Disclaimer: Nothing is mine except the plot and the 2 characters that aren't Sam and Dean.

The Winchesters wasted no time after Aaron - or rather the Thunderbird now - took off into the air with great sweeps of his wings that did little more than rustle some of the dirt at their feet. Sam watched as the Thunderbird continued to climb higher and higher, yet everything that should have been blown away by the gusts of wind caused by its great flapping wings hardly even trembled. It really was true that the Thunderbird couldn't harm a thing.

Drops of rain began to dot the ground as Dean hoisted up the secret compartment in the trunk of the Impala and surveyed their artillery as he ran his hand down his face. If what Aaron told them was true, anything they brought with them would be completely useless against the Wochowsen if it chose to attack them. That didn't mean they should go completely unarmed; after all, there were other things in the desert - of the garden variety too - that might try to take them down. They needed protection from the things that were simply natural.

"Here," Dean said, absent mindedly grabbing for a shotgun and handing it to his little brother without looking at him. His right shoulder was sore from its abuse the day before, but it was his ribs that protested the loudest. He knew he couldn't look at Sam without giving away his discomfort.

"A shot gun? Really, Dean?" Sam asked, the skepticism heavily hanging in his words as both eyebrows skyrocketed as high as his face would allow them.

Dean looked at Sam only after his brother took the weapon from his hands. His face compelled the serious determination that washed over him with steely resolve. His voice was harsh and irritated as he spoke, "Yea, Sam. A friggin' shotgun. Got a problem with that?"

"Dude, you heard him," Sam said waving vaguely in Aaron's direction overhead with the shoutgun, "The only thing that can bring the Wochowsen down is an arrow shot from the bow."

Dean grabbed his favorite sawed off and slammed the trunk closed, not enjoying the spasms that racked his ribs at the action. He kept his face menacingly even as he turned to Sam. It was a silent plea for Sam to question him - goad him into an argument. It would be a welcome distraction from all the discomfort.

"Yea, Sam. I heard him," Dean shot back, the anger almost palpable, "But we're not going out there completely defenseless, alright? We need to be ready for anything."

Sam's face receded into a mask of angry irritation at Dean's words. Dean was playing the big brother card, which wasn't completely unusual yet still irked him something fierce. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed his mouth again in a tight lipped grimace as he suddenly understood. He tried not to let the comprehension soften his visage.

Of course. It made sense now. Dean's defense mechanism against anything, especially pain, was banter, anger and argumentative tendencies. The Vicodin must be barely taking the edge off and it was too early for another pill. Dean was pulling from his bag of tricks to keep himself distracted.

The brothers stared at each other for a few more moments, but it was the youngest that broke the silence first.

"Ready for anything, Dean? Really? You're lecturing me about being ready when you can't even take a deep breath without cringing?"

It was a low blow and Sam knew it. Rain began to fall in a steady rhythm as Sam continued to watch his brother. He was looking for any sign that he was winning this contest.

Dean clenched his teeth, the muscles along his jaw line visibly flexing at the action as he tried to keep the sharp words flowing through his mind from escaping his lips. Inwardly, he knew Sam was right. There was no way he could possibly be ready for anything that might happen today. His head was throbbing simply from standing and walking the whole 5 feet from the passenger seat to the trunk. Trotting through this town, a sawed-off at the ready like he was special ops, was definitely out of the question for the day, but he couldn't back down now.

"So what, Sam? We just let that thing get away with taking down buildings and harming more people?" Dean asked defensively. He didn't like the hint of desperation that had mingled into the angry tone of his voice. If he wasn't careful, Sam would figure out why he was fighting so hard for this.

Sam shifted his stance as a flicker of something unusual entered his brother's green gaze for a fraction of a second. Unfortunately for Dean, his not-so-little brother was adept at catching the micro expressions that his brother so often overlooked; Dean was desperate to take the Wochowsen down, but Sam couldn't figure out why for the life of him. There was definitely something more there than simply wanting to get rid of a baddie.

"Why do you care so much about this, Dean? What aren't you telling me?"

It was a long shot and Sam knew he had close to no chance of getting his brother to explain things, especially now. They were too out in the open - too exposed. Although always the tough guy, Dean was a lot more sensitive than he let on. In fact, Sam was certain that Dean put on the whole James Dean bravado to keep everything at a safe distance. The act was Dean's emotional teddy bear to keep himself from anything that could tear him apart from the inside out.

"Nothing, Sammy," Dean said with a tone that begged to differ.

