Dean pulled away from the house and Sam let out a sigh. "So, the point of that was?"

Dean returned his brother's sigh with an even heavier one of his own. "I'm not sure, but there's something that kid just isn't telling us."

Sam wasn't sure what he thought at the moment so he just nodded. Seeing Delilah in person had sort of fazed him. Plus, he hadn't exactly gotten an accurate vibe of anything from the Janus kid. All this lead to him questioning his brother, which he never ever did. Yeah, right.

"Like what?" he asked incredulously.

Dean turned on his brother and pinned him with a glare that meant only one thing. "I don't know for sure, Sam, I'm not a freaking mind reader, there was just something there," he snapped, proving Sam's theory.

Dean was following a hunch. Even though Sam had learned to trust his older brother's hunches, he found this particular one a little farfetched. The kid was 13; he had found his mother dead. What could he possibly have to not tell?

"Dean, that's a little…out there," Sam voiced his thoughts, preparing himself for the bull headed comment he was sure would come.

"Look, I know what I'm talking about here. Just…go with me for once, will you Joe College? So I don't have a degree, I'm pretty sure they don't give PHD.s in hunting" Dean's voice was cold and his eyes were transfixed on the road in such a way that you would think he was sure there was something out there waiting to jump in front of the car.

"Okay, okay," Sam relented. When Dean started calling him Joe College, things were going south, and the youngest Winchester knew he was starting himself on a losing battle.

"We'll just…go back tomorrow," Dean resolved, pulling into the parking lot of the cheap motel they were staying at.

The sun rose and shone through the window of the brothers' motel room. The light caused Sam to wake up, much against his will, but all it did to Dean was force him to roll over and continue snoring softly. Sam rolled his eyes and started up the coffee machine before going to take a shower. It was always easier to let the smell of coffee wake his brother than to do it himself and suffer the wrath of early morning Dean. Sure enough, when Sam came out of the bathroom clean and dressed Dean was up and had a steaming cup in his hands. He also had a look on his face that conveyed a whole lot of different emotions. One of them was pissed, something Sam had witnessed several times. Another that he could make out was pure, unmasked sorrow. That was not something he was used to seeing. In fact, it was something he had only seen a few times in his entire life, and even then the moments of it had been short-lived because his brother was too hard-headed to admit he was feeling anything other than nothing.

"What's going on Dean?" Sam asked cautiously, fearing for a moment that he had found something out about Dad that wasn't going to make Sam a very happy person.

To his relief, and in some ways horror, Dean said nothing in response; he just tossed a newspaper at Sam and continued to look rather sullen, though in a more restricted way. In a way that wiped away the sorrow and replaced it with resolution, and resolution was something Sam was so used to seeing on his brother's face that he didn't even notice.

The momentary relief Sam had felt earlier was quickly wiped from his own proverbial slate of emotions and shock was written in its place. The title on the front of the paper read simply: "Another tragedy strikes the McLandon family." As Sam read on he found out that the latest death of the family belonged to the father, and at that he dropped the paper. A pang of raw emotion washed over him and he sat on the bed, shocked. Those kids had lost both of their parents in a matter of days. It wasn't only bad, it was wrong. Sam took his chances and looked up at Dean, but his older brother was just staring out the window, and for a moment the younger brother wondered what was going through Dean's mind. He looked troubled to say the least, but Sam knew that asking would be useless.

"Wow," Sam stated quietly, and it was just enough to achieve the desired effect: breaking his brother out of his reverie.

"We've got to go see Carl. I was going to take the hide-and-go-catch-red-handed approach on this one, but I'm not letting it go any further. We're leaving. Now." Dean said, grabbing his keys and his coffee and heading out the door, trusting, but in all honesty not really caring, if Sam was following him.

Those kids had lost their parents. Dean knew what it was like to lose one and not know where the other was, but to lose both, to a cause thatDean knew he and Samcould have stopped?He wouldn't settle for it. It wasn't in him, he was going to find and kill the bastard that did this. That damn dog was going back to Hell where it belonged. Dean marched straight to his Impala and unlocked the doors, glad to see his baby brother opening the door to the passenger seat and sitting without a word. Sam had thought about questioning his brother, or at least making him wait until some of the pure rage was out of his system, but in the end Sam just agreed with him. This couldn't go on any longer, and as Carl was their prime suspect number one, this had to be done. Not to mention that arguing with Dean in this state was about as useful as trying to make a fish fly.

Delilah's eyes had never been so wet in her life. She had tried so hard to cling to her dad, to keep him happy and in her life, and yet all her trying couldn't keep him with her. The same awful thing that had happened to her mommy had now happened to her dad, and for the life of her the 8 year old could not understand why. What had she done to deserve this? It didn't make sense. She sobbed in the embrace of her older brother for a moment longer before she looked up at her JanJan through watery eyes and let out a trembling "How come, JanJan? Why daddy?"

