I always get this nice warm feeling whenever I post a new fic and get to see your first reactions. You guys are truly the best, so thanks for all your feedback :) Here is the second chapter, as promised, before we set out for our two-weeks hiatus. I hope you'll enjoy. (Oh and title of story is taken from LOTR's famous line: "May it be a light for you in dark place, when all other lights go out", one should give credit where it's due ;) )

Chapter 2

After getting the news about Annette, Dean decided to deal with the motel manager. Since they had got their relationship at such a good start, this was one person Dean did not want to antagonize, not until the hunt was done and they could leave town. Sam was fast asleep and would be like that for a long time. Even if he did wake up alone, he would have to pass the lobby on his way out and would find Dean there. Still, Dean wrote a note which he pinned to the lamp on the nightstand. It would be the first thing Sam saw when he opened his eyes.

The lobby was empty when Dean got there. The room was cleaner than many of the places Dean and Sam usually chose. It didn't look as if the manager was hiding a drug den in his quarters or was running any other shady business.

The manager walked in and Dean took the time studying him. When they had met, Dean's focus had been only on Sam. Now he could inspect the man that had volunteered to help them. Just to make sure there was nothing hinky about him. With their line of work, you could never be too careful. For all Dean knew, the manager could have very well been responsible for the disappearances himself, although Dean really doubted that. He did not look the type – but then, looks could be deceiving.

The man was almost as tall as Sam, but he looked to be about their dad's age. Or, the age their Dad would have been had he still been alive, Dean thought and tried to quell the bitterness that rose in his throat. It was coming less and less often, the grief not gone but becoming part of Dean and so at times he could pretend it did not exist. But it could still catch him by surprise at unguarded moments. Dean knew what to expect, though. After all, this was not the first parent he had lost.

"Hey there," the manager said. "Got your brother all settled in?"

Dean nodded.

"Yeah, he's sleeping. Probably will for a while, he and pain pills are a strange combination."

The manager smiled slightly.

"Well, then maybe I shouldn't keep you that long. I'm sure you'd rather go back to him. I'm Alfred by the way. I like to be on first name basis with my customers. I found out it humanizes me and they're less inclined to bust up my rooms if they see me as a person."

Dean found himself grinning.

"I get what you're saying. I'm Dean."

They usually didn't give their real names at motels, even their first ones, but Dean was sure Sam had muttered it a few times during their trek to their room, so it wasn't like he had that much of a choice this time. Of course, he could always try to twist the truth and say Dean was actually the name of Sam's secret boyfriend, but really, even though that would cause momentary humiliation for Sam while they were in town, it would cause a lot more for Dean for a very long time. That was the kind of opportunity Sam wouldn't have missed in a million years, and Dean knew his brother had an evil mind. That particular choice of lie would have come back to bite him worse than it bit Sam.

"So, weird town, huh?" Dean commented, deciding he might as well fish for information if he was already there.

Alfred frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Dean shrugged innocently. He had detected the cautious tone in Alfred's voice and tried to deflect it.

"Oh, nothing, just something we heard on the way. About disappearances and all."

"People disappear all the time, Dean. From big cities, too."

Didn't he know it.

"It was just something I've heard," Dean repeated. "I'm sure it's nothing."

Alfred grimaced.

"Oh, I shouldn't have let you think that. I wouldn't want you with your guard down while you're here. This place sometimes…it does hold something that's not good."

Dean watched him closely. Alfred did not look the type to try to scare the tourists just for the sake of it.

"Hey, I know it's none of my business…" he began, knowing this was when people usually took the bait and told more.

Appear uninterested and they'll have this perverse urge to tell you everything. Another of John Winchester's valuable hunting lessons. Dean suddenly had the urge to turn his back and run. He did not want to be obeying instructions from his father. Not when the last instructions John had given him effectively spelled out coldly and cynically the ending of Dean's entire world.

