ACT III

Dayton, Ohio was a large city with rush hour traffic rivaling any industrial city they had ever visited. Bobby's research had given them a name and a quick call to the phone company from special Agent Thomas Shaw had garnered them an address and number. They parked themselves outside the home of Marcus Damon and settled in to wait for a sighting of either Bobby or the monster of the week.

Sam was able to hijack a wi-fi signal from an unprotected source in the neighborhood and fired up the laptop to check the local news. He quickly found a story about a gruesome murder that had happened just the night before which fit the M.O. of their rugaru. The murder had happened just a few blocks over, in the alley behind a mini-mart. Hacking into the police database was simple and soon they had details of the crime.

"Looks like Bobby didn't make it as far as Dayton," Sam surmised as he perused the coroner's report. "The body was found in pieces…" he made a sour face and swallowed hard. "… what was left of it anyway." He closed the screen and shifted to look past his brother at the suspect's house. "It fits." He concluded. "If Bobby's right, then this guy is still killing. "

"So where the hell is Bobby?"

Sam shrugged. "Not here," he answered needlessly. "So what do you want to do?"

Dean sighed. What he wanted to do was find his friend. They had no idea how long he'd actually been missing and longer the older hunter was out of touch, the more he worried they may never find him. Bobby was a careful hunter – probably the sharpest hunter they knew – and he wouldn't have been easy to take down. He couldn't shake the feeling that the attack back at Lisa's and Bobby's disappearance were connected, and that gave him a pit in his stomach. He was worried. If the demons were searching for the key, they wouldn't have been able to find Dean thanks to the hex bags he constantly carried, but they'd know right where to find Bobby. The mechanic was alone and Dean knew from experience that hunting alone was never a good idea no matter how careful you were.

Bobby's research had been thorough. They knew who and what he'd been hunting. And now they knew where. As much as Dean wanted to find his friend, he knew they had to take care of this first. Saving people, hunting things… the family business was still the family business and they couldn't turn their back on a hunt that was right in front of them.

Dean turned in his seat and met his brother's eyes. It was obvious that Sam was wiling to follow his lead on this. The younger man knew how much Bobby meant to Dean. Dean even suspected that his brother knew how much Dean needed someone to fall back on when the responsibility got to be too much. After Dad had died, that person had been Bobby. So if Dean decided finding their friend was more important, he was convinced Sam wouldn't put up an argument.

But that wasn't how they were raised. And it wasn't how Dad trained them.

There was a hunt right here. People were getting killed and they could stop it.

Bobby would understand.

Hell, he'd probably tear them a new one if they ignored this just to search for him.

Dean turned back to the window, a distorted face peaking out from behind the drawn shades of the picture window making the decision for them. "Looks like we're gonna gank us a monster."

….

The hunt went as well as any hunt could. Armed with makeshift flame throwers, Sam coming at the fugly from one side, Dean from the other. Trapped between the two hunters it had to choose a course, which inevitably led it toward one of the brothers. Moving with unnatural speed, Marcus Damon - or what used to be Marcus Damon - slammed into the older Winchester, knocking him down and across the glass coffee table, shattering it into a million pieces. Slightly dazed and more than a bit pissed at the deja vu replay of their last rugaru hunt, Dean fumbled with uncooperative hands to reach his flamethrower only to hear his brother's deep voice.

"Hey!"

Dean tilted his head up and blinked a few times to clear his vision which coalesced into one picture just in time to see the rugaru lunge for Sam. The younger hunter didn't so much as flinch as he calmly and coolly lit the flamethrower and aimed, sending a shower of orange heat arcing toward the monster. A slight grin lifted the corner of Sam's mouth as Damon screamed, thrashing about as it tried in vain to save itself, finally falling into a heap into the corner of the room, the acrid smell of burning flesh permeating the small space.

Dean's eyes were glued to the image of the flames dancing up the wall, the body of the rugaru shrinking into a pile of goo against the hardwood floor. He jumped when he felt a hand on his leg and shifted his eyes to take in the now warm and concerned glance of his brother.

"You okay?"

