Disclaimer: Not mine, but I don't mind. I still get to play!

Warning: Swearing. But you know me, can't avoid the swearing. A bit like spoilers. Can't seem to avoid those.

Author's Note: So, next chapter… Actually, I don't think I have anything to say, I just like blabbing on… you may have noticed. Plus it doesn't help that I'm in a hyper mood.

Chapter 5: Tracing

"Shit, shit, shit!" Dean cursed, hitting the steering wheel of the Impala. He resisted the urge to chuck his cell phone at something. Ash was staring at him anxiously.

"That was Sam, wasn't it?" the younger man asked. Dean nodded, leaning back and pressing the heels of his palm into his eyes. This couldn't be happening.

"What's wrong?" Ash demanded, eyes suddenly bright with anger. "Are they okay?"

"I don't know," Dean muttered.

"What? What! How can you not know? What the hell did Sam say?"

The Winchester took a deep breath, then another, aware of Ash's growing impatience. Finally, when he thought his voice was ready, when he thought it wouldn't break, he spoke up.

"Yes, that was Sam. And no, I don't know if they're okay. Someone's got a gun on Sam, and he doesn't know what's happening with Anya. But he did find something, in Mahone's office…" Guy's too clean. Too careful. What had Sam meant by that? "We were right. Mahone is selling people. And now he's got Sam, and maybe Anya, which means we have to get them back fast or we're never going to see them again."

… getting along like a house on fire. What the hell Sammy? Dean realized he was muttering to himself, and Ash was staring at him worriedly. Dean shook his head and started the engine.

"We've got to get back to your motel, clean it out. Mahone knows about us. Or me, at least. And he knows where Anya and you are staying, so I'm assuming he knows about you too."

"What do you mean, go back to the motel?" Ash snapped as Dean started for the Sleep-Easy. "We have to go to the club, get them out! We're not leaving them to be sold!"

Dean swallowed a shout of frustration, knowing Ash was saying exactly what Dean wanted to do. His grip tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

"I know, Ash, I know! But we can't do that. Sam and Anya are smart, if they can get out, they will. But they're not staying at the club, I can guarantee that! And we have no idea where they're going." He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Besides which, they know where your staying, Ash, they fucking know! And if we take our time by going to that fucking club, then they're going to know everything! Everything about who we all are, what we do… and then if we haven't managed to get Sam and Anya out, they'll move them quickly. Hunters have to be well sought after, especially considering we hunt them!"

He knew he wasn't making any sense. He sighed, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second. "Look, Ash. I wish we could just go in there guns blazing. But that won't do anyone any good. We have to get our stuff, retreat, regroup. Sam and Anya will be okay, so long as we have the chance to get them."

Ash nodded sulkily, but the kid understood. Dean took another deep breath as he screeched to a halt outside the motel. The dawn sun was just peeking over the roof of the building, and for a moment it blinded his and Ash's sight.

He took the moment to let the shakes out, the fear, the anxiety. Took the moment when Ash wasn't looking to have a second of weakness. Shit, Sammy! he cursed in his own head, wishing his brother was the person beside him instead of this almost complete stranger.

Then the sun passed and Dean opened his completely dry eyes, hands steady, mask back on.

Half an hour later found them watching the Jiggly Room from a fair way up the street. It had taken barely ten minutes to clear Ash and Anya's room at the Sleep-Easy, and another fifteen getting to Dean's room, dumping their stuff, gathering a whole arsenal and making their way to where they were now seated. All while doing the speed limit.

Dean would have gone faster if it hadn't been for the multitude of squad cars out and about, a surprising amount for the early morning. They had soon found out why though – the road around the strip club was teeming with officers. Which was also why they were sitting a fair distance.

They had no idea what was going on, what all the cops were doing there… and Dean was pretty sure he didn't want to know. It couldn't be good.

After five minutes sitting in silence however, Ash grew too impatient to watch any longer.

"Come on," he half-begged. "There's a crowd gathering now. We should be able to get information without looking sus."

He didn't wait for an answer, but got out of the Impala. Dean sighed and followed, hoping the kid wouldn't be this impetuous until the very moment he had Anya back.

God I feel old.

Growling over that particular thought, he shut the door harder than he would normally, following Ash down the street.