"Several years ago it happened to one of my employees," Alfred told Dean. "Well, to his boyfriend. He went missing, which was strange, he was a good boy. He turned up three nights later covered in bruises, talking about running for centuries and all sort of strange stuff. Everyone thought he was on drugs, which was again unusual. He was not the druggie kind."

"What happened to him?" Dean asked.

Alfred looked away.

"He died. The hospital said exhaustion. Turns out he did run quite a lot. From what – well, that's the question, isn't it?"

Dean nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, in this case, we'll have to stay out of trouble, won't we?"

Alfred snorted.

"If you don't mind me saying, you don't look like someone who knows how to stay out of trouble. In fact, you look the type who runs straight into trouble no question asked."

Dean couldn't help laughing at that.

"You weren't by any chance a cop in another life, were you?"

Alfred shook his head.

"Definitely not. Just a humble motel owner – although before I did work reception in some of the big hotel chains. And let me tell you something, son, you can learn a lot about people in this job."

Dean wondered what the manager had learned about them from the short interaction he had witnessed. Alfred seemed to guess where his thoughts were going.

"Hey, whatever it is you are going through, try not to go it alone. I've got kids of my own. At a certain age, toughing out your problems seems important, but trust me, Dean, it's not what it's cracked out to be."

So he too was a father, Dean thought, then wondered if he was also the type to burden his kids with impossible, life- shattering tasks. He crushed that thought. Really, what was wrong with him today?

"Did you learn how to do therapy in the hotels as well?"

Alfred grinned.

"Actually, that was my wife, God rest her soul. You wouldn't have wanted to meet me before I knew her."

Dean doubted that, the man seemed the picture of decent and well-adjusted. He made a mental note to hit the pool scene even if it wasn't necessary. He'd pay Alfred in cash instead of using one of their phony credit cards. If for nothing else, then for how kind he'd been to Sam.

"I'd best get back. Sammy'll wonder where I've disappeared."

"You or your brother need anything else just ask. I'm going for the night, but my youngest son will be here to take the shift. He'll help with whatever."

Dean needed a lot of things. He was sure Sam needed them too. However, none of them could be given by the motel owner or his family, however well-meaning.

xxxXXXxxx

Sam knew he was dreaming when he opened his eyes and discovered he was not lying in the motel bed anymore but was standing in the forest. The air smelled strongly of wood smoke, which was weird. Not a lot of people lit camp fires that close to winter. Maybe someone was burning the rest of the autumn leaves – but it did not smell like burned leaves, either.

Sam took several steps and nearly bumped into a tree. Being alone out there disoriented him.

"Dean?" he asked.

He did not know why he was alarmed that his brother wasn't with him in a dream, but the loneliness unnerved him. Had he been awake, Sam would have gritted his teeth and tried to find a way out, ignoring his discomfort. No use risking Dean finding him and thinking Sam was weak – especially not now that Dean needed someone else to be strong for him for a change. But this was all happening inside Sam's head, and Sam figured he could afford some vulnerability when it was just him and his messed-up mind.

"Dean?" he called, but he got no answer.

He could hear something in the distance. It sounded like horse's hooves. For some reason, it made his blood boil. Then, a voice hissed in his ears:

"Run."

The whisper was so terrible, so deadly, that Sam felt the entire world being pulled away from him.

XxxXXXxxx

Sam woke up with a jolt. He was back in his hotel room, had never left it, actually. Dean was fast asleep in his bed, turned towards Sam, as he always did whenever he was worried. Dean worried a lot, Sam thought. About Sam, mainly, but about other things as well. Things he had been taught to bottle up and keep hidden – even from the one person he should have trusted the most.

He squashed the bitterness that welled up in his throat at the thought. He was done being bitter about how Dean had turned up courtesy of their father's parenting. He could understand John now, which should have placed him and Dean on the same page. Except Dean now acted as if he could not understand their father at all – and Sam had a hard time finding a reason for that.

A glance at his phone told him it was 3 a.m. In many cultures, that was the Witching Hour. It was bad luck to be awake then.

