A/N- Time for another chapter of my new story :) This one is much longer, so I hope that makes everyone happy! I really am pleased with how this story is shaping up - I have no clue how I never wrote fanfiction before, because I kinda love it. Thanks to AlaskaForever for the great review. Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 2

Dean stared out the window as they sped along I-29 from Springfield to Sioux Falls. Before him all he could see was flat farmland filled with a patchwork of colors ranging from sun yellow wheat to the deep greens of soy beans. It was something to be said that he wasn't sick of this view yet. He knew he'd spent most (if not all) of his life on the road, and had probably drove every highway in the US three or more times, and yet it never ceased to amaze him. Granted, it was largely in part to the trusty Impala that he felt this way. Something about the fact that no matter where he was going, what he was going to face on his next job, he could always depend on his car. It was his rock, his anchor, and yet nothing made him feel more free. In this car, he knew who he was and what was important.

Recently, though, that belief wasn't as solid as he would like. Ever since the Trickster – Gabriel, he kept reminding himself – had trapped them in his sick twisted television world and impressed on them to 'play their roles', he couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't get it out of his head. He hated the son of a bitch for it. He hated not being 100%, vehemently against being Michael's sock puppet. He hated Gabriel for opening the doorway to maybe's, because if he knew Sam (and he did), Sam would find some way, somehow, to find a reason for Lucifer to wear him to the prom. Gabriel had shook his foundation, and Dean didn't want to be unsteady – it made him feel vulnerable. Obviously there was no good reason for Dean to even consider it. Obviously. Billions of lives lost in some bitch fight between two brothers, just to 'get it over with', as Gabriel put it? Hell no. Dean had more common sense than that. So why did everyone else seem to be for it?

Dean glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye, observing his eyes glued to the road. Usually Dean would've drove the whole way (it was only an eight hour drive), but Sam had offered to take over the wheel two hours back and Dean was content to munch on M&Ms for a while. They hadn't spoken since they'd last stopped, and he couldn't help wondering what Sam was thinking. Kid thought too much for his own good.

Sam surprised him by speaking up at that moment. "What's on your mind?" He snuck a glance over at Dean, and the look on his face just screamed 'Open up to me Dean – spill your guts. Let's have a heart to heart, and cry on each other's shoulders'. Dean tried his hardest not to roll his eyes, but he couldn't help bristling just a little bit.

"Nothing much, really." He returned his gaze back to the endless fields.

Sam actually snorted. "Really? You have your thinking face on." He was silent for a moment, eyes on the road, while AC/DC quietly filled the gap. "You can talk about it, you know. What the Trick- Gabriel said."

"What's there to say Sam? He's a scared coward who doesn't want to face his family, so we're supposed to do it for him. Which we're not going to do."

Sam did his 'you're not listening to me' huff. "I know. I agree with you, Dean. I'm just saying I don't mind talking—"

Dean met him with a glare. "Sam. We're not going to do it. End of story." He reached and turned up the volume on the speakers, letting Highway to Hell course through the car and preventing any future conversation on the subject. He knew he was being a dick, but he also didn't care. Sam could talk himself in circles until he'd somehow convinced himself to say yes to Lucifer, and if he sensed Dean wasn't the solid pillar of strength he needed him to be, he'd just tumble all that much faster.

They spent the remaining trip to Bobby's in silence. As they pulled into the ramshackle auto repair yard, Dean couldn't help but think 'finally'. He had the door open before the car was completely in park, and he could see Bobby's small build gracing the porch. Dean strode to the back, pulled out his bag, and ambled up to pull Bobby into a one armed hug.

"Dean. Good to see ya boy. Sam, you too." He nodded to Sam as he trailed behind Dean. "Well, come on in, I don't expect ta spend all day out here." He turned and they followed him in. Dean was surprised to see a big, auburn head of hair planted firmly at the kitchen table, with a blonde behind her.

"Ellen? Jo? I didn't know Bobby called you in on this," Den said, dumping his bag in the corner.

