Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Obviously.

Dean Winchester stared at the laptop screen intently, eyes scanning the words and mouse clicking periodically. To the average passerby, he would seem to be deeply engrossed in research of some kind—not at all an odd sight, here on the sunny porch of a coffee shop in northern Missouri.

The truth was, he'd already found what he was looking for online, and was instead engaged in some covert research of an entirely different kind.

His sister Kate was sitting across from him at the little stainless steel table, scribbling furiously in a notebook, blonde hair falling in her face. Hunters kept journals, it wasn't so odd for her to be writing; but this wasn't the studious, organized longhand she used in her official journal, to be referred back to when they needed information or lore. This was what Dean secretly called her Brain Scrawl—she was sorting through random bits of information in her head and trying to find a pattern. He bit back a grin as she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, tapping her pen against her jaw in a muted show of frustration. The amusement was gone as quickly as it had come, though, and Dean felt the familiar tightening in his gut as he pictured—again—the way her (okay, the shape-shifter's) face had twisted into despairing hatred two days ago:

"I just wanted to get away from you! Planned to put the gun you gave me to my own head in order to make it happen. Did you know that?"

Refusing to let himself spiral into a never-ending litany of what did I do wrong? and how could I have missed it?, Dean shifted in his seat, letting his gaze drift momentarily to his other sibling, the one he was even more worried about. Sam had been obsessed with finding Dad lately, to the point he was driving Kate to Scrawl in an attempt to tease out any details they'd missed. Dean wanted to find Dad too—Stanford had been a close call, way too friggin' close—but he recognized this single-minded intensity, and he didn't like it.

Sam was acting exactly like Dad had after Mom's death. And much as he'd never ever admit it, Dean cherished the curious, fiery vivacity that was Sam Winchester; and he couldn't stand the idea of that fire becoming the dogged, destructive near-mania that Hunting had become for their father after Mary's demise. He hated that he was so helpless in the face of Sammy's grief, but he refused to lose the kid.

Dad's constant orders to watch out for Sammy extended far beyond his brother's physical health, in Dean's book.

The kid hung up the pay phone he'd been on moments earlier and turned back toward their table, tension in every line of his posture. Deciding that needling Sam might get his mind off his irritation with the current situation, he called, "Hey, your half-caf, double vanilla latte is gettin' cold over here, Francis."

"Bite me," Sam snapped as he sat down. Dean tried not to grin, then asked—because he really did want to know—"So, anything?" Kate looked up too.

Sam shook his head, and their sister huffed a bit and went back to scribbling. "I had them check the FBI's Missing Persons Data Bank," Sam reported. "No John Doe's fitting Dad's description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations."

"Dad's not that sloppy," Kate muttered from across the table, and Sam's hackles went up instantly.

"Yeah well, at least I'm doing more than just—"

"Sam, man, I'm telling you," Dean interrupted, before his little brother said something stupid and started a fight. "I don't think Dad wants to be found."

Miracle of miracles, Sam said nothing more, settling instead for a truly pathetic expression that reminded Dean of a kicked puppy. "Check this out," he pushed the laptop over to Sam to divert all that angst. "Ankeny, Iowa. It's only about a hundred miles from here."

Kate looked up from her paper, checking in as Sam began to read the online news article. ""The mutilated body was found near the victim's car, parked on Nine Mile Road. Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was…invisible."

"Well that certainly sounds dicey," Kate supplied.

"Though it could be nothing at all," Sam said. "One freaked out witness? Doesn't mean it's the Invisible Man—"

Dean opened his mouth to speak when Kate's phone rang, buzzing loudly against the table. She snatched it, squinting a little to see the screen in the bright sun. Dean cocked an eyebrow when she quirked a little smile and flipped the phone open.

