Warning: My potty mouth.

Author's Note: Just wanted to say hey. I like having a note, I like talking to people… even if you don't talk back. Not that I mind. I mean, reviews are awesome and all (and thank you SOOOO much to everyone who has) but I understand if you really can't be bothered.

Chapter 8: Finding Answers

The back door was guarded when Dean poked his head around the corner to peer down the alley. Ash was behind him, keeping an eye out, but he turned to face Dean as the other hunter leaned back into the shadow.

"Two guys, each side of the door. We can't sneak down the alley without them seeing us." He looked back around, quickly, taking in the eased slouch of their guarding. Facing Ash, he shook his head. "Assholes are being lazy, they're half asleep. But they'll see us coming a mile off."

Ash shrugged in the cold, his hoodie rolling on his shoulders. "So, how we going to get in? The front door's guarded as well, and they know exactly what you look like. And me too, probably."

Dean grinned. "You're going to walk right up to them," he told the younger man.

Ash gaped. "Walk… You're kidding, right? So you want them to shoot me?"

Dean punched him softly in the shoulder. "No, why the hell would I want that." He picked an empty bottle off the ground. "So walking was a bit of an exaggeration. Stagger might be better. Put your hoodie over your head. Stagger a bit, sway, don't walk in a straight line. Slur when you ask them if they can get you a free dance. Then when you're close enough, take them out."

If anything, the kid's jaw dropped further. "I am not doing that. I can't!"

Dean snorted softly. "Bullshit. You can do it. With your hoodie hiding your face, you can. It won't fit me. So I can't, and you want your sister back as much as I want Sam back. Come on, you're a hunter, we're the masters of B.S."

Ash took a step back, looking around. Then he sighed, groaning under his breath and flipping the hood over his head so it shadowed his eyes. Snatching the bottle out of Dean's hand, he literally staggered around the corner.

He had gone barely ten feet before the two guards spotted him. Sure their attention was completely on Ash, Dean ducked his head around the corner to watch the fun. He had absolute confidence that Ash could handle the two toughs. He just hoped that the confidence was well placed.

"Hey!" one of the men called out. Dean watched him take two steps down. "What the hell do you want?"

As Dean watched on, Ash stumbled to a halt, then leaned forward slightly. He could picture the young man squinting through his fake drunken state.

Then he stumbled forward again. "You two work at that club yeah?" he slurred. "The strip club, right?"

He gave a laugh, staggering into the wall and taking a mouthful from the empty bottle. Or at least, he put his fist around the top and put his fist to his mouth. But it was enough for the two men, who glanced at each other, clearly amused.

"Ah, yeah, we work at it," the same guy spoke.

"Can you get me in?" Ash asked as he staggered closer, still leaning against the wall. He was about twenty feet away now. "Cause there's a pretty girl in there… She has this nice black hair…" He paused, muttering under his breath still. Dean knew there would be a dreamy look on his face. Not that the two would be able to see it properly. "Did I mention she was real pretty?"

Fifteen feet away. "Yeah, you mentioned it," the second guy laughed. Dean watched as they glanced at each other, obviously looking forward to something. "We can get you in, I guess."

The guy placed a hand under his jacket, and Dean tensed, gripping his own gun, hoping he wasn't about to get Ash shot. The kid was five feet away now, apparently oblivious to anything the guard was about to pull. He looked up at the two with a goofy grin.

"Awesome, thanks man!" he slurred, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "Can you get me a free dance with… shit, I forgot her name. Oh well, there's this other one. Nice lookin', blonde, name's Anya. Or maybe you know her better as Charlotte?"

As the guy's faces dawned in recognition, Ash lashed out, all semblance of unsteadiness gone. The bottle he held smashed as it struck the closest guy's face, and he went down heavily. The second guard wasn't close behind, hitting the ground after a nice spinning kick crushed his temple. Dean doubted he would be getting up anytime soon. Or waking, for that matter.

He jogged down the alley as Ash started fumbling about in pockets. He put his hand under one's jacket, pulling out a clear bottle. Dean gave him a frown.

"What is it?" he asked as Ash carefully unscrewed the cap. After giving a cautious sniff, the kid pulled away quickly, groaning.

"Chloroform. The bastard was going to nab me!"

