Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews one and all. I wanted to get this bad boy out before I go on vacation next week, so enjoy. And remember to feed the author. Will write for reviews!

Warnings: Spoilers in this chapter through 6.14. Now we're easing into the story proper and it's meant to take place between 6.14 and 6.15.

Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine. I'm just happy to play in the sandbox and promise to put the toys back when I'm done.

Chapter 2

Targeted

Dean glanced over at Sam for the nth time in the last hour, checking to make sure his brother was still with him. After Sam's seizure and Hell flashback, he'd been unusually quiet and subdued. Even when Sam had wanted to buck Dean's older brother concern in the parking lot, his arguments had lacked any strength behind them. He'd almost too readily agreed to do things Dean's way, but he also seemed too weary for any real conflict, especially when Dean was right.

Dean frowned at his brother, who was staring out the passenger window without much interest in the passing scenery. Sam's entire body was tense; he'd practically been dead weight when Dean had dragged him from the house they'd been squatting in to the Impala, but sometime between then and their stop for food and coffee Sam had tensed up and had yet to relax even after getting back on the road and away from Rhode Island hours ago.

"How much farther to Paterson?" Dean asked, hoping to stir Sam out of his funk. Sam blinked and looked over at Dean, who simply raised an eyebrow. "Well, navigator?"

Sam silently reached for the map in the glove compartment and, after unfolding it, traced road lines with his finger, leaning in to read the mileage in the fading light. "Hundred miles or so," he replied, his tone as flat as it had been earlier that afternoon.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, anything to try to get his uncharacteristically stoic brother talking, but his cell ringing derailed his train of thought. He cursed mildly under his breath as he fumbled one-handed for his phone in his jacket pocket and checked the caller ID.

"Who is it?" Sam asked.

"Bobby," Dean replied, mystified. "Maybe he found out something new from the dragon book."

"Maybe. You gonna answer it or what?"

Dean pulled a face at his brother before accepting the call. "Bobby?"

"Tell me you idjits aren't still in Bristol."

The opener was so far from anything Dean might have been expecting it took a moment for the statement to process. "What? No, we're on the road." A beat. "Why?"

"Heard from Tim Janklow not ten minutes ago."

"Wha— How the hell…?" Dean sputtered, unsure of which question he wanted to get out first.

"Don't know, kid." The answer seemed appropriate for either question, too.

"What'd he say?"

"Like Walt, wanted to know if I'd heard from you."

Dean looked over at Sam, who was watching him curiously. He tilted his head questioningly, but Dean shook his head. Sam frowned but didn't say anything. "And you—"

"Told him the same thing I told Walt," Bobby replied tersely.

"And did he buy it?"

Bobby snorted. "Doubt it. Don't think I woulda heard from another hunter if Walt'd believed me the first time. Hunters talk."

"So I've noticed," Dean grumbled, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

"I don't know what's going on, but you two idjits are on some hunters' radars."

"That's hardly news, Bobby. We haven't been popular in the community in a long time."

Sam's frown deepened before a spark of recognition lit up his face as realized what the conversation must be about. He pursed his lips but said nothing.

"Just keep a low profile, would ya?" the older hunter muttered. "And get your asses back here before too long."

"Low profile's my middle name," Dean replied with a smirk. Sam snorted next to him while Bobby growled just as disbelievingly on the other end of the line.

"Boy…"

"We'll be careful, Bobby," Dean promised, backing off from the sarcasm. Bobby was looking for something a little more substantial and deserved a better answer. "We've got a job but we'll head your way when we wrap it up."

Bobby grunted his agreement. "Just make it a quick one."

"You got it."

"So what'd Bobby want?" Sam asked as Dean ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

"Said he got a call from another hunter about us. Tim Janklow." The little color Sam had regained since his seizure left his face in a hurry. "Sam? What?"

When Sam didn't immediately reply, Dean swerved onto the shoulder and put the Impala in park. Sam wasn't easily shaken so seeing that expression on his face had fear gnawing at Dean's insides, especially with the day's events still fresh in his mind. He squared himself to face his brother. "Talk to me, Sammy."

Sam swallowed and picked at an imaginary thread on his jeans. It was a habit Sam had picked up when he was younger as he racked his big brain for the right words when he wanted to say something important. Young Sammy had done it the whole drive home from school before telling their dad he'd joined the soccer team and would have afternoon practice when they normally trained. Hours before Sam had told them about Stanford, Dean had found him sitting on his bed just picking at the offending denim, his acceptance letter lying open beside him. He sometimes wondered if Sam even realized he was doing it, considering how far away his gaze tended to get when he did it, like he was on another planet. Dean sat back slightly, giving his brother some space to think.

