Disclaimer: Not mine peeps.

Warning: Same as usual, dudes and dudettes.

Author's Note: Sorry there was no post last night, I was busy. And lazy, but don't count that. Um, enjoy this next chapter!

Chapter 8: Something New

Dean studied the tooth under the light of the lamp he had moved from the bedside table, frowning over it as he turned it under the light.

It was one of the oddest fangs he had ever seen. In fact, he was pretty sure he had never seen the likes before. Which didn't bode well for the hunt, or for Sam if he allowed himself to be honest. It was something he had never heard of and you couldn't fight what you didn't know.

It was smallish, pointed. And all one colour. There were no shades to it, except at the end where there was a slight pinkish tinge. Dean had dropped the tooth when he had realized it was a bloodstain.

But apart from that one stain at the very tip, the tooth was a pearly white. Perfect in colour, if it had been human. Like it had never seen the light of day.

There was a knock at the door and Dean stifled a yawn before dropping the tooth on the keyboard and getting up from the table to answer it, wondering who the hell would be knocking at five am in the morning.

"Holden?" Dean asked, rubbing his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"

The cop raised an eyebrow as he walked in without being asked. "Remember we're working together to catch the bastards taking these people."

Dean groaned and shut the door. "I know, I remember. What I was asking though, is what are you doing here so goddamn early?"

"Sleeping were we Connors?"

Dean gave a short laugh and sat back down by the open laptop. Holden began walking around the room, annoying the hunter.

"Hardly," Dean answered with a snort. "I've been up all night researching. Don't you have work, or something. Else. That isn't here."

The cop came over and leant over Dean's shoulder, far too close for comfort. "I took the week off, called in sick. Researching what?"

"This wonderful place," the hunter answered with a hint of sarcasm. "Your disappearances. The men who disappeared."

"Why? We've done that already. And nada,"

Dean sighed. "Look, dude, if you want to help, help. Don't be all pessimistic on me. And back off already. I don't need some guy's breath misting up my ears."

Holden backed off with a growl and sat down on Sam's bed. "So, did it help you any more than it helped us? Any idea what we're looking for?"

Dean gave a laugh at Holden's choice of words. What. The man had no idea whatsoever about how true his 'what' was.

"Not yet," Dean admitted. "But, I figure you've been looking for the wrong things. At the wrong things."

He stood up and grabbed his coffee, not bothering about offering any to Holden. He sat down on his own bed, opposite his unwanted 'partner'. "I figure you've been looking for some pattern between the victims right. Besides the fact that they're all healthy, strong, young men. Some way to connect them all, and to connect that to whoever took them. Right?"

Holden nodded suspiciously. "How the hell do you know so much?"

"It's my job," Dean answered absently. "So what I figure, is, what if that is the pattern. I mean, what if that is why these men were taken, instead of something like some mutual acquaintance being the reason."

"But why?" Holden asked. "I mean, what's the logic in taking these men, out of all the people in Cromwell. Why… fighters?"

Dean shrugged. "No idea. Just a thought. Anyways, what I've been thinking is we start looking for where these people might have been taken, instead of by, ah, who."

Holden nodded uneasily. "Okay. So what's your theory on where?"

"No idea," the hunter repeated. "But it can only be a few places. You'd think close to Cromwell, able to hold a lot of people… probably run down, out of the way. Originally abandoned." He withheld a sigh. "I think I need your help on that department."

Holden grinned. "So you do need my help."

Dean glared at him. "No," he replied. "But it does make it easier. Don't make me regret it."

"Regret what?" the man asked with a raised eyebrow. "Me not shooting you."

"You wouldn't have," Dean told him. "Besides, it's not like I've never been shot before."

That really raised the other man's eyebrows. "Who the hell are you?" he snapped. "And this time I want an answer. An honest one."

Dean stood, grinning. "Trust me, you don't want an honest one. Besides, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Now come on, are you going to help or what?"

He grabbed a map from a pile of papers on his bed and spread it over the spare room on the table. After a moment Holden stood to join him.

Dean looked up at the other man, wishing some other cop had decided to go for a midnight stroll the night before. "So, name some places, Holden. Abandoned warehouses, that kind of thing. Where could a bunch of idiots hide and take people they kidnap?"

They came for him a few hours after dawn. Sam was sitting against the back wall, talking with Blake, keeping an eye on that trap door. He had known they would come. They would want to know who he was.

Finally the bang echoed through the barn and Sam counted them, sizing the vampires up, as they came up from the tunnel under the building. There were five of them, and Sam felt satisfaction when it became obvious they had sent the biggest ones to come and get him. Each carried an oddly-shaped baton. At least there were no machetes this time.

He stood as they came closer, and Blake stood with him. Sam's heart pounded and he welcomed it. The adrenaline coursed, but this time he was careful to hold onto himself. He didn't want to blank out again.

The vampires stopped by the door, and Zane looked in on him with a feral grin.

"You going to fight us?" the vampire asked. Sam shrugged.

"Why not," he answered. "Nothing else to do around here."

Zane didn't reply, just nodded his head and gestured for the others to open the door. Sam decided not to wait however.

He took the initiative and sprung forward, slamming the door shut on the first vampire trying to come into the cell. The creature gave a loud groan as the edge of the door slammed on his chest, and Sam followed it up with a kick to its groin. Glad to see that male vampires had the same weakness as male humans, he opened the door again and the vampire dropped. Sam finished it off with a kick to its head.

