Sam walked along the path, crunching the forest litter underfoot with a pleasing sound, each footfall releasing a sweet, earthy scent. On his little foray he'd met James and Mike, two more of the boys' camp staff. They seemed pleasant enough, but Sam had the distinct impression that they would reserve their judgment regarding his worthiness until they knew Jeff's feelings on the matter. -Sure has everyone under his thumb—Sam thought. He was a little disgusted by their weakness. He had the feeling that they were the hangers-on that hid behind a school yard bully, full of bravado while he was around, but needy and unsure while they were on their own. He hadn't met anyone solid or trustworthy enough to start asking about the deaths, and the earlier disappearance.

He reached the shore of the lake, and sat down on its gravelly bank. The last of the sun was throwing pink sparkles over the water, he could hear water birds splashing somewhere near. He could have sat there all night if the mosquitoes weren't so prolific. He sighed and threw a flat rock into the shallows, counting the skips. Probably should head back. He didn't know how clear the path would be when the sun had dropped completely. He got to his feet and turned back in the direction of the path. He stopped short, surprised. Jeff and the gang stood silently, spread out across the path, blocking him.

"Hi Newbie." Jeff smiled unpleasantly.

"Uh, hey guys." Sam returned the greeting uncertainly.

Jeff stepped forward and put an arm around Sam's shoulders. "Sam, wasn't it? Yeah. How are you liking the job so far?"

"Seems ok…"

"Ok? No no no, it's a great job. You're gonna love it. But see, we just have this little initiation thing we do, Sam. We all did it, it's not weird or anything." He laughed again.

Sam had warning bells screaming. "Initiation...ok. What do I have to do?"

"Relax. Come on. " Jeff headed back down the path. The others followed behind Sam, laughing amongst themselves. The wound their way to a clearing where a campfire burned. A few logs had been hauled over, serving as seating. The others found places on them as Jeff motioned to Sam to sit, while he remained standing. Sam was feeling very uncomfortable. He'd managed to remain unscathed during hazing days at Stamford, he wondered what this bunch had in mind to prove him worthy of inclusion in their little fiefdom.

Jeff addressed him. "Relax Sam. It's all about a little fun. Boys, I think you all met our newbie, Sam, here. I think he's a good guy, he oughta fit right in. Let's all drink to that!"

The group cheered as one and a number of bottles were produced. These were shared around, Jeff handed Sam his own. The group seemed to relax, and there was conversation and laughter.

"See Sam...we are here to teach the young ones to be good little soldiers for god. It's our job, and we do it well, because we're paid to. But we're big boys, and we like a little fun too. See, when we come out here, we leave the bibles behind at the the camp."

Sam faked a grin. "I was wondering just how holy you guys were gonna be." He accepted the bottle from him and faked a healthy swig.

Jeff clapped his shoulder. "Atta boy, Sammy."

They proceeded to tell crude jokes, and stories, all of them laughing and egging each other on. Sam added his own contributions, Dean had told him enough stupid and disgusting jokes on their endless drives, at least they were useful now. Jeff offered his bottle repeatedly to Sam, and Sam faked his consumption convincingly. But he noticed that Jeff accepted swigs from the other bottles going around, but seemed to ignore his own. Sam had the feeling that there was something slightly artificial about the easy joviality of the party.

"How you doing, there, Sam?" Jeff asked.

Sam knew he'd better start showing some effects of his false consumption or they'd be on to him. "Pretty damn good." he slurred. "Kinda weird, actually...man, what the hell are we drinking, anyway?" And he broke into laughter that was slightly too loud.

Oh...just good stuff." Jeff assured him. "You're all right, Sammy. Isn't he all right, guys?" There was a chorus of yeahs. Several joints were making the rounds as well. Sam felt confident enough to accept that, at least. He'd seen several of them inhale from it and it was likely safe enough. But he steadfastly avoided swallowing Jeff's whiskey, continuing to fake the drinking. Luckily it was dark enough that he didn't seem to notice that the level barely changed. He might have to accidentally fumble the bottle to spill some out.

'You've got a pretty high tolerance, don't you Sam?" Jeff laughed, eyeing him closely.

Sam realized he'd better step up the wasted act or he'd be in trouble. "Mmm? No, I'm not the tallest." and he broke into more stupid laughing. "Oh—wait, yes I am, Dean's short!" He snorted loudly and giggled to himself. He felt like a jackass.

"Who's Dean, Sam? Some guy you like?" Jeff pried, suddenly intense.

"Like him? You nuts?" Sam snorted again. "Naw, it's my stupid brother." He leaned heavily against the one sitting closest to him, then hauled himself awkwardly upright again with embarrassingly over-done apologies. Jeff and Randy exchanged glances, and the alpha-dog turned to Sam with a slight smile.

"Ok Sam. Truth or dare time. If you wanna join the club, you have to pay the toll. And the price is...you have to tell what's the worst thing you ever did. Just like we all did, right guys? So whatever it is, lied, stole, screwed your cousin," He leaned closer to Sam for emphasis. "..Or your best buddy. Time to give it up, newbie!"