"I told you that some hunters had attacked me when we were, ah, separated, right?" Sam spoke up after a time. "Tried to make me drink demon blood and threatened a girl I worked with."

Dean nodded, remembering the anger that had welled in his gut when his brother had admitted it. Sam had refused to tell him who the hunters were, though, not wanting Dean to think about going after other hunters when they had bigger things to deal with. Even when he wasn't on speaking terms with his brother, Dean still didn't take kindly to others targeting Sam, after all.

"But you didn't drink it," Dean supplied, remembering his mild surprise at actually believing Sam's adamant oath that he'd spit it back at the hunters, "and drove 'em off."

"Yeah," Sam agreed before looking up at Dean. He shrugged weakly. "Tim was one of the hunters. Tim and Reggie Hull." Sam wriggled uncomfortably in his seat as he spoke. "Steve Bose had been with them but some demons killed him. They wanted revenge."

"And wanted you to get it for them," Dean inferred, considering the demon blood with new perspective. Sam nodded, his bangs falling into his eyes. "Dammit," Dean growled, slumping back into his seat.

"They probably told Walt and Roy," Sam added quietly.

Dean nodded, dots connecting in his mind. "So Tim and Reggie find out about the Winchester-induced Apocalypse, and spread the word to other hunters. Roy and Walt hear about it and track us down to that motel."

"They said they weren't the only hunters after us."

"Yeah. But they shot us and assumed that was that."

"We didn't have much reason to come across any other hunters after that," Sam said, continuing the train of thought. "And then the Apocalypse ended. You quit hunting, no need for any hunters to know about you. And I…" He trailed off, grimacing.

"Yeah." 'I went to Hell while my body roamed around soulless, hunting with Samuel and the other sneaky Campbells so no one would have noticed,' Dean filled in silently for his brother. "So until now, we've been completely under the radar."

"And now we're not. And apparently still not popular," Sam commented wryly.

Dean groaned. "So now we've got hunters wanting to take us out again? Friggin' awesome."

Bobby was waiting for them as they pulled up the damaged Impala into his salvage yard. Dean groaned, noticing the look on the older hunter's face. It had been a long last few days; all he wanted was to fix his baby and forget all the hurt people he'd left in his path. He glanced over at Sam and saw a similarly grim expression on his brother's face.

"Looks like Bobby has some good news," Dean said, reaching for the door handle.

"Yeah," Sam snorted as he shoved himself out of the passenger side.

"'bout time you got back here," Bobby growled, approaching them.

"What is it, Bobby?" Sam asked as he came around the front of the Impala to join him and Dean.

"Rufus called, said some hunters were looking for you idjits in New Jersey."

"What the hell?" Dean swore. "How'd they track us there?"

"Especially when you took the Impala," Sam added, brow creasing in a frown.

"Wait, you separated?" Bobby demanded. He crossed his arms and looked between them.

"Ben called," Dean replied tightly. He really didn't want to get into the details right now. He could still see the kid's heartbroken face watching him pull out of the driveway from his bedroom window. "Said there was a problem."

"I made him go check it out," Sam jumped in, diverting Bobby's glare to himself. Dean sent a silent thank you to his brother for the rescue. "The Impala is pretty conspicuous, but it wasn't even in the same state for most of the hunt," Sam continued. "No idea what else could have put them on our trail."

"How'd Rufus hear?" Dean asked, breaking the tense silence that had fallen.

"Said Tim called him, wanted to know if he knew anything," Bobby answered. "Rufus told 'im to get bent then called me."

Dean barked a laugh. Despite the situation that was rapidly devolving around them—monsters, demons, angels, and now other hunters, all out for blood—he had to appreciate the precious few allies he and Sam did have, even—or maybe especially—crotchety ones like Rufus.

"If these guys tracked us to Rhode Island and Jersey," Sam said slowly, "shouldn't they eventually track us here?"

Dean frowned. "We don't want to get you in any more trouble, Bobby."

Bobby just snorted dismissively. "Pretty sure that's inevitable. I'm the one getting calls asking about you already," he said. His eyes lit up a bit. "Besides, Tim and Walt wouldn't dare screw with me, especially on my property. They know better than that."

Dean's eyebrows went up. He knew Bobby was thorough in protecting his house and yard from the supernatural, but he hadn't spent much time considering protection against other humans. Huh. The things you learn about a guy.

"Here's probably safer than anywhere else for you boys at this point," Bobby went on. "You might think about taking some time off."

Dean opened his mouth but Sam interrupted. "That's probably a good idea." He gave Dean a pointed look. "The Impala needs some work done and we can get back to looking into the Mother of All."

Dean swallowed and nodded. Not to mention, hanging around at Bobby's would keep them from accidentally stumbling on some place Sam had been hunting while soulless and triggering memories. Neither of them had really recovered from Sam's seizure even if they had both buried their fears for the time being. Staying off the hunt for a little while might be the best course of action after all.

