I help you folks today?"

As an immediate response, Sam and Dean revealed their badges and held them next to their heads. Frankie hurried and fumbled to copy them as Dean broke into his spiel. "Agents Martin and Davis. This is deputy agent Sinatra." Frankie put on her most convincing resolute face as the man's eyes fell on the short girl standing next to the two hulking agents.

"FBI?" the man peeped, switching his gaze timidly to Sam and Dean. He then deflated into a solemn understanding expression. "This is about the missing kids, huh?"

"Yes, it is," Sam answered. "The first three cases took place at this establishment, correct?"

"Yeah. Horrible, horrible thing."

"What can you tell us about the kidnappings?" Dean asked. He used a no-nonsense voice, one Frankie had become quite unfazed and accustomed to.

"Not much. They all happened off my shift."

"Who was here when they took place?"

"Well, that's the thing. They happened at different times of day. Different people were around when the first three were taken. I don't think one person was here for all of 'em. Bernice, I think, was around for two of 'em. She might know more about it than I do. She's in her office. I'll show you."

"Thank you," Sam said with a nod of his head.

The man rounded the counter and led them down an adjacent hallway. The hall had four doors, each one for a different age group. The first door was the nursery, second was for children two to three, the third was for children four to five, and the fourth room was for children six and older.

"The first two happened in the Bunny Room," the man stated, pointing to the second door as he passed it. "But the third happened in the nursery. Don't know how that devil got in. We keep tabs on that room from opening to closing. But… somehow…"

Sam and Dean shared a look with each other. Frankie noticed and felt a tiny jolt of hope. They were looking at each other. It was a miniscule stepping stone, but progress was progress.

The man approached a room at the end of the hall with an open door. He knocked on the door with a smile to the older woman inside. She wore a green turtleneck and had grey streaks in her black hair. She lifted her head and noticed with furrowed eyebrows the group of people in black suits.

"Hey, Bernice. FBI's here. Asking about the missing kids."

The woman perked up immediately and stood out of her seat. "Oh yes, of course! I'm Bernice Hampton. I own the daycare." She walked over to the trio and shook each of their hands. "Uh, come in. Please sit," she added, and gestured to two seats in front of her desk. Frankie stood at the wall behind them as Sam and Dean took the chairs. Bernice straightened up her desk, righting papers and placing pens in a holder. "Hope you don't mind the mess. I wasn't expecting federal help so soon."

"Why's that?" Sam asked, almost skeptically.

"Well, from what I've heard, it takes a village to get just one agent over here. Now three walk on in and, well, it's kinda jostling." The woman huffed as she linked her hands on her desk and leaned forward. "Not to be rude, but it took five months for the FBI to arrive when a string of murders happened up here in '94. By then the perp up and fled to Cuba." Sam and Dean nodded their heads, the only response they could muster. "But! You aren't here to talk about your lack of punctuality. How can I help you today?"

"Your employee told us you were on sight when two of the kidnappings took place," Dean stated. "What can you tell us about the days those went down?"

Bernice sighed. She took off her glasses and placed them in front of her. "They were just like any other day. Both of them. Came to work, checked on the children's supervisors, then came right back here to sort through the endless paperwork. You may not think it, but the city council makes sure this place is in prime condition. Of course… our reputation is crippled by these kidnappings. We've had parents withdraw their children left and right. It's a miracle we're still in business."

"Does anyone in the city council have children that use this daycare?" Sam questioned.

Bernice's face took a confused turn. "Yeah. One of them. A four year old in the Lion Room. Real nice boy."

"So when the kidnappings took place, you were here in this room?" Dean continued.

"Yes," the woman sighed. "Just sitting here while children were stolen under our watch. If I had known someone had come in when no one was looking I would've strung them up myself."

Dean snorted. "You must take this job seriously."

Bernice lifted an eyebrow at him. "These children are my life. Our course I take this job seriously."

"Do you have any cameras in the facility that might've caught some suspicious activity?"

"That was the first thing the local authorities checked," the woman answered as she clicked some things on her computer. She then turned the monitor around to show Sam and Dean. "This list shows the dates footage was recorded around the building. We have cameras in each room. Nothing happens without us knowing about it. But look here." She pointed to specific dates with her glasses. "Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday."

"What happened to Thursday?" Sam knowingly asked.

"No footage was recorded. Same happened with the other two."

"Was it erased?"

Bernice shook her head. "Footage can't be erased without an admin pin, which only I know. Neat little tidbit in the program. However, it doesn't take a pin to shut off the cameras."

"So," Dean mused, "someone came into the building the day before, shut off all the cameras, left the building, came back the next day, and snatched up a kid. Didn't you think to check if the cameras were working after all this went down?"

"Well we do now. Every morning."

"Do you know of anyone that could access all the cameras?" Sam asked.

"Well, the cameras are activated from either my computer or the front desk's. Whoever did it had to know our company password to get on the computer. But it couldn't have been one of our employees. They've all been downtown and interrogated. Their houses were cased out, all their records sifted through, they're clean. As you can see, we're at a loss. Of course, we've buckled down on our security since then… but now it's happening outside the daycare. Poor Dalton."

"You knew him?"