-Ok—Sam thought, this is what this is about. They're weeding out the' wrong sort.' They're a bunch of homophobes… He realized that whatever Jeff had added to his bottle would no doubt have removed any inhibitions he had about revealing such a deep secret. Sam acted his part accordingly.

"Oh, f—k off! Get outa here, I'm not some fag! And none of you better be either, cuz I'll kick your pansy ass!" he slurred loudly.

There were satisfied looks of approval around the circle.

"C'mon, Sammy...nothing bad? You must have done something." Jeff goaded.

Sam laughed in a slightly unhinged way. What the hell, might as well tell them the truth. "You really wanna know the worst bad thing I did?"

They all leaned a little closer. "Go ahead, Newbie...you heard the rules." Jeff prodded.

"Ok. Shot my own brother. Twice." Sam fell over backwards in artificial hysterics.

There was real, and nervous laughter from the others. He allowed them to pull him upright again.

"Get outa here, Sam! You're a good boy, you teach at a bible camp for shits sake!"

"Nah, s'all good. Didn't really kill him….just shot him a little bit. But don't tell anyone, ok?"

"Dude, are you serious? Why?" Weasel-boy asked.

"Pissed me off. But we're good now. I don't shoot him anymore." He laughed again and nearly lost his balance.

The others were quiet, waiting for Jeff's response. "Sam…" he announced. "I like you, you've got a set. Welcome to the club." This time his smile was genuine. Weaving, Sam gave him an uncoordinated thumbs up.

The rest of the group cheered and toasted him.

Sam slurred his own demand loudly. "Ok, now you. What was the badness you all did? Your turn, c'mon." He grabbed the log hard to steady himself, to keep the illusion of his wasted state going.

There was an awkward moment of nervous shifting, an occasional laugh. But Jeff, ever-confident, righteous Jeff—answered. "Well, just a little while ago...we chased out a little queer that wanted to join our club here. Chased him all the way to hell with a boot-print on his ass, didn't we, guys?" Jeff laughed, and the pack joined him.

Sam stared at him, bleary-eyed and silent. He shook off his revulsion. Then he gave them a thumbs up again, grinning. "Right-on."

He figured that was a pretty useful bit of information. He wouldn't press his luck, he had their confidence now and he could safely pry later about this incident and the dead ones. He rose awkwardly. "Shit, gonna hurl...sorry." He staggered to the woods and faked some noisy nausea, then wandered back to the ring. The little party was breaking up, it was a work day tomorrow after all. They had to be bright and fresh and godly in the morning.

Jeff put his arm around Sam to steady him. "Sorry, man." he laughed. "Guess we were a bit rough on you for your first night. That's some pretty strong booze...you ok?"

Sam nodded. "Ok for now, ask me in the morning though!" He gave Jeff a crooked grin.

Jeff slapped his shoulder with a snort of approval. "You're a good sport, Sam. C'mon, let's get you back before you get the spins."

Dean petted the big dog, forgiving him. He'd rather be bowled over by a friendly mutt than torn to ribbons by some demonic canine any day.

"Come on in, Dean."

He followed Maggie into the foyer, and was about to comment on the pleasant décor when Ivan took his opportunity to greet Dean officially. "Whoa!" Dean yelped, as Ivan shoved his big muzzle between Dean's legs, nearly lifting him off the ground by his 'nads. "A crotch-dog too! Awesome!" he laughed a little nervously, pushing the wiry head away.

"Oh...yeah, sorry, I should have warned you about that." she giggled apologetically. "Ivan! Bad dog! Out!"

Ivan hung his head and sauntered off to his enormous dog bed, dropping heavily onto it with a petulant sigh.

"God! How do you keep that thing fed?" Dean marveled.

"Kibble by the dumptruck-load...plus the occasional mailman. And walking him is even better, everybody on the street laughs as I'm carrying home my ten pound bag of orange steamies."

Dean shuddered. -ok, way too much information- But he liked her easy, uncomplicated banter.

"Coffee, or beer?"

"Beer, thanks. Nice place."

"Thanks. It was my folks originally. I just remodeled a month ago." She brought over two bottles and a cheese tray, motioning to sit in the livingroom.

He silently raised his bottle to her, and she returned the gesture. "So...tell me." he prompted.

She looked at him for a moment. It was almost a waste of the evening to bring it up now. But that was, after all, the whole point.

"Ok. Dan is my younger brother. He's 21, and he's..well he's always been very soft. He's the type of kid who feels everything… When my dad died, Dan was 17. He had a hard time with it. He's really sensitive, very emotional. And I'm not sure I should be telling you this, but he's gay. Does that freak you out?"

Dean shook his head. "Go on."

