A/N: Sorry for the delay in this chapter. I wrote and re-wrote it I don't know how many times. I had a hard time getting it to come together the way I wanted. But I finally decided I could live with this, so here it is...(Hope it's okay.)

And, for those of you who have been wondering if I'm ever going to finish this story (And I know there's a few of you!)...the answer is "Yes." Only a couple more chapters to go!

And...thanks again for reading - and for all the great reviews!

He carried the boy across the street, keeping a sharp lookout for anything that could possibly turn into a problem. But, as expected, there was nothing. They had had to come up with another plan after the hunter thwarted their last one and all the humans had escaped alive. Although, it really wasn't the hunter who had outwitted them; it was his first-born child. No one had anticipated his involvement.

But, nevertheless, they had regrouped. And formulated a new plan. And this time he had decided that it would be best if he was directly involved. After all, he was the leader. And the leader should always play a role. Especially when the stakes were so high.

He hurried through the parking lot of the small processing plant and walked behind the building to where he had left his car. Hoisting the teenager onto his shoulder, he opened the backdoor and laid him carefully on the seat. There was no need to injure him further.

He grabbed the roll of duct tape from the floor, ripped off a large piece and taped the boy's hands together. Then he took another piece and taped it over the boy's mouth. Not that he expected the boy to be a problem. Not after all the drugs and poison they had injected into his system. But it was always prudent to be careful. And then, if the boy did wake up, he wouldn't have to worry about him screaming for help and attracting unwanted attention.

He shut the car door as quietly as possible and scanned the area yet again for intruders. But there was still nothing. So with a satisfied grin, he got into his car and drove across town. He turned onto the small cul-de-sac and pulled into his driveway. There was no need for caution now. Every one of the houses on this street was occupied by one of their kind. It made it easier for them to remain undiscovered. And for him to retain control.

As he unloaded the sleeping boy from his car, he knew that the hardest part of this entire plan was going to be keeping the others away from him. The entire colony was famished because that vexing hunter had continually hindered their efforts to obtain food. So there would be tremendous interest in this boy. And even though he had promised a communal feast, each of them would all be clambering to have him for their own. And although they couldn't eat until nightfall, having a suitable meal on hand would certainly appeal to everyone.

But first, he had plans for the boy.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Racing up to the motel, both John and Dean were taken aback by the sight of a prone figure sprawled out on the walkway right in front of their room. They dashed toward him, deathly afraid that it was Sam. But as they got closer they realized that it was the owner of the motel. As they knelt down beside him to check his condition, Dean suddenly noticed that the door to their room wasn't completely closed.

Alarmed, Dean immediately jumped up and ran toward the door. He raced to the far side of it and cautiously backed against the wall before he laid his arm horizontally across the door. Pushing the door open with his outstretched arm, he scanned the interior of the room. And he became increasingly dismayed. Because the room was vacant. And Sammy wasn't there.

They had arrived too late.

Dean dashed into the room, anxiously checking the only other place his brother could be. But the bathroom was empty too. And Sam was gone.

Dean's hurried movements had momentarily perplexed John, but as he watched Dean ease the door open, comprehension dawned and he abandoned the unconscious innkeeper and flew to the doorway. Dean had already rushed inside and, just as he feared, John found himself staring into an otherwise empty room.

Dean spun around to face his father. "Dad! Sam's not here! He's gone!"

John quickly surveyed the room for himself, confirming what he already knew; something had happened to his youngest son while he was gone. Willing himself to remain calm, John mentally evaluated every possible scenario. There was no way that Sammy would have left the room. Not on his own. And not by himself. And nothing supernatural could have gotten into that room. He had assured himself of that before he left. But if it hadn't been an Aswang, then what was it?

Or more likely...Who was it?

The Leaveys were the first people to cross his mind.

But John didn't really believe that the deputy-mayor had had anything to do with this. Problem was...he couldn't think of anyone else. And the Leavey boys had already kidnapped Sam once. So what was to stop them from trying again?

Other than the fact that he was pretty sure that the entire family was still at the hospital.

But there was no other explanation. It had to be the Aswangs or the Leaveys. And he had to figure out which. So he could formulate a plan and get his son back.

Dean's mind was spinning as he stood motionless in the middle of the room. This didn't make sense. He had protected the room before he left. He knew he had. The door had been locked. Sam should have been safe. But he hadn't been. That much was obvious. And now he was gone. And Dean knew it was ultimately his fault. Because he had left his brother alone.

Dean looked up at his father. "Dad! We gotta find him!"