"Dean, you can't hide it from me forever," Sam replied with genuine concern.

Dean looked up at his brother and knew his face was heavy with the secret he was carrying. He wanted to tell Sam everything. He honestly and truthfully did, but to hear the words leave his mouth would make everything that happened real. He wasn't ready for real. Not yet. Not when denial could still make everything disappear. He could feel his muscles freezing into the practiced mask he wore everyday since their mother had been killed before he dropped his gaze.

"Just let it go, Sam."

Sam watched as the window he had propped open suddenly slammed shut. He had lost his chance to get anything out of his brother and he'd just have to wait. It was frustrating to watch his brother beat himself up over whatever it was that was bothering him. Knowing Dean, he would never let it go. He had a hard time forgiving himself more times than not.

"Fine," he said with as much understanding as he could muster before he checked the rounds in his shotgun. The weapon clicked loudly as it snapped back together and Sam nodded at his brother. The duo took off without another word.

Sam was panic stricken as he wound his way through the town that had stood so defiantly in the face of time only yesterday. There was debris and destruction everywhere he turned in many varying degrees. The storm - now complete with thunder, lightning and wind that signaled a full blown battle - had wrapped itself around the town and wasn't making anything any better. They had wasted nearly an hour just trying to navigate the town already and his patience was wearing thin.

After the little showdown by the Impala, Sam had made an itinerary that he was determined to stick to, if only for Dean's sake. He just wanted to get into the Wochowsen's nest, get the bow that Aaron needed and get Dean back to the hotel. His brother was definitely looking worse for wear.

A string of colorful curses spouted from Sam as he led the charge down yet another blocked alleyway that had been clear yesterday. The route to the northern end of town, the one that had been so easy to find yesterday, was now blocked at so many locations that it was grating against Sam's nerves. At least this time, what looked to be an entire wall that had turned on its side blocked their progress. It was refreshing in only a way that a frustrated Sam would find as such.

Rain came down on the hunting duo in buckets as they backtracked their way through the maze of a town once again. The thunder and lightning of this storm had been the most intense they had experienced since this whole situation began. Dean was almost positive that it was because Aaron no longer needed to keep his identity a secret and he didn't need to hold back. If the ridiculous amount of water pouring down on them was any evidence at all, he wasn't making an effort to hold back either.

Sam had taken point without any complaint from Dean, which worried the youngest Winchester a tiny bit. Its not that Dean never let Sam take the lead, but usually Dean had a thing or two to say about it. Lack of comment meant Dean was feeling worse than he was willing to say out loud.

"Dean! Let's take a minute to regroup," Sam called out over the sound of the falling rain as lightning streaked the sky at a distance. They didn't need to reform plans; Sam just knew Dean needed a minute to rest. Thunder rippled the air. The fight was getting intense.

Dean panted heavily against the exertion that had become walking, causing his side to ache and sting fiercely, and shook his head 'no'. It was an action he regretted as it caused forks of mind numbing pain to shoot through his brain. He just couldn't win today. As if to emphasize that particular point, his vision blurred momentarily and he staggered forward.

Sam's grip was tight on his arm in seconds and although Dean glared up at his brother, he welcomed the support. He blinked a few times, bottling up his discomfort and clearing the water from his eyes before he shrugged off his brother's touch.

"Let's keep moving," Dean said as loud as he dared. Even the bit of effort it took to push his voice to the slightly louder volume was wracking his ribs painfully. He forced his face to remain completely devoid of discomfort, but he was fairly certain that his right arm around his torso gave away the details he wanted to hide. At least he could carry his favorite sawed-off in his left hand with no problem.

Dean waited for his brother to pass him, ignoring the critical glance, and watched as he kept his gun at the ready the entire time; Sam was a few inches away before the older Winchester allowed a crack in the mask he had created. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, a welcome relief against the rain, and shifted himself so he was leaning against the wall of the building behind him. He needed to keep going. He couldn't stop until this was over. All those innocent people…

With a sudden flare of determination, Dean clenched his jaw and opened his eyes. He didn't care how he came out of this one. Torn, battered, bruised, whatever. He was pretty banged up already and that was nothing new. He'd go to the ends of the earth to keep Sam safe too, but what Dean really wanted was the safety of the innocent souls caught in the melee this time. It was his ticket to redemption, personal or otherwise, if he could save more souls than he destroyed in Hell.