Dean swallowed, trying to reconcile the person in front of him with the cold, calculated hunter from just a moment ago. Sam had wanted to save the last rugaru they'd hunted, this one hadn't gotten that consideration. It was a quick death, and Dean wasn't sure he liked the sudden professionalism his brother had shown.

"Dean?" Sam leaned forward, his hand coming up to wipe at a cut on Dean's cheek. "Hey, man, come on. We need to get out of here."

Dean swallowed and nodded, reaching a hand up to grasp his brother's. He closed his eyes as Sam pulled him upright, breathing shallowly until the room righted itself. If he never saw another rugaru as long as he lived, it would be too damn soon.

He opened his eyes to see Sam watching him, a knowing smile in his lips. "Rugarus just aren't your thing, dude."

Dean wanted to come back with something clever and snarky, but all he could see was the expression of …satisfaction… on his brother's face as he set fire to the monster. Maybe he'd imagined it, maybe it was his memories playing tricks on him… maybe he'd just been through too much in the last few years…

This was Sam in front of him. The brother he'd always known. The brother he'd help raise… train…

Wasn't it?

He was suddenly aware of Sam's eyes dipping low to meet his own… Sam's very concerned, very normal hazel eyes… Dean blinked, brushing away his doubt as he read the worry on Sam's face.

"Shut up."

Sam laughed out loud and helped him pick his way out of the broken glass, stepping over what was left of the metal frame of the table. One last look into the corner showed the monster burning, the wall and floor beginning to catch.

"We just gonna let the place burn?"

"We'll call it in as soon as we leave," Sam shrugged. "The fire department should respond in less than five minutes. They should be able to save the house, but..."

"They'll discover the body," Dean finished for him. He shook himself, his head starting to clear from his impromptu dive into the table. "We better go."

With a nod, Sam led the way to the door, sticking a head outside to make sure the coast was clear, then without a look back at the monster on the floor, headed out into the night.

….

Dean rolled down the window slightly, the fresh air helping ease the headache that flared every time a car passed, bright headlights flooding the inside of the Impala. Sam had tried to talk him into letting him take the wheel, but Dean had always been able to think better when he was driving. Not that he really wanted to think. But the niggling doubt in his brain was inching its way to the surface and he knew it wasn't going to just go away.

What was really bothering him? Sam had handled the rugaru efficiently and without hesitation or emotion. Isn't that what he was supposed to do?

Maybe... but when was the last time Sam had handled any hunt without emotion? When he was with Ruby? When he was high on demon blood? Even after Lillith, when everything had been spiraling out of control, Dean could still see what kind of a toll the life took on his little brother. How much he'd been trying to redeem himself for what he'd believed he'd done. Emotionless and efficient… that wasn't who is brother was.

Sam was supposed to brood, wonder if they were doing the right thing... not simply kill and move on.

But Sam had changed. They both had. Maybe Dean was reading more into things than was really there. Maybe it was Dean that was the problem. What happened at Stull - hell, what had happened since Hell - had taken its toll on both of them Sam had danced with the devil and Dean had been out of hunting for the last month, letting his grief and despair get the better of him. Good or bad, neither of them were the men they used to be. Maybe he just needed to accept that.

"What's wrong?"

Sam's voice startled him from his thoughts and he turned slightly at the intrusion. "Huh?"

"What's wrong?" Sam repeated, a slight smile playing at his lips.

Dean frowned, turning his attention back to the road. "Nothing."

"Right. Dean, you're brooding. I can hear your brain whirling from over here. Just get it out."

I'm wondering if you're really you. Yeah, that would go over like a ton of bricks.

Dean shook his head, fidgeting a bit in his seat. "Nothing's wrong, Sam. And I don't brood. That's your emo-therapy territory."

Sam huffed in annoyance and turned back to the passenger window. "Fine."

"Fine." Dean cringed at the petulance in his own voice. He sighed, fighting with his brother wasn't what he wanted. He was glad Sam was back and… okay, but he couldn't help wondering if what he had seen back in Ohio had been real or just his paranoid imagination. "So… " he offered, trying to keep his voice light, offering an olive branch. "You want to talk about it?"