"Well if it ain't trouble personified," she greeted, and Dean felt his lips curve upward in a smile. He grinned over at Sam, who was looking at the screen, still reading, though his own expression was faintly amused. They both knew Olivia Tucker, Walking Encyclopedia and Kick-Ass Extraordinaire. A protégé of their Uncle Bobby, Olivia had come late into the hunting lifestyle but had taken to it like a fish to water. She was brilliant—almost as smart as Sammy, Dean thought ruefully—loyal to a fault, and freaking gorgeous. Unfortunately for him, she was just old enough and had known him just long enough to still see the fourteen-year-old kid she'd first met all those years ago when Bobby had taken her under his wing, a fledgling hunter but very definitely a grown woman.

He had yet to convince her he was all grown up, he commiserated silently as Kate agreed with something Liv said on the other end of the line.

Ah well. Someday.

Dean's pleasant daydreams were scattered when Kate's face froze. "What?" she croaked. Sam looked up from the laptop at her tone of voice, instantly dialed in to her every expression. Her blue eyes were wide and she ran a hand through thick blonde waves, clearly agitated. She was going to start pacing in a second, Dean was sure of it.

"You're joking," she said, pushing her chair back with a rattle as she stood. She took two steps and turned, rubbing her free hand against her jeans.

Called it.

"Yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can. Okay, bye."

"What happened?" Sam asked before she even flipped the phone closed. Kate stopped mid-pace and looked at her brothers. The way her brow furrowed told him it was serious. "It's about Dad, isn't it?" Sam's brilliant brain, as always, putting pieces together and extrapolating answers at lightning speed. Kate's nod was all Dean needed to see before he was moving. Sam closed the laptop with a snap and they both gathered their things hurriedly.

"Invisible Man will just have to wait then," Dean said, snatching his coat from the back of the chair. Sam nodded fiercely, but Kate stopped pacing, as if she just realized what they were doing.

"What?" she said. "No, you guys, you have to—"

"We have to find Dad, is what we have to do!" Sam declared.

"It's not like that, it's not a lead," Kate interjected. "She just wants to talk about what he said when he called her the other day, but it's not…phone conversation material. Needs to be in person." Kate caught Dean's arm. "You can't leave people to die over a recon mission, Dean. It's just information, I can get it and be back in a day or two."

Dean hesitated—she was right, but he hated it. It was about Dad; and besides, after the shape-shifter fiasco, he was loath to let her or Sammy out of his sight. That hunt had been a total wreck that they'd barely survived, and the emotional fallout was something they were all still trying to deal with.

"Dean," Sam's voice was urgent, desperate. "He could be in real trouble…"

"It's not a lead," Kate stressed. "Sam, it would be irresponsible to—"

"I don't care!" Sam growled, and Dean placed a hand on his brother's chest. "Sammy, enough. She's right, it makes sense for her to just go while we take care of this next hunt, and then we'll—"

Sam jerked away. "No!"

Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes. This was ridiculous. He yanked his giant little brother away by his jacket, not wanting to cause a scene right here in the busy parking lot. He saw Kate follow at a sedate pace, staying close enough to hear Dean's verdict but far enough back that if he gave Sam a dressing-down, she wouldn't be standing right there making him feel ganged-up-on.

Dean pulled Sam into the alley behind the coffee shop and let his jacket go, clamping a hand on his brother's shoulder. Sam seemed to realize what was coming, because he jerked back, straightened his lapel, all while glaring daggers at Dean.

"Use that freakishly large brain of yours, Sammy," Dean ordered, holding up a hand when Sam opened his mouth to interject. "I know you want to find Dad, we all do. But we can't just go off half-cocked and chasing shadows! We've got to be smart about this."

Sam didn't argue, just growled low in his throat.

"And you," Dean pointed at Kate, who tensed and came forward a few steps. She hated it when he leveled a finger at her like that, and he knew it, but he needed her to know he was deadly serious. "No matter what Liv tells you, you wait for us before you run off after Dad. If she even has any leads. Hear me?"

His sister nodded, holding his gaze to show she wasn't taking his orders lightly. "Of course."

Satisfied, Dean dropped his hand. "All right. Come on, we'll give you a lift to the bus station."

