Locking the front door behind him, Sam hurried down the dimly lit hallway and into the library. The big room was empty, but one of the bookcases had been shoved away from the wall and a faint light shone from the space behind it.

Rounding the corner of the bookcase, he peered inside. The stranger – Wiley - was stretched out on a cot in the back of the very small room, shirt unbuttoned and hanging open. Bobby was leaning over him, examining what looked like a jagged stab wound, and Dean stood at Bobby's elbow, cradling a red-lidded metal box which Sam knew held an assortment of medical supplies.

Sam stepped up next to his brother. "Bobby, there's sirens coming. Two, I think. No more than a minute out."

"Shit!" Wiley swung his legs over the side of the cot and tried to get up, then gasped out a curse and sank back down.

"Stay there, jackass." Bobby put the bloody bandage back in position, then pulled a blanket up over his patient. "Listen, Wiley, I don't guess they have a warrant, but I'm gonna close the room and turn the light off for a couple minutes, just in case. You okay?"

Lips pressed tight against the pain, Wiley didn't answer, just nodded.

"Can I stay with him?" Dean asked suddenly.

Surprised, Sam looked at him. Dean himself looked surprised at his own question. He flushed, avoiding Sam's eyes, and the younger boy's heart sank as he looked between Dean and the wounded man on the cot.

Bobby shook his head. "I need you two to stay in the library, case I need you." Digging into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a worn silver flask, unscrewed the cap and handed it down to Wiley. "This'll help."

With a nod of thanks, Wiley accepted the flask and took a couple of careful sips, the pain in his face easing after a bit.

The sound of a siren came through the open door. It trailed off after a few seconds and was followed almost immediately by an imperative knocking on the front door.

Muttering balefully under his breath, Bobby strode out of the little room. With a last quick look at Wiley, Dean set the box down on the floor at the foot of the cot; then he and Sam followed the old hunter.

In moments, the room was plunged into darkness as the light switched off and the bookcase was shoved back against the door.

Wiley raised the flask to his lips, took another swallow, and waited.

ΩΩΩ

Bundled up in a heavy sheepskin overcoat against the night's chill, the hard-eyed woman standing on his front porch gave Bobby an unenthusiastic nod. "Singer."

Bobby huffed out an annoyed breath and glared past her at the two deputies flanking her. Both men looked distinctly wary.

He switched his gaze back to the woman. "Sheriff Mills."

"I got a call from the sheriff over in Hutchinson County," Mills said brusquely. "He has surveillance footage that shows you and your Chevelle stopped for gas at the Shell station outside Freeman."

"And?"

"You picked up a young man, maybe twenty years old, dark hair, jeans, black jacket?"

"What the hell?" Bobby scowled. "There's some kinda law against giving a kid a ride?" He stuck out his wrists. "Guess you better lock me up."

Mills snorted. "Calm down, Singer." She leaned casually to the side and looked past him into the house. "You alone?"

"No."

Mills' gaze sharpened; The deputies looked at each other and then back at Bobby, hands dropping to their guns.

Bobby's lip curled in sardonic amusement. "Sam! Dean! Get out here!" he shouted over his shoulder.

After a few seconds, the two boys came down the hallway, Sam trailing behind his brother, looking subdued.

"What's up, Uncle Bobby?" Dean asked, looking warily at their visitors.

Bobby didn't answer him. "My nephews," he said to Mills. "I dropped the other kid off in Monroe."

"Why?"

"Because he asked me to!" Bobby said irritably. "I wasn't planning to adopt him. I got enough on my plate with these two." He jabbed a thumb at Sam and Dean.

"Where did you leave him?" Mills asked.

"Some bar on Main Street."

She studied him. "You haven't asked why we're looking for him",

Bobby's expression was sour. "None of my business."

"We think he was involved in a killing over at Lake Menno." Pausing, Mills glanced at Sam, then decided to edit her next words. "Pretty nasty one."

"Don't know anything about that. Kid didn't say anything except thanks for the ride," Bobby said. "We done?"

Sheriff Mills hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "If you remember anything else –"

Bobby stepped back, shut the door in her face and threw the bolt home.

Dean snickered. Sam gaped at Bobby, then back at the door, fully expecting the officers to start banging on the door again. Instead, after a couple of minutes, they heard car doors closing and engines revving aggressively before fading down the driveway and back out to the main road.

Seeing Sam's astonishment, Bobby chuckled. "Son, if I weren't a rude asshole, the sheriff would know for sure something was up."

Still chuckling, Bobby started down the hall. With a look at each other, the boys rushed after him, catching him at the library door.

"Bobby, wait. Sam found -" Dean looked sideways at his brother. "We found a dead body out by the fence line today."

Bobby gawked at him for a moment. "Inside or outside the fence line?"

"Outside," Sam said. "I saw some birds circling, and…" he shrugged. "There he was."

"Damn it." Bobby shook his head. "Any idea who it was?"

Dean shook his head. "He was pretty messed up. Coyotes. We couldn't find any i.d. either. No wallet."

"I doubt coyotes killed him," Bobby said resignedly. "You bury him?"

Both boys nodded.

Bobby heaved a massive sigh, then shook his head. "Can't worry about that right now." He turned and disappeared into the library, Dean on his heels.

Sam didn't follow.

Instead, frowning and deep in thought, he went into the kitchen and put the casserole he'd put together earlier that day into the oven. He set the kitchen table, cleaned up the few dishes left over from lunch and then stood at the sink, staring moodily out the kitchen window into the night.

Dean loved him. Sam knew that. Knew it.

But there was something between his brother and Wiley, something more than just hunting, and Sam had to find out what it was. No matter how much it hurt, he couldn't live with not knowing.

Dean was all he had.