"Any clues?" Dean asked his brother as he watched Sam examine the wound that rested just under Greg's chin.
"Honestly, no. But, we can be certain this has something to do with Sara. It's a little too coincidental that both men knew her."
Dean took a knee next to his brother and nodded. "Yeah, plus, whatever it was had Brian on alert. I noticed he had my cell phone number written on a paper on his desk. I'm thinking that whatever killed him, did it to keep him from warning me."
Sam pulled out his cell phone and snapped a shot of the bruise, within minutes, the picture, plus an explanation of what was wrong, was headed cross country toward Bobby. Though, the older man was too far away to make it back to Pennsylvania, his knowledge of the weird and obscure could definitely come in handy. "Yeah, but that doesn't make sense, I mean leaving Greg dead in the storage shed is a pretty big calling card."
"That's true, but if it weren't for Jack, weeks could have gone by and he might have gone unfound. It's not like Sara or the kids are in here all that often."
Sam nodded his agreement and stood. As he did his phone rang, with a glance and a grin at the caller ID, Sam answered, "Hey, Bobby."
Even from where Dean stood he could clearly hear the older hunter's irate voice. Leaving his brother to talk geek with Bobby, Dean stepped out of the shed and cast a glance about the yard. All appeared quiet, though Dean had long ago learned not to trust appearances. The swath of lawn that encircled the house was clear of all obstacles, not a tree or bush offered cover to anything that might be hiding. However, that didn't mean the house was impregnable, as Gordon had so helpfully pointed out last year.
It did however, have every type of supernatural protection that could be offered. "How the hell's it getting to her? I mean unless it's sucking on her at the local Piggly Wiggly it shouldn't be able to get past the house's defenses," Dean muttered to himself, not really expecting a response.
"Beats me, but Bobby's on the case. He's going to pawn his job off on another hunter and head for home and his library. In the meantime, he's calling in favors looking for answers." Sam stepped up beside his brother as he put away his phone.
"Good, cause we ain't leaving this place until it's dead and done. I won't have the son of a bitch get to her while we're out chasing down leads."
"Yeah, there's little the local library can offer that I can't find in Sara's office anyway."
Dean nodded and turned toward the shed. "Put the lock on the door," Dean said indicating the padlock that hung open on the latch. "I don't want her knowing about Greg or Brian yet. She's not well, telling her they're both dead will only upset her."
"She's got every reason to be upset, Dean. I think we should come clean."
"No," Dean said, shaking his head in response to his brother's stubborn look. "Listen, if we can't hunt this thing down and kill it by Sunday then I'm all for telling her, otherwise I don't see the point in hurting her even more."
At last, Sam caved, with a nod he pulled the door to the shed closed and wiped down the door handle. "We keep too many secrets around here."
Dean heard his brother's mutter and almost questioned the comment. However, his attention was suddenly caught by a fierce blast of wind that roared through the backyard. So strong was the gust that Dean found himself leaning forward into the current. Then, as quickly as it came up, the wind died down, leaving only the faintest trace of a breeze behind.
"Well, that was weird."
"Seriously weird," Sam agreed.
Dean felt a sudden bout of urgency egging him on to find Sara and ensure she was all right. Sam and Jack seemed to agree, because as he turned and began jogging toward the house, both man and beast fell into formation alongside of him. "Where was she when you came out?" Dean questioned Sam as they reached the back patio.
"I left her resting on the couch. But she's in the house, she's got to be safe."
Dean shot his brother a look of skepticism and Sam increased his pace. It was obvious whatever they were dealing with defied all of their preconception. Both brothers and Jack hit the patio running. It took only seconds for them to enter the house and make their way to the living room.
Despite the noise their arrival made, Sara slept on, her head resting on a pillow, a blanket pulled up around her shoulders. Though her position should have looked serene, the frown that marred her face made it clear she was in the grip of a nightmare.
Sam let loose the breath he was holding and nudged his brother. "I'm gonna see what I can figure out."
Dean nodded and eased toward the couch. Gently he lifted Sara into his arms, and sat down in her place, drawing her against his chest. "We need to keep an eye on her at all times, Sam. No more leaving her alone, not even in here."
Sam nodded his agreement and left the room, Jack trotting after him.
