Author's Chapter Notes:

Well, despite the fact that I've spent the last week living in the house o' plague I'm happy to have this one ready and on time. Thanks to you all for your great comments and I hope you enjoy. - Kel ;)

Chapter 6

John stayed low, using the crumbling brick wall as cover. As carefully as he knew how, he rose up, just peeking over the edge of the rough brick. There, in the distance, he could make out the old one-room schoolhouse. The long-ago abandoned building was his last and best chance at catching and putting down the rawhead.

He'd tracked the creature this far and had then pulled back to watch as the son-of-a-bitch eased its way through a broken basement window. That had been roughly twenty minutes ago, since then, he'd caught hints of movement through the mostly broken windows as the creature attended to its business.

Unfortunately, John had a pretty good idea of what that business might be.

He glanced at his watch once more and felt a whisper of panic ghost over his body. Near as he could figure his son had now been missing for nearly twenty-six hours. It had been two hours since he'd last spoken with Sam. He had little doubt the shaggy-haired youth was even now staring at the phone willing him to call. Hopefully, his son had found them a starting place.

John didn't relish the idea of wasting time following false leads. Then again, if anyone could find Dean it would be his youngest. He'd always found himself slightly awed and a bit wary of his Sam's ability to find his older brother. There was nowhere Dean could hide that Sam wasn't able to seek him out. Though it had ruined many a game of hide and seek, Dean had never complained.

His oldest son had encouraged Sam to trust his instincts, especially, during training maneuvers and hunts. Sam's knack of knowing where his brother was, at all times, made them a formidable duo.

With one last hope that Sam had put his skills to good use, John double-checked the tazer gun he held and started for the school.

888

"Crap," Sam swore as he hung up the phone once more.

It had been two hours since he'd heard from his father. Sticking with hospitals and police stations for each county his brother's route had taken him through, Sam had methodically worked his way through the list.

So far, it had been a bust.

Twice he'd tracked down bad leads. One, a John Doe that had been in a car accident, and the second, a twenty-something youth picked up for trespassing. Given the fact he had no idea what name his brother might be using, following the false leads had been time consuming and aggravating.

Sam dropped his gaze to the paper in front of him and stared hard at the last number on his list. The Kentucky state police was his last hope. If his call to the closest barracks garnered nothing then Sam would have to admit to his father that he had nothing.

Knowing that failure wasn't an option, Sam picked up the receiver and dialed once more.

"Kentucky State Police - Post 9," A female voice drawled.

Sam gripped the phone tight and spoke, "Hi, I'm hoping you could help me, my brother's missing. He was traveling along route 52 between Nolan and Inez on his way to meet up with my father. He hasn't shown up yet."

"Aw, now, honey. I'm sure he's fine."

Fighting back the urge to scream in frustration, Sam softened his voice and urged, "He hasn't called or anything and my Mom's starting to freak out." Sam had learned an imaginary mom, crying her eyes out garnered more pity than he could generate on his own.

"How late is he?"

Confident he was going to get the help he needed, Sam promptly replied, "He's been gone over twenty-four hours. My brother's no flake if he could, he would have called."

"Alright, well let's take a look. My officers have responded to three different traffic accidents since yesterday morning....."

As the woman's voice trailed off, Sam wanted to scream in frustration. The state police were his last true lead, if this woman couldn't find anything for him, then he didn't know where to turn next.

"Okay, I can give you the specs on the cars at least. We've got a Toyota Corolla, vs. a Ford pickup. Then it looks like there was a three-car crash: Mack truck, Ford Taurus and a Chevy pickup."

Caught between needing to know what had happened to his brother and the idea that Dean could be lying unconscious in some hospital or worse was tearing Sam apart. "The third?"

"Happened early in the am today. Looks like a fender bender between a Chevy Malibu and a Saturn."

"Damn," Sam whispered as his last hopes were crushed.

"Don't worry, sweetie, it's a good thing. Means he's just running a little late.

Wanting nothing more than to growl at the chipper voice that was working so hard to make him feel better Sam tried one last tact. "What about traffic violations? Can you tell me if any tickets were issued to a 1967 Chevy Impala?"

"Hm...a Chevy Impala...huh? Well, lets see...a Chevy Impala..."

Listening to the woman mumble to herself, Sam closed his eyes and sent a whispered prayer to heaven that his brother had racked up another one of his famous tickets. Only last week John had threatened to consign Dean to a week of maneuvers the next time his brother brought home another speeding violation.

"Nope, kiddo, I'm sorry but there's been no citations issued for a Chevy Impala. I went back as far as Wednesday just to make sure."

At her words, tears flooded Sam's eyes. As he drew an arm across his eyes, he heard a faint voice in the phone that was pressed against his ear.

"What's that about an Impala, Marge?"

Sam's breath whooshed out of his chest as he pushed the handset even harder to his ear.

"We got a possible missing persons, a kid driving a Chevy Impala," came Marge's muffled reply.

"Who's on the phone?" asked the gruff voice.

"Kid's brother, says the guy was supposed to show up early this morning but no one's heard from him."