John could hear the panic in his oldest son's guilt-ridden voice. "I know Dean. We will. But first we have to know for sure who - or what - got into this room. So, we do what we always do and start with the obvious. We check the lines of salt to see if any of them are broken."

"But the room was protected, Dad," stated Dean fretfully, "I redrew the lines of salt before I left. And I know they were good."

"Yes, Dean. I checked them too. And they looked fine to me. But something got in and we have to figure out what. So, if any of the lines are broken, then we can assume that somehow or other an Aswang got in. But if all the lines are intact then something else came in and took Sammy." He took a deep breath before he continued, "And if that's what happened then he could be in a lot worse trouble."

"In worse trouble than being taken by an Aswang?"

"Yeah…because then I wouldn't even know where to start looking."

"Well, I would," replied Dean, his voice harsh and determined. "Because I'd be willing to bet that this has something to do with Robin and his brother."

John thought it was ironic that he had thought the same thing. But before he would be willing to pin this on the Leaveys, he had to completely rule out the Aswangs. Because they were the ones with a stronger motive. And both he and Dean had provided them with the opportunity to snatch Sammy when they had left him alone. But, what John couldn't figure out was how they been able to circumvent the salt.

Still, he was pretty sure the Leaveys had an alibi.

"Let's just make sure that it wasn't an Aswang before we go blaming anyone else for this," stated John firmly. "Go check the bathroom window. See if the salt had been disturbed."

Without hesitation, Dean headed to the bathroom and John checked the windows in the main room. To their surprise they found that all of the lines of salt underneath the windows were intact. But the line of salt in front of the door looked like someone had scuffed through it. A couple of times. Once coming in and once going out. But the line wasn't broken. Just stepped on and scattered. Which meant that there was no way an Aswang could have entered the room. John and Dean stared intensely at the oddly disturbed line of salt, trying to figure out what had happened. And who had taken Sam.

Dean's angry voice broke the silence. "I'm gonna kill that bastard."

"Dean, we don't know for sure if the Leaveys are even involved in this," cautioned John. "They were all still at the hospital when I left."

"How do you know that?"

There was a brief pause before John answered.

"I ran into Greg Leavey on my way out."

"You ran into Robin's father?"

"Well, actually…he ran into me."

"What do you mean he ran into you?"

"Let's just say that I took a page outta your book on how to deal with the Leaveys."

"A page outta my book?" asked Dean, a little confused. Then it struck him. His father must have belted Robin's father. "You hit him?"

"Clocked him so hard, he hit the back of the elevator when he fell. Knocked him right out."

"Way to go, Dad," smirked Dean, "Guess I am finally beginnin' to rub off on you."

"Maybe a little too much so."

"How's that?"

"I kinda took that opportunity to, umm…borrow his car."

"You stole Greg Leavey's car?"

"Borrowed it. And, yeah. I didn't feel like wastin' any more time lookin' for another one. So I just took his keys outta his pocket."

"Sooo…I guess we kinda left the whole family stranded at the hospital," admitted Dean somewhat reluctantly. 'Cause I hotwired Robin's car too."

"You didn't?"

"Yeah, I did. But it was sittin' right there, Dad! And I figured Robin deserved it more than anyone else in town. And, besides, it was unlocked. And a cinch to hotwire."

"Uh huh."

"How 'bout…I've always wanted to test-drive a Mustang?"

"I bet you have."

John knew why Dean had taken Robin's car. And it had nothing to do with being easy to hotwire. Or being a Mustang. It had everything to do with goading Robin. Again. But he'd worry about that later. Right now they had to find Sam. And he knew just who could help them do that.

John turned and headed out the door. He glanced back at Dean and ordered, "Help me get this man inside. I think he'll be able to tell us what happened. Or at least who was here."

Dean had completely forgotten about the motel owner. Not that he was going to be a lot of help anyway. Pretty hard to say anything when you're not even conscious. And whoever had knocked him out seemed to have intended it that way.

"And you're just plannin' to sit around here and wait until he wakes up?" asked Dean incredulously.

"No. We're going to help him wake up. So we can talk to him. Find out what he knows."

Together they brought the innkeeper into the room and laid him on the bed. Dean went to get a cool, damp cloth while John repositioned the man on the bed, making sure that he could breathe properly. After tilting his head back, loosening his shirt collar and wiping his forehead with the cloth the innkeeper still hadn't awoken. Figuring he must have been hurt worse than he had initially thought, John went to the first aid kit and took out some smelling salts. Even though they weren't medically recommended to revive people, they did work and John wasn't about to wait any longer for the man to wake up.