888
Sam pushed back from the desk with a sigh. Three hours and he was no closer to figuring out what had killed the two men. There simply wasn't enough information to be found. The two victims seemed to have only one common thread and that was Sara, beyond that Sam could find nothing that linked the men.
Near desperate to hear from Bobby, he allowed his hand to hover over his cell phone. He hesitated for one reason and one reason only. He'd already called the older hunter four times over the last three hours and to say Bobby was getting a bit irate was an understatement. In fact, he'd warned Sam not to call back unless someone lost a limb and he made it clear that it had better be an important one, fingers and toes wouldn't cut it.
Sam's hand slipped off the phone as he conceded Bobby was probably right. His constant phone calls weren't helping in any way. The problem was Sam felt as if nothing he was doing was helping. At the moment, his only clue was the mark left on the victims and Sara's lethargy. To make matters more complicated the lethargy hadn't appeared evident in Greg, leaving Sam to believe that whatever had killed the man hadn't been feeding for long, unlike the situation with Sara. That left the younger hunter to wonder why. Why hadn't the killer fed on Sara outright, leaving her dead? Why draw the game out?
Every conclusion Sam came up with left him feeling even worse. The only thing that made sense was to suppose that something had bigger plans for the widow. What those plans might be eluded Sam, but he had no doubt it couldn't be for anything good.
Sam wandered out of the room and down the hallway. The absolute stillness of the house seemed so uncharacteristic that Sam felt the need for companionship. As he wandered down the long hall, he couldn't help but notice just how big the place was. Normally, the large house was filled to capacity. The sheer number of people living in it caused it to feel much more cozy than it was.
That suited Sam just fine. He'd grown up in a countless array of hotel rooms, trailer parks, and run down rentals usually consisting of no more than two rooms. The never ending life of a hunter had led him to believe that the occasional sound of a stranger's anger, or the hum of an out of date air conditioner were the sounds of home. Even the dorm room he'd occupied upon his arrival at Stanford had been just another taste of motel living. His first taste of normal was living with Jessica.
Living with Jess had dramatically changed his perspective. There he'd come to realize that a home, a real home had a permanence and a personality that reflected it's owners, not some generic space that never took on the individuality of it's occupiers. The apartment he'd shared with Jessica hadn't been large by any means. However, it had been filled with things that had reflected their lives together, they had left their imprint there.
Though, it had taken him a lot of years to notice, the Impala held just such a feel. From his brother's box of tapes to the sunglasses that rested on the dash, the car had taken on Dean's personality in every way. When Sam had re-joined the hunt, he had at first felt slightly out of place in what was clearly his brother's space. Then, he'd begun to leave his own mark on the vehicle. From the cigarette lighter that was replaced with a power cord to the extra sweatshirt he always left on the back seat, Sam had slowly but surely made a place for himself in car.
Here at Sara's you never seemed to notice just how large the house really was. The Power's home was made of sound and stuff, not space. Laughter, music, tears, yells of anger, and of camaraderie made up the framework. The well-loved furniture and personal touches of each member of the family, including extended family, made up the heart.
The house seemed almost lost without the steady thrum of sneakers pounding up and down the stairs, or Jess' trailing laughter as she worked to keep up with the boys. The music that normally accompanied Sara no matter her chore was now silent and even the background noises of running appliances or the occasional thud of Jack's footsteps were missing. The still of the house seemed oppressive causing the house to feel more like a museum than a home.
Feeling like the last man on earth, Sam headed for the living room in search of company. His brother had remained at Sara's side, coming back to check on Sam's progress, or lack thereof, every now and again. It had been nearly an hour since his last update, so Sam figured he'd use that as an excuse to seek them out.
He came to a halt just inside the living room. There on the couch lay his brother, with Sara in his arms. The couple was sound asleep. They lay on their sides, with Dean's hand lying possessively on the widow's hip and his other arm tucked under her head providing her with a pillow of sorts. Though he knew it was simply a lull in the battle that the couple were waging, the sight of them lying together was a sort of balm to his soul. He'd never fully allowed himself to give up the notion of Dean and Sara finding happiness together.
"Cop a squat, sasquatch."