"Put him threw, let me talk to him."

Sam waited with bated breath as Marge came back on the line. "Sorry about that, honey. I got Officer Jones here, he might be able to help you."

Unable to do much more, Sam muttered a thank you.

"No problem, hope you find him."

With that, there was a moment of silence before the muzak came on signifying he was being transferred.

At last, a gruff voice asked, "Sergeant Jones here, how can I help you?"

"My name's Sam Winchester. My brother Dean was supposed to meet my father early this morning only he never showed. We haven't heard from him since," Sam stated not bothering to embellish in any way. This guy obviously new something or he wouldn't have wasted his time with the youngest Winchester.

"This brother of yours, he drives a black '67 Impala?"

Nearly lightheaded with relief, Sam allowed his eyes to slip close as he answered, "Yeah."

"He a good looking kid, early twenties, light colored hair, wearing a dark jacket?"

"Yeah, that's him," Sam affirmed.

"Well, I saw him then. I was on duty last night over on Route 292 when I saw the car pulled onto the shoulder-"

"Was he okay?" Sam interrupted.

"Easy, kid, your brother was fine. Just changing a flat is all. I waited with him while he finished and then followed him down the highway."

"Where was he pulled off and at what time," Sam asked with a bit of a wince. He was taking a risk asking such informed questions, he could only hope the cop didn't decide to question him.

The sergeant seemed to think nothing of Sam's thoroughness as he answered promptly, "It was thirteen twenty-five just off mile marker 12. I followed him till he turned onto Route 1714."

Mind already focused on the map, Sam barely heard the rest of the officer's words.

"Not sure why he would have gone that way, ain't nothing out there but mountains and scrub."

This time the cop's words broke through Sam's fog. "Wait, what? You said he turned off 292?"

"That's right," Jones affirmed. "I was following him for a bit, saw him take the turn onto 1714."

The officer's words made it clear why his brother would have opted to go the long way around. There's no way Dean would have wanted a cop tailing him the length of the highway, whether it was intentional or not.

"That's the last you saw of him?" the teen asked as he continued marking the map.

"Yeah, that's as much as I know. If you want to file a missing persons..." The officer offered.

Sam deferred not wanting to waste anymore of Dean's precious time. "I'll give my dad the information. See what he thinks. He's working his way down 292 as we speak."

"Good idea," the officer agreed. "I'm sure nothing's wrong. As cherry as that car was, it's not hard to throw those old babies out of commission. Your brother's probably just holed up in a gestation near Lovely trying to get her moving again."

"I'm sure," Sam replied distractedly. "Thanks again."

As he hung up the phone, he glanced down at the map once more and carefully drew a large perimeter around the town of Lovely. With a starting place in hand, Sam stared at the phone, urging it to ring.

888

Of all the dumb friggin' luck, John Winchester thought to himself as he coughed out what felt like an ounce of masonry dust from his chest.

He'd entered the house undetected and had made his way to the basement without a hitch. Once there he'd managed to corner the rawhead with little trouble. Ten thousand volts later and the creature that had destroyed the lives and hopes of many was no more than a charred pile of ash. Unable to leave the building until he was certain there were no survivors, John had begun searching the condemned school.

A search of the basement had turned up nothing other than a pile of bones and one fresher corpse. Though the kid had obviously already been dead for a few days, the ex-marine couldn't help the guilt that rolled through him. His head assured him there was nothing more he could have done to save the boy. Hell, a few days ago, Johnny hadn't even known there was a rawhead in the area. His heart, however, ached with a pain that made him wish he was as callous as he pretended to be.

More determined than ever to find some good amidst all the horror, he'd returned to the ground floor and had begun to explore.

It was then he'd found two young boys locked inside a crude cage. Though beaten and bruised they'd both been capable of walking out of the house of horror. John had broken open their cells and was leading them outside when he'd placed his foot on a bad floor board.

Rotted nearly through by years of exposure to the elements the board snapped under his weight causing him to plunge forward. Before he could catch himself, more of the floor had collapsed throwing him back into the basement he'd only recently vacated.

"Mister!" a pitiful voice rasped from above.

"Stay back," John warned, hating the weak sound of his voice. The urgency in the kid's cry had him testing his body, checking for injuries. By carefully flexing each muscle he determined he'd hurt little more than his pride.

"I'm okay," he called out, wanting to offer some small comfort. "Just stay back from the hole."

With complete disregard for his order, a tiny pale face peeped out over the edge of the hole he'd created. "Can you get out?"

"Leg's stuck," he growled at the oldest of the two kids.

He couldn't believe his friggin' luck. He'd been doing the job now for more years than he cared to consider and never had something so stupid happened to him. "I'm gonna need you two to go for help. Can you do that?"

His shaggy haired, would-be rescuer, nodded and said, "We'll get Daryl. He'll get you out."

"Hurry, kid," John added as the face disappeared. He spent the next ten minutes, listening to the two small boys maneuver themselves out of the old building. It was only once quiet returned to the building that he allowed his thoughts to linger on where his son might be. With one last hope that Daryl, whoever he was, hurried, John began to try to dig out his stuck appendage.

