August 11, 2006

It had been a little under two weeks since Bobby had called Elkins and ever since he'd been turning over their conversation in his brain. Sam and Dean were busy training in the yard-Sam was now able to stop thrown hubcaps and get them to change direction mid-air-and Bobby was looking over his notes on the Colt. First, how did Elkins know that the Colt was also a key to hell. I've been looking everywhere and I can't find a damn thing on that-all the legends are pretty much the same as what I told the boys. Second, if he did know the gun he sure as hell wouldn't tell me-and not just because he wants to spite me, the old idjit. He has to know.

Bobby dialed Elkins again, though with my shitty luck the bastard finally blocked my number. When the number rang through for the third time he 'borrowed' Dean's phone from the table upstairs and tried it-no answer again. What, did he take a vacation? Bobby rang up Ellen to see if anyone had heard from Elkins.

"I can't say we have for a while. Couple of his regulars ended up calling me to check in on him-so far no one's gotten a hold of him for a few days. If I had to guess the old coot probably took a fishing trip and forgot to set a voicemail." Ellen polished a glass as she continued, "Though it's not like anyone'd be crazy enough to actually check up on him-the man's so paranoid I bet his place makes yours look like a garden shed when it comes to security. Not to mention his itchy trigger finger."

"Well, thanks Ellen. Give my best to Jo and the rest."

"Will do, and keep yourself safe."

**SPN**

"Did we really have to take a fucking Country Squire?" Dean shifted in the back seat.

"It's the only thing I have big enough to fit us all and the shit we need." Bobby replied.

"Yeah, but couldn't Dean and I take our own cars?" Sam glanced at his brother, who was busy trying to stretch his legs.

Bobby rolled his eyes in the rear view mirror, "The one thing you two don't know about hunting is that you need to draw as little attention as possible. A convoy of three cars isn't exactly normal behavior in these small towns. Besides, I doubt either of you could find this place if you ended up lagging behind. It's not exactly on the beaten path." Bobby turned off the interstate and onto a winding side-road.

"Well, can one of us get shotgun next time? I feel like I'm on the way to Wally World right now." Dean griped.

"Rumsfeld always gets shotgun." Bobby patted the pooch's head, "Because he's a good boy, and he doesn't ruin my collection of antique hubcaps."

Sam blushed as Dean cleared his throat. "We're sorry about that…"

"You will be. You're gonna buff them out and reorganize them as soon as we're done with this."

"Fair enough." Dean conceded as the car turned into the town of Manning, Colorado.

**SPN**

On the outskirts of town the Ford pulled up the long drive of Daniel Elkin's cabin. As they approached it became clear something was amiss.

"Well, that isn't good." Sam pointed toward the front door of the cabin. It was ripped off its hinges and laying halfway across the yard, split nearly in two.

"Yeah, and neither is that." Dean nodded toward the broken salt line at the door, as well as the ruined sigils.

"Come on. We need to see if he's okay." Bobby opened the driver's door. "Rumsfeld, wait here boy."

Sam and Dean followed as Bobby edged near the house. "Looks clear, but stay alert." He whispered, motioning for the boys to follow him inside.

"Holy shit." Dean's jaw dropped.

"Well, someone was looking for something." Sam glanced around at the debris of the once modest cabin.

To say that the interior was wrecked would be an understatement. Books and papers were scattered and torn across any and each surface. Every stick of furniture had either been smashed to splinters or ripped into pieces. The windows had been destroyed, and it appeared as though a crowbar had been taken to the cabinets, having pried them off their footings in the kitchen. As the three silently walked through the wreckage Dean spotted something out of the corner of his eye.

He quickly tapped the other two and motioned. There was a door off the main room-probably a bedroom- and there was something dark that had leaked under the door.

Bobby stayed himself as he led the way, slowly nudging the door open. Inside lay the body of Daniel Elkins, a ruined safe, and the remains of a former hunter's life work.

Dean nearly vomited, Elkins looked an absolute state-his eyes were bulging from their sockets, his mouth lay frozen in a perpetual scream, and his body was broken and bloody. Sam did.

"What the hell…" Dean finally regained his ability to speak and edged along the wall, as far away from the body as possible.

"Not quite." Bobby scowled, looking at Elkins body.

"So, I'm guessing that this means that our friend Mr. Yellow Eyes now has the Colt and we're screwed, right?" Dean averted his eyes as he inspected the safe.

"How do you know it wasn't him?" Sam stuttered.

"I'm pretty sure demons don't suck blood." Bobby rolled Elkins over and revealed a large wound on his neck and upper torso, the clear fang marks of a vampire.

"What would vampires want with the Colt?" Dean swallowed another rising urge to vomit.

"Nothing, probably, aside from vengeance. I know Elkins has had his fair share of battles with bloodsuckers, so this might've just been revenge." Bobby scratched his head before reapplying his hat, "They likely knew about it through some means and decided to take it as some sort of trophy of what they'd done-finally killing their tormentor."

"So, what do we do now?" Sam held a hand over his eyes to block out the corpse.

"We find out where the vamps are and get that gun." Bobby stated.

"What about Elkins?" Dean looked with pity on the dead man.

Bobby grimly looked at his former companion, "Have you ever heard of a Viking funeral pyre?"

**SPN**

It was nearly dark when they finished preparing the pyre. Bobby had wrapped Elkins in a few sheets from the house while Sam desperately tried to avoid any contact with the dead body and kept Rumsfeld busy. Bobby poured the lighter fluid and salt on the corpse and lit the pile. It was in the center of the cabin, so that when it finished Elkins it would burn the house and any evidence of the attack with it. There had been documents on the Colt that Bobby had salvaged, along with a few books, but knowing their cost had outweighed any potential gratitude that Bobby might have for the new information.

As the cabin began to creak and the fire engulfed the roof the three men stood side by side, silently watching the red against the night sky. They would need to do much work to get to the Colt, but for now they lived in the quiet light of a funeral, hoping that things would be better when the sun rose again.