The bus ride to Ohio was nothing spectacular one way or another. Kate was tired, but there was no way she was going to sleep on a bus full of strangers, for any amount of time. She was travelling alone on public transportation—vigilance was the name of the game tonight.

So she spent the hours as she often spent any mental free time she came upon: carefully examining and sorting through her thoughts. Their lifestyle was about as stressful and fast-paced as lifestyles came, and there wasn't always time to process things while they were happening. Kate had learned early on that it was best to take a few hours to herself once in a while to deal with her fear, her anger, her trauma, her grief.

And the last few months had given her plenty to think on.

She was relieved beyond measure to have Sammy back with them, there was no denying that. She wished with every fiber of her being the circumstances had been different—she couldn't stand the thought of Sam losing someone else he loved—but things had been so right since he started hunting with her and Dean again. When he had talked about going to college—nearly five years ago now, she realized with some level of shock—Kate had supported the idea wholeheartedly. She knew Dean would never go; she'd had to convince him to get his GED after he dropped out of school. It wasn't that he was unintelligent—quite the opposite, actually—just that he honestly believed he would never be able to leave the Life, so why spend all that time and money on more "useless" education?

She blamed her father for that, and it wasn't an easy thing to forgive. John had raised them to be soldiers—and unlike Sam or her, Dean had accepted and internalized that directive to the point that she sometimes thought he couldn't see himself as anything outside that identity.

Kate herself had decided early in high school to attend college online. Unbeknownst to Dad, she had started squirreling away money for it—skipping meals when she could, hustling card games, tutoring students at the schools they did attend—determined to learn everything she could about business management and nursing that she possibly could, with some Latin and ancient mythology thrown in for good measure. Between partial scholarships and her own money, she'd had enough to start taking a couple classes at a time as a junior; at the age of twenty-four, she had become the quietly-proud holder of a bachelor's degree in Business Management. Dean's face when she had whispered it to him one night after a rough hunt, as he sewed up a long gash in her shoulder, had made every late night and skipped meal worth it. He was proud of her, and Kate wasn't too tough to admit that made her all kinds of thrilled.

Still haven't told Sammy yet, she realized with some surprise. There'd just been too much happening lately.

Promising herself she'd show Sam at the earliest possible opportunity, Kate checked back into the present long enough to sharpen her senses and check her surroundings. The bus was quiet; most of the passengers were sleeping at this hour, the driver humming quietly to himself at the front—no odd smells, it was warm and comfortable—all was well.

Settling back against the cool window with her leather jacket tossed over her chest like a blanket, Kate sighed and let her mind go to her most recent trauma—the shape-shifter.

Having that thing in her head had been a violation all its own, and the dark thoughts and fears it teased from the depths of her consciousness to throw at her brother had been intensely cruel. It had told Dean she hated him—which she had thought momentarily exactly once, as an angst-ridden teenager—and then twisted that feeling of betrayed fury into something much larger than it really was and gone on to monologue about how badly she wanted him dead, how she wished she'd never been born into their family, how she'd seriously considered eating a bullet just to get away from him.

Of course, having her most awful secret used as a club to bludgeon Dean with had gutted her. She hadn't wanted to end her life—during that horrible, lonely time not so many years ago—to get away from Dean, of course, they both knew that; but he saw his primary purpose in life to protect her and Sammy, and knowing she had been that low and he hadn't even seen it hurt him deeply.

Knowing that, and also knowing how Dean was, she'd written him a letter the night after they killed the thing and stowed it in his bag. He tended to do better with letters—seemed to feel less cornered when she said what she wanted to say in writing instead of to his face.

But judging by the vague horror that his eyes still held that morning when he'd looked at her, he hadn't seen it yet. She hoped he saw it soon; she hated the idea of her own issues wounding Dean, who had never wanted anything but the best for her and Sammy.

Kate's thoughts continued like this for another few hours, so that by the time they pulled into the bus station in Akron, she was satisfied she was put together enough to function for a good while longer—and doubly glad to have something to do now other than sit and think.

