Warning: Again, swearing, sorry. I'm a potty-typer

Chapter 7: Best Laid Plans

"Thanks anyway."

Having kept his voice calm until then, Dean growled as he slammed the phone shut, his frustration getting the better of him.

"Nothing!" he cried, looking over at Ash who was sitting on Sam's bed. The younger man had his own computer out, typing away furiously. He paused as Dean looked over at him.

"No luck with the GPS in his phone then?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Dean shook his head, rubbing his eyes to remove the grit building up. He needed sleep. He knew that. But there was no way in hell he was sleeping, not until he got Sam back.

"Have you got anything on Mahone?" the older hunter asked as he got up from the chair to make a coffee. He had lost track of how many he had had. He knew he would be living off the stuff for the next however long.

"I've got a list of his properties. He's not just into the whole restaurant, club thing. He's got eight houses as well. Four of them he rents out, two of which are rented by the guys who run the coffee shop and the bar. Another two are empty. Another is for his, for his parents."

"His parents?" Dean asked, frowning. "The guy's a heartless bastard, he sells his own species to demons, cults, vampires, but he gives a home to his parents." He shook his head. "People are so much harder to understand than demons. Seriously, they're crazy."

Ash shrugged in what Dean took for agreement. "The world's weird. What are you going to do? Anyway, the last place is for himself and his wife. I got a picture of it, it's freaking huge. The biggest house in the town."

Dean leaned back against the counter. "All right. So do you think he'd take Sam and Anya there? Or one of his empty places? Or somewhere else that has absolutely nothing to do with him?"

Dean groaned, not giving Ash a chance to answer, and rubbed his eyes again. "It could be anywhere," he said in answer to his own question. "They could be anywhere!"

Ash put the laptop aside, his face a picture of calm. All except his eyes. But he shook his head.

"They're not anywhere, Dean. They're somewhere. Somewhere that we're going to find, somewhere where they will be fine. There's no way we're not getting them back."

For a moment, Dean just stared at the kid. Then, "God, you're a mini-Sam," he muttered, looking away. But he felt better. He did. He just wished it had been Sam saying those things to him.

"All right, where do we start?" Ash asked, once more giving Dean the lead. The older hunter suspected the kid knew it would stop him from giving into the anxiety churning his gut.

"The club, like we'd planned. See whatever it was that Sam saw, don't get our asses caught like he did, and go from there."

He looked out the window, at the setting sun. Over twelve hours since Sam and Anya had been nabbed. Mahone could have done anything to them in that time. He could have gotten them out of the state, slaves to some –

He took a long sip of his coffee, drowning out the thoughts. Sam would be somewhere. Somewhere safe, somewhere unharmed, and –

He stood up straighter, whipping his head around. "Did you hear that?" he asked softly. Ash, standing as well, body tense, nodded.

"Sounded like someone outside the door," he muttered back, frowning at said door. "Someone who doesn't want to be heard."

"Grab me that shotgun," he ordered, pointing vaguely towards his bed. Ash chucked it to him, taking an hold of his own at the same time.

Dean motioned with his head towards the door, and they each took a position on either side of the door, guns in ready hands.

Ash caught Dean's gaze and nodded, understanding without any words. The younger man took a hold of the handle, knuckles white as he twisted and pulled towards him.

Dean was the first through, shotgun up, trying to hide the majority of it behind his arm. It was only loaded with rock salt, but he still didn't relish trying to explain it to anyone.

Ash appeared from behind him, his own gun up. They both looked around, but the motel was eerily empty. There was no one around.

The older man took the lead, walking past three doors, following an invisible trail. Ash came behind, walking backwards, keeping the rear. And then Dean stopped, hearing a noise once more. He leant against the wall, corner instantly to his left. The noise came again, a sort of shuffling sound.

Dean motioned to Ash that whoever was stalking them was around the corner. A second later he jumped around, gun up, finger on the trigger.

He jumped again as the beast lunged out of the trash. Or more skidded. And it was less a beast than…

"A dog," Dean laughed with relief. "It's only a dog."

Ash poked his head around the corner, taking in the scraggly mutt slinking away with its tail between its leg, glancing back in distaste at the humans who had interrupted its feast.

