Aplogies for the delay in posting this chapter. There was a trans-continental relocation, some cultural adjustment to be made, but things are settling down now.

Chapter 4

Morning light crept through the thinly curtained window, splashing sunshine over Dean's face, causing him to unwillingly float up through the layers of sleep. The closer he drew to consciousness the more aware he became of an ache in his head, and then as he shifted, an ache throughout his body.

He opened his eyes to an unfamiliar room and it had him squinting in confusion. They moved around so much it was hard to recall from one day to the next where they were and he was baffled for a moment, could see that he wasn't in a motel room, and was horrified at the amount of floral surrounding him, until it clicked that they had returned to Ada and Maud's house last night and the whole sorry incident at the construction site flooded back to memory.

Instinctively a hand rose to the gash in his head, fingers touching the taped strip that Sam had placed over the wound. He could feel the swelling around the injury, there was a good sized egg on his head and he winced as a light touch aggravated the sensitive skin, causing a wash of heat to flood through him at the sudden spike of pain. He dropped his hand with a quiet curse.

Sam was sprawled on the bed opposite, tangled in the sheets, soundly asleep. His knees were up near his chest, the bed not nearly long enough to accommodate his height and it made Dean smile affectionately. Gangly freak. He considered bellowing a wake-up call. There was nothing funnier than startling Sam wake, all flailing limbs and panicked eyes, but his head opposed the idea, the throb at his temples conveyed the message, you raise your voice and there will be punishment and he regretfully let the opportunity pass.

He stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes, inwardly focusing, preparing to get up. As much as he wanted to stay in bed, coddle his sore body, he just couldn't abide the laziness, a trait inherited from his father. He could almost hear John saying what are you, dying? Get your ass out of bed and that inward voice motivated him to action.

He grasped a hold of the loosely covering sheets and flung them clear of his body, a grunt escaping him as that small movement gave him a preview of the bodily pain that was coming his way. But he didn't dwell on it. In the scale of things his injuries were minor, bump on the head, gash in the back, he'd suffered much worse and could certainly cope with whatever discomfort the current injuries caused.

He pressed an elbow underneath him, jamming it into the mattress, and pushed upward, following the bandaid principle that the quicker you did something, the less it hurt. And that principle was true to an extent. When he sat perched on the edge of the bed with feet flat on the floor, his body was in numb shock at the rapidness with which he'd risen, the pain slow to catch up with the movement. But the change in height affected him badly, giving the room a slow roll, making his stomach shift threateningly. He closed his eyes, dropped his head and pressed a hand to his brow waiting for the dizziness to subside, then had to adjust his posture, straighten his spine, as the slouch he'd fallen into put pressure on his lower back and flared at the puncture wound.

Experience told him that once he got to his feet and started moving around he'd be fine, internal adjustments would be made and the aches and pains would diminish, but that knowledge brought no relief to this warm up period, this internal kick start that had to be endured.

When he felt steady enough to open his eyes, he shot a weary look at Sam, expecting some sort of sarcasm, some sort of knowing look in witness of his struggle. But Sam was still asleep and Dean was both surprised and disturbed that his brother wasn't a little bit guarded, that he wasn't sleeping a little closer to the surface in a stranger's house.

As he prepared to rise and venture out of the bedroom, he considered his bare-chestedness and whether he wanted to encounter either of the female occupants in his state of undress. He decided, more out of etiquette than shyness, that it would be better to cover up and scoured the floor for the shirts he had been wearing the previous evening, but could see only the white t-shirt that Ada had offered and the long sleeved buttoned shirt that Sam had been wearing over his tee, discarded for sleeping.

He reached down and plucked Sam's shirt off the floor, uncomfortable at the idea of wearing a stranger's clothes. He pulled on the shirt with slow, careful movements and appreciated how little effort donning a buttoned shirt involved, how little movement it required of a battered body, much less than putting on a t-shirt.