Sam gave up the temptation of turning on the other side and going back to sleep. He did not think he could, there was a restlessness in him that set his nerves on fire. He padded to the window and looked outside.

The motel welcome sign was flickering. Sam nearly snorted at the cliché – didn't they always flicker in horror movies? He could see two or three cars parked outside so he knew he and Dean were not the only guests. However, the others were way up front, so Sam could not hear them – courtesy of the motel manager, as he remembered, who took pity on Sam tossing his cookies on his sidewalk and decided to give the two of them a better room.

Sam froze suddenly. He could not see anything amiss, but he could not escape the feeling that he was being watched. Something was there, in the forest up ahead and it was definitely aware of him. Whether it was good or bad, Sam could not tell but, considering his track record, statistically it had to be a very evil bastard.

He suddenly had the urge to step outside. It was not smart, and instinct was telling him that if he did, something terrible would happen to him. But all of a sudden, he could not stay in the room anymore. He stepped towards the door.

"Sam?"

Dean's sleepy mumble stopped him in his tracks. Sam realized that what he was about to do was an insult to common sense. He did not even know why he would want to go out.

"What are you doing up, man?" Dean went on.

He sounded half asleep. Sam really did not want to worry him more. He headed back to bed.

"Nothing," he said. "Just looking around."

"Well, look round in the morning, will ya?"

Sam huffed, then nodded, even though Dean could not see him.

"Go back to sleep," he urged.

It was one of the few instances when Dean obeyed him without protest. Soon, Sam could hear the sound of his brother's rhythmic breathing close by. He tried to focus on that and block out the clatter of horses' hooves that had followed him from his dream.

xxXXXxxx

Henry Ross was just returning from his night shift at the hospital. He was tired, moody, and worried. His girlfriend still refused to return his calls – and were they even boyfriend and girlfriend if she hadn't been talking to him for two weeks, or should he place her in the ex category? – his boss was giving him a hard time - he'd antagonized one of the doctors, but it had been obvious the old goat was about to prescribe the wrong drugs. The patient was allergic to them, had made that abundantly clear. What was Henry supposed to do? Let them kill a man? All in all, it had not been a good week.

Henry got out of his car in front of his house. The streetlights weren't working – again. The sooner Henry could move out of this one-horse town, the better. And speaking of horses…

The sound of hooves had been on his mind for several nights. It was stronger now. It did strange stuff to Henry, made his blood boil. Made him want to abandon everything and just go. He had unlocked his front door but did not walk in. Instead, he headed towards the forest – where he could still hear the sound of hooves. And something else. Something calling him.

xxXXxxx

When Dean woke up the next morning, Sam was already out of bed, sitting at the desk with coffee and a bagel.

"Courtesy of the kid at the reception," he explained. "Apparently his dad was worried about us after last night so he instructed the kid to make us a batch. Do I really want to know what happened last night?"

Dean inhaled the aroma of freshly ground coffee. Maybe next time Sam's headaches would get them pie.

"Don't worry about last night," Dean said. "At least we've got a good room and free food out of it."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Are you saying I should do this more often?"

Dean cast him a dirty look.

"Hell no. You'll ruin my manly image."

He noticed the smile on Sam's face and wondered how many times he had seen it since their father's death.

"So, what about what I saw last night?"

Dan scowled. It would have been too much to hope San had forgotten the vision.

"You were right," Dean said, then raised his hand before Sam could start with the guilt trip. "But dude, your clock was off. That vision came three hours after the event."

Sam's eyes widened.

"Three hours after? Are you sure?"

Dean nodded tightly.

"I promise, Sam. I called the sheriff after you fell asleep. I wanted to give them a tip that Annette might turn violent. Well, it turned out she had and killed her sister."

Sam tapped his fingers against the table.

"That woman in my vision didn't look like she would have been her sister."

"Adopted sister," Dean corrected. "Their father was a cop, from what I've heard. We'll look into the family more. See what made them tick."

Sam nodded, his eyes on the table.

"Did Annette mention why she bashed her sister's head in?"