"Right...ok. So Danny needed to have summer work to pay for college this fall. The Saving Word bible camp has been around here forever, they take local young guys to work for the boys camp and young women for the girls. You stay onsite for three weeks at a time, teaching 6-10 year olds bible stories and outdoor activities. Danny was desperate , he'd tried but everywhere else was already taken, no one was hiring. So he got himself hired at the camp. He's a really good guy, he'd really be able to teach these kids some kindness , some goodness. Some tolerance of our differences... Well, he didn't get the chance. The counselors there were really brutal, a gang of bullies that wanted to protect their little kingdom. Danny never fit in. They harassed him and picked on him endlessly because he was different, you know—not Real-Man material and all that. They finally got him to admit his lifestyle and then they beat the crap out of him. Bastards… Well anyway, he drove back here that night. He was totally upset. He wasn't hurt too badly, but he was terribly humiliated, and he was so, so angry. All of those camp counselor buggers had participated, even the few he thought he'd connected with. Took me the better part of the night to calm him down."

Dean frowned at her story. "Well I guess so! Man, I hate those judgmental types!"

She nodded. "Well, I told him he should press charges. He refused at first...I guess he figured he'd been through enough. But later, he decided that this wasn't right, and maybe he should do something about it. So he called the sheriff's office. He laid it all out for the deputy, since Sheriff McClary was out teaching his college law enforcement course. Dan seemed better after that, like maybe he would have some feeling of justice. He was going to go to the sheriff's office next morning, to formally complain. Well, he did that. And that was the last I saw of him. He never got there. The deputy never met with him. He never even saw him."

Dean sat back, absorbing the information. So the kid was gay, and was harassed and bullied out of the camp. Then he went to press charges, and disappeared before he could do so. And now staff were dying…

He was fairly sure Daniel was dead. And young Daniel was not happy.

"So….what do you make of it? Do you think he could be another one of these unexplained-deaths?" Maggie asked, regarding him miserably. She wanted him to say no, that there was no chance Dan's disappearance meant he was dead, that maybe Dan was just gone for a while, taking stock of his life, re-aligning his priorities and going over his options. She needed to hear it had nothing to do with the other deaths.

Dean sighed. This was a bad situation, and he had to be honest. "Maggie...I wish I could say I thought everything would be ok, but there's something really wrong here. Did you report his disappearance to the sheriff's office?"

She nodded. "Yeah, that afternoon. I talked to the deputy he was supposed to meet with. Useless idiot.. As far as I can see, absolutely nothing's been done about any of this. Nobody spoke to me, there was no follow-up. It's been over a month. I don't know what the hell is going on officially. Seems to me that they are just treating this as a non-issue, just a guy who decided to chuck it all and go off to seek his fortune. I just don't know what to do next."

"Mmm." Dean was disgusted. Yet another useless cop. He was sure that poor Daniel was a key figure in this hunt, and for Maggie's sake, he was going to get to the bottom of it. He really needed some wheels. He took a chance that he rarely did. "Maggie, I need to tell you something, but I'd have to have your promise to keep it quiet."

She looked at him, puzzled. "Uh...okay."

"I'm here to investigate those deaths and your brother's disappearance, that part's true. But not for any government department. My brother and I are ...private investigators, of a sort"

"Oh…" She was quiet for a moment. "So, you really can help, with Dan. You're more than just a sympathetic ear." She was glad to have something, anything, done finally. But it also meant that his interest in her was purely business.

"We will unravel this, Maggie. I promise you'll have closure." He chose his next words carefully. "But, Maggie...you have to be prepared to learn things that hurt. I don't know how this will go yet, but obviously it's ugly."

She nodded, both fearful and relieved. "Well, thank-you, Dean...for this. At least my sanity will be saved. So...I guess you'll want to head back now. I really don't have anything to add at the moment."

Dean looked a little crestfallen. "Hey, sure...whatever you want. But..I was looking forward to hanging out with Ivan there."

She smiled warmly. She hadn't misinterpreted his signals after all. It wasn't all about work. "Ivan, come!"

The gangly giant popped his head up at the call, instantly bounding on to the couch and Dean, pinning him to the cushions and giving him another tongue-scrubbing. "Okay! Okay! I give! Maybe not Ivan so much!" he laughed, struggling to get him off his chest.

Maggie called him off and sent him away with a treat.

"Thanks a lot!" he grinned wryly, rubbing his tender collar bone.

She chuckled . "Sorry. But hey, you asked for it. Did he hurt you?"

"No. I broke my collarbone in an accident a little while ago, it's just a little tender. It's fine."

"I was wondering how you got those nasty scars on your throat. Let me see." She unbuttoned his shirt a little and pulled it back to reveal his shoulder. She tsked, rubbing it gently where Ivan's big blunt nails had left a mark. "Better?"

He sighed and closed his eyes. "Much."

They were two like-minded people. Maggie valued her independence above all else, but she wanted a little closeness every now and then too, if the companion suited. And she thought Dean suited just fine..

Much later, they lay contented in bed. Maggie traced a connect-the-dot pattern on his torso, from one scar to another, some old, some new. "Rough business, this job of yours."

He snorted. "Sweetheart, you have no idea."