Two

The sound of the shower running woke Dean from a really good dream. He had been surrounded by beautiful women, all clad in tiny bikinis, carrying serving trays loaded with food. One of the women, a tall, leggy redhead, was just about to start feeding him grapes when he was ripped away by the whine of water being pulled through the rusty pipes.

"Dammit," Dean muttered as he rolled onto his back and scrubbed his hands across his face.

Pleasant dreams were rare for him and he had really been enjoying that particular one. He pushed himself up, tossing aside the bunched covers, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The water shut off and Dean yawned as he stretched and rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the kink in the muscles between them. Something about the dream had begun to bug Dean and he was having some trouble placing it.

A few minutes later, Sam came out of the bathroom in a wave of steam and heat and grinned at his brother. "Hey, you're up!"

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Dean grumbled. Sam smirked and tossed his towel back into the bathroom. He sat down and began putting on a pair of brown boots. Dean got up and started gathering some clothes, getting ready to take his own shower.

"That must have been one hell of a dream you were having," Sam said, the smirk spreading wider. Dean froze with a pair of jeans halfway out of his bag. He could hear the amused tone in Sam's voice and he didn't like it. "You were moaning and I think even smacking your lips a little bit." Dean glared at his brother, watching as Sam's attempt at keeping his face serious cracked and he began to laugh.

"Shut up," Dean growled, hurrying into the bathroom as Sam's laughter grew louder. He slammed the door behind him, irritated.

The shower felt wonderful as the hot water helped to relax his tired muscles and Dean almost wished he never had to get out. But when he finished showering, he toweled dry and dressed quickly; the bathroom, having become filled with steam and heat, made the small space stuffy and uncomfortable. It gave Dean the overwhelming desire to get out as soon as possible.

Dean emerged to find Sam sitting at the small dining table, his laptop open in front of him. Sam looked up as Dean strolled over and grinned at his brother. Dean gave him a warning look, waiting for whatever smart ass remark he might make, but Sam just went back to staring at the computer with the grin plastered on his face.

"What are you looking for?" Dean asked as he sat down on the end of his bed so he could put on his boots.

"Well, I was trying to pull up a listing for the local library, but I can't get any internet connection," Sam said. He pulled out his cell phone and held it in the air. "No service! That's probably why Bobby kept getting Reggie's voicemail."

Dean pulled his own cell phone from his coat pocket and flipped it open. "Well, that's just freakin' fantastic," he snapped, flipping it closed again. "I didn't realize we had traveled to the end of the civilized world."

"Well, it makes sense considering how dense the woods are around here. Any towers that may be in the area can't put out a strong enough signal." Sam sighed and got up, walking over to the motel room's phone. "I'm going to call Bobby and give him a heads-up. Tell him we might be unreachable for awhile." He punched in the number and sat down on the side of his bed.

It was then that Dean realized what was so strange about the dream he had been having. The redhead that had been about to feed him the luscious green grapes had reminded him of Reggie. Dean sat only half listening to Sam explain to Bobby about the phones, his mind wandering to the last time he had seen Reggie. Their goodbye had been awkward, but not in an unpleasant way; neither one had really known what to say to the other. Not after the several intense days they had spent getting to know each other while battling for their lives.

Reggie had been injured and her right arm in a sling, the result of an attack by one of the demons, sent by Lilith, that were hunting them for a change. The woman was beautiful, funny, stubborn, and fierce; just the type of girl Dean tried to avoid for obvious reasons. Their life wasn't conducive to settling down.

All you had to do was take a look at how his own family had ended up. His mother Mary, who Dean had just recently found out was a retired hunter, was dead. His father John, a hunter bent on vengeance, was dead. Even Sam and Dean had each died at least once. Reggie was the kind of girl that made Dean start to think about life differently and he cursed fate for that.

It was ironic, now that Dean thought about it, that Reggie reminded him of the woman his mother had been when he'd met Mary in the past. Castiel, the angel that had pulled Dean from the pit, had sent him back in time to the night his mother made the deal with the Yellow-eyed demon who would kill her many years later.

Dean had thought it was to stop the demon, but, in fact, the angels had hoped to find out why Azazel had so badly wanted Mary to make the deal. They had used Dean to find out what plans the demon had for Sam and all the children like him; the ones the demon changed on the night they turned six-months old when he came to their rooms to bleed into their mouths.