888

"Okay, I'm sorry but I gotta say it. This is the place you and your friend decided looked safe?"

Julie didn't answer Dean's snide remark as she stared in shock at Smith's house in the glow of the setting sun. Gone was the clean white paint, instead, the color put her in mind of a puddle of stagnant water. The smell emanating from the place only served to bolster that image. The steps that had seemed so solid under her feet were warped and rotting in places, and some missing treads altogether.

Weeds encroached the driveway, most of them seeming to consist of thorny bushes and none of them sported flowers of any kind. The driveway itself was rock rather than macadam and in places the rock gave way to dirt.

"It's gotta be the wrong house," she muttered as she noted what looked like a human skull dangling from a light post. If asked ten minutes ago she would have sworn that a basket of flowers had hung from that spot.

"That your car?" Winchester asked with a grim nod toward the Focus.

"Yeah, but I'm telling you, that's not what we saw last night."

Dean didn't argue with her, instead he sighed heavily and continued his inspection of the property. "Okay, that front door looks like the only door. Where does it lead?"

Earlier, Julie had refused to answer the officer's questions. She knew that if she gave him enough detail he would have found a way to leave her behind. At least this way she was somewhat needed, or at least not a total detriment.

"Through the door, there's a hallway that opens up into the kitchen and dining area. A set of steps leads up the second floor and there's a bathroom too."

"Any doors you didn't open?"

Julie wracked her exhausted brain for answers. "There was a door to the right of the bathroom, I don't know where it led. When Smith went to get us blankets he went up the stairs."

The green-eyed man didn't bother to face her, only nodded once and asked, "Anything else you can tell me?"

"He's stronger than he looks," Julie offered. Personal experience had taught her that Smith seemed to have near super-human strength despite looking as if he could sell life insurance to seniors.

"Course he is," Dean muttered before he turned to her. "Now listen, I can't protect you or help Christine if you don't do your part."

A glance toward the run down hovel had Julie reassuring him, "I promise I'll do what you say."

At times the man before her had appeared even younger than herself, his full lips and wide liquid eyes only added to the effect. Then there were the times when, his lips were drawn tight and his jaw clenched hard, he looked years, maybe even centuries older than she'd ever be.

Without a hint of good humor, Dean Winchester stared hard at her and said, "If you don't follow my words to the T, I will drag your ass to safety and leave Christine behind. Do I make myself clear."

Julie flinched in pain at the man's harsh words. It was clear by his expression that he meant it. "Promise."

Whether it was something in Julie's gaze that gave voice to the lie in her words or something that Dean recognized from within himself, the man shook his head and rammed his point home. "If the shit hits the fan, and it will, you're my priority. Far as I'm concerned the chances that Christine is still alive are too slim to risk your life. Therefore, if you don't do exactly as I say I'm gonna pick you up and carry you out, leaving your friend behind."

Sure that he would follow through on the threat, Julie nodded her understanding. Though it would kill her to sit back and give over control to the stranger that stood so still beside her, there was no way she'd put Christine's life at risk, her own, maybe, but not her friend's.

This time Dean seemed to believer her. "Good. I'll do everything I can but I'm not about to let you die in the process."

Feeling more trepidation than she had since they'd left the cabin, Julie gestured toward the arsenal he carried and asked, "Do you think he'll have guns too?"

A spark flickered to life in Dean's vibrant green eyes as he gave a low laugh. "I'm thinking this dude isn't into the whole gun scene."

With images of chainsaws and axes now flooding her brain, Julie turned her gaze toward the house once more. "Chris' alive I know it."

"Well, then, lets go get her," Dean murmured out as he moved out.

888

Five minutes of sitting and waiting for the phone to ring had been enough for Sam. His dad was already an hour late in calling and the youth couldn't bare to wait any longer. The information he'd gathered was burned into his brain, making it impossible for him to be patient.

Dean might disappoint John by not checking in but he would never have willingly left Sam to worry. His brother had been gone for too long for Sam to pretend that everything was fine

With his father off playing at being a hero, Sam was the only one left to have his brother's back. Like everything in their lives, it came down to just the two of them.

The clincher for Sam was the idea of what Dean would do had their positions been switched. His big brother would never have sat around waiting for Dad, he would taken matters into his own hands hours ago.

Though Dean was older and had both the means of transportation and the field experience to get the job done, Sam didn't let that daunt him. He was nothing if not resourceful.

It took only fifteen minutes to gather up everything he'd need into one of the ratty duffels they normally used for clothes. With the map memorized, the young hunter approached the silent phone and picked up the headset.

Dialing the phone number he had memorized, Sam waited with bated breath for a familiar voice.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Jane,"

"Winchester, is that you?" Jane asked.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief at the good humor in her voice. "Yeah, it's me. I'm sorry, but I was calling to ask you a pretty big favor."

"Sure, what's up?"

With a silent plea to his brother to hang on, Sam began to explain to the young girl just what it was he needed.

TBC

Chapter End Notes:

Catch you all on Wednesday - Kel ;)