So John waved them under the man's nose and he began to stir. As he regained consciousness, the man took a couple of deep breaths and brought his hands up to his face before he opened his eyes. As his surroundings slowly came into focus, he was immediately overcome with terror and he tried desperately to scramble away. But his retreat was abruptly halted when he hit the headboard. He drew his legs up closer and stared at John in abject horror.

Unsure why the man would be so afraid, John took a step closer. But as soon as he did that, the man recoiled even further, shielding his face with his arms and turning away.

"Stay…stay away from me!" the innkeeper cried. "I know what you are!"

"You know what I am? And what would that be?"

"Just…just…you better let me go!" retaliated the man, glancing nervously between John and Dean. "Because the sheriff will be here any minute!"

"How do you know the sheriff's coming?" asked John, completely bewildered.

"Because he told me the sheriff was on his way."

"Who told you?" queried John.

But the motel owner didn't answer, instead continually shifting his gaze from John to Dean. He didn't trust either of them. And he had no idea what had happened to put him in this predicament. But he certainly wasn't going to say anything more to this man.

"Who told you the sheriff was coming?" asked John again.

"It…It doesn't matter. But he's coming to arrest you."

"Arrest me? For what?"

"For kidnapping that boy! The one that was here this morning!"

The distraught innkeeper's eyes grew wide as he realized too late that he had just divulged more information to the kidnapper. He stared nervously at them as John and Dean exchanged glances. He was afraid of what they were going to do to him. He could only pray that the sheriff arrived soon.

"You think I kidnapped my own son?"

But this time the innkeeper did remain silent. He was too scared to talk and John recognized his terror. Even though he wanted to wring the man's neck and drag the information out of him, John knew that he was more likely to succeed in giving the poor man a heart attack than actually extracting anything useful from him. If he was going to get any information from this man, John was going to have to find some way to convince him that he wasn't in any danger. And that neither he nor Dean were kidnappers.

Suddenly, as if on cue, there was a loud knock on the door. Unsure who it might be, Dean immediately went and stood behind the door. Just in case he'd have to jump whoever was there. And, as Dean got into position, John turned and glanced out the window. Then he walked to the door and winked at Dean as he reached for the doorknob.

"Sheriff Durham," greeted John as he swung the door open.

At the sight of the sheriff, the relieved innkeeper bolted off the bed and dashed toward him, immediately stepping behind the officer of the law. With the sheriff between him and the Winchesters, the man stated brazenly, "That's him! That's the man you want! Go ahead and arrest him!" as he shakily pointed toward John.

"Arrest him? For what?" asked Sheriff Durham quizzically.

"For kidnapping!"

"Kidnapping? Well, that's a new one. And about the only thing left that I haven't been asked to charge him with," replied the sheriff, shaking his head disbelievingly. Then Sheriff Durham walked casually into the room, leaving the poor innkeeper alone at the door. The sheriff sat down and looked at John, "You're a hard man to keep track of, ya know that?" With a quick glance at Dean, he continued, "And seems they're missing a few patients at the hospital too. Quite a stir going on there right now. Upset nurses. Doctors. Other individuals. Missing vehicles. You know anything about that?"

John just raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders slightly as if he had no clue what the sheriff was talking about.

"Anyway, I figured I knew where I'd find you," resumed the sheriff. "Although it did take quite some doing to get away from Greg Leavey." And then, as if nothing had happened, he leaned forward in his seat and called out to the nervous motel owner who was still standing outside the door, "Come on in here, Joe."

The motel owner glanced uneasily into the room. "But aren't you going to arrest him first?" he asked tentatively.

"Not right now. Not until I find out exactly what's going on."

"But he kidnapped that boy!"

"What boy?" sighed the sheriff.

"The young lad that was here this morning! The one you were comin' for!"

"I wasn't coming for any boy, Joe. I was simply returning Mr. Winchester's truck to him." With that, the sheriff tossed John the keys that he held in his hand. "I figured he was going to need it."

John glanced outside. Sure enough, his truck was now parked in front of their room. He quickly nodded his thanks to the sheriff before explaining, "Sam's missing." Tilting his head in the innkeeper's direction, he stated, "And I think he can tell us who took him."

Sheriff Durham looked up at John; then his gaze fell to Dean. He could tell by their expressions that they were dead serious. And they needed his help to get the owner of the motel to trust them.

