New chapter ready. This one's a little bit shorter, but I still hope you'll enjoy. Thanks for the reviews. Always nice to hear your side of things :) It's really fun playing with the season 2 boys, there are so many possibilities there. More notes at the end

Chapter 6

Bobby Singer often wondered what had made him become Hunter Research Center. He could not remember when it had all started, when he had turned from simple Hunter to everyone's go-to guy for lore, resources, and contacts that would keep the authorities off their backs. Bobby regretted he wasn't actually paid for any of this. Well, not officially. A lot of Hunters traded stuff with him and there were those he did not like that he still helped, but he made sure they knew his help did not come free.

The Winchesters were the exception. He would go above and beyond his duty for Sam and Dean. Long ago, when the boys were still kids and Bobby was trying to convince their father to drop them off at his place more often instead on dragging them all over America, Bobby had tried to analyze his attachment to the two. He had never been able to get along with their father. They had either been too alike or too different – Bobby did not know which – and they had probably both felt a slight twinge of jealousy towards the other when it came to the boys. Bobby knew John was their father, and he could never compete with something like that, while John was aware of the regard the two boys held Bobby in and could not help feeling threatened by it. Still, it was only now, when John Winchester was dead, that Bobby could finally acknowledge he saw the boys more as family than anything else. He did not know what to do with that feeling.

When he got a call from Dean that morning, Bobby was quick to drop everything and come to the boys' help. Somehow, in a way he did not want to look at too closely, Bobby was trying to do what Sam and Dean's father had failed to do that last year of his life: he would be available to them, reachable whenever they needed him, whether with information or backup, or even just emotional support (although that last part he would never admit out loud, not even under pain of death).

"Let me guess," Bobby answered gruffly. "You've got into trouble again?"

"Hey, Bobby. I've got Sam on speaker, too. We're at the Roadhouse."

Bobby grunted. He had to admit he was feeling slightly left out right now with all the time the boys were spending at the Roadhouse instead of at his place. One almost felt like they were avoiding him. They were hiding something from him, that was for certain.

"So what do you need me for?" he grumbled.

"Hey, Bobby," Sam's voice sounded with a hint of uncertainty. "We think we've got a case here. Actually, we know we've got a case here. And we think we know what it is."

"It's a Night Hag," Dean said bluntly, interrupting his brother's roundabout way of explaining things. "And it's got the hots for Sammy."

Of course it did. If there was something supernatural around, it was always drawn to the Winchesters like a magnet.

"Are you sure?" Bobby asked. "Victims of night hags don't remember much apart from the nightmares."

There was a pause, then –

"Sam's sure."

And that was that. Bobby shook his head. Who was he kidding? The boys trusted him, certainly more than they trusted anybody else now that their father was gone. But they did not trust him more than they trusted each other, and, even though he liked to think he was closer to their world than anybody else, he was still on the fringes.

"Well, ok, then," he said. "What can I do?"

"We're pretty sure this night hag is the last of its kind, Bobby," Sam said.

Bobby nodded.

"It's not a known fact, but hags usually go about in packs. Families, I suppose you could call them."

"Can you reach out to any Hunters who'd got the rest of its family then?" Dean asked.

Bobby sighed. That was going to imply a lot of work.

"There were a few from time to time who came to me with stories about a pack of night hags. So, yeah, I can make a few calls."

"Bobby, you're a star."

Bobby rolled his eyes. Dean had a way of getting under his skin even when he was praising him.

"But if you want my two cents," he felt the need to add. "You should also find out who the hag is. Her day form, I mean."

"Come again?" Dean asked.

"Night hags are said to be a manifestation of someone," Bobby said. "Usually a woman. They come when she is asleep."

"So," Sam wondered. "Whoever it is might not even know what she's doing? Like a werewolf?"

Bobby shook his head.

"No, she knows, all right. Sometimes folk make dark deals and choose to become night hags in exchange. This passes on to their children. They're human, you could say, but not fully."

"Right," Dean said and his voice sounded unusually tight. "So, what do we do about her? If we figure out who she is? Gank her while she sleeps?"

"Dean…"

That was Sam, horrified that Dean was planning more than they were both comfortable with. Bobby snorted. The two of them were quite predictable at times.

"Oh, I wouldn't recommend that," Bobby said. "See, you kill the human part first, the hag part gets unlimited powers. It's pretty powerful to start with, so that would be a bad thing. Kill the hag part, though, and the human side is set free. Might remember the hag part, might not."

"Sounds a bit too Disney to me," Dean remarked. "How do we kill the hag part, though?"

Bobby went to his library. He shook his head. This was going to be a long day.

"There are ways," he admitted. "I'm just not sure about them, since I've never faced a night hag myself. I need some time to check."

"Time, Bobby?" Dean asked, irritation clear in his voice. "How much time? Sam's due another kinky visit tonight."

"It ain't a succubus, Dean," Bobby pointed out. "But yes, Sam probably is due another visit. However, there are ways to keep a hag at bay. Coffee before bedtime is one."

"You mean don't sleep?" Sam asked.

Bobby shrugged.

"I suppose."

"Bobby, he can't not sleep forever."

Bobby shook his head. Dean was worse than a soccer mom when it came to Sam.

"I'm not talking forever. I'm talking until we fix this. There are also things he could put under his pillow. A leather belt for example. That keeps the hag away."