Dean chuckled, pulling his shotgun down and turning back. "Paranoid much?" he accused Ash, an eyebrow raised. He ducked back into the room before the younger man could accuse him of anything similar.

"Come on!" he shouted before he closed it. "We got to get ready to go to the club."

Across the other side of town, as night settled across the country side, a middle-aged couple screamed as six men burst through the door, guns raised, bodies covered in black.

The six men surrounded the two as the clutched each other, before looking at one man. He looked around, taking in the two trembling in fear, taking in the rose-covered wallpaper, the lack of anything even remotely resembling dangerous. And then he growled loudly, his voice only slightly muffled by his mask.

"The little fucker lied to us!"

Anya gaped as Sam explained what he had done. "You deliberately broke?" she asked once more, needing to make sure.

He nodded, leaning back and trying to relax against the cold wall.

"But he knew my name," she pointed out. "And he knew about Ash…"

Sam sighed. "One of them must have heard me talking with you back when they snatched us. And I think he's been watching your motel room. Or maybe he just looked into you. Or maybe he's seen Ash outside the club while you're working. You two don't exactly look different. Or did you forget you were twins?"

He shook his head, then winced. "In any case, I didn't tell him. Besides, he still thinks Dean's my partner. And he thinks I'm a cop."

"So, why'd you do that?" she asked quietly. "Why not just stay silent? They're going to find out you lied soon enough."

Sam nodded. "I know, I know." He sighed. "You don't understand, Anya. Everyone breaks. Everyone. No matter who you are, how strong you think you are, no matter how high your pain tolerance, everyone breaks during torture. It's just a matter of when and how far you're willing to be hurt."

He shook his head again, looking down. "If I had stayed silent as long as I could, I wouldn't be able to help us escape. Or at least, I don't think I would be. Mahone was intent on getting that information, and he didn't care what happened to me, as long as he got it."

"So how do you know he doesn't suspect?" she demanded cautiously. "That you lied, I mean."

His eyes clouded over, and she realized no one would ever find out what had happened to him in that time between being taken and being thrown into this cell. But he shrugged, looking down. "I don't think he does. I didn't spill quickly…" he trailed off, turning away to stare at the door.

"So what are you going to do once he finds out?" she asked after a moment, thinking. He shrugged, looking back at her.

"I hadn't thought that far ahead yet. Hopefully it'll buy us enough time."

"Buy time for what?" she questioned with a frown.

Sam grinned weakly. "For Dean to come rescue us. He's never going to let me live that down, but I don't think we're getting out of here without him and Ash."

Sudden footsteps outside the door made them both jump, and they stared wildly at each other. Sam shook his head.

"It's too soon. No way could they have found out yet!" Not unless his internal clock was seriously screwed.

But a moment later the lock on the cell door slid open and the sudden brightness of the corridor outside made them both squint, even though their own cell was illuminated.

When they could finally see, Mahone stood in the doorway, flanked by two large men. Landly was there, though Greer was missing. Sam and Anya got to their feet, the older more gingerly, taking a hold of his shoulder.

Mahone grinned. "Having a nice little chat about betrayal?" he asked. When they both remained silent, the man's grin deepened. Sam wasn't shocked to see it didn't touch his eyes. "That's okay, I wouldn't want to talk about it either. It's hard to get used to. It kind of settles in your gut, making every step weighed down by guilt… Got to that stage yet?"

He chuckled to himself, looking them both over, flatly ignoring their glares. And then, like flipping a coin, his face lost any trace of amusement, becoming a picture of seriousness.

"There's someone here who wants to see you," he snapped at them, stepping aside, and shoving Landly out of his way with his movement. Shadow moved and a slight figure moved just out of eyesight.

Sam tensed at the realization he was about to meet the one behind Mahone, behind the selling, behind everything. He was about to meet – man, beast…

The figure stepped around the corner, and Sam gaped, taking a step back. The man was small, but he drew attention like light drew a moth, and the hunter couldn't believe his luck. No man, no beast, but…

"Demon!"

Well, there you go, one more chapter down. Thanks for reading!