Plus, the Impala was desperate for attention after Rose the ghost had possessed her. First Constance Welch and now Rose. What was with homicidal ghosts taking his baby for joy rides?

Dean met Sam's gaze and nodded. "Yeah, fine. We'll hang low for awhile."

"Good," Bobby nodded.

After Bobby went to clear out the garage so Dean could park the Impala there to work on her, Sam helped Dean drag their duffels into the house. They dropped the bags on their beds and Sam sat down on the edge of his bed, resting his face in his hands. Dean watched his brother a minute, and could see the walls Sam had built up to hide his weariness during the hunt and in front of Bobby coming down in a hurry. He'd inherited the Winchester trait of burying his pain and fears, but he had never mastered keeping it down like Dean and John. So now that the hunt in Jersey was over and they had reached a safe haven, his exhaustion from his Hell flashback was resurfacing in a hurry.

Dean put a hand on his shoulder and Sam started. He looked up and gave a sheepish smile. Dean gave him what he hoped was a disarming smile in return. "Get some rest, Sammy."

Sam looked like he was going to argue then thought better of it. Definitely a sign he wasn't feeling his best. "What about you?" he asked instead.

"I'm going to go check on my baby," Dean replied easily. "I'm just glad she made it back here after being possessed like that." And crashing into a wall, but who was counting? Anyway, working on the Impala was as good a way to keep from thinking about Lisa and Ben as any…

Sam considered him a minute—Dean had the distinct feeling Sam could read exactly what he was thinking; a wavelength they hadn't shared in what seemed like an eternity—before nodding. "Yeah, alright."

Sam was stripping his boots as Dean left the room, closing the door behind him. Hopefully Sam would get some rest and give the Great Wall of Sam the chance to stabilize a bit before whatever decided to come after them next arrived.

Bobby was sitting at the kitchen table when Dean walked in. The older hunter looked up and nodded at him. "Where's Sam?"

"Resting." Bobby looked at the clock—early afternoon—and raised an eyebrow. Dean shrugged. "It's been a long few days."

"Besides some damn good hunters deciding you two'd would make a good next hunt?" Bobby retorted.

Dean grimaced. "Besides that." He went to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer before sitting down across from the man closest to a father he and Sam had. Taking a chug of beer without tasting it, Dean told him about Sam's history in Rhode Island and his seizure. Deciding it was important Bobby know, he also told him about Tim and Reggie attacking Sam in Oklahoma and Walt and Roy being the ones to kill them two years prior—which had earned a string of creative curses from the older hunter that impressed even Dean.

"Dammit Dean," Bobby growled when he'd finished speaking, "you two're gonna give me a heart attack at this rate."

Dean smiled ruefully. "It's what we do best."

"I've noticed."

"You said earlier that Ben called," Bobby said after a few moments of silence. Dean flinched. "And you left Sam to go?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"'And' what, Bobby?" Dean grumbled, scrubbing his face through his hands and taking another long draught of his beer. Bitter. "Ben said there was an emergency. Turned out the emergency was Lisa had a third date with a doctor."

Instead of giving any hollow words of encouragement, Bobby just nodded. He finished the beer he'd been working on when Dean arrived before rising and giving Dean a supportive pat on the shoulder. "Garage is open," he said simply before heading toward his library of the occult.

Dean nodded absently. Sam would probably be out for awhile and Bobby was going to lock himself in research mode for awhile, giving him time and space to sort through things and work on his baby. He nursed the beer a little while longer before giving up on it and heading for the Impala.

After a couple of days of work, the Impala was back in top shape, Dean was proud to announce. Sam had his doubts that there was that much damage to the car in the first place, especially since it made the trip from New Jersey to South Dakota without falling apart after the initial possession. But recognizing Dean's need for space and knowing the car's therapeutic effect on his brother, Sam kept his suspicions to himself.

Sam surprised himself by spending a good portion of those few days sleeping. He'd jerked awake more than once to find he'd fallen asleep on the couch while attempting to help Bobby research and found he'd been covered with a blanket each time.

He'd been weary since collapsing in Rhode Island but had done his best to shove the pain and tiredness down as not to worry Dean or interfere with the case. And it turned out having a hunt to focus on had kept him from dwelling on the memories that had leaked from behind the wall. But as soon as they had gotten to Bobby's and decided to stay off the hunt for awhile, the exhaustion had reared its ugly head anew, not letting Sam keep it hidden away like he'd wanted.

The night he'd spent on his own while Dean had gone to see Lisa and Ben had been rough. After salting and burning Rose's remains, Sam had crashed hard at the motel only to be assaulted by horrific nightmares. He'd barely slept after that, terrified of both what awaited him in his sleep and of the potential of the dreams leading to more issues with the wall in his mind.