With most of the buttons secured, the last few at the bottom unnecessary given the length of the shirt, he drew in a bracing breath and stood up. His balance was shot, which he had anticipated, he had plenty of experience with head injuries, and he kept a vice like grip on the foot of the bed until the ground evened out beneath him, felt less like the rolling ocean, then shifted a palm to the wall and commenced his progress out of the room, taking a blind guess at direction, completely ignorant of the layout of the house.

By the time he found himself in the doorway to the kitchen, where Ada sat at a breakfast table reading the newspaper, he had an adjusted normality, was moving freely with very few tells that he was hurting.

"Morning dipstick," she greeted, her eyes not leaving the page.

Dean looked around, not sure if she was talking to him.

"Morning," he returned uncertainly and Ada whipped the newspaper to the side to peer at her companion.

"Oh Dean," she said, flustered. "I'm sorry I thought you were Maud."

"Really?" he returned, eyebrows doing a quick up and down. "Was it the hair?"

Ada laughed. "I never said you looked like Maud, I just didn't know you were up." Her face creased suddenly in concern. "Should you be up? What are you doing up?" She laid the newspaper on the table and leaned forward in her chair. "Go back to bed and I'll bring you something to eat."

"Nah, I'm fine."

"Really?"

There was both suspicion and amazement in her tone. She regarded him closely, her stare wandering to the covered head wound, then down to his midriff as if she could see through to the wound hidden at the back. Her brow furrowed, she didn't seem convinced of the recovery, but she stopped short of accusing him of lying.

"You must be a quick healer because something like that would have laid me out for a week."

Dean gave her a perfunctory smile. She was fishing for information, trying to get conversational about his state of health and he wasn't buying into it, which must have been a surprise to her because she waited for a response. When none was forthcoming and the silence became awkward Ada said quickly, "Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? Breakfast? I could whip up some pancakes."

"Coffee would be great."

Dean drew out a chair and made the quickest of calculations about how to sit in it without putting strain on his injured back, before casually dropping down and perching forward, forearms on the table unobtrusively bearing some weight.

Ada rose from the table, turned on the kettle and reached into a cupboard for a mug.

"How's the back? You look a little uncomfortable," she stated.

Dean leaned back slightly in the chair trying for a more natural pose. "It's fine."

"It was a pretty deep cut, you should probably get a doctor to look at it."

"I'll survive," he dismissed.

Ada hummed her disapproval and turned to him with folded arms. "What about the head? I'm pretty sure I could see brain last night you should definitely get that checked out."

Dean laughed and pointed a finger at the head injury, "Sam put a bandaid on it, the universal fix all for exposed brain injuries, so it's fine."

Ada's lips begrudgingly turned upward in amusement. "You shouldn't be so cavalier with your health. Take it from someone who knows, how you treat your body now is going to have repercussions down the road."

"I guess," Dean conceded, dropping his gaze as he contemplated whether he'd live to an age when his body breaking down would be an issue.

"Now tell me honestly, do you have a headache? Because I could get you some more of those tablets you had last night"

Dean gave a short laugh. The woman was relentless in her probing. And if they were talking honestly the pounding in his head was becoming more pronounced. "I guess I wouldn't say no," he replied with a grin.

She nodded with a sly smile, like she'd known all along he was being coy. "Okay. I'll get you a couple." She exited the room with a cheerful, "Morning Sam," to the young man entering.

Dean sagged a little upon her exit, drained by the minor interrogation. He gave his brother a weary eyebrow raise in greeting.

"I guess I don't need to ask how you feel," Sam said, as he sat across from his brother at the table.

"I'm good," he returned and sat up straighter to prove the point. "I laugh in the face of falling chandeliers."

"Chandeliers don't have faces," Sam facetiously pointed out.

"Just…," Dean closed his eyes and shook his head, "...don't. It's too early in the morning for smart mouths."

Sam smiled. "I've got some stuff to tell you about that falling chandelier."

Dean perked up. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Last night I was asking the girls how they moved so quickly to avoid it and apparently something pulled them." Sam lingered on the word for effect.

"Pulled them? As in, got them out of the way?"