The two brothers pressed on, flinching at every clap of thunder, knowing that it was Aaron screaming (literally) right over head. Of course, where ever Aaron was, they also knew that meant his counterpart was there with him. The evil Wochowsen was somewhere just out of eyesight too.

Dean felt the shiver ripple through him at the thought of that massive evil bird flying through the air. However, he shoved the thought somewhere deep inside of himself to keep his feet moving forward. He was so relieved once he saw that they had reached the edge of Aurora at long last.

"So here's the plan," Dean said with a cocky grin. Sam rolled his eyes in response. They both knew there was no plan. They just needed to grab the bow and run like hell.

"Lemme guess," Sam cut in as the brothers walked amiably into the tangle of desert oasis with eyes peeled for evidence of a nest, "get in, get out, leave town?"

Dean smiled in earnest as he clapped his brother on the shoulder, grunting with the twinge it sent to his burning side, and he said, "Wow, Sam. Its almost like you've done this before."

"Gee, Dean, you think?" Sam asked with as much jest as he could muster He had seen Dean flinch and didn't like it one bit, but he also knew better than to mention it.

An eerie calm was settling over the brothers as they continued into what was rapidly becoming a thicket of desert growth. Even the rain was starting to back off which was probably attributed to the tree branches that sprouted overhead. All in all, what they were walking through was anything but normal. They must be getting closer.

Dean turned, the twist in his torso flaring the pain in his ribs that had receded, and was shocked to see the storm that twisted angrily above the ghost town. If he squinted just right, he could see a line where the rain suddenly ended like it was contained in a glass box.

"And I thought we were dry 'cuz of the trees," he mumbled.

Sam turned to ask his brother to repeat himself, but caught the same bizarre distinction between wet and dry himself. His steps halted, causing Dean to run into him and impact against the heaviest part of his bruised torso.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelped, dropping his gun and curling in on himself. This, of course, set off flares of bright light behind his eyes as his head fought for attention again. Oh, was Sam going to pay for this one.

"Crap," Sam said, ducking down to Dean's level, "Dean, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean…"

"S'ok, Sam," Dean interrupted, gasping as he forced himself to straighten up, "Just remember…"

Sam's face twisted in confusion, the question being asked without any words being said.

"Payback's a bitch and so are you," Dean said with some note of provocation. He stooped to pick up his firearm with a groan sticking to his throat at the effort. He knew his face was giving up all the juicy secrets he wanted to keep about his pain starting to get the best of him and he was glad to see Sam wasn't going to comment on the situation.

"Jerk," Sam shot back, turning on his heel and walking farther into the oasis. It was easier for him to ignore his brother's efforts to throw a cork in his little bottle of hurt if he couldn't see it.

"Pansy," Dean growled, trekking after his brother with as much speed as he could muster. He nearly tripped over Sam again, sending him into another frenzy of cussing, as his brother ducked under a heavy overhang of twisted vines in inspection.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam grumbled as he dropped lower and disappeared under the vines.

"Where the hell you going?" Dean asked.

"Into the nest," Sam called back from somewhere a few feet farther ahead than he had been moments ago.

Dean checked his back, a habit he had developed through years of hunting, before moving aside the draping vines with his arm. He was completely shocked by the sight that met his eyes. It was definitely a nest, but something about it felt like more. It was almost like a home.

Home to a supernatural, flying terror, he chided himself.

Dean scooted himself inside, doing his best to ignore his head and ribs as they worked together to overthrow him. He wouldn't throw in the towel now though. He couldn't. They had found the nest, now all they had to do was find the bow and hightail it out of here.

The nest itself was far more tidy than either brother had expected it to be. Of course, there were enormous feathers scattered about, but that was really the only sign of an animal living there. Droppings and food particles were nonexistent. Even little baubles - marbles for instance - were nowhere to be found. This meant one of two things: this creature simply had no interest because it preferred to go after living creatures like the carcasses Dean had run into yesterday or this wasn't actually its nest.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said with a note of awe in his voice, "check this out."

Dean turned slowly away from the pile of wood he had found over in a dry corner of the little nest to look at whatever Sam was holding in his hand. It was slender and arched beautifully. The light color of its make was in stark contrast to the dark wood the nest was constructed out of. The most striking attribute, however, was the glow that seemed to come from the taught string that was laced between either end of the arch. It almost looked like it was made from gold.

"Is that…?" Dean asked as he slowly made his way across the nest to look at it from his brother's side.

Sam only nodded as he ran his hand up and down the beautifully made longbow. It was smooth as glass despite the etchings that should have put deep grooves into the wood. A few of the symbols, Sam recognized from his night of insomnia laced research. He smiled a bit and touched each symbol as he recalled their meanings.