"Oh yeah. He was a regular. His mother always had lots of business with her theater, so he visited at all times of the day, seven days a week. But once these kidnappings started, she refused to leave him here. She uses a babysitting service now."

"Really?" Sam said, interest lining his voice. "You wouldn't happen to know what service she uses would you?"

"'Fraid not. I don't delve into the personal lives of the parents. Just the kids."

Sam nodded and pondered over the information as Dean spoke again. "Do you know of anyone who would have any sort of feuds with the families of the missing children?"

Bernice sat back in her chair and linked her hands over her stomach. "The Hodsons have their enemies. They screw a lot of people. They practically run the entire homeowners association, so if they don't like you then, well… you're in a pickle. But the others are model citizens." Bernice thought over the victims' families, and after a thought or two her brows narrowed. "I had heard a rumor about Loren Harris."

"A rumor?" Dean echoed with a narrow of his own brows.

Bernice nodded. "I'm not really into that whole community theater thing or its constant gossip, but I had heard from a few mouths that Loren was a shoo-in for president. And, boy, was she obsessed with that position. Spent days fighting for it. That theater is her baby. But right before the election, Suzanne Nickels bribed off a couple board members and beat her by two votes. So vice president she was. But she didn't have anyone who hated her. Like I said. Model citizen."

Sam hummed in passive affirmation with a thoughtful nod of his head. "Well, thank you, Bernice. You've been very helpful. Is there anything else you can tell us about these kidnappings? Maybe any suspicious characters around town?"

The woman shrugged. "That's as far as my knowledge goes, agent."

"Well thank you for your time," Dean said, standing from his chair and handing her a small card. "If you think of anything else or see something strange, give us a call."

"Will do. And thank you for giving a damn." Sam and Dean were taken aback by her slight vigor. "I wish you luck in finding the bastard that snatched my kids."

"Of course," Sam nodded. "Before we leave, would you mind if we took a look around? Just to case the place before we get out of your hair?"

"By all means."

Sam and Dean gave a final tight-lipped smile before motioning Frankie to follow them out of the room. They walked down the now booming hall, noisy with children's laughter and shouts. Playground time must have ended.

As well as bustling classrooms, the lobby had picked up some traction. The young man from before was stationed behind his desk as he worked with a few parents. While he dealt with them, a fair young woman approached the front door with a large box in her hands. She struggled to open the door, sweat dampening the strands of jet black hair on her forehead.

"Alright, well you two go case the joint, and I am gunna go interrogate the townsfolk," Dean muttered before speeding up his pace to meet the girl in the lobby. Sam huffed at his brother, but forced himself to focus on the task. He motioned for Frankie to follow him into the Bunny Room.

Dean picked up a light jog and opened the door for the troubled girl. "Lemme help you there," he said with a charming smile. The girl gave him a grateful grin as she panted into the building.

"Whew! Thank you so much!" she breathed out as she dropped the box onto the floor. She stood underneath the AC and waved air into her face. "God, it's hot out there! I am not built for this weather."

Dean glanced out the window. He didn't think it was that hot outside. Then again, it was summer in Montana. Nonetheless, he focused on charming the attractive girl before him. "Do you need any help with your things there?"

"Oh, would you? Thank you."

"No problem." Dean lifted the box from the floor and walked it over to the front desk.

"Oh, hi, Uki," the desk clerk greeted.

"Hi, Manny. I brought some more stuff for the kids."

"Oh, great! Just leave it there. I'll take care of it in a bit."

Dean leaned against the wall, molding his face into a dashing façade. "Uki. That's a name you don't hear every day."

The girl scanned her eyes over the sharp, gallant visage of the man in front of her and reciprocated his enamored smirk. "Well, I gotta say, that's not a face you see every day." Dean snorted, widening his grin. "What's a suit like you doing in a town like this?"

Dean lifted a brow as he revealed his badge from his pocket. The girl eyed the badge with surprise peeking from the corners of her eyes. "I'm here on federal business. Agent Dean Martin. I'm investigating the missing children around town."

The girl nodded with a somber expression. "Makes sense. It's terrible thing, what happened to those kids. Do you have any idea who's behind it?"

"Not yet. But the trail's not cold yet. We'll get to the bottom of this." The girl sighed at the misfortune of the children, bringing the conversation to a halt. Dean shook off the darkened mood to focus on charming the girl. He looked at the box on the counter. "So you brought some stuff for the kids. That's a nice thing to do."

"Yeah. Toys, books, just stuff I had lying around."

"Do you do this often? Happy over there seems to know you pretty well."

The girl nodded her head with a smile returning to her face. "I try to volunteer as much as possible. I love the kids, and it's such a rewarding hobby."

"So you come up here a lot? Well let me ask you, have you seen any strange things around here? Odd characters?"

The girl paused to think for a few seconds. "No, agent. Not really. This is a kind community, always looking out for each other. I can't imagine a single soul in this town that would do something like this."

Dean nodded with a hum. "How about flickering lights? Air going cold where it shouldn't? Maybe whispers when no one's around?"

The girl gave him a strange look, but he was used to it. Everyone had the same reaction to the question. "No. Not that I've noticed."

"How well do you know the kids here?"

"Oh, very well. I know many by name."

