The drive to Sam's temporarily abandoned home was long but ultimately uneventful. Dean hadn't bothered decamping into a motel along the way, intending instead to grab some sleep off road in the Impala if he needed. As he neared the upmarket gated residence in which his brother's homestead was nestled however, he realised he'd need to clean up his act if he wanted to get anywhere near the place. He assumed it was the kind of community that screened people on looks before granting entry, and his current appearance was certain to get him turned around without even so much as a 'howdy' from the gateman. He supposed he could always break in, but he'd rather have a semi-legitimate entrance, courtesy of some fake ID. Besides, he had a suspicion breaking into this neighbourhood wasn't going to be as easy as the usual B&E jobs he was accustomed to.

It was too late in the night to go banging on the residential gate, but in any case, the long haul drive and his perpetual lack of sleep, save the few hours stolen in the Roadhouse, continued to dog him. Reluctantly he checked himself in to the cheapest motel he could find. Before turning in he called out again for Castiel, not caring by now how angry he sounded, waiting with mounting disappointment and finally drifting to sleep when he could no longer keep his eyes open. He woke abruptly a few hours later as had become the norm, half expecting the burning vistas of Hell to still be real, half expecting to find the angel invading his personal space like he so often did after he'd called out to him. Neither was the case, and his relief at not being in Hell was marred by disappointment at the angels continued absence.

The few hours of sleep had been much needed though, and as much as he wanted more, he forced himself up. A shower and change into federal garb left him considerably more presentable than he'd been the previous night and after a grab-and-go breakfast he headed out.

Views and entry points to within the gated community were blocked on all sides by the tall, lush cedars which lined the perimeter of the complex. Their vibrant beauty easily distracted from the 8-foot high walls, wire topped fences, and frequently spaced high mounted cameras.

As expected, when Dean drove up to the main entrance the gate remained closed, but luckily the only thing that raised an eyebrow from the white haired security guard was Baby.

"Can I help you?" the guard asked, leaving his booth to come and speak to Dean through the rolled down driver-side window. The guard's eyes barely made contact with Dean however, as his gaze drifted back to the sleek lines of the Impala.

As Dean pulled out his ID he allowed the man an extra minute to take in Baby's curves, and granted him a few Brownie points for having the good sense to appreciate them in the first place.

"She's a beauty, ain't she?" Dean remarked, smiling with genuine pride.

The man whistled. "That she is. Haven't seen one of these since my youth. And that, I can tell you, was a good long while ago."

"Not the go-to choice for most residents around here, I take it."

The guard huffed. "No sir it is not. She's not exactly a corporate follow-the-herd type mode of transport," the comment seemed to have left the older man's lips before he realised what he'd said. He sobered up quickly however, remembering his professionalism. "So, what is it I can help you with?"

Dean took the cue and flashed his ID. "Special Agent Mustaine," he stated with easy confidence.

At seeing the badge, the guard immediately straightened up. "Right. Guess you're here about the Winchesters?"

Hearing the name used so openly threw Dean a little, but if the guard noticed the lapse he gave no indication.

"What makes you say that?" Dean asked instead

The guard gave him a measured stare. "Well, seeing as we don't get much cause for law enforcement around here, least of all federal, I can't think of any other reason. Unless something else has happened?"

Dean avoided the question behind an easy smile. "You been working here long," he asked instead, leaning out a little from the window to read the man's name tag. "Herb?"

"It's coming on 12 years."

"You don't work it alone though."

"I hand over for the night shift. That and the weekends. But it's mainly me. I was working the day Mrs Winchester went missing, if that's what you're getting at."

"Did you notice anything? That day or the days leading up to it? Any unannounced visitors, anything unusual?"

"No."

But there had been a slight hesitation before the man had said it that made Dean believe he was withholding something.

"You sure about that?" Dean pressed.

"Well, everything gets recorded," the guard said by way of reply, indicating to the cameras mounted at the entrance. "The gate opens for residents automatically when the system reads their plates. And visitors like yourself are logged. The police have the footage."

"I get the feeling Herb," Dean said, smiling up knowingly at the older man. "There's things you pick up that the cameras don't. Am I right?"

The man eyed Dean askance before returning the smile. "Tell you what," he said after a beat. "You park that beauty off the main drive, and we'll have a chat."

The gatekeepers hut was more spacious than Dean would have thought, but even still they would have struggled to fit a third person in there, and as Dean had guessed, there was very little storage space.

Dean had bought himself a whole box of donuts for breakfast, and he brought them into the hut with him, mainly because he decided he liked Herb but also because he hoped they would distract the guard long enough for Dean to administer some tests of his own. Herb seemed elated at the offer of deep-fried sugared goods, pouring them both a coffee as they sat at the small desk facing the CCTV monitors. When he turned to make space to settle the doughnut box, as Dean had hoped he would, Dean quickly laced the mugs with holy water from his flask, his stealth so swift and well-practiced, that Herb didn't even notice.

"You get a feel for people, when you've been doing this as long as I have," Herb said, settling back and taking a sip from his mug with no ill-effects. "And those Winchesters, they're a real nice family. Salt of the Earth types."

"You're not wrong." Dean agreed, relaxing a little at the lack of demonic reaction. "I've met the husband," he elaborated at Herb's raised eyebrow, and Herb nodded in understanding.