That trip through time was a revelation to Dean, finding out that he came from a family of hunters. That the life that had been thrust upon him at such an early age, was actually his birthright in a way. His mother had been young, intelligent, hopeful, and beautiful. She had been feisty and determined, committed to her family. But Dean had been unable to change the past and the future he returned to seemed even colder with his newfound knowledge.

"We'll call you if we find anything," Sam was saying as Dean pulled himself from his thoughts. He stood up and pulled on his jacket, fishing out his car keys as Sam hung up the phone.

"Where to first?" Dean asked, twirling the key around his finger as he watched Sam put on his coat.

"I was thinking we could head down Highway 81. Check out where the last victim disappeared from. Then maybe head farther into town and ask around, see if anyone remembers seeing Reggie," Sam suggested. Dean nodded and they headed out the door in silence.

Sam knew he had to speak up, had to point out the obvious. He needed to suggest the best way they should start their search for Reggie, but he didn't want to say it much less think it himself. He took a deep breath as they walked to the Impala and opened his mouth.

"Don't even say it, Sammy," Dean snapped as he climbed in behind the wheel.

"What?" Sam asked, not entirely surprised his brother had known what was coming.

"I know what you're thinking and, even though you're right, I don't want to hear it."

"It just makes sense, Dean. When dad went missing, we checked all the local hospitals and morgues for anyone fitting his description," Sam said, easing into the passenger seat just as Dean started the car.

"I know, and like I told you then, we won't find anything. If something did happen, and that's a big if, it's more likely that it was something supernatural. You know as well as I do that that complicates matters. Especially if it has to do with whatever is currently going on in this town." Dean sped down the empty road, blowing through a Stop sign.

"Do you think that whatever's been taking all these people got to Reggie?" Sam shuddered at the thought.

"No, I don't," Dean replied shortly.

"Dean?"

Dean sighed and slowed the car down as they reached the road where Robbie Marsten's truck had been found. "Okay, maybe I am considering it a possibility." He pulled onto the shoulder and shut the engine off. "But until we know for sure, I'm going with the assumption that Reggie's all right."

Dean pushed open his door and got out. Sam followed after him and they began walking up the deserted highway. "Where exactly did the newspaper say they found his truck?" Dean asked, looking up and down the deserted highway.

"Just past mile marker three," Sam said pointing ahead of them to where a small stick could be seen jutting from the ground. "The truck was still on, like he'd pulled over for something."

"Maybe he needed to take a leak?" Dean suggested.

Sam rolled his eyes at the back of Dean's head. "Or maybe he stopped to help someone?"

"Okay so let's say he was playing Helpful Harry and pulled over because he saw someone stranded on the side of the road. What happened to the stranded motorist?" Dean glanced around, as if looking for any evidence to support this theory.

"Maybe they were taken too?" Sam suggested.

"Right, okay. But then the cops would have found two cars, not just Marsten's." Dean shook his head. "It doesn't add up. Either he was all alone out here or..."

"Or there was a witness to his abduction," Sam finished. He turned to look down the highway, listening to the sounds of birds and other wildlife just out of sight in the trees around them. "We should head into town and ask around."

Dean nodded in agreement and headed back to the Impala.

"Well, that was useful," Dean snapped as they climbed back into the Impala. He slammed the door closed and turned to face Sam. "Three hours talking to Jed and Ellie May Clampett and we've got bupkiss!"

"Not necessarily, Dean. I mean, we know that Reggie was here in town because people remember seeing her. And we know a little more about Robbie Marsten. He was single, lived alone, and he drove down Highway 81 at around the same time every night. Maybe the stranded motorist was just a ruse, a trap set specifically for him?" Sam reasoned as he went over his notepad.

"You got all that. I got an offer to buy a sheep farm from Gomer Pyle and propositioned by two seventy year-old women with three teeth between them." Sam snorted and started to laugh. "It isn't funny," Dean snapped, fighting to keep the smile from his own lips. Sam struggled to get his laughter under control as Dean pulled out onto the road again.

"We should head over to the library, see if we can find anything in the archives," Sam said, still chuckling lightly, as they stopped at a red light.