"Did you know Dalton Harris?"

"Yes, I do. Sweet boy. A shame what happened to him. In his own home? I wouldn't be surprised if he was scarred for life, the poor thing."

"What can you tell me about his mom?"

"Loren?" The girl pulled an apathetic face. "She's alright. I don't see her much. She spends so much time at that theater of hers. Dalton misses her a lot. If there is one good thing to come out of what nearly happened to him, it's that his mom is spending a lot more time with him." Uki lifted her brows with an indifferent harrumph. "If she had in the first place he might not've been in danger."

Dean furrowed his brows and confusedly gazed at the girl. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well it's no secret that all the kid's parents are, well… sorta neglectful? I mean, Loren with her theater, Mrs. Crawford with the homeless, Mr. Mcculloch at the school, the Hodsons, all sorta absent when it comes to caring for the kids. That's why they leave them here all day. It's horrible."

Dean nodded. Now they were getting somewhere. He lifted his eyes and saw Sam and Frankie entering from the hallway. He pushed off of the wall and took out another card. "Well, thank you so much, Uki. You've been a huge help. If you see or hear anything else," he flashed her one last charming smirk, "you give me a call, alright?" She returned the gesture.

"Will do, agent Martin," she purred with a wink. The girl wiped the sweat from her forehead and left the building as Sam and Frankie caught up to Dean.

"Made any progress?" Frankie quipped with a half smirk.

"You could say that," he answered with a sly grin. The three walked out of the daycare and crouched into the Impala. "So. Find anything in the classrooms?"

"We think so," Sam said. "There's a restroom that connects the nursery and the 'bunny room.'"

"We looked through it. There's a small window about a foot from the ceiling. We think that might've been an escape route for whatever took the kids," Frankie added.

"We think. The window's just small enough for an average sized adult, but with a kid in its arms? There're a couple factors and variables we need to consider."

Dean backed out of the parking lot and turned onto the road. "Did you have any luck with the," Frankie paused to clear her throat and put on a rascally smirk, "townsfolk." Dean flashed her a similar grin in the rearview mirror.

"As a matter of fact, I did. Apparently there's more than one connection between the families of the missing kids. That girl, Uki, spilled about how they're all neglectful parents."

"Neglectful?" Sam echoed.

"Uki?" Frankie muttered with a quirked brow.

"The gist is that the parents spend more time caring for the community than their own kids, so they leave 'em in the daycare all day."

"Okay. So this thing is targeting the children of busy parents that work for the town." Sam opened the folder of research in his lap and skimmed through it. "If that's the case, I think I have a good idea who's next."

"Who?" Frankie and Dean spoke in unison.

"That four year old of the city councilman. Bernice said he used the daycare, and his parents would be busy with the city and all. I'd say that's a strong possibility."

Dean nodded and tapped his thumb on the steering wheel. "I wouldn't be so sure." Dean turned his head over to Sam to give him a knowing look, but retracted it once his eyes landed on his brother. He instead gave that look to Frankie. "That kid's still in the daycare, alive and well. If he's such a hot target, why'd the thing go all the way to the Harris house to try and nab Dalton if there was a perfectly good four year old waiting to be snatched up?"

Frankie pursed her lips. "Maybe… the city councilman isn't a neglectful parent? Maybe they see their kid more often than, say, Loren does Dalton."

Sam nodded, considering her point. "Maybe there's more connection between the parents than we know."

"Well," Dean added, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel, "guess we're about to find out."

Not long after his comment, Dean pulled to the side of a neighborhood road and parked in front of the Harris' house. They exited the car, making sure that they had all of their supplies prepared: badge, cards, knife, guns, salt, and Holy Water.

Frankie stood in front of the backdoor of the Impala and looked at herself in her reflection on the window. She straightened fraying hairs on top of her head and wiped away small spots under her eyes from her mascara.

"Alright, that's enough, Madonna," Dean jested. "Your audience has waited long enough."

Frankie playfully smacked Dean on the arm as he passed her with a snicker and turned to follow him up the walkway to the front door. She caught sight of Sam's observant stare. She buried her small smile, hiding her and Dean's passing bond from the brother who didn't share it.

They reached the door and rang the bell. It chimed throughout the house. No one answered the door. Dean looked over at the driveway where a car was stationed. Someone had to be home. He instead knocked on the door this time. "FBI. Mrs. Harris?" Still no answer.

Sam, Dean, and Frankie shared looks with each other. Sam reached into his pocket and took out a small lock picking kit as Dean turned and watched for any witnesses. Before Sam could grasp a single pick, the doorknob jiggled. He quickly shoved it back into his pocket as Dean pivoted around, standing straight and tall as if nothing unusual was about to happen.

The door quickly cracked opened enough to see the tired face of a middle aged woman. "Look, no offense to the government or anything, but I've already reported to every administrative official in the state. Have a nice day."

She hurriedly shut the door, but Dean's firm hand stopped it from closing. "How 'bout the country?" He held a solid gaze with the woman, never relenting, until she finally gave in and opened the door all the way.

The trio could see inside her house. It was a complete wreck. Dishes could be seen amassed in the sink, clothes were piled up in the living room, and children's toys scattered the hallway. The woman barely stood, looking as if she would collapse in exhaustion at any moment.

