Chapter Eight

"A job?" Dean looked at the man in disbelief. He had kidnapped his brother, killed this woman in front of him, and now had the audacity to ask him, no; tell him he had a job for him. Dean was furious.

"I can understand you are mad at me–"

Dean interjected angrily, "Mad? Oh, I am not mad at you. I am pissed beyond any reasoning going to rip your freaking head off furious. Not mad."

"Well," Katz said with a chuckle, and then looked down at Catherine with a frown he continued. "Let's take this conversation outside. The atmosphere and scenery in this house is awful."

Dean was happy to oblige to that request. Catherine's dead body was a vivid reminder that he had failed the woman, all because he had gone to her for answers. Dean couldn't help but feel guilty. He looked back at her dead body one last time, and then exited the house. He needed to stay focused right now. There would be plenty of time to feel sorrowful for her death later, but right now he needed to face this monster of a man that had kidnapped his baby brother.

Dean stepped onto the snow covered front porch. There was a good few inches on the ground now. The white blanket of fresh snow crunched underneath his feet as he walked down the steps, each footstep leaving behind a fresh imprint. There were still flurries whirling around in the air, but they weren't dancing as wildly as they had been before. Little snow crystals started collecting on Dean's coat again. He could feel some of them land in-between the spikes of his hair, melting slowly, and then dripping down his scalp. Dean lifted up the arm to his jacket and stared at the white flakes that had landed on his coat.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, buddy."

"Who makes the snow?"

"Angels."

Sammy looked up at his older brother in amazement. "Angels?"

"Yep. When the angels ice skate, their ice shavings fall down from the sky."

"Do you think Mommy is making it snow for us right now?"

Dean sighed and looked up at the clouds, little white specs of snow falling all around five-year old Sammy and him. He smiled sweetly at his brother. "Yeah, Sammy, I think she is."

Dean looked at the snow that was still collecting on his arm. He brushed it off, and exhaled deeply. If only he were that naïve again. God, and angels, Dean had lost that hope years ago, but Sammy always stayed positive, always. If he were here right now, he would tell Dean that Mom was looking out for them. He always loved the snow after Dean had told him that. Dean was pulled back from his thoughts when he heard Katz cough slightly.

"Reminiscing, Dean?" the Asian man said with a smirk.

"Shut up," Dean scoffed. "What do you want?"

Katz knelt down and dipped his finger in the snow. He lifted it up and put his finger in his mouth, and then looked up at Dean. "Odd, isn't it? Snow is so sweet, yet it is merely frozen ice."

"Get to the point. I don't have time to I don't have time to waste with your ass," Dean said, as he turned to face the man completely.

"Right… time. Who has time? Oh, I know who doesn't," Katz smiled vindictively at Dean, and folded his arms in towards his chest, "Sam."

Dean licked his bottom lip and cocked his head to the side. He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled. When he opened his eyes he glared directly at the man, not saying a word. Dean shifted his footing slightly, the snow crunching underneath his feet again as he moved, and stepped forwards slowly.

Katz watched in anticipation, never moving. Dean stood in front of Katz, and balled his hand up into a fist. Neither of them spoke a word; they just stared at one another. Dean squeezed his fingers into his palm tightly, the cold had painfully numbed the tips of his thin digits, making his fingers burn as his blood rushed towards his aggravated hand.

Dean stared at the man, who had taken the most important thing in his life away, with total revulsion. This man had never touched Dean, but he was still ripping the hunter apart piece by piece. Dean felt like he was the rock, or at least had to be, the strong pillar that stood tall, strongly. But the longer Sammy was gone, Dean, the strong pillar, disintegrated. Like the strong rock that he was supposed to be, had an outpour of water cascading over it, and over time, each droplet of water would slowly erode the rock that it washed over. The longer that this charade went on, more pieces of Dean were falling apart. The more time passed, the harder it is to keep all of those pieces into one stable unit, to keep it complete.

Dean let his fingers fall loosely to his side, the pressure from the fist he had formed making his fingers feel inanimate and numb. The blood rushed towards the tips of his fingers, and Dean could move them once again. He lifted up his hand absentmindedly, and stared at it. The tips of his thin fingers were bright red, and puffy, mostly likely a reaction to the cold. Dean looked past his hand, right in-between his fingers, directly at Katz. He didn't know what had possessed him at that moment, but he lifted his hand back, forming a fist, and struck the man hard across the face.

Katz staggered backwards; his hand pressed firmly on the tender flesh of his face, and in shock looked intently at Dean. Dean took this opportune moment and lunged full force at Katz. He grabbed the Asian man by the waist and pulled his body down with his. They both landed in a heap of snow that went flying wildly around their bodies. Dean quickly moved over and jumped on top of the man, straddling him.

Katz reached up and grabbed his earring, and then spoke to Dean calmly, the brooding hunter on top of his small body obviously fazing him the least, "Don't."

