AN: More scene-setting here, and hopefully you enjoy watching our boys deal with the sisters even half as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I usually say I own nothing, but I guess I do technically own Barb and her family. I still don't own Supernatural or any of its characters.

* * *

Dean stared around as he drove, wondering why anybody would build so far from...anything. He couldn't deny that it was beautiful, with the red dirt, unexpected rock formations, and tall cacti that Sam probably could have told him the name of. There was more vegetation than he'd expected, and the temperature had been downright pleasant when they'd woken up. Sam told him that this time of year, they'd see highs in the 80's and 90's, which he apparently considered "not that hot." Dean had told him exactly what he thought about that. He might enjoy being at the beach in hot weather because of the bikinis that came out to play, but when he was Hunting, he preferred somewhere that allowed him to comfortably wear the layers of cotton, denim, and flannel that felt like a second skin. And nights that required a jacket. Still, they'd Hunted in far worse.

They'd stayed the night in a motel so grungy it had led to an entire conversation about the ugliest places they'd stayed over the years. (The consensus winner was a mosquito-themed room outside of Austin with crookedly-striped burnt orange and puce walls, though there were plenty of honorable mentions.) It had been a surprisingly lighthearted conversation, given how eager they both were to get to their friend. Unfortunately, they hadn't gotten started until afternoon, and it was a sixteen hour drive. They would have been willing to drive all night, but Barb had insisted they stop for the night. She'd pointed out that to the best of what she'd been able to learn, there had been four bodies in three weeks, so there was unlikely to be another before they arrived. Sam and Dean weren't exactly in their 20's any more, able to bounce back so easily from sleepless nights, so they had agreed, after Barb had agreed to try to keep "the girls" inside.

They couldn't be very far away now. Sam had told him that the developers had put in a paved road, something like 15 miles worth, because there was nothing out here.

"Whoa!"

In his mind, Dean echoed Sam's soft exclamation as they came around a wide curve to see the in-process -- Compound? Community? Whatever you called it, it was impressive. There was a section of modern, completed buildings, paved paths, and swimming pools. Then there were buildings that were built, but that did not yet have all the details finished; some were only missing trim or landscaping, some were not yet roofed, and so forth. Farther on, there were all kinds of construction vehicles and piles of materials like pipes and bricks.

"Two thousand acres." Sam anticipated Dean's question. "With plans to expand, assuming they sell all of the homes. There's already a couple stores, a restaurant and a dry-cleaners."

Dean shook his head. He had no experience with wealth, and this really didn't even compute for him. "Homes? I thought it was condos."

"They're starting with condos, but there will be homes too. Mansions, really." Sam shrugged. "The condos are bigger than most houses."

Dean absorbed that as they drove up to what he would have termed a guard house. There was no fence around the little settlement (yet – he remembered Sam explaining that it would eventually be a literal gated community), but there was only one road going in, so it was easy to watch.

"Treece visitors," he told the rent-a-cops. Barb had promised to let security know that they were coming, and they were waved right through with a honest-to-goodness highlighted map to make sure they could find their way. Dean somehow managed to not roll his eyes. Much.

The "condo" they pulled up in front of was a light beige adobe style building with a shallow pitch shaker roof and a circular driveway with bright red blooms in its center and in the outside window boxes. The windows were beveled so you couldn't really see inside, and the whole thing smelled like money.

Barb was rushing out the front door before they'd gotten onto the narrow porch. Dean couldn't help but laugh as she threw her arms around him. He hugged back unreservedly – she was irresistible. She didn't even come to his chin. In another second, she had let go and turned to give Sam the same treatment. Dean laughed again; Sam looked like a giant compared to her.

Barb looked very much the same as she had something like six years before. Her cap of gray curls was now snowy white, and the lines around her eyes and mouth were deeper. But her eyes were still bright as if she were always laughing, and she radiated the same brisk energy as before.

"Well, get down here," Barb ordered imperiously. Dean bent and kissed her cheek, knowing what was expected, and Sam did the same, bending almost in half to do so. "Come on in, boys. It's too damn hot out here."

Exchanging smiles, they followed obediently. It couldn't have been more than 75 degrees out, but they didn't argue.

"We really are sorry about your sister," said Sam in his soft emo way.