"This is definitely it, Dean," Sam said as he pointed to a simplistic rendering of a human figure, "This here means 'man'."

His eyes danced over the bow as he pointed at another pictogram, "And this cross means crossing paths. A uh…juncture. I guess."

Dean processed the information, more or less letting Sam ramble on to humor him. He honestly couldn't really care less. They found what they wanted, so they should probably just take it and head back to Aaron. A few minutes couldn't hurt though.

"Okay, Tonto," Dean said with a challenge buried in his voice, "If you're so clever, what does that one mean?"

Dean ran his finger over a picture of an arrow snapped in half with the pointed tip and feathered end both angled downwards. Ironically enough, this symbol rested just below the point were an actual arrow, once knocked properly, would rest.

Sam squinted at it, his brow wrinkling in a look that Dean recognized from years ago when his brother would agonize over his algebra homework. The flash of comprehension that hit his brother's eyes seconds later was the same look he got all his life too.

"I think that one means peace," Sam said finally, looking at Dean.

"Huh. Alright. I take it back," Dean said pacing around the nest that was more

like a cave, "You're not Tonto."

Sam arched an eyebrow at his brother taking the bait regardless of the answer.

"You're a regular Nancy Drew," Dean quirked. Sam shook his head and sighed in irritation.

"Besides, you'd think they'd use something cooler than a broken arrow," Dean commented, not catching his brother's eyes.

"Cooler, Dean?"

"Yea, cooler," he said, stepping away from his brother and scuffing his foot over a patch of dirt that looked blackened, almost as if a fire had been lit there, "Like…you know."

Sam looked up as Dean flashed his pointer and middle fingers at Sam in a great V shape. Suddenly, Sam had an image of his brother with long hair and a fringed vest and he had to look away to keep his laughter in check.

"A peace sign? Really, Dean? You think that Native Americans are a bunch of what? Hippies?"

Dean rolled his eyes, turned his hand so the back was to his brother and lowered his pointer finger. "Better, smartass?"

"Lots," Sam said, less than thrilled to be getting the finger from his brother once again.

Dean turned his attention back to the blackened floor. Something wasn't sitting right with him. Years of honing his hunter's instincts told him to look into it deeper, but Sam's voice distracted him from his thoughts.

"Alright, we got the bow," he said standing, "You ready to blow this pop stand?"

"Thought you'd never ask, Sammy," Dean said with a smile.

Turning to the only exit, the brother's began their departure when a strong gust of wind suddenly raced over head. Both brother protected their eyes as sand and other bits of debris began to fly into the nest. However, what flew in next surprised both brothers.

It was a woman. A woman that looked like she had gotten caught in the storm and was about to collapse.

Dean was the first at her side. After all, she was quite attractive and Dean wouldn't let the black haired beauty fall to the ground, regardless of the state of his own body. He slipped a hand under her arm and around her small frame, wincing as she wrapped her trembling body around his torso.

"You alright there, sweetheart?" Dean asked gently, earning a snort from Sam. He shot his brother a look as he continued, "What's your name?"

The woman in Dean's arms shivered a bit and Dean motioned with his head towards the wood pile in the corner opposite Sam. He was reluctant to leave the young woman's side for more selfish reasons. However, Sam didn't miss the hint and the younger Winchester carefully leaned the bow against the side of the nest wall where had found it to work his way over to the tinder. They needed to get a fire going, even if it was only a small one.

Dean shook the woman gently - refusing to grunt with the motion - and spoke to her again, "Hey. You hear me?"

The woman stirred, her eyes fluttering as she looked up to her rescuer. Her eyes were a deep brown to the point that they were almost black. Dean flinched a bit at the sight, reminded momentarily of the absolute black of a demon's eyes before he realized this woman had just been blown in here from a storm. Even if she was a demon bent on the destruction of himself and his brother, the human body she was wearing around for an extended Halloween needed warmth.

"Yea," she mumbled back to Dean as she let go of the man and stood under her own steam once again.

"What's your name?" Dean asked again, wrapping his arm around his middle once she was out of his grip.

The woman looked around and walked over to the center of the room where Sam was getting a small fire going. Her voice was soft and light as she spoke, "I'm Gail."