He leapt through the door, shoving away shocked vampires. He made a run for the open trap door.

He had underestimated the speed of the bastards though. Halfway to the door in the floor, something tackled him from behind, sending him sprawling to the ground. Spinning on the ground, he lashed out with a fist and felt it connect with something fleshy. The vampire collapsed for a moment, and Sam drove a knee up into its gut before shoving it off and looking to find the trap door.

But his scuffle with the second vampire had allowed time for the rest to close in. Sam didn't even get a chance to get to his feet before vampires all around began kicking. Sam curled in on himself to minimize the area where feet could reach him.

After a moment it stopped, and Sam, gasping for breath, kicked out. His foot hit something and he heard a groan and then a thud. He rolled to his feet, blocking with both hands as another kicked out. He ducked under another's swinging baton and lashed out –

Sam was waking before he even had the chance to realize the world had gone white. He was laying on the ground, shaking, gasping for breath, struggling to hold back the waves of pain echoing through his body.

He hadn't blanked out, that he knew for sure. Barely a second had passed between the world going white and coming to in time to find legs all around. But all he knew was that something had gotten him.

A toe appeared and nudged him over none too gently. He went with the movement, groaning as he came to rest on a particularly sore spot, to the right of his lower back, incredibly near a kidney.

He looked up, still panting. He looked straight up into Zane's grinning but mirthless eyes as the vampire swung his strange baton. Then the creature took a firmer grip on it and leant down, looking intent on stabbing Sam with the baton.

Again the world went white and Sam went stiff, this time feeling the electricity coursing through his body, a painful substitute for the adrenaline that had been there moments before.

When it finally stopped he curled in on himself, trying to shove the pain away. Again he was gasping, looking at legs, barely able to string together one word, let alone a curse for the bastard electrocuting him. No wonder the baton had looked strange. It wasn't a baton at all but a freaking cattle prod.

Aching all over, Sam wished he could have fought as one vampire leaned down and rolled him over. He wished he could have struggled as they pulled his arms behind his back and tied his wrists. Even more, he wished he could have just lain there as they dragged him to his feet and dropped him through the trap door. But he was having trouble just breathing. Wishing was useless. But he had discovered that even before thought had been banished from his mind.

Within an hour Dean had circled twelve possible hiding spots for whatever bastard had taken Sam. His frustration grew with each bright red circle, and wasn't helped by Holden also mentioning the twenty or so farms in the surrounding area. And then Dean had a wonderful thought.

"The sewers," he said out of nowhere. He sighed, placing a hand to his forehead. "They could also be hiding in the sewers. I mean, it could explain why hardly any trail was found."

Holden shook his head. "We know they drive a van," he told Dean.

The hunter looked up. "That wasn't in any of the newspapers."

The cop shook his head. "Nope. After the first couple of disappearances gave us hardly any evidence, we figured it would be better if we knew something they didn't know we knew."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "That's just stupid. Maybe people would run faster if they knew to be on the lookout for a van."

Holden just shrugged. "Orders are orders. Who knows what the top cats are thinking. Besides, it's not like it's that big of a deal. We still couldn't follow the trail – they go around in circles, until we lose track of where we've been and where they're going."

Dean nodded, not really caring. It meant a bit to him. It meant the possibilities of what this thing could be were narrowed down. It had to have hands and legs, to be able to drive a car. It had to be some kind of creature, seeing as he had already ruled out demons, and ghosts couldn't exactly drive.

"All right, is that it?" he asked Holden. The cop scoured the map once more, frowning deeply in thought. Then he nodded.

"Yeah, that's it."

Dean looked down and groaned. "Right. Of course it is. This could take a while." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. So I guess we start on one side and work our way across. Might as well start on the east side seeing as that's where all the disappearances have been so far."

Holden nodded with a shrug. "'Spose. So you think we'll find them at one of these places?"

"I hope so," Dean said with a shake of his head. He stood up straight. "Right. Let's get going."

He made an act of locking the door, but halfway to the car, he stopped, as if he had forgotten something. "Just go on to the car. It's the last one, at the end. I'll just grab my phone."

He went back, glancing towards Holden occasionally to make sure the man wasn't following. Back in his motel room he grabbed a gun loaded with silver bullets, the tooth, and his dad's journal. His hand paused over that last for a moment, remembering with a sad smile. Then he brought his mind back to business, swearing to his father that he would mourn in his own way after he got Sam back. He locked the door behind him again, phone out of his pocket as 'proof' of his need to go back.

"Got it," the hunter claimed, showing off the cell. Holden didn't pay any attention. He was looking at Dean's Impala, a look of wonder on his face.

"Is this yours?" he asked in awe. Dean grinned.

"Uh huh. This is my sweet baby." He gave the car an appreciative pat as he went by on his way to the driver's side door. Then he gave the cop a quizzical glance. "Why, you like the classics?"

Holden nodded, still admiring the black beauty. "Yeah. But I always wanted a Shelby."

Dean nodded. "Mustang, nice," he said grudgingly, thinking maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all. Someone with that taste in cars couldn't be all bad. "You coming or what?"

So, nothing chapter again. To make up for it, and to make up for not posting last night, I'll give you another chapter…. right….. now.