Janus sighed and shook his head, holding Delilah closer and stroking her hair. There was a rustle in the kitchen where their aunt was making them lunch, but other than that and Delilah's occasional sobs, the house was completely silent.

"I can't explain it Dee, I wish I could though," he answered, pulling a bit of her shining black hair away from her wet cheeks.

Delilah wondered why Janus wasn't crying too. He hadn't shed a single tear, and he hadn't cried when whatever animal it was had killed their mom either. Delilah just figured he was trying to be the strong one. That made perfect sense, didn't it? It was the only explanation in her mind. Their aunt re-entered the living room with sandwiches and milk so Delilah and Janus untangled themselves. Janus took his food and stood up. "I'm eating in my room."

As he walked up the stairs and into his room he was having troubles escaping the guilt. He had never meant for Delilah to have to hurt like this, he had only wanted to get revenge. It wasn't fair, what their father had been doing. It wasn't fair because his father had been seeing other women, and that had pained Janus in a way words couldn't describe. It wasn't fair because the pain had only intensified when he found out that his mother had known, and had done nothing about it. It was then that Janus had started reading about stuff, and not long after he started believing that if he tried hard enough and had the right things, he could do it. So he had set out to make his father feel the pain that his father had caused him, and once he had done that, he didn't want to have to deal with his father anymore. And he had succeeded in both, but he was beginning to wonder what the price of it all was.

"Damn it," Dean said, pounding his fist into the telephone pole that they were parked by. It hurt a little and it was going to leave one hell of a bruise tomorrow, but he didn't care.

"Dean, this isn't over. We'll start searching," Sam replied in a futile attempt to get his brother's head back on straight.

"Have you seen how many friggin' psychics there are in this town?" Dean snapped back, running his hands through his hair, "Someone else just might die by the time we find him Sam, and that family is NOT losing anyone else, do you hear me?"

Sam nodded and watched as his brother went back to brooding.

"Relocated," Dean fumed, "I'd like to relocate my foot up his ass."

Sam couldn't help but smirk, even if it only lasted a second. Dean's wit never ceased to shine through whether it was optional or not. "Well, we'd better get going," Sam said a moment later.

Though he didn't want to admit it, they could be searching all day long, and getting started would probably be vital at this point in time. Then Dean looked up at Sam, and the look that his older brother gave him nearly made him squirm. It was searching, almost pleading, and very un-Dean like. They really needed to find this guy, and fast. Nodding dejectedly when no answer to his unspoken question came, Dean slipped into the front seat. He reached into his jacket for the keys, but pulled out a small square of cardstock instead. Leaning back in his seat he sighed once more, but for a different reason.

"Dean, let's go. You said there were a lot of psychics around here," Sam insisted when Dean hadn't already started the car. He was getting serious mixed signals right now.

Dean shook his head and pulled out his cell phone. "We don't need to."

Sam quickly became confused as Dean punched a series of numbers rapidly into his cell. Dean waited impatiently as the ringing noise came through on his end of the line. The moment someone picked up Dean's hope shot higher, perhaps, than it should have.

"This is Carl the psychic. How may I help you?"

"Hey man, it's Dean."

"Excuse me, but who?"

"The guy with the girlfriend whose parakeet died, remember? Anyway, I went to your building to make an appointment with you face to face and they said you had been relocated or something? I was bringing my brother along because he's interested too," Dean gave Carl a moment to process all of this and he took the time to glare at Sam for snorting at his "girlfriend with a dead parakeet" statement, "If you could just tell me where you're at now…"

"Oh! I remember you. Well, as it turns out, I'm taking a break from my paying job, something of a sabbatical if you will. If you try back in about a month we can set something up," came the feeble reply from Carl.

It could have been that his voice was feeble from information overload, but it also could have been the stress of hiding something. Dean, being on the edgy side and already fed up with dead ends, leaned toward the latter.

"Look, my brother and I, we think that you could have something to do with what's going on with the McLandons, so you have two options here. Door one says you can tell us where you are and we can deal with this, just us, but if you would prefer, door two gives you the option of us calling the state police to find out where you are whether you like it or not."

Sam smiled slightly at the sudden authority in his brother's voice, and Dean had to admit that it felt good to vent. He wasn't going to have any more dead ends. They were solving this now.

Dean's sudden outburst seemed to take Carl by surprise. "Sir, I'm not sure where you are getting these ideas from, but there is no need to get the police involved," the psychic replied, clearly offended.

Dean, however, didn't give a rat's ass if Carl was offended. "Then I think the solution is pretty obvious, don't you?"

"Fine, if you must."

Dean smirked in victory and wrote down the address. Finally they were going to get some answers. Dean's stubbornness was going to pay off again, he was sure of it.