Sam turned his head, a frown of confusion on his face. "What? The rugaru?"

"No. You know…" Dean waved a hand absently in the air, letting his eyes drift momentarily to his brother. "Lucifer."

Sam turned back to the front, his eyes carefully trained on the road outside. I told you, man. I don't remember."

"You remember what it felt like to have Lucifer take you over. That had to be... awful."

Sam took a deep breath and released it, and Dean found himself holding his own in… anticipation? Fear? Whatever it was, he was willing to dredge up the horrors of his time in Hell if it would help his brother get through his own.

"I can't, Dean." Sam's voice was soft and his head dropped to his chest, his eyes closed. "I just… to be so close to pure evil… it's just…"

"Hard to find the words?" Dean offered. Yeah, he could relate.

"I guess," Sam responded with a sad chuckle. "I know you want to help, man. And I love you for it, but… I'm not sure anyone can."

Dean nodded, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. He understood. When he'd returned from the pit, there was nothing anyone could've said or done that would make what he'd endured any easier. He lied about not remembering, knowing that if he could make Sam believe it, it could maybe make it easier for him to forget himself. But that had proven impossible. What he'd seen, what he'd done, it was seared into his brain. The best he could've hoped for was to somehow bury it deep enough that he'd still be able to function, and, once he'd come clean about remembering and stopped trying to pretend he didn't, he'd been able to do that. But it took time. And he knew Sam was going to need that to come to terms with his own version of Hell.

His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, narrowing at the headlights reflected as the Chevy crested a small hill. He sat up straighter, his senses suddenly on alert.

"What?" Sam had always been able to read him.

"Probably nothing."

Sam followed his brother's eyes to the mirror and quickly spun around, his brows rising as he noticed the headlights trailing at least two hundred yards behind them.

"Brooding and paranoid?"

Dean dipped his head to the side, his eyes shifting from the mirror to the road ahead. "You know what Dad always said..."

Sam nodded and swung back around to face front. "Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean someone's not out to get you."

"Yahtzee," Dean grinned. "Considering our usual playmates..." He trailed off again, knowing his brother would get the hint.

"Okay," Sam drawled. "So, if we are being tailed, you think it's got something to do with Bobby?"

Dean shrugged. "Maybe. We finish a hunt he was supposed to be on. He's suddenly AWOL… Hell of a coincidence."

Sam sighed. "And we don't believe in coincidence." He sat forward, his eyes glued to the headlights in the side mirror. "So, what now? Stop them and find out who the hell they are?"

Dean pursed his lips and shook his head. "I've got a better idea." He jutted his chin forward, indicating a sign for a truck stop just off the highway about a quarter of a mile ahead. Cresting another small hill, Dean floored the accelerator, causing Sam to grab for the dashboard as the big car shot down the asphalt at close to 90 miles per hour. It only took them a few minutes to close the distance between them and the truck stop. As they approached, Dean killed the lights, taking the entrance ramp at a dangerous speed and expertly guiding the Impala into a spot behind a large tanker truck. Effectively hidden from the highway, Dean killed the engine and waited, his eyes watching the highway from around the front end of the semi.

It was only a few minutes until the car cruised by, slowing slightly before picking up speed and continuing down the dark highway.

"Recognize it?" Sam asked, his eyes following the dark sedan like his brother's.

"Late models all look alike," Dean admitted. "But there was a dark sedan behind us at the light a few blocks from Damon's."

Sam nodded trustingly. "Think it's the same one?"

"Only one way to find out."

Dean started the car, the rumble of the engine filling the silence that had engulfed the night. He pulled out onto the highway, accelerating to catch up to the sedan, then slowing to stay far enough back to not raise suspicion.

"Think they're dumb enough not to notice?"

Dean shrugged again. "Maybe. How many demons do you know that watch TV cop shows?"

Sam laughed out loud. "Maybe it's part of their 'Welcome Topside' training."