"I know, sweetie." Barb sighed and looked back over her shoulder. "And I'm sorry to hear about your friend Bobby." Yeah, that would never not hurt.

"Barbie, are you hogging all the smooches?" demanded a high-pitched voice as they walked in. It was Judy, the only sister they'd already met.

She still had a wild mane of white hair that reminded Dean of Doc Brown, and she was all angles with elbows akimbo and a pointed nose beneath hot pink cat's eye glasses. She was also wearing a matching shirt and capris designed to make her look like an American flag: stars on top, stripes on bottom, and bedazzled within an inch of her life. If she hadn't been so tiny, it all would have been overwhelming.

Barb shooed Judy ahead of her like she was driving chickens. "No smooches for you, you crazy old bat." Judy's unrepentant cackle did nothing to dispel Barb's characterization of her.

The living room they came to was, like the entryway, oversized and done up in cool colors. There were whites and grays, with soft blue and green pillows and other accents. It was huge, with a gigantic sectional and even a fireplace (in Arizona?) because rich people are weird.

Barb introduced the Winchesters by first name only to the two women who were entering the room from the other side. "This is Myra," she said, pointing to a woman with a cane and a no-nonsense mien. Myra had straight, chin length, steel gray hair and a simple blue polo shirt and capris. She was a few inches taller than Barb and more solidly built than the other sisters, though still not heavy. When she sat, hands propped on the cane in front of her, she looked like she was holding court.

"And this is Carolyn."

Carolyn was a little taller than Myra, but even thinner than the twiggy Judy. She wore sharply pleated white pants and a button-down shirt that was navy with a yellow flower pattern that looked like it belonged on a couch. Her forehead was pinched like she was worried, but Dean had a feeling that was her normal expression.

Carolyn fluttered around nervously, providing brownies and coffee and these crunchy little sticks with chocolate inside that were possibly the food of the gods until Barb told her briskly but kindly to "sit down before you drive us all crazy."

Carolyn seemed grateful to be told what to do. Silence fell for a second, and Dean realized all eyes were on him and Sam. Sam was leaning forward, forearms on his legs like he was about to talk. He nodded almost imperceptibly at Dean's look that conveyed that Dean had it under control.

Barb's expression was full of trust and confidence. Myra's, cool contemplation. Carolyn's, nervous anticipation. Judy's, eager curiosity. Facing a carton full of cotton tops shouldn't have been intimidating, but there was intelligence in every set of eyes, and it wouldn't be easy to come up with a plausible explanation they'd believe.

"I don't know how much Barb has told you," Dean began. "But Sammy and I are here to keep you safe and stop the killings. That's all you really need to know."

"It's not...a person doing this, is it?" asked Carolyn. "I mean, the salt..."

Crap. How did he answer that?

"We know you're not FBI agents," Myra interjected firmly. "Don't insult our intelligence."

"It isn't aliens, is it?" trilled Judy, with a grin. "Tell me it's aliens!"

"Aliens aren't real, you idiot," snapped Barb, making Judy giggle.

Carolyn sat forward. "Is the salt like when sumo wrestlers throw salt to cleanse the ring?"

"That's to keep evil spirits away," Myra offered. She pointed her cane at Dean. "Are there evil spirits here?"

"What about werewoleves?" asked Judy. "Are werewolves real?"

Barb shook a finger. "Will you let them talk already?'

Dean's mouth snapped shut and he sent Sam a half-panicked look. Help me out here! Sam, the traitor, just leaned back in his chair, biting back a grin.

"I'm, um, well, most people are a little more, uh, hard to convince that there are things..." Dean stuttered.

"Well, Barb told us all about it," said Myra with a nod. "And she might be a little nutty, but we believe her. She's got a logical head on her shoulders. I mean, it's not like it's Judy or anything." Judy not only didn't seem offended, she gave a that's fair shrug.

"Barb said you're two of the bravest people she's ever met, so we've decided to trust you." That was Carolyn. "Because Barb isn't afraid of anything."

"Not even bees!" said Judy. "Even those African killer bees."

"She pulled a gun on an intruder once!" expounded Carolyn proudly, ignoring Barb's eye roll.

"It turned out not to be an intruder," corrected Myra. "It was her father-in-law coming in to use the phone."

"Her father-in-law who just happened to be the sheriff," added Judy gleefully.