Feeling the reverberating stress from the woman, Sam stepped up and took control. "We're sorry to drop in unannounced, Mrs. Harris. We don't hope to take up too much of your time. We just need to ask you a few questions."

She shook her head. "I've already told the police everything I know about the incident. State troopers, too. I'm sure they have a report you can read up on-"

"We understand that. There're just a few things we need to be more thorough with. If you don't mind?"

The woman looked between Sam and Dean, not even glancing at the small, less intimidating girl behind them. With much reluctance coating her features, she beckoned them inside and led them to her living room.

"Sorry about the mess. I haven't had much time to focus on housework. I've been really drained these past few days."

"We understand," Sam pacified, sitting down on the couch next to Frankie.

"So what can I help you with today?"

"Why don't you walk us through that night?" Dean answered. "And don't be shy to include every detail. Even if it seems like it wouldn't be important."

The woman wore an irritated frown that tugged on her wrinkles. "I came home from the theater early that night. I was feeling sick, so I excused myself and brought my work home with me. Everything seemed fine when I walked up to the house. The sitter's car was still parked, the lights downstairs were on, everything seemed normal."

"So when did you realize something was wrong?" Sam asked.

"When I walked inside, I couldn't find the sitter. I thought she'd be somewhere downstairs. I specifically told her that everywhere upstairs was off limits except for Dalton's room, and the lights were off up there. So I walked upstairs, ready to tear her a new one, but…" She struggled to get the words, and when she couldn't force them, she tiredly huffed. She brought her hand up to her forehead. "I'm sorry."

Sam leaned forward, offering her his compassionate eyes and soothing voice. "It's okay. We know this is hard for you. We're not here to cause you to relive any bad memories. We're trying to prevent more children from being taken, and more mothers from feeling your pain."

Mrs. Harris lifted her eyes to the calming Sam's. She visibly relaxed and nodded her head, sniffing away her overwhelming emotions.

Frankie looked over at Sam as well. It had been so long since she heard his comforting, soothing voice. She had almost forgotten that it was a real thing and not something imagined. She had to admit that it was a welcomed surprise to hear that voice once again, even if it wasn't directed at her.

"Halfway up the stairs, I heard Dalton start crying. But he wasn't crying like he was hungry or tired. Something was-… I could tell that something was wrong. I ran to his room and opened the door and… th-there they were. Someone was standing above his crib, reaching in and… before I could do anything they jumped out the window. I grabbed Dalton and ran out of the house. I've never called the police faster in my life."

Dean leaned forward as well, but his eyes held less comfort and more solemnity. "Did you see what the attacker looked like?"

One second. One second of hesitation was all it took for Dean to squint his eyes in suspicion and Sam to slightly narrow his eyebrows. "No. Just a black silhouette was all I saw." She averted her gaze from the two, but more so from Dean, who held his firm stare on her.

"What about the babysitter?" Sam asked on. "Did she happen to see anything? Where was she when this happened?"

Mrs. Harris rolled her eyes. "Out 'taking the trash.' She claims she was just trying to tidy up the place, but if I hadn't come home when I did, my missing child would be on her hands!" She closed her eyes and took a moment to calm herself. "She didn't see them escape out of the window either. She said she ran inside as soon as she heard Dalton scream. 'Just missed him.'"

"Ma'am, are you aware that withholding information from federal agents is a crime against the United States government?"

Sam, Frankie, and Mrs. Harris all snapped their heads to Dean. He stared sharply into the baffled eyes of the older woman, causing her to slightly squirm under the penetrating gaze.

"W-What? I'm telling you the truth."

"Oh, I'm not denying that." Dean leaned back on the couch ignoring the pressing gazes of his siblings next to him. "Are you certain you didn't see what the attacker looked like?"

Mrs. Harris blinked. Her voice gained a defensive edge. "Yes. I'm certain. It all happened so fast, I didn't see a thing."

"And we believe you!" Sam jumped in, calming the woman before she got too riled up. "We just want to be sure we have every possible detail. So if you saw anything at all, even if it seems silly or impossible, we implore you to share."

Sam's understanding, reasonable words seemed to calm the woman, and she sat back in her chair. Frankie watched her intently, wondering if Sam's caring attitude swayed her.

"I did see… I thought I saw one thing."

Frankie's brows shot up. He was really good at what he did. Which shouldn't have been a surprise, yet it felt like one after months of his depressive, miserable sulking.

"That's great. Just tell us what you thought you saw."

The woman shifted uncomfortably in her chair, grasping the leather armrests. "I thought I saw… fangs."

Frankie felt Sam and Dean stiffen against her shoulders.

"Fangs?" Dean repeated. "Like… a dog's?"

"No. Like a vampire's."

Frankie felt them shift again.

"Like those vampire bats you see on Animal Planet. Long, skinny canines. Four of them. At least… that's what I thought I saw."

Sam and Dean nodded their heads, resolute contemplation written in their firm frowns and sturdy brows. They were given some great information, and Frankie was included in the appreciation.

When the room was met with silence, Frankie was tempted to speak up and ask her own questions. With some of the monsters in her list narrowed down to having vampire bat-like teeth, she just needed to ask a few more to make a better decision, but she didn't know how to navigate an FBI investigation. What if she used the wrong lingo or said something without the affirmed superiority of her brothers?

