Okay, sorry for the wait, but I wanted this to be good. Hotshow liked it so I hope you do, too. Big thanks to everyone following this – none of my stories have ever had this many people on alert before – THANK YOU. Thanks as always to hotshow, who asked for this story in the first place. I expect there to be two or possibly three more chapters, and the next chapter should post before the weekend. Thanks for your patience and I hope this meets expectations!!

Chapter 19

John Morgan stepped out of the car, eyeing the auto salvage yard skeptically. "Why are we here again?"

Elizabeth glared at him. "We need proof that Dean Mahogoff is unfit to care for his brother. What could be more unfit for a mentally incapacitated man than this?" Her arm waved at a tower of beaten and rusted autos. "Plus, he's carrying a gun."

"Sammy?" John moved closer to the car.

"No!" she snapped. "The brother!"

John opened his door. "I'll wait for you here." No way was he going anywhere near an armed Dean Mahogoff. No. Way.

"What's wrong with you?" Elizabeth hissed as she peered down at him inside the car. "No balls?"

John crossed his arms over his chest. "You might intimidate me, Elizabeth, but I don't have a death wish."

"Fine!" She straightened up, staring ahead at the salvage yard. "Then I'll go in by myself. And when my paper wins awards for pioneering work in neurology, your name won't be on it."

"But I'll still be breathing," he pointed out, slamming his door closed. John watched as she stalked off into the salvage yard. Despite her brilliance Elizabeth always tottered on the edge of sanity, in his opinion, but she seemed to have stepped right over that edge. Sammy Mahogoff as a case study for pioneering work in neurology? Please. John had an urge to call the man the brothers were staying with to warn them, but he still did not have a death wish. Mahogoff versus Jeffries? John had a hard time deciding who he would put his money on there. The only safe bet was to stay with the car. No matter what happened, he would be able to get home.

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The sun sank below the horizon. It woke, stretched. Perhaps tonight would be the time of its revenge. A long tongue ran over its sharp teeth, savoring its anticipation. It leapt down, landing softly in the dust. It shook itself, preparing for the night. As darkness descended, draping the rusting machines deep in shadow, it heard a noise. It crept through its domain, following an unfamiliar scent.

Was it another hunter? It moved in silence until it could observe the enemy. No, this one was not a hunter. This one was loud and clumsy. What was this one doing here? It followed, amused.

The one it followed tried to observe Singer and the two men. Interesting. It wondered what this one's intentions were. Clearly this one did not understand that the men did not venture outside the house at night, but perhaps this one would be persuaded to help change that.

It slipped up behind the intruder. It checked its claws, making certain they were fully extended and sharp. The points gleamed in the low light. It smiled in the way of man, knowing its teeth were more imposing that way. Flicking its long tongue out, it gently tasted the intruder's skin. If nothing else, this intruder would certainly make a delicious meal.

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Elizabeth Jeffries moved carefully through the salvage yard, certain she was perfectly silent. There was no way Dean Mahogoff could know she was here. She held her camera ready, taking pictures of anything that looked dangerous along the way. As she neared the house, Elizabeth wondered if she could peek in one of the windows.

She hesitated behind a crushed wreck, deciding the best way to approach the house. She chose a window she could see light through. It would be her best bet to see what was happening inside. She hoped to find Sammy watching cartoons, which Elizabeth could testify was hindering the man's progress to regaining his memory. Really, nearly anything she found she could say was hindering Sammy's progress. Anything outside the sterile hospital grounds was always suspect.

As she tried to decide when and how to move closer to the window, there was an odd sensation on the back of her neck. Elizabeth tried to shake it away, assuming it was something hanging from one of these wrecked cars. The sensation returned. She looked back, straight into bright gold eyes.

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The scream brought Dean rocketing to his feet. Sammy turned around from his cartoons. He watched his brother pull out a gun and check the clip before racing out the door.

"Stay here, Sam," Bobby rumbled as he followed Dean outside.

Sammy frowned to himself. He looked between Batman and his black stick. He picked up the black stick. "What do you think, Batman? Does Dean need my help?"