Oh right. Sam hadn't seen that last bit in his vision and Dean had forgotten to mention it.

"Annette won't be mentioning anything anytime soon," he said darkly. "She shot herself. Right after she killed her sister, so still before you had your vision."

Sam looked taken aback.

"That's weird. In this case the vision can't have been connecting me to Annette. Maybe it's someone else. Someone making them do this."

Wasn't that a cheerful thought? Still, Dean thought he at least had one piece of good news in this whole mess.

"I don't think it has anything to do with you," he said bluntly. "Or the other weird kids or whatever. One, Annette was older than you, that bartender told me she was twenty-five. Two, this has been going on for a long time. The manager told me last night about an earlier missing. This one, however, died of exhaustion."

Sam got up and walked to the window.

"Something really weird is going on here, Dean."

Dean watched him carefully.

"I agree. I just don't know what yet."

"Library?" Sam suggested.

Library was a phase of hunting Dean wished he could avoid. He knew it made Sam happy, though, just as he knew how useful research was.

"How about we go find out more about Annette from the sheriff? And about other possible missings. Then I'll take you to the library."

Sam nodded.

"Fair enough. Do you think more people will disappear?"

I'm not the psychic one, am I? Dean thought and he was really glad Sam had his back on him and couldn't read his morose mood.

"I don't know," was all he said. "Let's hope they won't."

xxXXXxxx

Once they arrived at the sheriff station, Dean realized he had hoped in vain.

They did their usual song and dance, presenting themselves as FBI. No one was really surprised to see them there.

"Feds come and go through here all the time," the sheriff told them.

She was a tall blonde woman with a non-nonsense attitude. Dean eyed her appreciatively, but the wedding ring on her finger told him he should not bother hoping for any non-business relationship.

"They all want to look into the missing cases – lots of them in the area. At one point, they were pretty sure we had a serial killer around. Do you still think that?"

"That's one line we're pursuing, Sheriff Larson," Sam said

The sheriff smiled slightly.

"Alma, please. We're all friends here, aren't we, sugar?"

Sam spluttered and Dean rolled his eyes. Apparently, Alma Larson was married, but not dead. Still, as far as Dean was concerned, she was looking at the wrong Winchester.

"I do say you have good timing, though," the sheriff added.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"I thought you knew. We suspect another disappearance. Henry Ross. A nurse at the local hospital. He came home from night shift, but it doesn't seem he made it inside the house. His door is open, but there's no sign of him anywhere."

Sam and Dean exchanged troubled looks.

"Did Ross have any connection to Annette?" Sam asked.

"Not to Annette directly, but he did date Klara, for a while at least. Poor guy doesn't even know she's dead. We didn't have the time to tell him."

"You said he dated Klara," Dean said. "They weren't together anymore?"

Alma shook her head.

"Klara broke it off. Rather abruptly, too. Said he was too intense. Bit of a creep, as she put it."

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"How do you know all this? Usually, the sheriff is the last to find out."

Alma smirked.

"You know your small town rules. I was friends with Klara and Annette. I was their father's deputy – before he vanished."

"Annette's father vanished too?" Sam asked surprised.

Alma nodded.

"Several years back. No one has seen him since. I suspect he got too involved with the area's drug runners. No one thinks he's alive anymore. Well, except Annette. She insisted he was alive and she was going to find him. In fact, the night she vanished, she was on her way to meet with an informer of her father's."

"Got a name?"

The sheriff went to her desk and wrote out something on a piece of paper, which she handed to Sam.

"Name and address. He's frequently on our watch list for one thing or another. He's never had the honor of a visit from the feds so far."

Sam smiled tightly.

"We'll make it worth his while," he promised grimly.

xxXXXxxx

Sam and Dean walked out of the sheriff's station.

"So," Sam began. "What do you think?"

Dean smirked.

"I think she's sweet on you, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"She's not my type, she's more yours," he said bluntly.

"Your loss," Dean commented.

"Now can we talk about the case?"

Sam had that faint edge of impatience that told Dean jokes were not gonna get him any further.