Before she had a proper chance to act on her temptation, Dalton came stumbling in through the hallway beckoning for his mother. He halted his padding feet at the sight of three strangers, his mouth clamping shut.

"Dalton, honey, go on up to your room. I'll be right there."

The child kept a firm eye on the new people in black suits, and backed away slowly. He hurriedly climbed upstairs to his room.

"He's been like that since the incident. Edgy. Quiet. Will barely talk to me. All he asks for is his juice or a certain crayon and that's it. Mostly he just points. Nothing else. We had to cancel his birthday party next week, he won't interact. Well… that and some of his guests are missing."

Frankie knew she should stay in her place, but Sam and Dean were getting great info from the older woman, and she knew that maybe she could get something out of the child as well. She didn't have to worry about being a convincing agent with a kid.

"Actually, Mrs. Harris, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to talk with Dalton." Frankie didn't see them, but she could feel the soft glowers resonating next to her.

The woman looked over to Frankie, a troubled look climbing onto her face. "I don't know, agent. It's been a tough few days for him. He really needs to rest."

"Has he talked to the police about anything?" Dean asked in a gently pressing voice.

"A few. No luck. I stopped letting them talk to him after the first couple. I didn't want to stress him out even more by letting strangers ask him questions left and right."

Frankie nodded, putting on his soft, understanding face like Sam's. "We understand, we do. But we believe Dalton may have seen something that might narrow down the suspects."

Mrs. Harris looked interested at her words. "You have suspects? Who?"

"I'm afraid we can't share that information," Dean jumped in, playing along with Frankie's plan. "But if Dalton were to help us with any details, we can come to you for further analysis."

Mrs. Harris was disappointed at not getting specific names of the suspects, but ultimately budged. She allowed Frankie to go upstairs and try to get something out of the child.

Frankie walked over to the staircase with a tingle of pride sizzling in her gut. She thought she handled that pretty well. As she rounded the railing and began climbing the stairs, she caught a glimpse of Dean's subtle encouraging nod. She nodded back. She was washed with small excitement as she climbed the steps, feeling like James Bond on a secret mission. A twitching smile threatened to give away her collected disguise.

Frankie reached the child's room and pressed softly on the door. It opened with a small whine from the hinges and revealed Dalton sitting in the floor in front of a small table and coloring on a sheet of paper.

Now this was more like it. Frankie had experience with children before. Of course, those were screaming, shirtless, frenetic, Alabamian demons from the ninth circle of Hell, but if she could handle them there was nothing challenging about a frightened little boy.

She rounded the tiny table and squatted down to meet at eye level. "Hi, Dalton," she greeted with a gentle voice. "My name's Frankie." He didn't acknowledge her. He hadn't even raised his eyes since she walked in. Frankie pressed her lips together as she sat down on the floor and crossed her legs. "What are you drawing there? Is that a turtle?" She smiled at the crude depiction of a green circle with little stubby ovals underneath it. "Is that your favorite animal? A turtle?"

Dalton remained mute. He continued to color in the turtle's shell with a brighter shade of green, the buffing noise the crayon made against the paper his only response. Frankie nodded her head despite not getting an answer. Her eyes flicked over to a small pile of blank papers and stray crayons. She smiled.

"Orangutans are my favorite animal," she idly spoke as she grabbed a sheet of paper and an orange crayon. "Do you know what an orangutan is? It's an ape-… which is kinda like a monkey, and it lives in the rainforest. When I was as tall as you, I watched The Jungle Book and my favorite song was I Wanna Be Like You. I thought King Louie was the coolest, and since then I've thought orangutans were the coolest animals." Frankie glanced at the boy, recalling the information Dean got from the girl at the daycare.

"You know what's cool about orangutans?" she continued, drawing connecting orange circles on her paper. "They're one of the best mommies in the world. They take care of their babies for eight years. That's a very long time for animals. The mommy orangutan teaches the baby what to eat and how to make houses out of leaves. And because they spend so much time together, they become best friends. Sometimes when the baby is all grown up, it'll go back to its mommy and spend even more time with her."

Frankie lifted her eyes to Dalton. He had stopped coloring and stared at the table. Frankie began shading in her lines and circles. "I kinda feel sad when I think about orangutan mommies and babies, because they get to spend so much time together. When I was a kid, my mommy was away a lot. She worked all day. And sometimes she would be gone for some other reason I didn't know about." Frankie stopped coloring and stared at the table. "It made me very sad when she would leave. Someone was there to watch me while she was gone, but I didn't want a babysitter. I wanted my mom. I missed her so much…"

Frankie inhaled a cleansing breath, bringing herself back to her point. She continued to color. "But when I got a little older, I learned that my mommy may have been gone a lot, but she was doing it for me. She worked so that I could have a home to live in and food to eat and crayons to color with… and I learned… that even if she was doing stuff for herself, that didn't mean she didn't wanna spend time with me. Because my mom would do… anything… for me. She, uh… she loved me. No matter what."

Frankie's crayon had been squeezed by her fingers so much that when she opened her hand the sweat from her palm had heated the crayon. Orange stained her warm skin. She sighed as she placed the crayon down onto the table.

