Chapter Nine.

Dean had been dragged to the barn pretty unceremoniously, his stiff legs complaining bitterly at the sudden exertion, his every muscle aching. He'd considered turning and swinging his shoulder high into Isaac's throat, maybe adding a backward kick or a knee to the guts for good measure – Belle's gun however, hovering ever-ready in the background had made that option less than appealing. Inflicting pain on the ginger-haired weirdo who had him by the scruff of the neck was all well and good, but if he ended up with a hole blown in the back of his skull then it wasn't really the victory he was after.

He'd stumbled once on their trek across the dusty ground, when his foot had caught on something at the house's perimeter, half-buried under a flap of dead grass. He'd lurched forward, Isaac tightening his grip to keep his prisoner upright and half strangling him in the process. It had however given Dean the chance to glance down at the offending item underfoot. A lump of metal, attached to cables that ran away from it under the dirt. He followed the trail with his eyes as he was jerked forward again, noticing that the wiring seemed to run around the house and barn, although God only knew what it was for. Judging by the rest of the junk scattered around the yard, probably nothing.

Although there was that humming again.

Briefly, Isaac had released him long enough to open the barn doors, Belle staying squared behind him with the gun, although unfortunately she knew her stuff enough to keep out of range if Dean decided to spin round and kick it from her grasp. Damn they were good, which was more than a shock considering the state of them.

"Get inside."

He had done, reluctantly, assisted by an unnecessary push from Isaac, who was obviously getting his jollies in before they wasted him.

The first thing Dean saw as he stumbled across the threshold was a sight that made him virtually well up in relief. The Impala, sitting proudly in the centre of the chaos like a bright, shiny beacon. Mentally he checked her for any imperfections, relieved to find none. Dopey and sadistic he might be, but Isaac at least seemed to be able to drive properly. If nothing else, Dean was thankful for that.

"On your knees pig," Belle had suddenly barked from beside him and Isaac had added to the threat with another shove, one that sent him clean into the side of the Impala so that he banged hard against the window.

It was as he did that he noticed the red glow coming from inside, a light radiating out from underneath the passenger seat and one that made him frown in surprise.

What the hell –

It clicked almost immediately, the EMF detector. But what – there were no spirits around were there? Or maybe there were, maybe the ghosts of those Belle and Isaac had killed were with them, although if it was strong enough for the EMF meter to read then he at least expected them to be active somehow, moving things, making themselves known. Was it too much to expect a spirit to save his ass? After all, he had come to unveil the gruesome twosome's deadly past time, which, in his book, deserved more than a little gratitude.

Grabbing him by the collar of his jacket again, Isaac flung Dean onto the floor, watching him land in the dirt with a bang that made him wince in pain.

Obviously, gratitude meant very little to Jacob and co.

"Now then pig," Belle grinned through yellowing teeth, her sentence indicative of a woman who'd seen far too many movies, "Any last words?"

Dean looked up, defiance playing through his eyes as she brought up the gun to point at his chest. He had plenty to say, most importantly, sorry I didn't save you Sammy, not that he could say that out loud. Eventually, he settled on something he thought fitted, the barest hint of a smile flickering across his face.

"See you in hell, bitch."

And then the gun had gone off, deafening them all.

For a good ten seconds, Dean was convinced he was hit, knelt on the floor, eyes shut, head hung over and wondering, above all else, where the searing pain was. There was none.

Tentatively, he opened his eyes.

Belle and Isaac were standing several paces in front of him, their backs turned in his direction. The gun still sat in Belle's hands, though it was neither pointed his way nor smoking. What was smoking however, was the shotgun sat in the hands of Jed Hamilton.

He blinked, then checked again. Yep. Jed Hamilton of all people, stood at the back of the barn, gun pointed in the direction of a fresh hole decorating the roof-line, face poised for more action. His eyes found out Dean's and a toothy smile opened wide across his face.

"You all right there son?" he asked, grinning. Dean struggled to form a sentence, disbelieving at not only the man's appearance, but also at his distinct lack of urgency.

"Get the gun!" he snapped, nodding at Belle.

"Oh, right!"

Idiot. He was working with an idiot. Although at his snapped command the old-timer quickly shuffled forward to snatch away the weapon that until that point had rendered Belle so dangerous.

"Dean!"

With a bang that startled them all, the barn doors suddenly flew open, making everyone stop in their tracks and turn towards the commotion. Sam stood silhouetted by the early morning sunshine, panic on his face, panting heavily. His eyes fell first on Dean and he exhaled long and hard at the bemused face that stared back at him.

"Sam?"

"Don't," his tone was desperate, "Don't shoot him!"

At once Belle's face turned ashen, her lip beginning to tremble in emotion. In that second she realised she'd lost him, lost another son, lost the chance of reuniting her family. Again. It was too much to bear.

"No, no, no…"

"Who the hell's this kid?" as Jed interjected in confused tones, dropping his guard to push up the brim of his worn cap with a thumb, Isaac made his move, slamming sideways into his neighbour and sending them both to the ground, rifle and gun skittering away across the floor. Dean bit back a curse. Idiot!

"No!" As Belle's final shred of sanity crumbled she launched forward towards Sam, knocking him from his feet with a powerful blow. Obviously 'Jacob' had never been hit by his mother before – that he could remember – and his face showed both the pain and the betrayal clearly, "I'm not losing you," she muttered dangerously, pointing a shaking finger in his direction, "I'm not losing you to them!"

As Sam leant forward, hand clamped to the sting in his cheek, something fell out of the folds of his shirt, the metal glinting in the sunlight, a name clearly inscribed across the horizontal arm of the cross. Dean's sudden understanding was instantaneous. The continuous humming, the EMF meter going nuts, the wires in the yard, Sam's loss of memory. If World War Three had not been in the process of breaking out around him he might even have been impressed, he knew Sam would be when he explained everything to him – later.

Rolling backwards towards the car, Dean yanked the ropes securing his hands up against the wheel arch, rubbing them frantically against the corner of the metal and praying he wasn't taking off any paintwork.

"Come on!"

They gave way abruptly with a cracking of fibres and he pulled the rest free before staggering to his feet and surging the distance between himself and his brother, cutting in front of Belle, oblivious to her ascending anger.

He slapped a firm hand down on Sam's shoulder, watching the hurt and confused face turn towards him,

"Time to wake up Sam," he said breathlessly, wrapping his fingers around the chain and pulling hard.

It came away with a snap and unexpectedly the barn was filled with Belle's scream of distress.

"Jacob!"

Hope this makes sense, I did just re-read it but I had such a long and mental day at work I fell asleep when I came home and feel all dopey now! So please forgive any errors!

As always, I love my reviewers – who can all enjoy an imaginary mince pie on me! (Don't worry, I'll put one aside for S.C too!)

Until Chapter Ten…