Ellen took a gulp of beer, and set it back down. "And why not? This case is shaping up to be a big one. I guess Bobby figured he could use all the help he could get." Her lips were stiff but her eyes twinkled in a way to let Dean know nothing was the matter. Jo leaned against the table behind her mom, and raised her glass in acknowledgement. Dean sent a nod her direction.

Bobby passed beers around. "You're darn straight I could use help. I've never seen anything quite on this level before. It's been 3 weeks, and 10 are missing – 2 the first week, 3 the second, and 5 people this past week. Whatever it is, it's left nothing for me to track or even identify it. I don't even have a pattern for the victims. It's taking teens to older folks, all ethnicities. They just disappear into thin air, no signs of struggle, nuthin. Jodi Mills is going nuts, and I have nothing I can tell her. So maybe I need some fresh eyes on this. All I know is it's gotta be fast, because we can't afford to lose anyone else."

Dean plopped into one of the chairs, his eyebrows raised. "There's nothing? Seriously? Does this match up with any past cases of disappearances?"

Bobby nodded. "Nothing. This son of a bitch is good. Which is why I called you guys in. I know John's journal is one of the best, most complete hunter's journal out there – I want you boys to go through it, see if you can find anything. Ellen, you go through Will's too. I'm going to see if I can't find anything on my end. And contacts, people. If you know someone, call 'em now. Maybe someone else has got a line on this that we don't." With that, he set his beer down and retreated to his den.

Dean and Sam exchanged hugs with Ellen and Jo. Dean couldn't help but notice that Jo smelled like cinnamon and honey. He tried not to think too hard about it.

Ellen appraised the boys. "It's been a long time boys. I thought maybe you'd call in sometime, give me some peace of mind."

Sam chuckled. "Well, you know we would more often Ellen. But we've been pretty busy, what with the Apocalypse and all."

Ellen scoffed. "Hey, don't think I don't know that. Me and Jo have been up to our necks in demon omens, weather signs, and just about everything else you can think of. This apocalypse has just about everything supernatural going stir crazy. It's been a bit of a nightmare."

Dean saw Sam duck his head out of the corner of his eye, and he knew Sam was drowning in guilt. Honestly, part of Dean wanted to blame Sam too – after all, it was Sam who killed Lilith despite all the hinky signs, despite Dean's warnings. But he hadn't got back together with him just so Sam could beat himself up. After all, that was Dean's specialty, right? Dean bumped Sammy's shoulder, hoping the message translated. Hey bro. Nothing to feel guilty about, mkay? Stop wallowing. Sam caught his eye and gave a little nod.

"So if you'd have to give it a guess, what do you think it is we're dealing with," Dean asked, hoping to draw in Sam's attention.

Ellen frowned. "I'm not entirely sure. It seems like it should be easy, but it's not ritualistic enough to be a god, and I feel like demons wouldn't clean up their mess this well. It doesn't seem like it would be a shapeshifter, Doesn't smell like a spirit to me – the victims are too varied, too spread apart. At this point, your guess is as good as mine." With that, she turned and retreated back to the table and opened her husbands old hunting journal.

They all settled in on the couches and chairs, flipping through pages of thick, yellowing books for similarities or signs. As the light in the windows faded and the piles of books surrounding them grew, Dean found himself growing more and more frustrated. For one thing, he wasn't exactly built for research. It's not that he never did it, but it was more Sam's forte. Dean didn't exactly have the patience or stamina to sit still for this long. Secondly, he didn't even know what he was looking for. It was like a blind man groping in the dark.

Finally, when the words seemed to blur together and lose all meaning and he was sure he'd read the same sentence several times without really taking it in, Dean slammed the book shut. Sam jumped a little and even Bobby looked up from the aged pages he was reading. "Find something?"

Dean shook his head as he grabbed his jacket and his keys. "Nope. I can't concentrate. I'm going to get some air. Don't wait up." Everyone exchanged looks as he headed out the door, letting it slam behind him.

A/N- TBC. Thanks, and don't forget to read and review! :)