She glanced back up to Dalton. He was looking at her. The moment their eyes met, the boy shied away and rushed to pick up his crayon. Frankie cracked a weak smile at her progress.

"I know it's been very hard to talk about anything since…" Frankie rethought her strategy and placed her crossed arms onto the table. "It was pretty scary, wasn't it? When that stranger was in here?" Dalton lowered his head as if he was embarrassed. Frankie bit down on her cheek, cursing her misdirection. "It's okay to be scared. Grownups get scared, too. I get scared all the time." An idea appeared in her mind, and she gulped down a miniature lump in her throat.

She lifted her fingers to her hair and tucked the strands behind her ear, exposing her blemished earlobe. "See this?" After a few hesitant seconds, the boy looked up at her ear. "I was attacked by a very mean person. I was so scared. They bit me right here, and I've been scared to show my ear to people." Even though it was her intention to display her injury, Frankie felt rabid anxiety tear away at the back of her neck the longer the boy stared at her ear. She covered it with her hair. "It's hard for me to tell people what happened because I think that they won't believe me or understand. And I know you might be scared to tell people about what happened because you think they won't believe or understand you. But I promise you, Dalton, I will believe you."

The boy stared into Frankie's eyes, passing glints of uncertainty filing his pupils. He was hesitant to speak. His fingers clenched and unclenched several times before he reached for a new sheet of paper.

He rummaged around his scattered pile of crayons. He picked up a green one and began tracing lines on the paper, one by one. He made a jumbled circle with two smaller circles and a frown inside of it. He then tossed the green crayon to the side and dove for another color. He picked up a blue one, but threw it onto the floor. He picked up a purple one and did the same. Frankie realized that he was looking for a specific color, and this peaked her interest.

Finally, Dalton found the black crayon and returned to his drawing. He scratched the tip along the outline of the circle, making long strokes. When he finished with the black color, it seemed as if he was done with his drawing, but his head twisted back to the pile as if he forgot something. He grabbed the white crayon and made four small marks before handing the paper to Frankie.

She looked between the paper and Dalton, slowly taking it out of his hand. She stared down at the green stick figure with what looked like black hair and big eyes. She thought little of the sketch until she noticed the white lines connected to the stick figure's frown.

"Oh," she whispered as the meaning dawned on her. She lowered the paper and stared at the silent boy. "I-Is this who was in your room?" The boy nodded. Frankie gaped at the drawing in her hand. She was looking at the perpetrator, the thing that stole the missing kids. The monster. "Thank you, Dalton," she sighed in relief. "Thank you so much."


Sam, Dean, and Frankie sat in the booth of a diner, name forgotten and uncared for. Dean and Frankie sat in one seat and Sam sat across from them. Dean looked at the drawing that Dalton gave Frankie.

"So this is the guy."

Frankie nodded. "That's the guy."

"And you got the kid to actually tell you?"

"Well, he didn't speak. Just drew."

"And yet you got us vital information when the police couldn't." Dean's face bore a huge grin as he nudged her with his elbow. "See? You're a natural! And you thought you weren't ready."

Frankie rubbed her arm with a small chuckle. "Well I wouldn't call it vital information."

"I would. This kid clearly saw fangs just like his mom did. Means we're dealing with a monster, and monsters we can track."

"So, who is this monster? Where do we start looking?"

Dean smirked. "I thought you said we had suspects."

Frankie gave a sheepish grin. "Well, I just said that to get the chick to trust us. I really have no idea." After Frankie thought about it, however, she realized that she did have an idea. "Actually, was I the only one who got a weird feeling from the daycare owner?"

"Yeah, that was kinda weird. The whole camera thing? It didn't add up."

"She's the only one who can delete video footage, and yet there was no footage at all on those days? I mean, even if you saw that they didn't record in the morning, you'd still turn them back on. There should still be some footage. What, did they just not turn them back on until the next day?"

"And she seemed pretty effected by this whole case. Like, more than someone normally would. It doesn't sit right."

"Yeah, her whole story's got holes. I'm thinking she's a suspect. But if she's a monster, she's something that can shapeshift or at least looks human. God, if I could just pin this down…"

"Hey, it's only the first day. We still got some things to figure out. Let's just see what we've got to work with. This thing's taking young kids with neglectful parents."

"And those parents spend more time helping the community than caring for their own children."

"This thing's got fangs."

"And supposedly targets specific kids."

"Not a full moon, so it's not a werewolf."

"Only has four thin fangs, so it's not a vampire."

Dean tapped his fingers on top of the table in thought. "So, monster expert, any ideas?"

Frankie shook her head while staring at Dalton's drawing. "I've got a few ideas, but just don't have enough information. Is this thing snatching kids for kicks, is it eating them, is it sucking their blood, is it using their bones for some sort of ritual, I don't know! It's such a broad area, it could be anything. I'd have to see its lair or at least a body of some sort."

The waitress set their plates down onto the table with a questionable look on her face. The trio ignored her.

"Maybe we should scout around for caves or dwellings outside of town. Maybe we'll get lucky."