"So you're saying the hag's vulnerable to leather?" Dean asked, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

"Not exactly," Bobby said. "If you smack it with a leather belt it probably won't die. But it doesn't like leather so, if Sam's got something of leather under his pillow, it might keep it away."

"Right, we'll try that, Bobby," Sam said quickly before Dean thought to start arguing some more. "Thanks."

Bobby put the phone down. He had actually been banking for a quiet day for once. Well, it did not matter now. He had a night hag to research.

XXXXxxxxXXX

Sam asked Ash to check out the two waitresses from the diner where Josh worked. After some hesitation, he also asked him to look into the coroner. It had to be someone both Andrew and Josh had interacted with although in such cases an interaction could have been something as brief as Andrew helping her with the groceries or Josh handing her coffee. It also had to be someone new in town. He was sure that would point them in the right direction.

However, he had discounted one of the characteristics of a small town: people came and went often enough. All three of Sam's suspects had been in town for only two years or less. There were also several other women who fit the bill. Besides, Sam was not even sure the human form of the night hag was that of a woman.

Sam went to the bar in search for more coffee. It was still early afternoon and only a few people were sitting at the tables, here and there, hunters discussing cases and a group of truckers who apparently had lunch there regularly.

Ellen nodded to him and placed a cup of coffee on the counter. Sam smiled slightly, not really knowing what to say to her. He was slightly embarrassed by how he had walked away from her earlier, feeling like a kid who had thrown an unnecessary hissy fit.

"I thought Dean and Bobby found a better way to keep the hag off you?" Ellen remarked, pointing to Sam's coffee. "You don't need to overdose yourself on caffeine to stay awake."

Sam shrugged, grimacing at the bitter taste.

"Two nights with a night hag is apparently more draining than it sounds. I need to stay awake to work the case."

Ellen hummed. She leaned forward against the counter to make sure Sam was the only one who could hear her.

"Hey, listen Sam, about what I said earlier…"

Sam looked up quickly.

"No, you had every right to say it," he interrupted her. "And it's fine, really. It's not like you didn't say anything that wasn't true, regardless of what Dean told you."

Ellen shook her head.

"Sam…"

Sam wasn't looking at her now, staring instead in the depths of his coffee cup, as if it could offer an explanation to the terror and uncertainty he had whenever he thought of what he might become.

"To Dean, I'm his little brother," Sam felt the need to explain. "That's all he sees me as. So maybe his perception of me is a bit skewed."

He glanced up to see Ellen staring at him thoughtfully.

"Or maybe he's the only one who sees you as you should be seen. Ever thought of that?"

Sam did not know what to do with that. He hardly knew what to during the rare occurrences when Dean praised him. To have a virtual stranger talk about him like that made him all kinds of confused.

"I'd better go upstairs," he said instead. "I should have some more information before Dean comes back."

Dean had gone to the Lindstrom house after swearing to Sam up and down that he most definitely did not intend to check out the house where Harold Lindstrom died on his own. Sam hoped that was true, otherwise he was going to lock Dean in the trunk the next time he saw him.

xxxXXXXxxxx

In Dean's defense, he had indeed intended to go only to the Lindstrom place and have a look around. But the house down the street was calling him. Not in the freaky way it called to Sam, that's for sure, but he could not let it go. The Night hag had set up a lair there. She had hidden trophies from her victims. Maybe she had left some traces of her real identity behind.

"Just in an out," Dean muttered. "Sammy need never know."

Because Sam would have his head on a plate if he found out Dean had gone anywhere near that house alone. Whoever thought Dean was the scarily protective one had never seen Sam during one of his episodes.

Dean entered the house through one of the windows. There was a crime scene tape at the door, but all the cops had left. Dean wondered what the police made of Harold Lindstrom's death. So far, they were baffled as to why Harold would be in that abandoned house in the first place.

Dean did not bother with the upstairs rooms. He and Sam had searched those the day before. It was the basement that he had neglected to search after Sam's fall – and it was also the place where Harold Lindstrom had died. Sam would have pointed out that this was exactly the reason why Dean should not have been wondering about over there with no one to back him up. Dean hesitated, recognizing that would not be wise. Then he shook his head. He was there, anyway, wasn't he? He might as well check out the basement. Besides, if he stopped the Hag then and there, he would be sparing Sammy from another night when he was at risk. He did not want to think that, right now, they did not know very much about stopping hags.

He descended the steps carefully, gun in hand. Nothing assaulted him, though. The basement looked like any abandoned old basement: filled with junk and rat droppings, but completely empty. Dean lowered his weapon slightly.

"Guess you're not at home, huh?" he muttered.

A bang from behind had him twisting round and running up the steps only to stop in front of the closed door. He pressed on the doorknob but it wouldn't budge. He was locked in. Dean slammed his hand against the hard wood.

"Hey," he shouted. "Hey, it's not gonna work, locking me in like this. Come down here and face me!"

Nothing came down, though. There was a thump from upstairs followed by the unmistakable smell of gasoline. Dean recoiled in horror. He understood what the hag intended to do with him.

Desperately, he banged against the door, trying to get it open. The door wouldn't give, though. Dean cursed. Sam was never going to forgive him, if things ended like this.

Erm...cliffhanger ending...again...I know...I should stop...

Night hags are supposed to have a human form. The hag only comes when the human form is sleeping.

There are many ways to defend against night hags: you can drink coffee before bed, put a piece of leather under your pillow, place certain plants above the door and many others.