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WARNING: We know nothing about Wicca. We apologize if this chapter (and others) is horribly inaccurate.

Chapter Seven: How to Lose a Guy in Two Hours

The school was still in session, although a large portion of it had been cordoned off with yellow caution tape. According to the newspaper article, which Sammy had apparently read and memorized, the fire had started in one of the science classrooms when the students were using Bunsen burners. It was believed to have been a freak lab accident.

Dean, because he had decided it was a slightly better name than Ted as the only Ted he had been able to think of over the past few days was Ted Bundy, was a little relieved to hear this. It would have been pretty hard for them to have started a fire in a classroom full of teenagers, right? The newspaper made it seem accidental.

Then again, two fatal accidental fires in the same town in the span of a week did seem pretty suspicious.

"What are we going to do?" he asked Sam, "Just loiter outside and wait for that girl to come out? 'Cause that won't freak her out at all."

Sammy clearly hadn't thought out his brilliant plan that far. "Maybe we should ask around," he suggested, nervously. "I was kind of hoping if we caught her in a crowded place she would feel less threatened. . ."

"We saw her in a pretty crowded place yesterday, remember?" Dean told him.

"Hey, you two back?"

Dean and Sam turned, and Dean froze. There was a stocky, middle-aged man approaching them from the curb, wearing a law enforcement uniform that marked him as a local cop. And he looked like recognized them.

This could not be good.

Dean's first instinct was to grab the kid and bolt, but the cop was too close now and they had no where to go. Sammy, even if he did think they were criminals, didn't seem to sense the danger they were in.

"Uh, hey. You remember us?"

"Sure do," the cop replied, stopping in front of them. He didn't move like he was going to reach for his gun or his handcuffs or anything of the sort. Dean tried to relax a bit. "You were the two the county fire department sent down to inspect the building, am I right?"

Sam glanced hesitantly at Dean, "Yeah, I guess that's us."

The cop nodded. "Funny thing is, I put a call down to the fire chief a couple days back, and he says he didn't send no one. . ."

"Uh. . ." Sam looked at Dean again, as if he was supposed to start supplying the answers.

When neither of them responded, the officer fixed them with a hard glare. "I think you two boys better stay away from here," he gestured at the school, "This was fire. Kids died. It's not some game."

They both nodded mutely.

"Don't let me catch you 'round here again," the cop said. With a final nod he headed back to his cruiser.

"That was close," Dean muttered, dragging Sammy back to the car and driving as far away from the school as possible after the cop left.

It seemed the kid had different concerns on his mind. "Why were we pretending to be inspectors from the fire department?"

"Who knows?" Dean said, "But one thing's for sure – we are not stalking some poor kid from the local high school just to get some answers. Especially not with that guy following us around." He jerked a thumb to indicate the cop, even though the police car was long gone. In fact, he had been so overzealous in his hurry to get away from the school that he had driven them right outside of town

"Then what else do you think we should do, Ted—I mean Dean— I mean—this has got to stop. We really have to figure out who we are."

At that point, however, Sam had lost Dean's attention entirely. Dean swerved the car around and brought it to a halt at the side of the road, craning his neck to look out the window and make sure he was seeing right.

In a mostly empty field along the road, framed by trees on one side and a farm on the other, a group of women had formed a circle and were holding hands with arms raised. There were a lot of them, and they seemed to be chanting or praying. But this wasn't what had caught his undivided attention.

All the women were naked.

"What are you—" Sam stopped short as he finally caught sight of what Dean was seeing. His jaw went slack and he openly gaped like a goldfish for a few moments before he was able to string together a few coherent words.

"We probably. . . I mean we shouldn't. . . What are they doing?"

"Who knows?" Dean murmured, "Who cares?" If only he could drive the car a little closer.

They must have arrived at the tail-end of whatever the women were doing, because they soon dropped their arms and broke the circle, and, much to Dean's disappointment, clothed themselves.

As they drove back to the motel Sammy commented, "You know, I really don't think I'm gay. . ."

"That's what I've been saying all along, Fruitcake."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean jerked awake in the bed. He looked around the room confused, unsure of what had woken him up, just sure that something had. On the floor Sam groaned, rolled over and resumed snoring.

Not the kid then.