"You just leave the scouting to us," Sam spoke. He had been quiet since they walked into the diner and only now did he acknowledge the conversation. "Once we figure out what this is, Dean and I'll take care of it. For now, let's just focus on narrowing down with what we've got."

Frankie felt a heavy weight enter her chest. Just when she was feeling like a real hunter, reality reared its ugly head. She had forgotten for a small while that she was supposed to stay away from danger, that her only purpose on the case was to help her brothers figure out what was taking the kids.

She hid her disappointed sigh and smiled up at Sam. "Yeah. Sure thing."

"Hang on now," Dean spoke up with a raised hand. "Frankie's gunna come with us."

Sam's sigh was audible. He set his fork down onto the table. "Dean-"

"She not a walking encyclopedia, Sam. She's a hunter."

"We talked about this," Sam muttered quietly.

"No, you talked about this. I never said we were gunna bench her just because you think she can't make it as a hunter."

"The deal was I would put off leaving to help you with the case if you kept Frankie away from danger. Sending her off into the woods to chase who knows what is the exact opposite of what we agreed on."

Dean clenched his hands into fist and tightened his jaw, but just when it looked like he would snap, he deflated. "You're right." Sam's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That was our agreement. I won't force Frankie to run into danger." He looked over to the girl sitting next to him. "So, Frankie. You wanna go chase after a monster?"

"What? Dean!"

"Hey, I'm not forcing her. I'm just asking." Dean huffed against his brother's irritation and burrowed his eyes into Frankie's. "He's right. I've been forcing too much on you. I haven't given you a chance to say outright what you wanna do. So, Franks, do you wanna go out, hunt this thing, and gank your first official monster, or do you wanna sit in the motel reading the same books over and over again while me and Sam do it for you?"

Frankie looked into Dean's eyes, mouth agape, as she tried to figure out a solution to the predicament he just placed in her lap. For once, Dean was giving her a chance to decide what was best for her, but was he really?

He may have said he was giving her a choice, but his authoritarian tone made it more than clear that he wanted her to choose to hunt the monster. It wasn't just the fact that he wanted her to choose it, either. He made it sound like he'd be disappointed in her if she chose otherwise, and she had yet to disappoint him. She didn't want to start now.

"U-um," she voiced, "I just want what the both of you want. I want the thing dead. Whether that's at the hands of me or you or Sam, what the hell does it matter, huh? It's gone, the other kids are safe, mission accomplished. Why's it gotta be this big thing for me to kill it?"

"This's your debut, Frankie. This's what you trained for. Don't you wanna put our lessons to use?"

"Dean, of course I do. I'm just saying that if it's just up to me to do it in then what's the point of either of you being here? Didn't you say you wanted all hands on deck? That you needed everybody to do their part?" Dean stared down the table. "Listen. If I'm in the situation, face to face with the bastard, I'll gank it. If Sam meets the thing he'll gank it. The same with you. Let's not put the possible deaths of three children on me, okay?"

Dean opened his mouth to speak against her suggestion, but Frankie stood up and excused herself to the restroom. He watched her walk off with pain embedded in his eyes.

"You see what you did?" Sam groused.

Dean whipped his head over to Sam, pained glance morphed into irritated scowl. "What I did? Who brought up her sitting on the sidelines in the first place? You know this's a big moment for her. Why'd you hafta go on and ruin it?" Dean sipped angrily from his beer.

"I'm not the one ruining her, Dean."

Dean darted his eyes into Sam's, forcing ire into them. "Ruining her? I'm shaping her into the best version of herself. What are you doing? Making her doubt herself every step of the goddamn way?"

"I'm trying to save what little of our sister is left after your boot camp! Can't you see that she becoming less and less of the Frankie we met months ago?"

"And that's a bad thing?" Sam blinked through the sudden wave of anger. "She was a weak, pathetic little girl when we first met. Now she's stronger, smarter, and happier than she ever was before us."

"Happier? What gave you that idea? When she was hanging on by a thread in a hospital?"

Dean's fists clenched. He turned his head to the side and bit back against his rising fury. "We're not having this talk again. Let's just get this case done with."

Sam glared at Dean as he dug into his food. Sam swallowed hard as he glanced down to his own food and picked at it with a fork.

Frankie stood behind the bathroom door, watching as her brothers sizzled with anger. She felt hollow in her chest. Why did every conversation regarding her have to end up with them staring the other down with detestation lining their pupils?

She felt ill at the thought of being the cause of their withering relationship. It was obvious that she was. Anytime they interacted regarding the case or anything else, they were fine. Not great, but fine. But when she came into the picture, oh boy. She had never seen them disagree on something so aggressively. It made her think about their trio and how it would soon be a duo if they weren't careful.


Frankie and Dean woke with a start as loud knocks disrupted their sleep. After a quick glance at the morning sun filtering into the window, Frankie whimpered and slapped a pillow over her face. She heard Dean pad his bare feet across the carpeted floor and open the door to their room.

"What?" he grumbled. It was obviously Sam. She heard more walking. "Just let yourself in, I guess," Dean mumbled.

Frankie tugged the pillow off of her face and sat up to weakly smile at Sam. Dean stood at the foot of her bed, arms crossed, as he and Frankie thought the same thing. They didn't need to ask it, though, as Sam jumped right into a solemn discourse, aimed directly at his sister.