"He complimented my reaction and apologized for coming in in the middle of the night," explained Barb tartly. She raised an eyebrow toward Dean. "So, what do you think is doing this, and how can we help?"

Dean blinked, a little dizzy at all the back and forth. Sam, damn him, was all but snickering as he waited with everyone else for Dean to answer. "Uh, we don't, uh..."

"We don't know for sure what it is yet, though from the autopsy pictures, it's pretty clear this isn't a human serial killer," interjected Sam smoothly, so Dean forgave him for waiting so long to throw him a line.

"Can I see the autopsy pictures?" Judy all but squeaked, prompting Myra and Barb to snap, "No!" and Carolyn to say, "Judy" in a shocked voice.

"We'll put up some warding that, like the salt, will give you some protection while you're inside," continued Sam, annoyingly unruffled by the interruption. "For the moment, all we need is for you to stay safe, which means staying inside after dark and letting us --"

All of the women started talking at once. Sam simply waited patiently, and Dean had a sudden vision of his brother teaching in front of a classroom. He put it firmly in the mental box entitled what if and slammed the lid shut again.

When the clamor didn't die down, Dean whistled sharply, pleased by the instant silence. So he wasn't as patient as Sam. Sue him.

"I know you don't like it," said Sam, ignoring the dirty looks as easily as he'd ignored the arguments. "But if this was a human killer, you'd let the police do their work. Or if it was a wild animal, you wouldn't try to help animal control. This is what we do -- we've done it our whole lives. Let us handle it."

Sam was good. Even Dean felt reassured. "You'll keep us updated?" asked Myra a little begrudgingly after a pause.

"We can do that," said Dean quickly, feeling the need to establish that he too could sound authoritative. "But Sam was serious -- this is dangerous. You need to listen to us to stay safe." He gave Barb a glance asking for her to back his words.

"We will," she said confidently. "Won't we?" Thankfully, the other women all nodded, some more reluctant than others.

"For now, we're going to grab some food and talk to whatever people in charge we can find," said Sam, explaining what they'd decided after looking at the hacked autopsy photos the night before. "Then we'll probably have to head into town to talk to the local cops." Barb had told them who'd responded to the death and interviewed her.

"We'll feed you," Barb informed them.

"And you will stay here. We'll double up so you can each have your own bedroom," pronounced Myra. Sam was nonplussed for the first time, and Dean took more pleasure than he should have to see a glint of panic in Sam's eyes.

"We'll see," said Dean because he could be helpful when he wanted to. "But we'll stay somewhere nearby if we can figure something out. Because, see, there are plenty of people who will talk to you ladies who won't talk to FBI agents, and we don't want them to know we're all working together." He knew better than to write off the old lady network. He didn't expect them to find out anything, but it wouldn't surprise him either.

It worked.

The sisters cooked a late lunch that had Dean ready to propose marriage to any one of them. Too bad crazy Judy was the only one who was single. (On the other hand, if she always cooked like that, he might be able to live with the crazy.)

With the Winchesters' permission, Barb told the rest the story of their first meeting, when she'd gone to water some cemetery flowers late at night (so Myra wouldn't be angry she'd forgotten), and the boys had been doing a salt and burn. She told the tale with relish, from her first sight of a ghost (a local named Elsie) to Sam tackling her to safety to praying inside a maintenance shed while the Winchesters took care of business. She even said that the only reason she hadn't shot them was because "they were too pretty."

Dean couldn't help but add his own details. "You should have seen Barb when we opened the shed door." He grinned, saw Sam was doing the same. "She was holding this mower blade like a baseball bat. She was ready to take off the ghost's head if it tried to get in!"

Myra sniffed, Carolyn shook her head, and Judy crowed, "That's our Barbie," which earned her a dirty look from Barb. But Dean could see they were all proud of their baby sister.

Sam and Dean used Barb's room to change into their fed suits. "If they keep feeding us like this, our pants won't fit soon," Sam grumbled, and Dean couldn't argue the point.

Judy waylaid them in hall outside the bedroom. She showed them a picture of all five of the sisters. "Barb's oldest granddaughter calls us all her extra grandmas and insisted we all be invited to her birthday party last summer. Then she even convinced us to wear those stupid clown noses for a picture."