True to Ash's words, there was a crowd gathering behind yellow police tape. Only it wasn't the club that was taped off, rather a small square surrounding what looked like a ruined phone booth. A squad car stood to one side, while two officers, a tall man and a blonde woman looked over the scene, intently ignoring the crowd muttering to themselves.

Dean came up on one side of a middle-aged woman having a peek. Ash stopped on the other side, looking over the heads of the gathered people.

"What happened?" he asked, glancing quickly at the woman as she looked up at him. She shrugged.

"Someone ran over the pay phone. Only the cops apparently found blood. As if someone was standing in or near it when the car ran into it."

Dean felt his blood run cold. If that had been Sam…

He turned and left, walking around the side of the crowd until he was closer to the cop car standing idly by the shattered glass. He glanced quickly at Ash, who had followed him, before straining to hear what the cops were saying.

"Looks messy," the woman muttered, glancing around. From his position from behind the car, Dean was invisible, so she kept on speaking. "What do you think happened?"

The man shrugged. "I think someone was trying to use the phone and someone tried to run them over. Didn't succeed though, there's not enough blood."

Dean frowned in distaste at the man's cold analysis. That could have been his baby brother the cop was talking about.

The woman frowned. "So what happened to the person?" she asked. Dean was assuming she was a rookie. "There's no drag marks or anything." Maybe not so rookie.

Dean just caught a glimpse of the cop glancing back at the Jiggly Room. "My guess is that Mahone has something to do with this. Always does, the fucking bastard."

The woman glanced back as well, her frown turning into a glare. "And we have no proof so we can't get a warrant to check. Just like always. So what, another missing persons?"

The guy shook his head. "Not until someone says someone's missing." And Dean knew that wouldn't be happening. "No one's come forward yet, so…" The guy shook his head again. "Until someone does, this is just exactly like vandalism. For all anyone knows, and as far as Mahone's lawyers would be concerned, the blood could be from whatever bastard knocked into the phone."

Dean had heard enough. Ducking away with a glare on his face, he related everything back to Ash as they walked back to the Impala.

"So what now?" the younger man asked. Dean grinned at him.

"Now we go hunting. We're going to track whoever was in that pay phone." His grin widened. "Sam told me about your tracking skills. Improved any?"

Ash scowled. "Like Anya told him, back when we saved your ass, we didn't usually work anything out in the bush like that -." Dean cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"It's all good, Ash, I was just playing." Jeez, the kid was uptight when he was mindless with worry. Whereas Dean needed something, anything, to take his mind off the anxiety curdling the contents of his stomach.

They had to wait a few hours before the cops disappeared and the crowd decided a smashed up pay phone wasn't worth their attention. Dean was growling by the end of the wait, while Ash…

The freak of a kid had gone to sleep, snoring his head off until Dean was actually considering smothering him. Five minutes after that he punched the other hunter in the arm, ripping him from sleep and into full alertness in a matter of seconds. Dean was actually impressed with the speed of his waking, though he had to stop the kid from hitting back.

"Easy there Sleepy," Dean soothed. "Come on, everyone's left. We can go have a looksies now."

Ash rubbed the grit from his eyes and nodded, looking about wearily. Dean supposed he couldn't really blame him. It had to have been nearly twenty-four hours since Ash had gotten any. Not that Dean was faring much better in the sleep department.

They exited the car and went around to the trunk, taking two shotguns filled with rock-salt cartridges. The likelihood that Sam and Anya were still in the club was incredibly slim, and Dean didn't want to waste information by shooting and killing men who might know where his little brother was. In the meantime, rock salt hurt like hell.

"I know from personal experience," he told Ash with a grim grin on his face when the kid asked why they weren't taking guns with fatal bullets. Ash frowned at the answer.

"Sam mentioned something about splinters not being as bad as rock salt. Do I want to know?"

"Sam got his head screwed with by the ghost of a psychotic doctor and shot me with rock salt," Dean answered nonchalantly, pushing the trunk closed. Ash shook his head.

"I was right, I didn't want to know."

They closed the gap with the shattered pay phone in a matter of seconds, looking around for any sign of anyone. But the pay phone had been pretty well hidden from the main street, tucked on a corner near the club, which was out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind, Dean thought, knowing people tended to ignore the things they didn't want to know about.

They slowed on reaching the area where the pay phone had been. The glass had been removed, being too much of a danger to anyone who happened to be walking around in bare feet, but the blood stains were still there.