Sam nodded.

"Huh." Dean pondered the information. "So a spirit dropped the chandelier, but then saved the girls," he mused. "You know that kind of fits in with my theory."

"I didn't quite get your theory last night, you wigged out half way through telling me."

Dean gave a mock frown. "Really? I don't remember putting a wig on."

Sam clicked his tongue, rolled his eyes. "I thought it was too early for smart mouths."

"Not my smart mouth."

"Just shut up and tell me your theory," Sam said shortly.

Dean grinned, always pleased to annoy his brother, then had to quickly put his smugness aside to arrange his thoughts, try and recall what exactly his theory was.

"I was thinking that the spirit doesn't seem focused on hurting people, it seems to be more about stopping the renovation. When you look at the accidents, they're almost pranks. I mean locked in a cupboard? Stuck in cement? The spirit doesn't seem to be acting with death in mind, it's more interested in disruption."

"Okay, that's where you got to last night, and I pointed out that you were hurt. You could have been killed, either of us could have been. How does that fit into your theory?"

"But we weren't under the chandelier when it dropped," Dean returned, quirking his eyebrows. "We threw ourselves under that thing, if we'd jumped the other way it would have missed us."

"I guess," Sam said slowly, turning it over in his mind. "But that's pretty unconventional, a spirit with a conscience. Maybe you're giving it too much credit, maybe it's just really bad at killing people."

"And what, it pulled Ada and Maud in the wrong direction?" Dean countered. "I don't think so, I think the spirit is trying to show its dissatisfaction with the renovation without killing people. And yeah, that's unconventional. I've never come across a spirit with a pro-life policy before." Sam sniffed in amused agreement and there was silence for a moment as they both ruminated on what they might be dealing with, why the spirit was acting uncommonly, before Dean shifted in his chair and stated, "But you know what? It doesn't really matter that this spirit isn't killing people, it's still injuring them, it's still causing disruption, so the solution remains the same, we've got to figure out who it is and send them on their way."

Sam was about to voice his agreement when a flicker of movement in his periphery made him turn his head toward the doorway, where Ada stood frozen, her face dark with suspicion. There was no doubt she had heard part of the conversation. Sam had no idea how much or which parts, their voices had been pitched low, he was surprised she'd heard anything, but the look on her face, disappointment and betrayal, was evidence that they hadn't been as quiet as they thought.

He felt a twist of guilt in his stomach. They hadn't been completely honest with their hosts, their freedom was too delicate for wild truths, for revelations that might lead to doubts about their sanity or intentions. Nevertheless, he genuinely liked these women, he respected them, and it pained him to think that Ada was revising her opinion of them.

"Here."

Ada dropped two tablets in front of Dean then fetched him a glass of water. She stood over him, hands on hips, while he swallowed the tablets with the water chaser, nobody breaking the silence, unsure of what to say, of how to address what had just been overheard.

"Morning boys," a freshly showered Maud cheerily greeted them. "How is everyone this fine…" her sentence petered out when she noticed the tension in the room, overseen by Ada's dour expression. "Did I miss something?" she asked her friend.

"I'm not sure Maud." Ada pursed her lips as she addressed the brothers. "Did she miss something boys?"

"Uh, I don't…" Sam cast his brother a plaintive glance, looking for some guidance. Dean's eyes were hard, unapologetic, and filled with this is why we don't get cosy with people. It wasn't helpful.

"Don't you bullshit me Sam." Ada's finger waved around, underscoring her anger. "There's more going on here than a couple of plonkers looking for a thrill, don't you insult me by pretending there isn't."

Maud's eyes went wide at her friend's attack on their guests. "Ada?"

Ada's steely gaze shifted briefly to the other woman then back to the boys.

"Please Maud, trust me on this one. There's something going on here, the Chippendales aren't telling us the full story. My instincts have been nudging me about these guys since we met them but I got sucked in by the pretty faces."

"But they tried to save us…" Maud weakly objected, regret in her voice, confusion obvious.