They rode in silence for a while, careful not to get too close as the city disappeared behind them. The car finally turned onto a dirt road well into the Ohio countryside. Dean pulled the Impala to the side of the highway and killed the lights, both hunters watching as the car traveled to a small, run-down farm house a little ways off the road.

"Maybe it was just an old couple driving home from dinner?" Sam volunteered in a hopeful voice.

"Yeah," Dean's tone was a bit more sarcastic. "Driving a brand new Lexus?"

Sam turned and gave his brother a grin. "I thought all new model cars looked alike?"

Dean rolled his eyes in response.

He pulled the Impala off onto the dirt road, easing her down the path and parking under the deep shadowy cover of a large oak tree about fifty yards away from the house. From there they could make out a slight glow behind the boarded windows. It wasn't a clear night, but the cloud cover was intermittent and the moon shined down enough to illuminate the house and surrounding property, including the familiar van parked along the far side of the ramshackle dwelling.

"Bobby's van," Sam pointed out needlessly.

"Guess it's not Ma and Pa Kettle out for a midnight drive, huh?"

Sam sighed loudly. "Maybe we should call Cas."

"How?" Dean turned to him, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. "I doubt they have great cell reception in Heaven." He shook his head and turned back to the house. "Besides, even if we could get word to him, he's the new sheriff up there. He's got his hands full. We'll have to muddle through without the angelic assist."

Sam nodded in agreement. "Still, we're walking into what's probably a trap."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Sam sighed in agreement. "Don't suppose you have a plan?"

"Besides break down the front door, grab Bobby and run?"

"Yeah, Dean. Besides that."

Dean thought for a moment before he shook his head. "Nope. You?"

Sam reluctantly repeated his brother's action.

Dean gave a decisive bob of his head and took a deep breath. "Plan A it is."

….

The night was still, the clouds thick enough to shadow their movements as they slowly crept up toward the small farmhouse. The overgrown grass surrounding the property gave them cover, but made silent progress nearly impossible. As soon as they broke through the higher weeds surrounding the edge of the main yard, they crouched down, carefully staying in the shadows of the house.

Taking a deep breath, Dean crab-walked closer to the house, leaning against the outer wall and he slowly angled himself toward the side window. In the low light coming from the one visible room, he could see their friend, tied to an old wooden chair in the center of the room, his head bowed, frighteningly still. He wasn't able to see the older man's face, swallowing back the thought that maybe they were too late. As far as he could see, there was no blood staining bobby's clothes or the floor around him, so maybe he was simply knocked out, or – Dean couldn't help but hope – simply playing possum.

Forcing his eyes to move on, the hunter noticed a man sitting in another chair a few yards in front of Bobby, his back to the front wall of the house directly next to the front door. The man sat as still as Bobby, but his head was up and alert, his dark eyes trained at the mechanic as if waiting for any sign of movement.

There were oil lamps and candles lit around the room, throwing shadows against the walls. Movement of one of the shadows told Dean there was at least one more person in the room, just out of his line of sight. He guessed there was at least one other somewhere inside the house, knowing the two they had followed probably wouldn't have been stupid enough to leave Bobby unguarded, even if the older man had been unconscious at the time.

He leaned back against the outer wall and quickly held up three fingers to his brother. Sam nodded once in understanding then quirked his head toward the back of the house, his brows rising in silent question.

Dean hesitated. Splitting up was the best strategy, but somehow that never really seemed to work out for them. Of course, not knowing where the third demon – if there was one – made it strategically more intelligent to come at them from both sides, covering both exits and flanking the bad guys before they could mount a counter attack. Bobby was going to be caught in the middle – there was just no way to avoid that given the current situation, but coming at them from both sides would give them enough of an initial surprise that they should be able to eliminate at least one if not two of the bogeys before the demons even knew what hit them.

That is if they didn't know already.

Reluctantly, Dean nodded, watching as Sam slowly slid away from the house and disappeared around the corner toward the back. He knew his brother's moves as well as Sam knew his and was confident in their ability to synchronize their movements. He wouldn't let any doubts make hi hesitate. Not with Bobby's life at stake. This was Sam. It would be just like old times.

TBC