Liv's safe house was in a small town called—get this—Miniton, barely an hour's drive outside Akron. It was a small matter of a couple conveniently-placed tears and a smile for Kate to bum a ride out there, and so she arrived at her friend's cabin near midday. She grinned and climbed the steps to the wraparound porch quickly. Kate knocked twice, waited five seconds, and knocked three more times; the established code between the Winchesters and their closest friends. Olivia answered, brown eyes narrowed as she leveled a shotgun at her through the crack between the door and frame by way of greeting. Kate held up both hands with a grin.

"Nice to see you, Liv."

Liv's lips quirked upward in a smile. "How are you?" she asked as she swung the door open for Kate. "Come on in."

Kate stepped inside, hugging the older hunter in greeting. "I'm fine, we all are; Sammy's back on the road."

"So I heard. How's that going?"

Kate laughed a little. "It's taking a bit of adjustment; we have to learn to work together again. But it's like riding a bike, a bit—it's coming back to us."

"I'm not surprised. But is he back for good? I thought Sam hated the Life."

"I think he still does, honestly. He's around at least until we find whatever killed our mom and his girlfriend," Kate compressed her lips into a thin line and cocked an eyebrow, looking away.

I don't want him to leave again.

"Speaking of," Liv said, sinking comfortably into the leather couch in the front room. Kate stood, knowing she'd end up on her feet by the time this conversation was over anyway. Liv looked at her steadily, something Kate couldn't identify in her eyes.

"What?" she asked finally, anxious. Liv blew out a breath.

"Your dad might be hunting a demon."

Kate felt like there was no oxygen left in the room. Her throat spasmed convulsively, and she swallowed to prevent herself choking. "A demon?" her voice came out all wrong—panicky and shaking instead of the steady one she could usually maintain in the worst of situations.

Olivia seemed to understand, nodding sympathetically. "He was asking me about the lore behind them—where they come from, behavioral patterns, et cetera. How to kill them."

Kate swallowed. Demons were nothing to play games with. Vicious, brutal souls that were nothing but evil; most monsters the Winchesters hunted had a reason for their behavior—hunger, most often, or sometimes grief, pain, rage. Demons had none of that—just a sadistic desire to see pain inflicted on anyone but themselves.

Pure, unadulterated malice was all they could feel.

Worst of all, they were basically impossible to kill. If you could buy yourself a few seconds, an exorcism would send them back to hell; but killing? She'd never seen or heard of it being done at all.

Kate had (thankfully) never run into a demon in her admittedly-short life; but she'd never forget stumbling upon a hunter who had crossed a demon when she was a teenager, fairly new to the life of a hunter herself. The older man had been ripped to shreds, but his heart had still been beating when she found him. Slowly, and worst of all, visibly in his shattered chest.

It was one of the few times in her life she'd lost control completely. Screaming, losing control, running-simply-out-of-primal-instinct level panic. Dean had found her almost half an hour later, cowering in a corner and barely conscious with horror; it had taken every big-brother skill in the book to coax her back to some semblance of normalcy after he carried her out of the warehouse himself.

"I told him the basics," Liv continued. "Demons are hell's minions, they look like a cloud of black smoke, possess human hosts and use up their bodies, usually so the unfortunate bastard can't survive once the demon leaves."

Kate shuddered, leaning on the wooden windowsill. It was dusty, and she drew her hand away, making to brush it on her jeans, when the dust caught her eye. It was yellow—odd enough—but it also smelled awful, pungent and acrid.

Like sulfur.

A/N: And so it begins. Hang on tight, it's gonna be a wild ride! Big shout outs and thank you's to What You See In The Shadows (for being a fellow fan and super rad buddy!) and summerald (for beta-ing this for me)! Y'all make sure to go check out their awesome work!

Don't forget to leave a review or pop me a pm-your feedback feeds my writer brain! Nom nom nom.

Cheers!