Sam should have known better that Dean was asleep. No one was better than his brother at playing watchdog. Apparently, the older man had meant it when he'd said he was going to be keeping an eye on Sara.
"Thought you were resting," Sam said as he dropped into the old over-stuffed recliner that sat across from the couch.
Dean grimaced and spoke softly, "I'll sleep when she's safe."
Sam nodded, the sentiment pretty much summing up how he felt. "She's pretty out of it, huh?"
Dean let his eyes slip shut and answered, "Well, despite what a jerk I was earlier, she's tired enough to lay down with me. Does that answer your question?"
"Well, you admitted you were an ass, I'm a forgiving girl," Sara rasped as she sat up.
Dean lifted an eyebrow and sat upright also, both moving to opposite ends of the couch now that the truce seemed over. "I said, jerk, not an ass. And I'll have you know I wasn't the only one."
Sara's full-fledge smile helped to light up the room as she dropped a wink at Sam. "Now, now, Sam's a good kid. He's done nothing wrong."
Unable to hold onto his fierce frown any longer, Dean grinned and snarked, "Yeah cause I was talking about Sam."
Sam grinned thankful for the attempt at humor. Every one of them was drawn tight like a bow waiting for whatever would befall them next. Waiting had never been a strong suite of the Winchesters. Both men preferred action to inactivity especially when someone they cared about was on the line.
With a low groan, Sara drew her legs up onto the couch and curled up. "So, Sam, you figure out what's wrong with me yet?"
Sam avoided his brother's direct gaze and shrugged. "Not yet, but, we've got Bobby on the trail."
Sara curled in on herself even more, her composure slipping only slightly. "Well, then, all will be well."
A feeling of failure swept through Sam. Unwilling to let her down, Sam's resolve firmed. 'We're going to find this thing, Sara, trust me." Sam's gaze locked onto his brother's urging the older man to believe in him. Dean's faint nod went a long way toward easing the tension that gripped Sam.
"I know you will,"
Sam smiled at Sara's confidence and settled back into his seat. "If we're going to find this thing we need to determine what it is, how it came to find you, and what it wants."
"What'd'ya mean what's it want. I mean it's obvious right it wants to hurt her."
Sam could easily read his brother's eyes, though Dean said hurt, he meant kill. Sam acknowledged his brother's question, "I'm not so sure. I mean according to what Sara said she's been feeling this way for over two months now, sometimes better and sometimes worse, but never really good."
"So you think this thing's been feeding off of me for that long," Sara asked, her expression making it clear the thought made her nauseas.
"Now, onto how it found you. I'm confident it's not getting to you inside the house, Sara. The protections we've put in place are still holding. So..."
Sara frowned and shrugged. "I mean you guys know the routine. I haven't gone anywhere, I've just been...living."
Dean nodded and eased forward. Sam could tell that his brother was slipping into interrogation mode. It was obvious the older man was no longer seeing Sara, instead, he was sifting for facts.
"So, school, shopping, your parents?"
Sara nodded and answered, "Yeah, um..Judy's for dinner every now and again. It was a pretty cold winter so we really didn't do much. Just kinda stayed home and waited for spring."
Sam watched his brother begin to break apart Sara's words. It was obvious he was no longer paying attention, instead, he was combing over the facts again and again, hoping to shake something loose.
"Have you pissed anyone off, a neighbor, some gypsy lady, perhaps, taken a bite of poison fruit?"
Despite the humor in Dean's words, Sam had no doubt his brother was serious. "You thinking a witch, Dean?"
"Just running through the choices. I mean what if it's a curse and the bruise is a token of the hoodoo and not an actual symptom?"
"Huh," Sam hadn't thought of that, in fact, he'd primarily studied creatures looking for something that would cause that mark. It had never occurred to him that it might be something else. "Wait a minute." At a dash, Sam darted from the living room intent on grabbing his laptop. Dean's theory that it might be a curse was something that he could at least verify. The feeling of being useful was a welcome one indeed.
888
"I've found nothing to indicate it's a witch," Sam snapped as he shut the laptop with more force than necessary.
Sara lifted her head from the seat cushion and gazed blearily at the younger hunter. "Nothing?"