He blinked tiredly at the clock, which informed him it was just after five am. Dean sighed, he was getting the distinct impression he was not a morning person. So why was it he was continually up before the sun?

A knock sounded on the door and Dean nearly fell out of bed when he jumped at the sound. So that might explain why he was awake. Tentatively he moved to the widow and peeked out, hoping desperately that the cop from earlier had not changed his mind about them and somehow tracked them down.

A lone man stood outside their room. He did not look familiar, but then Dean did not know his own face, so he was not really surprised. The main point was he was alone, and didn't look like a cop.

He nudged Sam's sleeping form with his foot. The kid grunted but didn't wake up. He kicked him a little harder and the kid finally sat up shooting him a dirty glare. "What was that for?" he hissed.

Dean just pointed to the door as the strange man knocked again, a little louder this time. "Some guy," he told Sam when the younger man looked at him questioningly.

"Well?" Sam said gesturing to the door.

Dean nodded and cautiously approached the door. He felt Sam come up behind him. Finally he pulled the door open.

"'Bout time," the man on the doorstep muttered when he saw them. He was quite a bit older than both of them, his greying hair half hidden under a tattered ball cap, only his beard really showing its original brown. His clothes were wrinkled and he looked tired, as though he had driven most of the day and night.

And as far as Dean could tell, he had never seen the man before in his life.

But the man was now standing there looking at them expectantly, probably waiting for them to let him in, so Dean took his best guess. "Uh. . . Bobby?"

He looked at Dean strangely a moment. "What in hell's going on with you boys?" he demanded, moving past them into the room. Dean shrugged when Sam shot him a confused look. Shutting the door he turned to watch the older man, who had stopped in the middle of their room.

"You phone me .Just to hang up on me, both times. So I speed all the way up here, worried you've gone and gotten yourself in over your heads and here you both are fine and dandy, and snoozing away. You ijits trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Uh," Sam stammered looking to Dean for help.

Dean looked back equally unsure what to do. Here they were with some lunatic who apparently knew them, but they had no idea who he was. Or what to say to him for that matter.

And really, what does one say to a loony who thought they were out hunting some coven of witches for crying out loud.

"Well?" Bobby asked sitting down on the edge of the bed and looking at them carefully. "You got a witch problem or not?"

Dean exchanged another look with Sam. Well, this guy was clearly nuts right? So what did they have to lose telling him the truth? So far he was the only one, besides that girl anyway, who seemed to know them. Even if he was off his rocker. Besides he probably already knew enough to turn them over to the cops, just no one would believe him if he kept up the way he had been on the phone.

"Okay," Dean finally began, "This is going to sound really strange. . ."

"Stranger than last time? You boys had better not be about to tell me you think you've found aliens again."

"What?" Dean stammered, while at the same time Sam stared at the man stunned, and managed to mouth 'aliens'.

Bobby looked at them both strangely, "You boys alright? You don't seem yourselves."

"I – well we – I mean aliens?" Dean asked blinking. This man was clearly nuttier than he had thought. But then he seemed to think they had thought they found aliens.

Maybe they had all escaped from some loony bin somewhere. That certainly might explain a few things.

But he didn't feel crazy. 'Course he didn't feel like a murderer either.

Narrowing his eyes Bobby looked at them both suspiciously now. He reached into his jacket with one hand while addressing them coldly, "Who are you and what have you done to them?"

"Hey," Dean called raising his hands slightly, recognizing the move for a concealed weapon. "We haven't done anything, to anybody" he spoke quickly. "I hope," he added under his breath.

"Then you had better start explaining," Bobby warned, still gripping something under his jacket.

"Okay, look," Dean tried again. "The thing is, we well, we woke up here four days ago. And uh, we sort of have no idea who we are."

Bobby blinked at him, then turned to look at Sam. The kid still looked a little wide eyed from the whole alien conversation but he finally found his voice, "We found your number in our phones. We thought maybe you would know us."

"So . . . you have no idea who you are?"

Sam shook his head and Dean added, "Haven't got a clue who you are either."

Bobby seemed to relax a little, though Dean could tell he was still on high alert, as though he expected an attack or something. Great, even the people who they knew thought they were dangerous.

"One of these days," Bobby muttered, "You two are going to be the death of me. How the pair of you manage to attract this much trouble, I'll never know."