It took a moment for the digital melody to register in his distracted thoughts and then Dean suddenly recognized the tune and grabbed his jacket from it's crumpled resting place on the work bench. Fumbling for his cellphone, Dean's hands shook as he answered the call and gasped a response into the handset.

"Dean …"

Dean frowned at Bobby's strange, quiet tone and held his breath as he waited for him to continue, his heart racing.

"It's a chaos demon."

Dean doubled over as if Bobby's words had physically slammed into him and he steadied himself with his free hand, leaning a clenched fist on the wooden work bench.

"We're working on getting rid of it but … it might take some time …"

Dean closed his eyes and sighed out the breath he had kept tight within. "And Sam?"

"We think this particular demon alters perception. Don't trust everything you see. And don't let any of those crows we saw get anywhere near you."

Nodding in agreement, Dean glanced across the garage and saw the thick line of white granules that lined the inside of the door and continued around the edge of the large garage. And then he realized the question that had been evaded. "Bobby? Where's Sam? Is he - ?"

"He's fine."

It was curt but it was what Dean needed to hear and there was no time to worry over the something in Bobby's voice that Dean could not quite place. With a nod, he turned back to look at the Impala and took a deep breath.

"We're heading back soon." Bobby offered quietly, "Be careful, okay?"

"Always." Dean acknowledged and ended the call. Dropping the phone on top of the jacket, he moved away from the work bench and faced the Impala.

Dean leaned on the top of the grill and let a heavy sigh land gently across the gleaming engine beneath him. Weary, worried and more than a little hungry, he gazed down at the finished puzzle of new and restored valves and gaskets. She was finally complete. All he need do now was refill the water tank and top up the gas. That, and pray to whoever might be listening that she turned over without a hitch.

Standing upright and rolling his fists into the tight knots at the base of his spine, Dean groaned a yawn and peered around the otherwise empty garage. Not wanting to pilfer through all of Leo's stuff -- and a vague memory of pie making his stomach grumble -- Dean turned towards the rear entrance. Wiping his hands on an already grubby rag and heading across the garage, Dean took a last quick look at the gaping hood of his baby and stepped out into the night.

The radio had just started to announce the latest headlines as Dean walked from the garage and he frowned in concern. It was already after ten and he wondered if Leo and his wife might have already turned in. Climbing the steps up behind the garage and reaching the faded decking, Dean paused and listened at the back door to the large property. Hearing noise within, he rapped gently on the screen door and waited.

The rear door opened slowly and beyond Leo's figure, Dean could see the dimly lit kitchen and the smell of a day's baking rushed out into the night air. Smiling merrily, Dean reached for the handle of the screen door.

"Stop!"

Dean gasped slightly at the command and peered in uncertainty at Leo. The man's face was hard to read due to the light behind him but the rifle that he suddenly aimed at Dean was blatantly obvious.

"Don't come any closer!" Leo ordered, the crack in his voice betraying the fear that he was doing fairly well at hiding.

"What?" Dean demanded carefully, stepping back from the screen door. "Leo?" Recalling Bobby's words, he considered the fact that either he or Leo was right now facing some sort of crazy illusion, but it was impossible to chance that the rifle might not be as real as it certainly seemed.

"I know who you are." Leo continued hurriedly, "I've already called the cops."

Dean's heart slammed against his chest and his mouth was suddenly dry. "You … you did what?"

"Stay back!" Leo shouted suddenly, cocking the rifle and gripping it a little tighter.

Realizing that his dread had been mistaken for anger, Dean raised his hands calmly and gave a small weary sigh. "Leo, listen to me. I - "

"Don't!" Leo continued, stepping bravely through the open kitchen door and pressing the barrel of his rifle into the cream mesh of the screen door. "Just turn around and leave us alone!"

Dean paused for a moment in uncertainty and watched Leo glaring angrily down at him. Now better able to read the man's expression, he could see frightened tears welling in his eyes and it brought a lump to his throat. "What happened, Leo?" He chanced asking quietly, "What did I do?"

Leo seemed unsure how to respond and was clearly having trouble remaining angry with the boy he had been chatting merrily with just a short time before. "The radio." He answered huskily, "They just said you're wanted by the FBI."

Dean shuddered and his breath caught in his throat. Confused and suddenly more than a little worried, he heard the question that laced Leo's voice and licked his lips as he carefully thought out his response. "God …" He closed his eyes and hung his head with a sigh. "God, Leo, I'm so sorry …" Waiting for a second, he then looked back up and could see Leo watching him expectantly. "I should have been honest with you … I'm so sorry …"

"What?" Leo stepped back a little and his grip on the rifle seemed to relax somewhat. "What do you mean?"

Dean liked the old guy. Liked him a lot in fact. And it troubled him that he suddenly wanted to tell the kind mechanic everything. The whole truth. But that would take an age to explain and there was simply not time.

"It's my brother." Dean began quietly, an idea building in his mind. "He's wanted because he's a key witness to a murder. But …" Seeing Leo listening intently, he took a deep breath and continued. "The people he'd testify against have put out a hit on him. And - despite their promises - the FBI can't keep him safe. Only I can."