The brothers looked at each other and Sam raised an eyebrow in silent plea that they reveal something, make an honest effort to smooth the waters. Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation, not much for water smoothing, or for trying to salvage relationships. But he figured they'd already been sprung, Ada must have heard enough to know they were a little more involved in the ghost business than they had let on, and if Sam wanted to try and make amends then what harm in digging the hole a little deeper. His mind was whirling with ideas of tv shows, or forensic investigators, or some front a bit less jarring than supernatural hunters, but he couldn't pull it together, suddenly he was feeling fuzzy and slow, the pills were having a marked effect on his though processes. In any event, Ada was pretty sharp and Dean suspected that a fanciful tale would only get them in more trouble, where maybe a version of the truth could calm her down. Worse case scenario, if revealing more had Ada calling 911, they'd bolt and put the town in their rear view.

Dean propped his chin on his hand, needing support for his increasingly heavy head, then with a quick disapproving look at Sam, a look that said this is a dumb idea, confessed in a flat even tone, "Okay, you got us. This is what we do for a living. We hunt out supernatural creatures and stop them from hurting people."

Dean mentally kicked himself for using the words supernatural creatures. He should have said ghosts and left it at that, these women didn't need to know their interest extended beyond ghosts. Now he'd opened an unnecessary can of worms and he was an idiot.

Maud let out a shocked breath and regarded him warily. She had been taken aback by Ada's accusation that the boys weren't all that they appeared to be, she had thought they were lovely young men seeking adventure, indulging a penchant for horror movies. Now that it was confirmed that they hadn't been entirely truthful she was wondering who the hell they had taken into their home. She was starting to feel like an old fool.

"What sort of supernatural creatures?" Maud asked quietly, a quaver in her voice, eyes darting between the brothers

Sam looked to his brother for permission to elaborate and Dean gave a barely perceptible nod, happy for Sam to continue the explanation that he had so soundly screwed up. The damage was done now, too much had been revealed, they might as well tell it all.

"Ghosts, Vampires, Werewolves," Sam listed without emphasis, not wanting to dramatise. "You name it chances are we've seen it."

"And killed it," Dean added.

"Yeah," Sam agreed with a small huff of laughter. "There are a lot of things lurking in the dark. We're just trying to keep people safe."

Maud took a few small steps closer to Ada and flashed her an are we buying this? look. The dark haired woman took her cues from the blonde, if Ada's reaction was to say, "Get the hell out," then Maud would follow suit. Ada had an indefinable understanding of people and situations, a sixth sense that was, at times, freakishly accurate and Maud had learned to trust her friend's instincts.

Ada knitted her brow as she sized up the boys. Pursed lips indicated her displeasure at their previous lack of forthcoming, but she wasn't one to rush to judgment. She took a moment to consider what had been revealed, weigh the honesty of it, and reconcile it with the impression she had formed of the brothers.

"Well," she uttered coolly. "That's one hell of an explanation. And normally I'd give you a slap for thinking that we're stupid enough to believe such fairy tales." She paused dramatically and raised one eyebrow. Then her face softened, a wan smile pulled at her lips. "But for some bizarre reason, not only do I believe you, but I trust you both too. Which is crazy given how you've lied to us from the get go." Her emphasis on the word was a warning that she would not tolerate dishonesty again, she was letting them know she found it inexcusably offensive. "But I don't see what possible angle you could have in telling such an outrageous story. And it actually explains a few things." Ada didn't elaborate on what those few things were, just combed her fingers absently through her hair and muttered, "Jesus Christ, vampires and werewolves? I don't think I want to know about that. Lets just focus on ghosts for the moment. If you think you can stop the accidents at the construction site, then we're in, we'd like to help."

The brothers let out a sigh of relief and Dean started to chuckle. "Man, I think that's the easiest sale we ever made." He jerked a thumb at his brother, "It was the puppy dog eyes, wasn't it? They'll get you every time."

Sam hissed through a faux smile, "You're not helping."