Sam's refusal to meet Sara's direct gaze indicated just how much he'd been hoping they could figure out what was up. "No signs of a coven, no unexplainable fortunes or losses, not even a good old-fashion love triangle. Nothing that would indicate there's a witch operating nearby."
Dean studied Sam for a moment before at last breaking into a grin. "You guys hungry? 'Cause I'm starved."
If Sam was at all surprised by his brother's suggestion then Sara missed it. The Winchesters had a secret language all their own. One that was made up of facial expressions, body language and the occasional eye roll or grunt thrown in for good measure.
While Sara knew enough about the Winchesters to understand she really didn't understand, she could tell that the slump of Sam's shoulders and the soulful cast to his eyes was his way of offering up an apology to his big brother. Dean on the other hand, stood serene, the smallest lift at the corner of his mouth. Not a smirk so much as a shrug, clearly it was a 'hey I know you're doing your best' smile.
Moment over, Dean turned to face Sara and held out a hand to her. "Let's see what's in the kitchen."
Sara stared up at the hand, an amused smile on her face. Any other woman might be offended by his cavalier offer but she knew better. Dean wasn't downplaying the danger she was in, in fact, he was taking it way to seriously if his hand out was any indication. The man had spent the last week avoiding any type of touch. Yet, since he'd returned to the house he hadn't moved more than two feet from her side. At the moment, that was fine with Sara, though she struggled to remind herself it was more concern for her safety than any real affection.
Sara took the proffered hand and allowed him to help her up. Once on her feet, she felt a wave of dizziness try to knock her off her feet. Dean's grip on her elbow helped to anchor her. At last, she nodded and shifted slightly putting a bit of distance between them. Again, she reminded herself that his affection wasn't to be taken seriously.
"You coming, Sam?" Dean asked not a trace of worry in his tone.
Sam shook his head, his eyes straying toward the abandoned laptop. "Naw, I'm gonna check some stuff out."
Sara was completely unsurprised by the men's behavior. True to form, Dean chose action over inactivity. He was a man of motion, one given to thinking on the go. Despite the front he presented to the world, he was far from incapable when it came to research. He simply didn't thrive when forced to sit in front of a computer or troll through archaic books in a library. Dean processed information best when on the move, allowing his subconscious to sift through facts, picking out the important ones and discarding the rest.
Sam on the other hand worried a problem, unable to concentrate on anything else. Even now, he was back in front of the laptop, scanning sites he'd already gone over, biting his fingernails to the quick and oblivious to the world around him. Sara smiled fondly at both Winchesters and headed for the kitchen.
As she moved, she felt the heavy weight of Dean's hand move to the small of her back. She felt a pang at the proprietary gesture. How many hours had she spent remembering just that touch? The way his hand slipped to her lower back, his fingers spread out to encompass the most area. The heat of his hand searing through her clothing, brought a blush to her pale skin. Firmly, but gently, he guided her to the kitchen, not bothering to stop until she was seated in one of the chairs.
"Stay," he ordered.
Sara stayed, to be honest, there really wasn't much else she could do, the short walk from the living room had left her feeling drained.
Dean's hand ghosted up to press against her forehead, he frowned. "You feel warm."
Uncomfortable with the fact that Dean's touch had brought the flush to her skin, Sara shrugged off his hand. "I'm fine really. Now what are you planning on making me?"
Dean grinned and whipped the tea towel off the fridge handle. Tossing it over his shoulder, he sent Sara one of his best smiles, all teeth and attitude. "You don't worry your pretty little head over it, just sit back and--"
Dean's words were cut off by the sound of the house phone ringing. For a moment, both Sara and Dean were frozen in some kind of weird tableau each staring at the phone that hung on the wall. Sara could clearly make out Bobby's name flashing on the caller ID, she just seemed unable to force her limbs into motion. The only reason Bobby would be call the house phone was if the information he had was urgent.
Sam's entrance into the kitchen was just enough to break Sara out of her stupor. The younger hunter lunged for the phone, only to be shouldered aside by Dean.
Face taut with worry, Dean grabbed the phone and barked into it, "Bobby?"
A minute later, all color drained from Dean's face. He turned, avoiding Sara's gaze, and stared hard at his brother. Placing a hand over the mouthpiece, Dean said, "He thinks it's an Anchanchu."