Sure enough, every sister wore a bright red nose in the picture. Barb was on the far left, sticking her tongue out at the camera. Her arm was around Carolyn, who was cross-eyed looking at her own extra nose. Myra stood in the middle, looking like she was trying to appear annoyed, but a smile was staring to curl her mouth. On the end were Judy and her near mirror image. Judy's head was thrown back in laughter and her twin was bent forward in mirth, her arm twined through Judy's.

""This is it," Judy told the brothers. "The last picture we ever took with all of us." She tapped the picture thoughtfully. "All of my sisters have husbands and children and grandchildren. But me? I have only them. So, you keep them safe." Judy peered at them with an intensity they hadn't seen from her before. "And keep each other safe, too." She studied them, then her face broke into her trademark smirk. "Cuz Barbie's right -- you're too pretty to die!' She flitted off before they formed a response.

"When Barb said Judy was nuttier than a fruitcake, she was being generous," Dean muttered rather than admit he was feeling a connection to the crazy little woman.

Barb caught them on their way out the door, and Dean steeled himself for another lecture on keeping the family safe. He noticed Sam bracing for the same.

Instead, Barb asked, "Are you sure I can't do anything except be a sports bra?"

"Huh?" asked Dean, in unison with Sam.

"You know," Barb's eyes twinkled. "It's my job to keep the girls where they belong."

Okay, Dean couldn't help but laugh at that.

"You can try to enjoy your time with your sisters," suggested Sam. "All the deaths took place at night, so it should be safe to be out and about during the day."

"And you could see what gossip you can pick up," Dean added, knowing how hard it is to feel helpless. "You're all smart -- keep your ears open."

"And try not to worry. We'll figure this out."

Barb shook her head at them, but she was smiling. "You two are adorable! How is it you aren't married?" She'd been thrilled to learn they had a home, but sad (though unsurprised) that they didn't have families.

"Our business doesn't have great long-term prospects," shrugged Dean. He'd meant with regard to relationships, but realized how it had come out when Sam and Barb both sobered.

"I know you have to get to work, but could you please tell me how your friend Bobby died?" Barb's words were soft and compassionate. Dean remembered the unlikely, antagonistic friendship that she'd had with the Hunter.

"You remember the business magnate Dick Roman? Well, a monster killed him and took his place. And when we found out, it shot Bobby." Sam's voice was even softer than Barb's had been, and steadier than Dean's probably would have been.

"I see," Barb considered, maybe remembering the allegations that Sucracorp was deliberately developing addictive addititives and the subsequent dismantling of Richard Roman Enterprises. Dean had never asked, but heard whispers that his brother had played the part of whistle-blower.

"So, that 'terrorist attack' on his business and Roman's disappearance, that was you two?" Barb asked slowly.

Dean wasn't surprised by her perception. "Oh, yeah," he said with some relish. The fallout might have been horrible, but Dean considered it completely worth it.

"Good!" Barb's voice was just as fierce as Dean's had been. But she'd been too loud.

"Barb! Don't let those boys leave without taking some muffins along," called Carolyn. "We don't want them to get hungry."

"And ice water," Myra put in her two cents. "It gets hot out there."

"Hurry!" Barb urged, shooing the Winchesters toward the door. "Or they'll never let you leave."

She wasn't wrong. They hurried. As the door closed behind them, Judy's voice carried out.

"Do you think that grocery delivery place would bring us some margaritas?"

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

Fortunately, the man in charge of public relations for Orizzonte Rosso was on site. Charles Thibeau was both obsequious and terrified at the prospect of the investors losing money. He was also pathetically grateful to have "the FBI" on the case. Even more so after they promised to keep things low-key and Sam told him the company was absolved of culpability for a serial killer's actions if they cooperated with the investigation.

Thibeau willingly handed over a list of all approved people who were or had been on site, both workers and guests. Counting construction workers, there were more than 1,000 of the former, close to 100 of the latter.

"We can't even begin to look at everybody," Dean groaned as they walked toward the condo Thibeau had provided them gratis. (We're not exactly full, he'd despaired.) "We have to look into the victims and talk to the cops who looked into this." As much as Sam liked his records, there was often more to be learned talking to the pros who'd actually seen a crime scene. Dean was reluctant, because it was probably an hour drive one way to the station. He didn't really want to be that far from Barb's family after promising to take care of them.

"Mm-hm."