"Right," Dean said, clearing his throat. "So, two missing in less than two weeks. And they're more or less connected to each other."

"They're more than connected," Sam said. "They were both troubled. Annette was apparently obsessed about her missing father. Henry had just been dumped by his girlfriend."

Dean nodded.

"I see what you mean. What about the cop? Annette's father? Do you think he went missing on the job, or can we count him among the creepy disappearances? I think a talk with the informer would help. After all, he knew both the former sheriff and his daughter."

Sam said nothing for a while, he was looking around him as if he was expecting something to happen.

"Sam?" Dean asked concerned, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder.

Sam tensed slightly as if coming from a deep sleep.

"Yeah, I was just noticing the sheriff station is across from the library."

Dean raised his eyebrows. True, Sam was the kind to get mesmerized by libraries, but it was hard to believe the sight of one would cause him to space out like that.

"And?"

Sam shrugged.

"I want to have a look at some old newspapers. See how far this thing goes. Maybe find something about the history of the town. Why don't you go talk to that informer alone and I'll stay here?"

Dean watched him, suddenly filled with doubt.

"Are you sure that's fine? I mean, you've already had a vision on this hunt. What if you're out there alone and have another of your…episodes?"

Sam turned to glare at him.

"Episodes?" he repeated. "You're making it sound like I'm some Victorian lady who gets the vapors."

The corners of Dean's mouth lifted.

"Hey, if the corset fits, Samantha. Or doesn't, in this case…"

The sharp whack on the back of his head took him by surprise. He usually anticipated Sam's hits with precision. He must be losing his touch if Sam could land a blow without him being ready for it. Either that, or Sam was starting to know him too well.

"I'll be fine," Sam assured him. "After all, it's just a library. What could possibly happen in the library?"

Dean scowled. That question was just begging for trouble.

"Remember when you were sixteen and got pelted with books by that poltergeist?" he asked pointedly.

Sam waved that aside.

"That was a haunted library. I'm sure this won't be the case."

Dean thought that, with their luck, it could very well be. But Sam would take it the wrong way.

"Alright," he said, giving Sam a quick pat on the back. "I'll pick you up later?"

"Or I could meet you at the motel," Sam suggested, "It's within walking distance, after all."

"You're not trying to ditch me, are you?" Dean asked suspiciously. "Arrange a date with sheriff Alma?"

Sam snorted and started walking away, shaking his head.

"Put a sock on the door, just in case," Dean called after him.

Sam did not even turn around.

xxXXXxxx

Once in the library, Sam proceeded to sift through newspapers as well as records indicating the town's origins. The librarian had raised his eyebrows at Sam's eclectic tastes, but did not comment in any way. It took Sam a while to compile a comprehensive list of missing persons, but he was sure he had at least fifty in the last fifteen years alone. All around this time, some returning but never the same, some never being heard of ever again. A few bodies were found along the way, with causes of death varying from starvation to exhaustion and exposure. No signs of violence, at least not on the people who disappeared. But, whenever they came back, they tended to inflict violence on those around them.

Sam rubbed at his forehead wearily. Had he gotten this far during the research he had made years back for his father? Had there ever been any such research or was Sam remembering wrong? He had a nagging feeling that John had been searching for something like that before – or at least looking into it.

Sam then turned to the town records. He frowned reading them. As he had expected, the town – and many other towns in the area – had been founded by Irish settlers. He was willing to bet all those towns had disappearances around this time of year too.

Sam left the library on the way to the hotel. He already had his suspicions. He just needed his father's journal to confirm them. Then, he needed a way to tell Dean.

To be fair, the series left us with way worse cliffhangers before their winter hiatuses ;) Next chapter will be posted on January 8, when we'll be resuming our regular Supernatural Sunday postings. And yes, I will explain then some of what's going on. In the meantime, feel free to speculate. Whoever gets it right gets virtual cinnamon cookies (that's the only kind of cookie you want from me, trust me).

I wish you all the best of holidays and a peaceful new year.