But when Dean had come back, Sam had found himself sleeping more easily. The nightmares and memories were still there, but were manageable; they didn't completely overtake him like in Bristol. The safe havens of his brother's presence and Bobby's house seemed to help corral the nightmares long enough for him to get some sleep, for which Sam was grateful. He'd taken any rest he could get before trouble, whether of the human or supernatural variety, inevitably found them again.

He also knew Dean could see right through any attempts to downplay what had happened and how he felt. Dean was the one person on the planet that knew what he was going through and had no qualms with calling him on his bullshit. Dean's take charge attitude toward Sam's wellbeing might once have chafed, but after so long of either being at odds with or away from his brother, it was nice to feel the genuine, unadulterated concern and love again. He didn't want to damage that, especially knowing what Dean was forgiving him for when he was without a soul. So Sam didn't give him any reason to call him on anything.

Sam was looking through Bobby's refrigerator when Dean walked in. With a sigh, Sam closed the door and turned to look at his brother.

"Dinner?" Dean asked hopefully, naturally thinking with his stomach.

Sam shrugged. "There's nothing to make a meal from. Bobby needs groceries."

"Well, we are eating all his food while we're camped here. Kind of our fault, huh?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "We should get him some stuff tomorrow."

Dean nodded. "Sure."

"I can go get us a pizza or something for tonight," Sam volunteered. He could use some air after all the old books he'd been going through without much luck over the last few days. Bobby's place might be home anymore, but Sam was getting a little stir-crazy.

Dean blinked at him. "We could just order in, you know. Bobby said we probably shouldn't leave. Just in case."

Sam rubbed a hand through his hair and admitted, "I want to get out of the house for a little while. Get some air, you know?"

"You could help me and Bobby in the shop." The two older men had been working on various projects in Bobby's garage for most of the day. Bobby had grown frustrated with research that morning and shoved a few select volumes at Sam before heading into the salvage yard.

"Dean."

Dean chuckled. "Good point. You and working on cars don't mix. Shop was the one class you didn't ace in high school, huh."

"Shaddup." Sam tried in vain to hide the smile that was threatening to form. He'd barely gotten an A-minus in the class, and only because Dean had helped him on his final project. "There's a pizza place like ten minutes from here. I'll be back in like half an hour tops."

"I'll go with you, then."

Sam shook his head. "Dude, you're having a good time working in the shop with Bobby. You never get a chance to work on cars besides the Impala and I know how much you enjoy it." His tone softened at Dean's startled look. "I can drive to a restaurant and back without a chaperone."

Dean considered this and finally nodded. "Yeah, alright. Just take your phone." He grabbed the Impala's keys from his pocket and tossed them to Sam. "Just in case."

"I think we're just being paranoid here, but sure," Sam muttered mildly, pulling his phone from his pocket and waving it at Dean. There hadn't been any calls from other hunters about them since Rufus and no signs of anyone suspicious sneaking around Bobby's property. All quiet on the Winchester front. "See?"

Dean nodded, though his expression had turned serious. "Probably, but paranoid keeps you alive." One of Dad's many pearls of wisdom. "I'm coming looking if you're not back in forty-five, dude."

"Yeah yeah," Sam waved as he headed out the front door.

It was still light out as Sam pulled the Impala out from Bobby's salvage yard and headed for town. The Impala, while not a regular fixture in town, had become recognizable to many of the locals as the Winchesters had visited more often and a few waved at Sam as he passed through the neighborhoods on the edge of the city.

As he got out of the car at the mom and pop pizza place, he pulled his phone out to call Dean and ask if he should grab some beer too. He couldn't remember what Bobby's supply looked like. He took a few steps as his finger scrolled for Dean's number before the hair on the back of his neck prickled.

Sam slowed his pace and looked around carefully. There were three other cars in the parking lot and woods around the brick building that could hide bears or deer or things decidedly less natural or friendly. He could see shadows of people through the lowered window shades sitting inside the restaurant talking and laughing as they waited for their orders. A car drove by on the street behind him with some rap song blaring loud enough to startle some perched birds into flight. Nothing seemed out of place except for his nagging feeling of being watched. But Sam had learned to trust those instincts.

He hadn't thought he'd need a gun to get a freaking pizza not ten minutes from Bobby's but was now regretting his choice to go out unarmed.

Sam took another step but froze when he felt a prick in the back of his neck. He groped back only to feel something imbedded in the flesh below his hairline. He pulled it out and looked at the dart in surprise. His vision suddenly swam as he felt two more pricks in his shoulder and upper back. He felt his phone fall from his hand as his vision darkened.

Guess we should have just ordered in after all, he thought wryly before everything went black.

tbc…