Dean gave a chuckle. "Come on, find anything we can use. And their weapons. Then we'll tie them up and leave them in the dumpster with a bit of chloroform for themselves. Though I don't think that guy needs it," he pointed out, kicking the unconscious man.

Finding keys, guns and knives, and taking their black jackets, Dean and Ash picked each man up and threw him in the dumpster nearby. Then they unlocked the back door, looking about the empty corridor cautiously before entering.

"Well, we're in," Dean whispered. "Know where Mahone's office is?"

"Demon!"

Everyone turned to stare at him as the realization spilled forth from horror, his imagination never once, somehow, processing this. He hadn't imagined this, not this. Demons, he thought, didn't want anything but death and destruction… and this one…

The demon peered in, shocked as well, and Sam had time to glimpse something beneath its shirt before it stood up straighter. Mahone, for once, didn't seem to have a handle on the situation. And Anya was staring at the demon, face stubborn, as if refusing to see the demon beneath the human he was possessing.

"Well, that wasn't what I expected," the demon spoke finally, his voice soft but oh so hard. "Mahone, you caught me a couple of hunters."

Mahone glanced between Sam and the demon. "Hunters?" he asked finally. "I don't understand. He's just a cop."

The demon laughed and Sam felt Anya shiver beside him. He felt like shivering himself. That laugh resonated evil.

"Hunters, Mahone. Hunters of the supernatural. And he's no cop. In fact the cops are probably just as hot after him as he would be after me."

The demon shook his head, taking a step back. The club owner gaped, before shaking himself, taking a hold of his emotions to become that cold-hearted bastard once more, albeit with more than a touch of deference.

"So, I did good then?" he asked, obviously needing confirmation. But the demon snorted and for a wonder, Mahone flinched.

"Good, Mahone?" the demon laughed. "If you had known they were hunters, then yes. As it is, you've done okay. More of good luck than anything else. But hunters are well sought after. What are their names?"

Mahone licked his lips; it was becoming clear that he was terrified of the demon. "Her name's Anya Jackson. I got it off a database I ran her picture through." Sam almost lost his jaw when Mahone revealed the extent of his connections. "But him… the name on his driver's license is Sam McKinley."

The demon shook his head. "That won't be real."

"We figured," Mahone answered. "But -."

"Are you completely fucking nuts?" Sam suddenly shouted, tightening his hold on Anya. "Do you have even the slightest idea what the hell you're dealing with? That bastard is a demon. A demon! As in, from hell. You know, big place, full of death, and fear and pain! And you're dealing with him! Do you want to die?"

"That's just it," Mahone snapped tersely. "I don't want to."

It took them longer than anticipated to find Mahone's office, but twenty minutes later they were in the empty room, scouring the place for any clue. Anything that Sam might have found.

"I don't know what the hell Sam was talking about," Dean muttered as he took in the chaos. "Guy's anything but clean. He's got less organization than my dad." But at least he could think about his dad without breaking into grief now.

"So maybe Sam meant something else," Ash suggested, walking in behind him. "Maybe he just meant that he didn't find anything."

Dean shook his head, refusing to believe this search would be fruitless. "No, he was hinting at something." Guy's too clean… house on fire… funky town…

He stopped and looked around, trying to figure out what Sam had been saying. Ash pushed past him, going to the desk to take a look at the papers. Dean scanned the room, standing still, analysing desperately.

Suddenly he frowned. "Does it really get cold in this place?" he asked Ash, not really wanting an answer. He moved to stand halfway between the heater and the fireplace, glancing between the two. Ash saw what he was looking at and frowned as well.

"Not enough for both," he muttered in agreement.

Dean studied the fireplace for a moment, wondering what it was about it that bothered him. "House on fire," he said slowly. "Blaze? I knew Sam didn't talk like that. He had to know we'd come here. He was trying to hint at something here."

Ash came and squatted in front of the fireplace, shaking his head. "It doesn't look like it's ever been used."

"Then it's clean," Dean summed up, knowing now that this had been what Sam was talking about, what had been bothering him.