"Some people in this neighbourhood, they don't really have much time for anyone but themselves. And that's fine, I understand people have busy lives. But the Winchesters, they always make time. Always stop and say hello. Have proper manners. Mr Winchester's always polite, always respectful. Friendly, but never overstepping the mark you understand, unlike some people these days. The boy was raised right, I can tell you that for nothing. And Mrs. Winchester," he smiled fondly, eyes crinkling. "You know she brings me a slice of pie whenever she makes one. I never heard a cross word from either of them. Good people, that family."

"The police are saying she left him," Dean said, taking a sip of coffee and eyeing the guard's reaction from over the rim of his mug.

Herb scoffed in disgust. "In a pig's eye she did! I don't buy that for a damned second. That family, that couple, they're as solid as they come. There's no way she left her husband. Though," he paused, looking away. "I suppose you can never tell what goes on behind closed door. But she'd never leave those children of hers. I'm certain of that."

"So, what do you think happened to her?"

"Honestly? I don't know."

"But you noticed something." Dean urged.

Herb sighed. "I wouldn't say it was anything related, just… Well it was probably nothing."

Dean didn't say anything, letting the silence grow, until Herb sighed again and continued.

"Well it's just… There was an incident with one of the other residents. Nothing serious," he added quickly. "And like I said, not related. Not even worth mentioning really."

"Won't do any harm mentioning it then," Dean grinned. "What happened?"

"Oh, just one of the residents drove up here in an unregistered vehicle."

"Is that unusual?"

"It happens occasionally."

"…But this time there was more to it?"

"It's just… well the person in question… they used the foulest language I ever heard when the gates didn't open up. I tried explaining that all new vehicles had to be registered and logged before the system could recognise them but… Anyway, I let them in."

"Who was it?"

Again, Herb hesitated and this time Dean pressed the issue.

"I'd feel real uncomfortable if I had to flash my badge again Herb," he said gently.

After a pause, Herb sighed and nodded, relenting.

"She's just one of their neighbours. Mrs Dixon. But she's got nothing to do with it, I'm sure of that, on account of what's happened to her."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, needing clarification.

"Well she was admitted to a psychiatric unit. Had a breakdown, as far as I know."

"When?"

"Recently. Little over a week or so ago. I guess the weeks leading up to a break are when the symptoms are most apparent. Probably explains her behaviour that day. And it's understandable, given what happened."

"What happened?"

"Oh it's a real tragedy." Herb shook his head sadly. "About a year and a half ago the son, Billy, he died. Drowned in the pool. Was an accident, pure and simple, but she never really recovered fully. Neither did her husband, not really. Don't suppose anyone would after a thing like that. It's why I didn't want to mention the incident with the car. Can't really blame someone for how they behave when they're suffering through something like that."

"How old was Billy when he drowned?"

"Oh, just over three years old. Poor child."

Dean nodded, looking away and allowing a moment before carrying on.

"This incident with Mrs. Dixon and the car, it wouldn't happen to be on the same day as the Winchester disappearance, would it?"

Herb pursed his lips, before responding in a sober tone. "It was a day before. But it can't be related. How could it possibly be? That poor woman's gone through enough, wouldn't you say?"

"You don't happen to remember anything about the car she was driving do you?" Dean continued ignoring Herb's comments.

Herb eyed him for a moment, until Dean relented. "I agree, the two incidents probably aren't connected," he lied easily, hoping to appease the guard. "But I don't like loose ends. I'm like Columbo that way." He flashed his most convincing smile. Partly it was genuine; he liked Herb. And he hated loose ends.

Herb took a moment to weigh Dean's sincerity.

"All right," he finally relented, apparently taking Dean at his word. "As long as you don't go bothering that poor family, I'll do you one better."

He reached to a shelf behind them and retrieved a clipboard, flipping through a few pages before handing it to Dean. "I made a note of the vehicle when it pulled up. Crossed it out o'course, once I recognised her at the wheel."

He tapped the log sheet entry on which the model, make and registration along with the date and time was still legible despite the line struck through it.

"Do the police have a copy of this?" Dean asked, taking out his phone and taking a picture.

"Honestly?" Herb shrugged, shaking his head. "They didn't ask. And I didn't really feel it warranted mentioning. They took the recording for the whole week, so it'll be on the tape. But if they have any questions about it, well, they haven't raised them with me. To be fair though, I suppose it won't look like much on the footage. Car pulls up, I go over, talk to the driver, I let the car in. There's no sound o'course."

Dean nodded his understanding. He took a quick shot of each page, sending the complete file over to Ash. Dean followed up with a few more questions but felt he'd gotten as much as there was to get.

"One more thing," he said as he stood to leave. "Which property are the Dixon's in? You said one of their neighbours, is it near the Winchester house?"

"Right next door actually." Herb replied. "But there's no one there. I think they moved her to a specialist unit up state. Mr Dixon left too, o'course."

Dean didn't need directions to Sam's place, but Herb gave them nonetheless, and after reassuring the guard that he was all set, Dean returned to Baby. He'd left the doughnuts with Herb, having lost his appetite the moment he'd mentally added the Dixon house to his list of properties to search. It was a lead, he told himself. It could just as easily lead nowhere, he told himself, could be nothing more than a coincidence. But despite that, he felt the dull weight of dread begin to settle in his gut, and as he waited for the gates to open, he tried to ignore the one thing he knew with certainty right then; there was no such thing as coincidences.


tbc

AN The alias used by Dean is Dave Mustaine of Megadeth (and Metallica).