Leo lowered the rifle a little.

"And … a few weeks back the hit-men caught up with us and …" Dean felt the lump in his throat tighten as his hastily invented story began to merge with truth in his troubled thoughts. "He's all I've got, Leo. It's just us. And I have to protect him."

The rifle was now being held in just one of Leo's large, worn hands and the barrel pointed at the floor. His frown softened and he reached out to gently push the screen door open. "I don't know why …" He shook his head and gave a small smile, "But there's something about you, Dean … I just hope I don't regret trusting you."

Dean nodded in agreement, desperately also praying that the kind old guy would not get hurt by being caught up in the mess that was his and Sam's life right now. He stepped inside the house and followed Leo into the kitchen.

"Trudy's already turned in for the night." Leo offered quietly, placing the rifle by the back door and leaning it against one of the cupboards.

Dean watched Leo heading across the kitchen and frowned in concern. "Have you really called the police?"

Leo sighed and glanced back as he reached up to open a cupboard above the stove. "No." He chuckled nervously and shook his head. "Man! It's been a long time since I've been that scared!" He took down a bottle of whiskey and uncorked it quickly, taking a long gulp.

"I'm sorry."

Leo wiped a few stray drops of whiskey from his white-stubbled chin and turned to Dean, his frown slowly making a return.

"I never meant for any harm to come to you or your wife." Dean continued, his shoulders heavy and his voice uneven as his honest words spilled easily forth. "But … it seems all I do these days is cause people pain …"

"What d'you mean?"

As if suddenly registering that he had said aloud the thoughts sitting heavily in his mind, Dean backed a way a little and shook his head. "Nothing." He forced a brief smile and gave a half-hearted shrug.

Leo slid the cork back into the whiskey bottle and wandered slowly back across the kitchen towards Dean. "You boys really are in trouble … ?"

Dean swallowed back the tight ball in his throat and gave a small, strained laugh. "You could say that." He saw the concern in Leo's gentle face and felt an almost physical need for the older man to put his arms around him and tell him everything was going to be alright.

Setting the bottle on the kitchen table, Leo studied Dean for a moment and then smiled warmly. "You know, I can't help but think that if you were my boy and …"

Oh god. Please, no … Dean could feel tears building and was suddenly in unfamiliar territory, yearning for comfort and suddenly feeling so very alone and afraid. It caught him off guard and instant defenses shot up as he suddenly remembered Bobby's warning. Grating his teeth together and feeling anger bubbling deep within him, he envisaged the evil son-of-a-bitch demon watching him and finding amusement in the confusion he was creating.

Leo watched Dean's eyes darting around as if looking for something and ventured closer to him. "Dean?"

Gasping slightly, but suddenly focused, Dean backed away from Leo and hitched a thumb towards the door behind him."I've finished the repairs. If I could please just get some water and some gas."

"Sure." Leo nodded and followed after Dean's hastily retreating form.

The alley behind the motel was wide and empty, partially lit by a single white security lamp on the far end. Sam sat on the bottom step of the metal fire escape and stared down at the duffel bag at his feet. Resting his elbows on his slightly raised knees, he let his head sink into his hands and sighed into the semi-darkness.

And then he heard it; the slightest crunch of boot against asphalt. Lifting his head and turning to look along the alley, he saw the man approaching.

Sam watched the figure near, conflicting emotions spinning in a whirlpool deep within him; every hunter's instinct told him to be on heightened alert and yet there was also the strange, unexplainable knowledge that there was nothing to fear.

"Samuel."

Smiling briefly, Sam paused in uncertainty and remembered the vanishing act of a few minutes ago. Unsure if his mind was filling in the gaps within the strange projection beside him or whether the demon was powerful enough to appear so corporeal, he then frowned in interest and held the figures gaze. "Why have you not- ?" Swallowing back the bile in his throat and shoving painful memories quickly from his thoughts, Sam shrugged slightly. "Y'know …"

"Possession takes a great deal of energy." Malphas replied, "And besides … I can have more fun this way."

The notion made Sam's stomach turn and he looked away to study his interlaced hands in interest. "I take it you've met Bobby before."

Malphas laughed gently, "Mmm … we crossed paths once."

Sam flicked his head up in interest.

"He doesn't like me very much."

"No shit!" Sam agreed in amusement. "People like us have good reason not to like any of you very much." He watched Malphas' smile fade and looked back down at his hands.

"But we have our uses, I take it."

"Just this once."

Giving a loud sigh and shaking his head slowly, Malphas stepped past Sam and sat down beside him on the steps. Looking down at the bag of equipment nestled at Sam's feet, he frowned and turned to Sam. "It would be so much easier if everything was black and white. But you and I… Sam, we understand the grays in between …"

Sam drew breath between his clenched teeth and closed his eyes. "Listen … Malphas … I - "

"I am not like him, Sam."

A gentle gasp and Sam's head was spinning, part of him unable to fathom that he was conversing with a demon and the rest of him needing to know so much more.