A grin broke over Ada's face and the tension in the room dissipated. "They certainly are very persuasive puppy dog eyes," she stated and walked across the room to ruffle Sam's unruly hair, then sat down next to him. "So what happens now? You got any ideas about what's going on at Dave's place?"

Maud came and sat at the table with the group, eager to be involved in the discussions.

"Well..." Sam darted a gaze at his brother, making sure Dean had no objection to sharing information about the construction site, and frowned when he noticed that Dean's eyes were slightly glazed, opening and closing slowly. He seemed on the verge of falling asleep.

"Yeah, those pills will knock you out," Ada commented, when she noticed the injured man struggling to stay awake. "I should have warned you, sorry."

Dean glared accusingly at Ada like she had deliberately tricked him, then slapped his hand on the table and declared, "Then I guess I'm going back to bed."

He pushed himself to a weary stand and said to his brother, "You tell them what you want, this grave couldn't get any deeper," then lurched to the wall for support and started toward the bedroom.

Sam half raised himself in the chair, considering offering assistance, then slunk down, fairly certain he would rebuffed.

"I'll bring you a cup of tea," Maud called after the departing man, and got a lazy thumbs up in return.

When Sam was alone with the women, looking into their expectant faces, he realised that he didn't have much to tell them. He was fairly confident a spirit was haunting the construction site, it seemed the most logical explanation for what was occurring, but he didn't know who and he couldn't really explain why other than to say spirits are protective of their special places. It ended up sounding a little lame. So as not to appear a complete amateur, he told the girls a little about how they dealt with spirits, about salting and burning the bones, which drew horrified gasps and a look of distaste. He kept the explanations simple, didn't go into too much detail about any aspect of the job, which was ingrained habit, self preservation, the less people knew about what they did the better for everyone, and concluded by saying that the next step was research, trying to figure out the identity of the spirit. The women's eyes lit up at that, both expressing an interest in being involved in the detective work, and Sam was non-commital in his response, not sure if Dean would be amenable.

With Dean asleep Sam decided to return to the motel to freshen up and get organized. And enjoy some time away from his brother. Over the extended period that he and Dean had been living together, Sam was of the increasing belief that they needed space apart, to maintain their independence and their sanity.

And for a while it was refreshing, the quiet, the lack of sarcasm, the lack of command, Sam pottered around the room unhurriedly. But the solitude lost its sparkle when he entered the shower with the intention of lingering for a luxuriously long period. As soon as the spray hit his skin he felt edgy, accustomed to Dean being in the next room, watching his back. He felt vulnerable without that backup, kept imagining creatures sneaking up on him, kept hearing phantom noises just beyond the bathroom door.

He laughed wryly to himself and made fun of his insecurity, but got out of the shower way sooner than he had intended. He then punished his weakness, his discomfort at being solo by deliberately dawdling at the motel, taking longer than required to return to Ada and Maud's house, and to his brother.

An hour later, Sam quietly let himself into the women's house, not wanting to disturb Dean's sleep by knocking. He was surprised to hear his brother's voice coming from the living room.

"Oh wow. She's hot," he heard Dean say.

Sam found the group in the living room, looking at a collection of photographs spread across the mantel and up onto the wall. Dean had a photo frame in his hand and Ada stood close beside, sharing the view, while Maud hovered uncertainly behind, trying to peer over Dean's shoulder without invading his personal space.

"That's Kate, Maud's daughter," Ada replied with a chuckle in her tone. "She's a paramedic, lives in Bisbee." Ada slapped her forehead and exclaimed, "We should have called her last night, she would have known exactly what to do with your bloodied self." She tsked regretfully before continuing, "She's a lovely girl, married to a very nice guy, Rob. They haven't got any kids yet, but Maud's hoping for soon."

Sam announced his presence with a, "Hey," and the group turned toward him.

"Hey," Dean returned. "You should see Maud's daughter, Sam. Nice."

"How long have you been up?" Sam asked and cringed at the challenge in his tone, he wasn't trying to start something.