"We can talk to security first, since Charlie promised to tell 'em to cooperate."

"Mm-hm." Sam hadn't looked up from the records.

"And I was thinking of checking with some of the lizards in the area to see if they saw anything."

"I'm listening to you, Dean," answered Sam, still absently. Dean looked over and noted that Sam wasn't actually studying the list. He wasn't seeing anything, lost in thought.

"Share with the class, Sammy," insisted Dean. "What's flipping your wig?"

Sam's annoyed glare amused Dean. "There's an archivist and his assistant on staff. I think they're in charge of anything like ruins and artifacts the builders come across."

Ah. "You think they uncovered something that pissed something off?"

"Makes sense," said Mr. Need-All-The-Facts cautiously because he'd started demanding details when he first learned how to say why and hadn't stopped since. It actually made him an exceptional researcher and foil for Dean.

Instead of saying all that, Dean just grinned.

"What?!" Suspiciously.

"Well," Dean rounded on his brother. "Sounds like you are going to stick around to talk to security and some historian about burial grounds or old shit while I drive to town to talk to the cops and get another shamrock shake." He paused as if just remembering something.

"Oh yeah, I guess that means you're on Miss Marple and friends duty!"

"Baby-sitting? Seriously?" Sam groaned.

Dean grinned again and raised his voice to sound high and wobbly. "Don't forget to wear your sunscreen!"

Sam backhanded Dean's bicep. "I hate you."

* * *

AN: Miss Marple is a character from a number of Agatha Christie's books. She's an older lady who solves murder mysteries.

Christine: I hope you liked the boys interacting with Barb and Co.! Spunky old ladies are super fun to write. My paternal grandma decided that she could do whatever she wanted once she turned 79 because people would say, well, she's almost 80!

Timelady66: I hate to admit it, but I really am wimpy. But I'm okay with that. :-) Here's your scene of Winchesters vs. old ladies. *snicker* More to come too, I promise. Uncanny Valley has some Bobby in it and he and Barb just snipe at each other.

Janice: Thank you for keeping this story alive -- I have been ready to give up and kill it twice. I appreciate the help and encouragement. The Winchester boys plus "the girls" is too fun to write (ha! I never gave them a last name except Barb's married name. I may have to think of one.)

Kathy: I made up that building layout because I wanted to make it clear that they could see the entire room and nothing was hiding inside. Glad you like it. :-) I'm curious to hear what you think about Barb's sisters!

muffinroo: The Golden Girls was such a good show! Dorothy was my favorite, and I laughed so hard when Sam and Dean talked about it. I didn't deliberately channel the GG's but I do love writing about spunky old(er) ladies.

bagelcat1: I think that Barb and Jody would get along well, at least I like to think so. I'm so glad you like the little domestic scenes! I seriously almost dumped this story because I was worried people would find the beginning too boring. If I were to write a one shot of one of the two hunts that I mentioned, which would you prefer? Asking for a friend.:-) OMG for your brother!!! I bet you never let him live that down. And thank you for your kind words!

Shazza: I'm so sorry for your lockdown. That's really hard to deal with. I hope it doesn't last much longer! It's a shame you haven't had a shamrock shake. It's a Saint Patrick's Day thing, and although we are not Irish, we make a point of getting a few every year.

Colby's girl: I have a son who is 6'4" (and 15, so possibly still growing!) and I can confirm that the world is not designed for giants. I too love it when the guys are in sync. So, is there anything else specific that would put icing on your cupcake in this story? I'm open to suggestions!

Blondie: How did you like the chaos of all the sisters together? Man, would Barb take it to Mary! I love your wording about a normal job disaster. Is that like situation normal, all f*ed up? Winchester normal, anyway!

stedan: I like the bros acting like equals and generally in sync too! And it's so good to know that you like the moments of normal life. I really stressed about if that was too boring or not. I'm thinking the cadre of old ladies might be scarier to the boys than any monster they might meet! bwahaha!

sfaulkenberry: I don't doubt you, and I never expect reviews, so no apologies! OMG I'm so excited that the Hillywood girls are doing a Good Omens parody! I adore GO. (My brother and I call each other Crowley and Aziraphale.) Always happy to learn I made you giggle, and hope you enjoyed the chaos that is Barb and her sisters. Not surprised you like the (verbal) eye candy.