A shiver ran down Sam's back as this woman spoke - spurred on by more than just the airy quality of her voice - and he forced himself to take in her appearance with the wary eyes of a seasoned hunter. She had a small frame and was probably no taller than about five foot six. She was trim and looked as if she could be a trained runner, but she was definitely not lethal. Her coat was soaked through and seemed to sparkle in certain places in the dim firelight that was beginning to fill the room.

"We should get you out of that coat," Sam said softly, reaching out to push away the fabric.

Gail immediately recoiled, something both Sam and Dean were shocked by, and spoke quickly, "S-sorry. Its just…it's the only thing I have left of my husband…"

Sam smiled sadly understanding her motivation. It had taken Sam nearly two years before he could get himself to throw away one of Jess's old t-shirts. He knew there was no rational need to hold on to it, but he was only willing to let it go after Dean had almost discovered it once. The ridicule would've been horrendous for that one.

A melancholy sadness that hung in the air for a few moments before Dean tried to break it with a poorly timed joke.

"So I take it you're single then?" he asked more for Sam's benefit than his own. He could tell his brother was a little smitten with this woman and he needed the action. Besides, Dean had a waitress waiting for him once this whole thing was over.

Gail and Sam stared at him incredulously, wiping the playful smirk right off of his face. He awkwardly cleared his throat and flashed his eyebrows at his brother. It was a signal Sam knew from many other interviews.

"Uhhh, so what happened?" Sam asked, and met Gail's gaze which was filled with frazzled confusion. He clarified his question with a gentle tone, "To your husband."

Gail inhaled deeply and let out the same air in a quick exhale and a gentle laugh. It was odd, but Sam instantly recognized the action as a sign of mourning. It was the way he had acted when he had first lost Jess.

"He. He um," Gail tried as tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill. She looked to Dean for comfort, but the elder Winchester was leaning against a particularly thick branch used in the nest wall and doing everything he could to avoid her eye contact. The whole emotionally wrecked chick thing was Sam's bag, not his.

"I take it he's…not with us anymore," Sam said gently and wasn't surprised to see Gail nod slightly.

"He was killed," she said, wiping at her cheeks, "By lightning. It was a freak accident."

Sam noticed the way her words had become bitter, almost spiteful as she spoke. A gnawing sensation was filling his intuition, but he kept his face even as he continued to talk to her.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said as he added thicker pieces of wood to the fire, "How did you wind up here with us?"

She took a deep breath and shrugged herself closer to the warmth of the fire as she spoke, "I was out hiking. Its something I do a few times a week out this way. Its out of the way, you know? Then this huge storm kicks up and I couldn't see more than a few inches in front of me because of all the rain. I was just lucky I found this little place."

Sam cast his brother a glance that said a multitude of things at once. Obviously Gail had been caught in the battle between the Thunderbird and the Wochowsen. She was lucky that nothing more severe had happened like having the Wochowsen grab her itself, but something still felt off about this situation. Why hadn't more people been directly effected like Gail? Was she just in the wrong place at the wrong time?

"Good thing you found us," Sam said with a cheerful smile. He left Gail at the fire as he stood and walked over to Dean. He was just about to vocalize something about his growing suspicion and the strange way Gail had just suddenly appeared with a gust of wind when there was a rustling noise outside. Dean froze and pushed his brother aside, his shot gun at the ready.

More rustling filled the air, much closer than last time, and Dean aimed his weapon at the entrance to the nest. He knew that was exactly where this thing was headed now.

"Easy, friend," said the familiar voice as Dean slowly lowered his gun and Aaron walked in through the front door.

"Aaron?" Sam asked, completely shocked at the turn of events, "What the heck are you doing here?"

"You must get away," he began as he rushed into the nest, "There isn't time to…"

Aaron stopped short as he entered the nest and took a sweeping gaze around. Dean studied the man intently as Sam stalked over to the fire burning in the center of the nest to add a few more twigs to the flames. He didn't care how useless that would probably be.

"Friends, we need to leave," Aaron said.

Gail stood slowly with a snide grin on her face as she turned, "And why is that, Aaron?"

Dean looked from Gail to Aaron and back again as he spoke, "You two know each other?"

"You can say that," Gail said, suddenly much more confident and much stronger than she had been moments ago.

Dean was getting a bad feeling about this situation. Very bad, in fact. Things were starting to add up nicely in his head. However, instead of voicing his concern out loud, he chose to steal into the shadows and inch his way closer to Gail. If what he suspected was correct, they would need to get her jacket away from her before she realized they were any the wiser.

A/N: Another chapter done! yay! I hope you all are enjoying this! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE review!

xoTrebleMaker