Ignoring the possibility that it might be his brothers – he didn't want to know – he squatted, analysing the scene with a distance that would have shocked him if he had thought about it at the time.

"Just like any other hunt," he reminded himself in a whisper so Ash couldn't hear. The younger hunter was keeping watch, shotgun hidden in the folds of his jacket.

The cop had been right, Dean gathered after a moment. No one had died here, there wasn't enough blood. From what the hunter could discern, someone had been standing there, probably minding their own business, though not if it had been Sammy. The car had come for them, aiming for whoever had been there – there were no break marks showing any sign of any attempted stop. And then it had hit, knocking someone to the side. But any knowledge of what had then happened to the person hit was lost, taken with the body.

Dean stood, half grinning. Who needed forensic reports when you had Dean Winchester on the case?

He looked about, grin fading and concentration taking over. He sidestepped around the blood, looking about for more. For anything. He found it about five metres away.

Another blood drop. He knew from watching that morning that the cops had in fact seen it, and documented it. He didn't know how far they had gotten, maybe all the way to Mahone's club, if that was where it led. He knew they hadn't looked happy when they had reappeared and sped away in the squad car. It seemed no one, not even the law, could touch Mahone in this town. Dean glared away from where Ash could see as he realized it. Well he would just have to bring down Mahone in his own style. Bastard selling his species to the supernatural. Why the hell would he do that?

Between Ash and he, they did in fact trace the trail all the way back to the club. To a wall just underneath a high window, in fact. Someone had leant against it. Someone Sam's height, who was bleeding pretty badly from his shoulder.

"Dammit," Dean muttered, not caring if Ash heard. Sam was in trouble. He knew it. He didn't even really need this. He had known all along. If Sam hadn't been in trouble, he would have called, or come back a long time ago.

"So what now?" Ash asked. Dean shook his head.

"Now we have to get in that club. Sam found something in Mahone's office. We have to find out what. It had to be pretty important for Sam to try telling me while someone's got a gun on him."

"Now what might that have been?"

The stranger's voice made them both spin, taking in the two men standing between them and the mouth of the alley, guns out and up. Dean cursed under his breath as he realized the two had snuck up on them, wondering how he hadn't heard them.

Both he and Ash put their hands up, glaring at themselves. Idiots, both of them. They were hunters, yet had managed to be caught by humans. Humans!

"Gonna answer my question?" the same man asked. He was taller, a shaved head and dark, glittering eyes. "What did that little shit tell you?"

Dean shrugged. "He told me to fuck you," he offered. The gun was cocked instantly, and baldy took a step forward, knuckles tightening on the handle.

"You wanna watch your fucking mouth, or I might decide to blow it off."

"How about you blow me!" Dean spat, trying to make the guy angry. It seemed to be working. Baldy took another two steps forward, face paling in fury. He was close enough and Dean barely avoided grinning triumphantly.

"I said watch your fucking mouth!" the guy near-yelled. Dean twitched his eyebrows.

"How about you watch my fist instead," he told, not giving the guy a chance. He took a nimble step forward, fist coming up and under the guy's arm, catching him hard in the ribs. The impact made his fingers tighten, and his gun rang out. Dean flinched but the bullet crashed harmlessly into the far wall. Another punch and the guy went down. Satisfying himself with a follow-up kick, making sure baldy was unconscious, he turned to find Ash finishing off the second man, downing the guard while he was distracted by his angry comrade.

Dean nodded in approval, trying not to notice how Ash was massaging his fist. Maybe he would teach the kid to punch properly. In the meantime…

"Let's get out of here," he ordered, picking up his shotgun where he had left it lying against the wall as he had studied the blood patch at Sam's shoulder height.

Ash balked. "What about getting into the club?" he asked. Dean stared at him like he was an idiot.

"Are you kidding me? Every person within a block, at least, will have heard that shot. People will be coming any minute. It's far better we get out of here, come when they least expect it. Come on!"

They ran for the Impala, getting away just as cop cars came spinning around the corner. Dean drove slow, unwilling to attract attention.

"So when are we going in then?" Ash asked after he became uncomfortable with the silence. Dean grinned at him.

"Tonight. When the club's full of people and half-naked girls dancing, when everyone's attention is on the door. They won't expect it. We'll walk right in and they won't notice."

More Sammy next chapter, I swear. Then you'll get to find out what happened to him! Talk to you later!