"So, Joe…Come on in here," he called to the anxious man outside. "Tell us what happened. Who took the boy?"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The others had returned. But they had returned without the desired prey.

It had been a simple task really: Capture the three humans. Bring them back. And tonight they would feast.

After he got his revenge.

But they had failed him. Failed the pack. And foiled the plan. But the plan was still salvageable.

They would just have to modify it. Because one thing was still certain.

The hunter would come for the boy. And he would bring the others with him.

So, instead of hunting their prey, they would let their prey hunt them.

Let them get close.

And then he would offer up the boy.

And use him to keep the hunter at bay.

Until night fell.

When he would unleash the pack.

And let them devour the boy. Slowly. Brutally. Painfully.

While his father watched. And his brother too.

It would be payback for what they had done to his wife.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

After coaxing the entire story out of the innkeeper, the three men tried to sort out what they had learned. They now knew who the ringleader was. And how he had managed to successfully abduct Sam. But they still didn't know how many others there were. They knew there was a nurse. And a sheriff's deputy. There were the two that they had already killed and the two who had attacked John and Dean just a short time ago. But there had to be more.

Based on the description that Dean had provided, Sheriff Durham thought that the man who attacked him sounded like it could be one of the firemen in town. Which fit with what they had begun to suspect; that several key positions in town were actually held by Aswangs. And it started high up in the bureaucracy and filtered down through the medical and emergency response agencies. John surmised that they'd also be masquerading as doctors, firefighters, paramedics and schoolteachers. He just didn't know who they were. Or how many.

And before they rescued Sam, they'd have to know for sure.

Ever since he had rushed into the motel room, Dean had been mentally berating himself over his brother's abduction. Had he only obeyed his father and stayed with Sam, none of this would have happened. Because he would have been here to stop whoever had taken his brother. And Sam would still be here. But, instead, he had just had to leave to get rid of Robin's car. Just so he could avoid getting arrested. He had put his own selfish interests ahead of his brother. And Sam was gone because of it.

So when his father announced that they were going to wait to rescue Sammy, Dean couldn't contain himself any longer.

"Are you outta your mind?" he snapped angrily, "You're just gonna leave him there?"

John took a deep breath before he answered, "He's safe for now."

"You call being with a bunch of Aswangs safe?"

John sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, trying his best to retain his composure, "At the moment - yes. They can't eat unless they're in their natural form. And that only occurs at night."

"But that doesn't stop them from hurting him before then!"

"They won't hurt him, Dean."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because they're using him as a pawn. To lure us into another trap. There's more chance they'll hurt Sam when we do show up. Because they're going to use him against us. They'll threaten to harm him unless we back off and stay away. Because what they really want is to keep us close by until nightfall, when they'll be able to attack us. So, right now, it's better for Sammy if we just stay away."

"So how are we going to figure out how to get him back?" asked Dean worriedly.

John glanced quickly at the sheriff. "We're going to talk to the deputy at the jail."

So the three of them got into John's truck and drove to the sheriff's station. Before they went inside, they armed themselves with the proper weaponry. And lots of it. Because they weren't taking any more chances. Then they went quietly in through the back entrance, walking directly into the cellblock. And as soon as the deputy saw them, he moved uneasily away from the bars.

The three men approached his cell and stared at him. Had they been judging him on appearance alone, there was nothing to indicate that he wasn't exactly what he pretended to be. Even his wounds had healed during the sheriff's absence.

But none of them were fooled.

"Brought a couple of guys that want to talk to you," stated the sheriff nonchalantly as he opened the cell door.

John handed his gun to Dean before he slipped inside the cell and Sheriff Durham locked the door behind him. Then he handed the key to Dean and said, "I'm gonna check some things in the front. See what else I can find out. You look after your Dad."

As Sheriff Durham disappeared through the steel door to the main part of the station, Dean quickly pocketed the key. Then he aimed the gun steadily at the deputy. With Dean as his backup, John slowly advanced on the terrified deputy. He was taller than the deputy. By a good three inches. And he outweighed him too. At least as long as the deputy maintained his humanoid form. And sundown was a long way away. Which gave John all the time he needed to extract information from him.

The deputy reacted to his presence just the way John knew he would; he backed away from John until he backed himself right into the wall. Because Aswangs were cowardly hunters. Regardless of the unprecedented attacks they had tried to mount last night. But now that he was alone and defenseless, the deputy was petrified. And John was going to use that to his advantage.