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't beat the shit out of you right now," Dean hissed in anger.

"You do, and he dies," Katz said plainly.

"How? I have the upper hand," Dean replied sternly with a smile.

"Do you?" Katz smiled back at Dean, humorously lifting a brow. "Kill me, and you kill him. Punch me and you punch him. Those are the perks of being a leader of a cult. I give the orders, and they listen. They can sense if something should happen to me, I have made it that way. So, I ask you again. Do you?"

Dean cursed under his breath, the smile wiped completely clear from his face, and glared at the man, "How do I know you aren't lying?"

"Is that a risk you are willing to take?" Katz asked honestly.

Dean shook his head and got off of the man. Katz stood up, a low grunt escaping his lips as his body straightened. He brushed the snow off of his coat, and then pulled out his gloves that he had previously tucked into his jacket pocket. He slid them on and then reached behind his head, pulling the small black hair tie that held his hair up. He smoothed the lumps and loose hairs back with his hand, and then retied it again. His look was complete now, and refined.

"Good," Katz started the conversation. "Now, I have a job for you, Dean."

"So I've heard," Dean replied sarcastically.

Katz reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He put his lips up to the opened box and pulled out one of the sticks with his mouth. He then closed the box, and delicately placed it back in his pocket, but when he brought his hand out it wasn't empty. The box of cigarettes had been replaced with a small box of matches. Katz lit a match quickly and held it in front of his cigarette. Satisfied that the object was properly lit he threw the match on the ground.

Taking a puff of the cigarette before he spoke, he looked at Dean. "I need you to get something for me."

"What?" Dean question curiously.

"An object, of no importance. Will you do it?" Katz said, drawing the cigarette up towards his mouth, and inhaled the smoke from the filter slowly. He held the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds, and then released it, blowing the cloud out into the cold air.

"No," Dean replied curtly.

"Then your brother dies," Katz said, taking another deadly puff from his cigarette.

"How do I know he isn't already… dead," Dean's replied, his voice slightly shaken at the thought that his brother might actually be dead.

"One, if he were dead, I wouldn't be taking to you. And two, well… just trust me he is alive."

"Trust you?" Dean said, taken aback at the man's ludicrous statement. "Prove it."

"Okay." Katz reached into his pocket and pulled out a small thin black cell phone. He flipped it open and pressed down one of the numbers. He waited, while Dean questionably stared at him, for someone to pick up.

"Moshimoshi, Shin," Katz spoke quietly into the receiver. He dropped his cigarette in the snow, and then placed his free hand into his front jacket pocket. "Sam wa irasshaimasu ka?"

Dean couldn't help but feel a little out of the loop. He cursed mentally. Why hadn't he paid attention to those late night Japanese cartoons that had come on the television? Dean waited impatiently for the man to finish whatever conversation he was having with the other person on the phone.

Katz walked closer to Dean, his hand still in his pocket, and handed the cell phone to Dean. "Here."

Dean's nervous butterflies were back, but they brought their evil buddies along with them – the apprehensive caterpillars. Now Dean had two creatures crawling and fluttering around in his stomach. The nervous butterflies tickling his stomach, and the apprehensive caterpillars twisting his insides as they latched onto the sides of his stomach. He knew who was going to be on the other line of the phone, and that is what scared him. He hadn't seen his brother, and didn't know how he was. Now after one whole day of worry and mental anguish, he was going to get to talk to him. Dean felt like he was getting ready for his first day of school, with questions filling up his brain, but instead of questions like: What will my teacher be like? They were questions like: Is my brother hurt?

Dean unsteadily lifted the speaker part up to his ear. Dean tried to speak, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat and spoke in a low scratchy voice, "Sam?"

He could hear someone breathing heavily on the other end. Then he heard it. The voice he had been longing to hear for almost twenty-four hours – Sam.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was barely a whisper.

"You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice, man," Dean said, a sweet smile spreading across his face.

"Likewise," Sam's hoarse voice carried through the receiver.

"Sammy…" Dean paused and then looked at Katz. He lowered his voice a notch, trying to make it harder to hear for Katz that was listening in on their conversation. "Did they hurt you?"

Sam chuckled lightly. If Dean could see the wide lopsided humored grin that was spread across his face right now, he would be laughing too. "It's Sam, Dean. And I'm peachy."

"Peachy? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Did those bastards hurt you at all?" Dean pressed further.

"Dean," Sam paused, and then started to cough violently.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled into the receiver, but no sound was returned. He flipped over the phone and stared at the main LCD screen. It was flashing the minutes that he and Sam had talked for. The phone call had been disconnected.

"What's wrong with my brother? Who ended that call?" Dean snapped, and held Katz's phone in his hand tightly.

"He is alive, isn't he? That is what you wanted." Katz outstretched his hand, gesturing for Dean to give him back his phone. Dean complied, and slapped the phone roughly into Katz's palm.

"What do you want me to do?" Dean asked angrily.