"It's not as simple as most mortals believe … there are those of us who … well, we like you fragile creatures." A gentle chuckle and Malphas rested back, leaning his elbows on the steps behind him. "Me? I just enjoy playing ..."

"Glad I could be of service." Sam responded dryly.

"And yet you hesitate …?"

Sam had no reply.

"I get it." Malphas shrugged slightly. "I know how it must feel. You've been trained all your life to hunt … and there are some evil monsters out there."

Sam suddenly sat upright and gave a derisive snort, turning to stare at Malphas in disbelief.

Malphas gave him a quick glare of warning and shook his head slowly, his long black hair swinging across his eyes. "I'm too old for all that shit." He offered quietly, "I'm not interested in his war."

Not quite able to get his head around the conversation and sure he must be losing his mind, Sam watched Malphas in interest for a moment. Despite all that he had seen since his father had opened the door to the world of the supernatural and changed their lives forever, Sam found it hard to believe that the twenty-something sitting beside him was a demon older than the universe. "Why pick this form?"

"For you."

Sam frowned uneasily.

"You resent your elders for treating you like a child and you miss the company of your peers." Malphas answered easily. "It comes off you in waves, Sam. I could read you from the other side of the world." He saw Sam edge back from him warily and gave him a smile of reassurance. "And you can read me just as easily. It's how you know you can trust me."

Sam took a moment to absorb this new information and mentally filed it under 'need to know more' as he returned the smile. "I wouldn't go as far as 'trust'."

Malphas shrugged, "As you wish." He kept his steady gaze on Sam and his features softened a little. "You know … it's not wrong to be willing to do anything to protect the ones you love."

"Right." Sam groaned and got to his feet, dragging his hands through his hair and sighing wearily. "Tell me it's a 'necessary evil' and I might just incant your ass back to - "

"Others have done far worse for far less noble reasons."

Sam let his hands drop by his side and, his shoulders heavy, looked down at Malphas in interest.

"Revenge, for example. That's a nasty one."

His heart racing and unsure quite where Malphas was going with this, Sam's thoughts span with memories of being filled with rage and a powerful need to avenge so many deep hurts.

Malphas sat back up straight and watched Sam in concern. "Like the one who betrayed you."

"What?" Sam breathed.

"He made a deal for a lighter sentence and tipped off the FBI. It's how Henricksen has found you." Malphas slowly got to his feet and edged closer to the rapidly panicking Sam. He reached out and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, nodding in gentle sympathy. "And he's closing in."

"Dean!" Sam gasped and stared at Malphas, wide-eyed and trembling. Stooping quickly to grab his duffel, he swung the bag over his shoulder and started towards the end of the alley way. "Hurry!" He ordered gruffly, aware of Malphas following close behind him.

Malphas nodded and began to jog after Sam but something caught his attention and he looked up to the top of the fire escape, crying out in alarm as he saw the figure standing there.

Hearing Malphas' near scream, Sam halted and spun round. He watched in horror as a torrent of water sprayed down into the alleyway and he looked up at the source, gasping in angry fright. "Bobby! No!"

Either unable to hear Sam over the noise from the gushing fire hose or -- more likely -- simply ignoring him, Bobby aimed the water at Malphas and yelled an incantation into the alley below.

Sam leapt back towards Malphas, instinctively trying to pull him from harm's way, but the water soon covered Malphas and he seemed to explode into a cloud of soot and ash. Sam's heart sank and he backed off from the deep puddle that was spreading, staring in disbelief at the vacant spot in the alley where the demon had once stood.

And then a sudden icy shudder ran through him. Clutching his arms around his partly drenched shirt, a painful memory of a similar sensation shot into his thoughts and he wanted to scream but something was sealing his throat tightly shut. Sure his lungs were about to explode, he saw stars dancing in the corner of his vision and then everything went dark.

The fountain of water began to fade into a lighter stream and then a faint dribble. Bobby put down the fire hose and dusted off his hands with a contented sigh. Stepping past the coiled hose onto the fire escape, he galloped down the metal steps and gripped the railing tightly as the stairs trembled beneath him.

Sam was staring dumbfounded at the flooded alley and seemed to be in shock. Bobby approached with caution, ready for the torrent of anger that was sure to erupt at him and already prepared with his defense.

When Sam made no move to even acknowledge him, Bobby sighed in annoyance and stepped closer. "I had to Sam. It was - " He stopped as Sam suddenly snapped his head towards him and glared angrily down at him. And something about his eerie calm made Bobby's skin crawl.

"Why?" Sam asked icily.

"Oh, Sam … you really have to ask?" Bobby replied sadly.

Sam sighed and seemed to be suddenly fighting back tears. "Why can't you just trust me?"

"It's not about trust, Sam. It's - "

"Whatever." Sam husked and turned away, grabbing his soaked bag and heading from the alley, ignoring Bobby's worried pleas as they echoed through the alley.

Bobby watched Sam's disappearing figure and closed his eyes. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head and looked down at the deep puddle that surrounded him. He peered at his own vague reflection in the surface of the water and blinked away weary, frustrated tears.