John walked right up to the man without saying a word, not stopping until he had him cornered. Then he placed his hands against the wall just above the man's shoulders. John stared menacingly into his eyes, noting instantly that his reflection in them was inverted. Any doubts he may have harbored about the man's true identity vanished.

"How many of you are there?" he demanded.

But the deputy just stared at him. So John removed one of his hands from the wall and seized the deputy by the neck. And he tightened his grip just enough for it to be uncomfortable.

John's voice was harsh as he stated on no uncertain terms, "Just so we're straight. I know I can't kill you. But my son can. See that gun he's holding? It's loaded with silver bullets. And unless you tell me what I want to know, I'm gonna let him shoot you."

The deputy glanced nervously over John's shoulder. "He won't shoot me. He's just a kid."

"Don't count on that," contested Dean as he cocked the gun.

"Now…we can do this one of two ways," continued John. "You can either tell me what I want to know right now and I'll let you live. Or I can beat it out of you. After which time you'll be more than happy to have Dean put you out of your misery." He tightened his grip, lifting the deputy slightly off the ground and asked, "So, what's it gonna be?"

John could feel the man's heart beating rapidly underneath his fingertips. He held the hapless man in place, waiting for him to respond. When the response didn't come fast enough, John took a step closer and slid the deputy further up the wall. And that got the man's attention.

"If I tell you…You'll let me go?" he croaked as he the struggled against John's hold.

"Scouts honor."

"Okay…okay…I'll tell you. Just don't hurt me."

John released his hold on the man but he didn't step back. He was going to intimidate the man. Not let him forget what he had said. Or that he meant it. Every last word. He glared heavily at the man, waiting impatiently for him to begin.

"There's…there's thirteen of us all together."

"Names," demanded John.

"There's a nurse, Cheryl Baker, and Dr. Hardy at the hospital… a couple of paramedics…Bruce Gagnon and Al Rogers…the butcher and his wife…a…a teacher, Wendy Latimer, at the high school. The fire chief and another fireman, uh…Tony Matthews…and…and the Wallaces." He looked pleadingly up at John, "That's all."

John grabbed the man by the shirt and slammed him up against the wall. "Guess I forgot to mention that I don't like being lied to?"

"I didn't lie to you! I swear!"

"But you conveniently left out a few names," declared John angrily, pushing the frightened man against the wall.

"No…no, I didn't! I swear I didn't! I told you the truth!"

"Then tell me who's the leader of your little pack."

"It's…umm…it's…it's Chief Nevins. From the fire department," stammered the man.

John's anger was beginning to get the best of him and he fisted the deputy's shirt in his hand and pulled him closer. "Tell me why you're protecting him. Do you really think he's going to be able to help you now?"

"I'm…I'm not protecting anyone," protested the deputy.

John glared at the man. He'd have hit him if he didn't think it would be detrimental to his cause. But fear was a greater motivator. And the fear of being physically injured could be worse than actually being injured.

"Then tell me how Mayor Rennick fits into this."

"Mayor Rennick? But he's not involved. He's not one of us."

"Dammit!" screamed John "Stop lying to me! That man took my son! And I want to know why?"

Terrified, the deputy finally spilled it out, "Because…you killed his wife!"

So that was it. It was all about revenge.

John released the hapless deputy, shoving him backwards and watching him fall to the floor. As the deputy picked himself up off the floor, John remained standing stoically in front of him. Then without another word, he turned and strode back to the door, ordering Dean to open it as he approached.

Dean hastily put the key into the lock with one hand while he kept the pistol aimed at the deputy with the other. As soon as he unlocked the door, John burst angrily through it and headed toward the main part of the station. Dean swung the door shut and locked it before he once again grabbed the pistol with both hands, resuming his watch on the deputy.

Reaching the door that separated the cellblock from the rest of the station, John pushed the door open. Then he paused. And without bothering to look back, he issued an order.

"Shoot him."

Then he disappeared through the doorway.

And as the sound of the door slamming shut echoed throughout the otherwise silent room, the deputy turned to Dean and pleaded, "But he said he'd let me live if I told him."

"Guess he changed his mind."

And once again Dean cocked the gun.

But as he stood there with the deputy clearly in his sights, Dean began having reservations about shooting the man. He looked so normal. Not like anything he had ever shot before. And certainly not like the Aswang that Dean knew he was. He looked just like a regular person.

And Dean had never shot a regular person.

Dean took a deep breath and tried to reconcile what he knew with what he saw. And watching him hesitate, the deputy sensed Dean's trepidation and began to chuckle.

"I knew you couldn't do it."

Dean crooked his finger. And the gun went off.