"I don't know." Dean was predictably defensive.

"About fifteen minutes," Maud offered.

"You feeling okay?" Sam persisted.

"Am I up and moving around?" Dean replied irritably. "I'm fine. Could we move on from that?" He flashed his brother a warning look.

"Yeah, he had a breakfast beer so he should be feeling pretty good," Ada piped up.

"He what?" Sam responded aghast.

"Joking Sam." Ada said with a laugh, flicking her eyes to Dean. "But I think it says something about you that he believed it."

"It just says that Sam's gullible."

Maud gave Sam a sympathetic look and moved toward him to whisper conspiratorily, "I know what it's like dealing with a person who doesn't understand physical limitation. Ada acts like she's 27 half the time, until she does something stupid and her body reminds her that she's old and needs to settle down."

Sam nodded in understanding. "Dean is 27, he's always doing something stupid and there's no way he'd settle down."

Both Dean and Ada uttered indignant protests at the same time, Are you right there? We can hear what you're saying!

Sam and Maud exchanged amused smiles, comrades in their shared frustration.

"Who are the photos of?" Sam put down the duffel he was holding and moved in tandem with Maud toward the photos lined up on the mantel.

It was Ada who answered. "There are some of my family and some of Maud's family. Dean got side tracked by Maud's daughter. Thank god Kate got her looks from her dad's side of the family"

"Hey! Bite me" retorted Maud

"I'd rather bite Anthony Dinozzo" came back Ada's reply.

"He'd have you up on charges," Maud said tartly.

"Check out Kate," Dean urged his brother, ignoring the interaction between the women and handing over the frame in his hand which contained a photo of a beautiful dark haired girl, posing in a lush garden setting with an alluring smile on her face.

"Wow."

"What did I say?"

"You boys are making me nervous," Maud laughed. "I know she's gorgeous but she is married."

"Just appreciating the scenery Maud," Dean replied flippantly as he returned the photograph to its place and picked up another, of Ada and Maud in their younger days, presumably with their husbands, laughing and smiling.

Sam found it disconcerting, unexpected, that Dean was interested in photographs of someone else's family. And it was more than polite interest, he was looking closely at the pictures. Appreciating, perhaps, the glimpse into what normal life was like. Yearning maybe for a life they might have had if their mother had lived.

"Hey, you girls looked good in the day," Dean commented.

"You saying we don't look good now?" Ada retorted.

Dean jerked his head up, looking like a deer in the headlights and Sam couldn't help but smile, his brother had walked right into that one.

"No, uh- I just meant, you looked good then and you look good now."

Ada and Maud burst out laughing and Ada nudged Dean, "Man, you are just too easy. When you hand me ammunition on a plate, be kinda rude of me not to use it"

Dean accepted the ribbing good naturedly and moved over to look at picture of a handsome young man in a firefighter uniform. Ada was on tip toes looking over his shoulder and a proud expression came over her face.

Dean turned to look at her "Who's this? One of your toyboys?"

Ada blushed and gazed at the picture.

"That's my son, Charlie. He's a fire fighter just like his Dad. Boy was he was a handful growing up. His dad died when he was ten and he went wild in his teenage years. When he told me he was joining the fire brigade we almost came to blows, after losing his father that way I would have done anything to keep him out of it. But we've made our peace and he's found someone brave enough to take him on. He lives in New York but he gets over to see us when he can."

She smiled up at Dean, a soft expression on her face. "You remind me of him. You've got that same handsome, devil may care thing going on. It makes me want to hit you and hug you at the same time." She chuckled. "I'll bet you gave your mum a hell of a time when you were a kid."

Dean gave the blonde haired woman a faltering smile, quickly returned the photo of Charlie to its place on the shelf and turned to Sam. "So what's on the agenda this morning?"

Sam wasn't surprised by the abrupt change in conversation and felt a little sorry for Ada who seemed taken aback at the sudden turn, unaware that she'd wandered into dangerous ground.

"Uhh- research I guess. Get some background on what's gone down at the construction site in the past."