Batman's arm pointed at the door. "That's what I thought." Sammy rushed to the door. At the threshold, he glanced back. "Thanks, Batman."

Sammy stepped outside, gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark before following the screams. He hefted his black stick in his hands. Dean still would not allow him to touch a gun, even though he was pretty sure he knew how. Sammy shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

The screaming was louder now. That was good; it meant the person screaming was still alive. There was shouting and the screaming stopped. Sammy hurried, breaking into a run. Two gunshots.

Sammy rounded the next car body. Lion-o stood over Dean, who was on the ground. Bobby yelled at Lion-o, brandishing the shotgun. Lion-o had Catwoman between him and Bobby. Sammy figured Catwoman was the reason Dean did not already shoot Lion-o. He crept up from behind, his hands sweaty on the crowbar. Sam knew he only had one chance to make this work.

"This won't work!" Catwoman screamed. "You can't scare me! I'll still prove you unfit!"

Dean squirmed on the ground. Even in the low light, Sam saw his brother's shoulder had three nasty gashes and was already covered in blood. His teeth gritted as he watched Dean struggle to sit up. He knew when Dean spotted him, because Dean's eyes darted away, concentrating on Lion-o and Catwoman.

"Shut up, bitch!" Dean shouted, trying to get his feet under him. "You. What do you want?"

Dean was unsteady on his feet. That worried Sam more than the obvious shoulder wound. It took a lot of blood loss to make Dean that unsteady, or a nasty blow to the head. A really nasty blow, because Dean's head was pretty hard. Sam squinted, trying to see if there was anything obviously wrong with his brother. That was when he noticed a nasty gash on Dean's temple, dribbling blood down one side of his face.

Sam took another step toward Lion-o, hefting the crowbar.

"What's the matter?" Dean laughed. "Cat got your tongue?"

Sam watched as Dean took some careful steps forward as he taunted the Lion-o creature. He waited, knowing Dean was trying to grab the woman, get her out of the way.

"Here, kitty, kitty," Dean crooned, clicking his tongue. "Bet you like to have your ears scratched, huh?"

"Think it'll behave better after it's neutered, Dean?" Bobby asked, covering Dean's movements with his shotgun.

After what felt like an endless time, Sam recognized his signal. He brought the crowbar down across the creature's back, just below its shoulders. It let out a howl that made him want to cover his ears, but Sam settled for jumping backward instead. When he looked for his brother, he saw Dean off to the side wrestling that woman with his good arm to stand back. Why did he think of Batman capturing Catwoman when he looked at that?

Sam could not help but grin at the unbidden image, until something glinted in the corner of his eye. "Sam!" Dean's voice echoed in his ears as he tried to throw his body the other way, but sharp pain lanced through his side. He rolled to his knees, crowbar at the ready. Where was it?

"Dean? Where did it go?" Sam stepped up to his feet, the pain in his side ignored for the moment. He tried not to think about why it felt wet.

"Up."

He followed the direction of Dean's gun. "Oh, great." Sam cut his eyes at his brother. "At least it'll be simple, huh?"

"It wants revenge," Dean muttered. "How far will it go?" His brother looked up, studying the stacks of cars. "Sam, you and Bobby escort the bitch out. But don't take too long."

Sam rushed to the woman, shoving her ahead of him. The instant they were out of Dean's sight, he exchanged a look with Bobby. Bobby nodded, taking over the escort duties as Sam hurried back to his brother.

Sam stuck to the sides of the wrecked cars, staying in the deepest shadows. Dean was not being quiet, making it easier to find his brother. He supposed that was intentional.

"So, are you like the original Puss in Boots?" Dean's voice echoed off the rusted hulks. "What brand do you like? I'll bet you're one of those Gucci assholes, huh?"

Sam froze. He did not know what it was, but he had the distinct impression that he needed to remain perfectly still. When it happened again, Sam knew it was a sound. Moving only his eyes, he searched for the source. There was a figure standing on top of the stacked cars. Wild hair stuck straight out from its head, creating a black halo against the night sky. Sam gritted his teeth, waiting for what would happen next. Why the hell did he leave the house without his gun?

