Williams's apartment was a half hour away in a gated apartment complex. Dean parked the car a block over and they walked in when the gate opened for one of the locals. Walking around until they found the right building, they took the stairs to the second floor. Dean kept lookout while Sammy picked the lock of the apartment and let them in, slick as you please.

Dean followed his brother in and closed the door, letting his gaze run over the room. The place was immaculate, a clean freak's palace. There wasn't a thing out of place. Kinda creepy. No wonder the guy was single.

Appeared like he was a bookworm to boot. Dean hadn't seen these many fancy sounding titles since… A quick glance at Sam showed he'd seen them too. Dean didn't dare say anything as his brother tentatively reached out toward one of them, his hand shaking. Before he could touch it, he snatched his hand back as if burned. His whole body had tensed up, the muscle jumping once at his jaw line.

"Sammy?"

His brother turned away from him. The line of his back was stiff.

Dean suddenly found that he'd had his fill of this. His brother had been dodging this more than long enough. "I've been real patient about this, you know? Figured you'd bring it up when you were ready. But you're never going to be ready are you?"

"I…I don't know what you're talking about."

The rigid back and taught shoulders told Dean otherwise. "Lying to me too. That's nice."

Sammy made as if to look back at him, but stopped before he did so.

"Nobody's sorrier about what happened to Madison than me, dude. But falling apart every time you see something that reminds you of her, even as you keep trying so hard to not think about her, you can't tell me everything's all right."

"We have a case, Dean." His words were quick and clipped. "We should be focusing on that and nothing else right now. People's lives are at stake."

Dean couldn't help but sigh. "What about your life? Your well-being? Aren't those important?"

Sammy slammed both hands into the bookshelf as if trying to shove the whole thing through the wall. "My life? My well-being? You should be more worried about yours! I'm not the one who'll probably be turning into a jaguar tonight without a single clue as to how or why! Have you ever even considered you might never stop? That you'll be doing this for the rest of your friggin' life?"

Dean didn't know what to say in the face of that onslaught. Had he thought about it? No. Was he worried? No to that too. But he knew his brother wouldn't take those answers well, no not well at all. Sammy's gritted teeth and manic expression screamed it in spades. "I'm just taking things one day at a time, dude. Just like you are."

"Like hell. I'll be waiting in the car." Sammy left before Dean could say anything to try and stop him.

Dean took a lot longer combing through things in the apartment than necessary, trying to give his brother some time.

The place was a total bust. He hadn't found anything odd, incriminating, or unusual for that matter. Unless you counted neatness taken to an utter extreme.

As he approached the Impala, he could tell he needn't have bothered taking an extra while. The laptop was open, Sam's entire concentration on the lit screen – an impenetrable wall blaring 'don't bother me' totally surrounding him. Shit.

The door's usual squealed greeting seemed subdued when he opened the door, as if Sammy's cone of silence was affecting Baby as well. His brother staunchly ignored him as he slid in to the driver's seat, only the tight jaw and slumped posture acknowledging he was there.

"Didn't find anything." Dean put the key in the ignition. Sammy said nothing.

The roar of the V8 and the sound of the tires squealing on the pavement as the Impala left the curve were the only things to break the silence.

"You hungry? Should we grab some food?"

A shrug. Well, at least it was something.

The farther they got from the apartment complex, the more Sammy appeared to relax. This in turn made Dean feel a whole lot better. By the time they'd made it to the Taco Bell drive thru, he was ready for a whole lot of grub.

With a burrito in one hand and the steering wheel in the other, he took the darkening streets back toward the motel.

"He's been a resident in Texas for the last ten years."

"Wha-?" The word came out muffled as it tried to fight past a mouthful of refried beans, tortilla, and meat. Dean threw a cautious glance at his brother.

"Ricky, he's been living here for ten years. He's worked for the museum the last five."

Dean nodded but said nothing, not wanting to do anything to jeopardize the lowering of Sammy's walls.

"No traffic tickets, no criminal record. Father is deceased. Mother lives out of state. He has a degree in political science, but doesn't seem to have done much with it. Father was an anthropologist from the US doing long term research on the Maya Indian population in Guatemala. He married a native."

Dean took another bite of burrito, wanting to make sure he kept quiet through this. Even a mouthful of food was no guarantee though, as he well knew.

"From what I can find, in the 80's things got ugly there – political maneuverings, social cleansing, and worse. So the father got out and took his family with him. He became a prominent figure here fighting for Indian rights, asking the US to up embargo measures and increase humanitarian aid."

Dean turned into the motel parking lot and slipped the Impala in a parking slot. Neither of them made a move to leave the car.

"If even a tenth of the stuff I've found on the net is true, those people down there were living through something close to what we keep expecting the world to be like if the demon gets his way." Sam's voice grew small, his face pale.

"That bad?"

"Yeah." He swallowed hard. "The Maya comprised three quarters of the population in Guatemala but were persecuted for trying to hold onto their heritage and native language."

Dean held back a shiver. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. The biggest evil out there is people. They're crazy!"

He saw Sammy nod, but he said nothing else. "Any other info on Ricky? And why is his last name native and not his father's?"

Sammy sat up a little straighter, jostling the computer on his lap. "It is. Seems his dad legally changed it after their return to the states to use it to help push the reforms and awareness of the Maya's plight."

Dean shook his head. Yeah, humans were definitely crazy. "The son didn't follow in his father's footsteps though, right?"

Sammy nodded again. "It looks like he's been drifting since college."

"So the fact he's a Maya and those artifacts with the smells are Maya could just be a big ass coincidence."

"I guess."

But though he was the one to say so, Dean didn't think it was a coincidence at all. He just had no proof one way or the other.