Dean nodded his approval. "Cool."

"I brought you a change of clothes so maybe you want to freshen up first."

"Yeah, okay." Dean went and picked up the duffel, bending and straightening with noticeable care. Maud trailed after him as he left the room, giving him directions to the bathroom and where he could find a fresh towel.

Ada sidled up to Sam with a worried look on her face. "Did I say something wrong?"

Sam paused. He didn't particularly want to start a conversation about their mother and he certainly didn't want to reveal that Dean was still cut up about her death twenty years later, that was just too personal. He shrugged mildly and said, "We lost our Mom when we were very young," and left it at that, hoping she wouldn't ask any more questions because he knew Dean wouldn't appreciate having their history laid bare.

"Oh Sam, I'm sorry," Ada said gently, then replayed in her mind the conversation with Dean and muttered, "Fuck. What did I say? Talk about putting your foot in it. What an idiot."

"It's okay. You didn't know."

"Should I apologise to him?"

"No," Sam advised. "I'd leave it alone."

Ada glanced uneasily toward the door, considering going to find Dean anyway. The young man pulled her attention back to him by saying, "I'm going to need to surf the net to do some research, do you have a connection here?"

The blonde woman gave him a wan smile. She knew he was changing the subject, trying to distract her from her inadvertent faux pas. She decided to play along.

"Yeah, come and we'll get you set up in the study."

When Dean emerged a half hour later he found Ada and Sam sitting shoulder to shoulder at a desk in the study, laptops open in front of each, both engrossed in the information appearing on their screens.

"What are you nerdlingers up to?"

Without shifting his gaze Sam replied, "I'm looking for strange or unsolved deaths at the construction site and around Tombstone and Ada is looking for information about previous renovations or strange occurrences at the site."

"Thrilling times," Dean intoned dryly.

"And you know what that leaves for you?" Sam commented.

"What?" Dean thought about it for a minute before his face collapsed in disgust. "Oh man! Not looking through records?"

"We need to find out about the owners of the construction site over the years." Sam turned toward his brother with a smug grin. "Someone has to do the grunt work, and seeing as you refuse to join the technological age, I guess it has to be you."

"I shouldn't be punished for not being a dork," Dean mumbled, then expelled a heavy breath. "So I guess I got to find the library. Alright Ada, tell me where to go." His finger shot up to point at her, "And be careful how you answer that. My sunny disposition just took a nose-dive."

Ada silently cursed the lost opportunity to make a joke of his choice of words. "Take Maud with you, she'll show you where it is," and before Dean could object, Ada called to her friend in a shrill, piercing voice.

After a few moments Maud came up behind Dean looking harried and put out. "What?"

"Put your OCD duster down and take Dean to the library. He needs to look up some records."

"Oh." She looked at Dean. "Okay. When? Now?"

"No, listen, you don't have to come, just point me in the right direction."

"No," Maud protested. "I can't send you out to wander the streets of Tombstone alone. What sort of hostess would that make me?" She waved her hand, "I'm only doing the ironing, so I can walk you there. Can I do some researching too or do I need to bring a book?"

"You're going to a library you plank," Ada pointed out. "They may have some books you could read."

"Get stuffed."

Dean was a little put out at the idea of Maud walking him to the library and staying with him. He wanted to be gracious, he knew her intentions were good, but he felt like a child getting his hand held. And having outsiders involved in their business was difficult for him, flew in the face of what their father had taught them, even when the outsiders were as accepting as these two ladies.

But then he thought about the research. How dull it was. How much he hated doing it. And suddenly the thought of a lackey was appealing.

"If you wanted to help with the research I guess I wouldn't say no. Probably get it done in half the time."

Maud's face brightened, thrilled at the idea of helping solve a mystery. "Okay then. Let's go?"

At Dean's nod the two exited the room with an offhand, see you later. Sam could hear as they retreated Maud questioning Dean about what they were looking for and his brother's patient answers. He smiled. Interaction with someone other than him for a while would be good for Dean.