Every muscle tense, Sam listened to Dean's taunts, which were becoming more creative and personal. Wait a minute, did Dean really just ask if the creature's mother was a carnival sideshow reject? Sam would shake his head, but he did not want to give his position away. Now Dean was asking how long it had been hiding, too cowardly to take on Bobby one on one. Sam saw the creature's wild hair go wider. That one must have hit close to home. Not long now he told himself, tightening his grip on the crowbar.

"That's it, isn't it?" Dean's voice carried well. Sam could hear the anger in it. "Too much of a coward, aren't you? Been just hanging around here how long? Weeks? Months? Years?"

The figure standing on the cars moved. Sam watched as it leapt into the air.

"Dean! Look out!" Sam charged around the cars, determined to get to his brother before it was too late.

"That's starting to piss me off," Dean said from the ground as Sam rounded the corner.

Sam let out a yell as he raised the crowbar, swinging it down. The creature was unbelievably fast. Why the hell would it wait to go after Bobby if it could move like that? Sam swung again, and another miss. He tried to maneuver away from Dean, giving his brother time to get up. At least he hoped Dean could get up. Dean had not moved since he burst around the corner.

A few more swings moved the creature further away from Dean. Sam tried to get close enough to actually hit it, but it had some wicked claws and a long reach. When the claws snagged his shirt Sam jumped back, his chest barely escaping the same fate his side met earlier.

"You really think that can hurt me?" The creature asked, teeth flashing in the light spilling out from Bobby's house.

"Not really," Sam took another swing. "But all I have to do," he swung again, "is keep you busy." A wide swing had the creature backed into a corner, surrounded on each side by rusting cars.

"Sam!"

Sam dropped to the ground, hearing the report of Dean's gun and the shotgun going off simultaneously. He lifted his head out of the dust to see the creature's body slumping toward the ground. Dean staggered forward, emptying his clip into it.

"There better not be any more, Bobby," Dean said with a snarl, eyes not moving from the creature.

"Hope not, Dean." Bobby said, shouldering his shotgun. "Sam! Come help me drag this thing out of the way before I call an ambulance."

"Sure, Bobby." Sam dropped the crowbar, heading toward them.

"Damn, Sammy," Dean breathed as he tried to pass his brother. "How bad did it get you?"

Sam shrugged. "Don't even feel it anymore."

Dean's eyes went wide. "Bobby, we can throw a tarp over it later. Go call that ambulance now!"

What was wrong with Dean? And when did his brother get taller?

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Dean watched in horror as his brother collapsed right in front of him. He tried to catch Sam, but wound up pinned beneath his baby brother. This position was not doing his ribs any good, much less either shoulder. Dean wrapped his arms around his brother as best he could, trying to share body heat. He figured Sam was going into shock, pretty severely if his collapse was anything to go by.

When Bobby ran out of the house with an armload of blankets, Dean knew the older man must have been thinking the same thing. "Should be here any minute, Dean. Just hang on." Bobby patted his shoulder before taking the remaining blankets to hide the creature.

Too tired to think any more, or worry about one more thing, Dean waited for Bobby to rush back to them. Bobby knelt in the dirt next to him, one hand on his shoulder and the other on Sam's chest. "How you doing there, Dean?"

"What are we going to tell them, Bobby?" Dean asked. He wanted to be told what to say, what to do. He wanted Sam to wake up and be Sam. Well, he wanted a lot of things that were not going to happen.

"Don't worry about it, Dean," Bobby told him, "I'll come up with something about a rogue mountain lion or something." Bobby tilted his chin up. "You don't look so good. Just say that you don't remember anything and let me do all the talking. All right?"

Dean nodded, hoping that ambulance would hurry. It was an eternity that he held Sam before the sirens came. Another eternity before paramedics loaded his brother on a stretcher and put him into the ambulance. Dean tried to stand, to follow, but his legs refused to cooperate.

"Him too!" Bobby's voice came from somewhere, but Dean couldn't see him. Where did Bobby go? And who turned out all the damn lights?