"You said you wanted a body?"


Sam, Dean, and Frankie arrived at the city morgue shortly after nine. Frankie was still feeling drowsy. She had trouble sleeping with the looming threat of losing one of her brothers and didn't slip into her slumber until well after midnight.

All dressed in their FBI attire, they entered the building and were immediately greeted by a face. Sam was the first to approach the man. He revealed his badge with experienced grace.

"Ah, hello, agents. How can I help you?"

"We were notified about the discovery of a child's body belonging to one of the missing."

"Oh," the man in the white coat hummed grimly. "Yes, I had heard you were in town for that. Come on back."

With a light motion of his head, the coroner led the trio to the back of the building. It was colder and Frankie had the urge to rub her arms, but she thought it un-FBI behavior.

The coroner approached the shelf things in which the bodies were stored (she wasn't sure what they were called) and pulled one out.

Sam, Dean, Frankie, and the coroner looked down at the body of the small child, skin grey and body thin. Its bones could be seen through the paper-like skin, and small surgical scars decorated its chest.

"Audra Mcculloch. Aged two years. Found by the river that flows through the local dog park. Labradoodle sniffed her out late last evening and police collected her later that night. I performed an autopsy earlier this morning."

Frankie heard him speaking, but she didn't listen to a word he said. All she could do was stare down at the lifeless body of a toddler. Her heart wrenched. Such a young child, stolen from safety and murdered only to be dumped by a riverbed. How could someone do this to a baby?

But it wasn't a someone. It was a monster. A cruel, vicious monster that she utterly despised. It wouldn't take another child, not while she was in town. And even though she knew she shouldn't, she needed to be the end of that fucking beast. She would see to it.

"What was the cause of death?" Dean asked.

The coroner made a huffing noise of uncertainty. "It's hard to say. But I've narrowed it down to a mix of extreme blood loss and a deep puncture wound to the head." The man brushed back the blond bangs of the cadaver to reveal a tiny hole in the skull, a perfect circle with tiny marks embedded into the skin surrounding it. Frankie blinked down at the wound, her brows deeply narrowing. "And when I say blood loss, I mean it. She didn't have a drop left in her. Like it was all vacuumed out."

"Any idea how it happened?" Sam asked.

"No clue. Maybe some sick bastard drained it out drop by drop. Even then, it would take days. She's been gone a couple, sure, but all the blood?" A jingle from the front door of the building beckoned the coroner. "Excuse me, agents," he said before leaving the three alone.

For a small while, the three stood in silence, a tiny moment of mourning for the loss of such a young child to a monster. They had a miniscule hope that the kids were just missing. Now they knew the fate of the others and the risk to the rest.

"Dammit," Frankie whispered, gather the attention of her brothers. She was gazing down at the puncture wound, a recognizing glint in her eyes.

"What are you thinking, Frankie?" Dean asked her.

She slowly shook her head, eyes glued to the small hole on the body. "It all makes sense. The choice of children, the fangs, the hole in the head… I know the thing that did this."

Sam and Dean gaped at the girl. They shared a look of both excitement and relief as the monster had an identity, one they could track down and make pay for the murder of several kids.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

Frankie swallowed, lifting her head to her brothers. "A tammatuyuq."

Sam and Dean shook their heads, a baffled looked jumping onto their faces. "A what?" the both asked.

"Tammatuyuq. I-It's an Inuit blood-sucker that feeds solely on young children. What the hell it's doing in Montana is anyone's fucking guess."

"Okay, so we know what it is," Sam pushed forward, "what else? Where does it do its business?"

"And more importantly, how do we kill it?"

Frankie leaned against the other compartments. "It usually dwells in caves, cold places, but in modern day that can be any freezing room. A freezer, a basement, a morgue." She glanced bitterly around the frigid room and rubbed her arms. "It takes the form of a female human, appearing as normal as you or me until it feeds. Then it uses something to puncture the head, a needle or something, and then drinks blood from the hole."

"Great. So it feeds anywhere and looks like anybody."

Frankie nodded. "You can kill it pretty easily. Some sources say a stab to the heart. Others say silver."

"Then a stab to the heart with a silver blade should do it," Dean declared. "Now we just need to find the bitch."

"Guess we should be doing some snooping around," Sam suggested, crossing his arms. "I'll take the daycare. You guys can look into town and find any suspicious characters."

"Wait. Uh," Frankie spoke. "I'll go with you. Dean can case the town."

"What?" Sam and Dean spoke together.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"I gotta weird vibe from Bernice. I wanna check her out, see if anything's sketchy with her."

The real reason behind the change was to have some alone time with Sam. She wanted to work with him on improving the relationship between him and his brother like she did with Dean back at the motel. Lotta good that did… Things with Dean weren't going anywhere, so Sam it was.

"Well, alright, I guess. I'll hit the town, see if I can find anything."

"Why don't you start with that Uki chick," Frankie jested with a teasing smile.

"Don't tempt me, Franks. Besides, she might have some vital information we can use." The three made a move to the exit.

"Oh yeah, sure. Vital."

Dean chuckled along with Frankie as they walked out of the morgue, Sam trailing silently behind.