The kid nodded, then leaned forward, his keen eyes picking something out. As the older hunter watched, Ash pulled a brick away. Behind it was a wooden box. And inside…

"The records of the missing people. Who they were, when he took them, when he sold them… even a few details of who he sold them too." Ash shook his head. "This'd be all the cops need to put the bastard away."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, except we're not going to the cops. As far as I'm concerned, this is still a supernatural problem. And you know what me and Sam do with evil beings who meddle in the supernatural world? We kill 'em."

Ash looked around at his harsh tone, somewhat surprised. "Bit vehement there, aren't you Dean?" he asked, standing up and putting the papers in his bag.

Dean shrugged. "The bastard's selling people. He's murdering them. And he has Sam. I'm not losing him. That son of a bitch is going down."

Sudden footsteps outside made them both pause. When they continued, Dean cursed under his breath, shoving the box back into the hole, the brick following.

"Come on," he ordered Ash as he crept silently to the door, standing as if on guard either side. It wasn't long before the feet came closer and then a man sucked through the door, blocking Ash from view.

Dean cursed at his bad luck, grabbing the guy the very same instant he spotted the hunter. Dean spun him round roughly, a strong arm tightening a rock-hard hold on the black-clad man's neck. His muscles bulged as he slowly choked the life from the man, he could feel both his pulse, and the pulse beneath his arm, could feel the man clutching at his the very same arm, scrabbling more and more weakly, desperate for life-saving air. Feet clawed at the floor, trying to find purchase, trying to find some way to get out of the headlock. But slowly, oh so very slowly, the man's struggles died down, and then finally stopped. Dean held a second longer, just a second, before letting go. The man slumped to the ground, folding in on himself, not moving. Dean took a step back, gasping for breath as if he had run miles.

Ash swallowed loudly as he knelt by the man, checking for a pulse. Dean slowly got his breathing under control.

"I never did that before," he muttered, still not quite believing he had. "Not to a human, anyway."

"He's not dead," Ash murmured with relief. "He's still got a pulse. You didn't kill him." The tone of his voice told Dean he thought the older hunter had. Dean had been almost sure of it himself.

"Come on," Dean said after a moment. "We should get out of here before someone wonders where this guy is."

Ash nodded, getting to his feet. Together they moved the man behind the desk, out of view of anyone in the hallway, and then left the room cautiously.

"So, we gonna leave?" Ash asked quietly as they paused before going round a corner. Dean snorted softly.

"As if. We still don't know where Sam and Anya are. Come on, we'll go back downstairs."

He trotted off, feet padding almost silently on the wooden floor. The stairs creaked under his weight, but no one appeared to shoot him down, for which he was truly grateful. Soon they were back on the first level, going for room to room.

"Someone get Greer!"

The shout echoed through the back of the club, alerting the two hunters to the fact that the guy's unconscious body had been found. They shared a look before pounding feet took their attention. Someone was coming downstairs.

"Quick, in here," Ash ordered, half pulling Dean with him through the door. The older hunter didn't really need it; a bit like Ash, he wasn't too interested in being seen or caught.

What they hadn't expected were the stairs. Ash, the first through the door, was the first to fall, his grip on Dean's jacket pulling the other man with him. Struggling to bite back yelps, knowing the various thuds would be enough to pull anyone to them, they tumbled down the flight, landing in a bruised heap at the bottom.

Groaning as quietly as he could, Dean got gingerly to his feet, hoping he could avoid stepping on Ash. Hope was all he could do; it was nearly pitch black darkness.

He got out his lighter, knowing a torch could attract more attention than they wanted, and looked around. Ash's shadow rose beside him, and, together, their eyes fell upon a door.

They shared a look. "Wonder what's behind creepy door number one," Dean muttered. "Here hold this."

He tried the handle under the looming light in Ash's hand, but found it locked. It wasn't a problem, not once he got his lock pick out.

Ash went through first, gun up, lighter held high. Dean followed, trusting the younger man to secure the area while he quietly shut the door and locked it. He was just about to turn when he felt a tug on his jacket.

"Ah, Dean…" Ash spoke, his concentration obviously elsewhere.

Dean turned, anxiety once more churning his gut, though Ash didn't sound alarmed. More shocked than anything.

He didn't know what he expected to find. Man, beast, naked women dancing to music he and Ash couldn't hear.

But whatever he imagined, it wasn't a young women hanging by her wrists from the ceiling, bright blue eyes staring at them with nothing less than pure terror.

Dum dum da!