"I want to get something to eat first. I'm starving." Dean's stomach began to growl loudly as if to further emphasize his statement. They pulled into the parking lot of a small diner and got out.

A wave of delicious aromas instantly hit them as Sam held the door to the diner open for his brother. "I sure hope the food tastes as good as it smells," Dean muttered as a small, squat woman dressed in a white apron approached them. Her black hair was streaked with gray and pulled back into a severe bun on the top of her head. Her dark brown eyes were red and weary looking.

"How many?" she asked in an uninterested, nasally voice.

"Just the two of us," Sam said and they followed behind the waitress as she led them to a booth against the large front window. Sam smiled weakly at her as he slid across the worn red vinyl seat into the booth.

"You boys want some coffee?"

"Yeah, that'd be great," Sam said. She turned and walked away without waiting for Dean.

"Me too, please," Dean added to her retreating back.

Sam handed him a menu, which was stained and sticky in spots, and Dean began to peruse it. The waitress came back, plopped the coffees in front of them, and tapped the end of her pencil on the pad she was holding. Dean glanced at Sam and then at her.

"We could actually use a few more minutes, thanks," Sam said. The waitress glared at them for a moment, then strolled away, heading over to the only other currently occupied table.

"Well isn't she a peach," Dean grumbled, dropping the menu back on the table and pulling his cup of coffee in front of him. He picked it up and took a hesitant sip. "Not too bad," he commented before taking another, more generous sip.

Sam proceeded to empty several creamers into his cup, which garnered him a disgruntled look from Dean, before he started stirring in some sugar. The waitress came back a few minutes later to take their order and they both ordered pancakes and bacon, deciding to stick with something basic and easy.

It didn't take long for their food to cook and when the waitress dropped it in front of them ten minutes later, they dug in hungrily, surprised to find the food exceptionally good. When they had finished eating and paid the bill, they headed back outside to the Impala.

"So which way is the library?" Dean asked as he slid into the car.

"I think it's over that way," Sam said, pointing down a small street just off the main road through town.

"You think? You mean you don't have some kind of nerd radar that allows you to zero in on places like that?"

"Shut up, Dean," Sam snapped as he playfully shoved his brother. Dean chuckled and drove in the direction Sam had indicated.

They spent several more long hours inside the library while Sam scrolled through the archived newspapers looking for similar disappearances. Finally, Sam yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Looks like this is the first time anything like this has happened in Bridgewater," Sam stated as he pushed himself away from the computer desk. He stood up and his knees cracked loudly, his long legs stiff from having sat for so long under the low desk.

"From the stuff in Reggie's folder, it seems the anomaly only happens in small, semi-isolated towns. Considering that most of middle America is made up of them, I can buy that," Dean said, trying to stifle his own yawn.

"There's really nothing else we need here," Sam said, shrugging. "We should head back outside, maybe see if we can find someone else that remembers seeing Reggie around town."

Dean got up and stretched his arms behind his back, rolling his head around in an attempt to loosen the tightness from his neck. He pulled on his leather jacket, which had been hanging on the back of the faded blue office chair he'd been sitting in, and led the way back outside. The sun had already begun to set, the sky streaked with an array of oranges and pinks. Up and down the sidewalks, streetlamps flickered on.

They were just driving past a small cluster of buildings when Dean slammed on the brakes, unexpectedly thrusting Sam forward in his seat. "What the..." Sam started as he turned to glare at his brother, angrily pushing his brown hair off his face. He realized immediately why Dean had braked so suddenly and groaned.

At the corner of the intersection they were just about to cross stood what had to be the only bar in town. A large fluorescent sign flashed Madison's Bar at them over a parking lot that was packed with an array of vehicles. Several people were either standing around or leaning against the cars and trucks in the lot, talking and smoking while laughter carried out of the frequently opening door.

"I think we've done enough research for today, don't you?" Dean said, turning to beam at Sam. Sam rolled his eyes but didn't answer. He already knew this was one argument he would never win.

Dean drove into the parking lot and, after circling it for several minutes, pulled into the spot left empty by a departing Ford truck. Rock music floated out to them as they made their way across the lot, narrowly avoiding being run over by a group of burly men riding motorcycles. Dean flipped a finger at the bikers' retreating backs and then joined Sam as he jogged up the stone steps and stepped into the bar.

They were hit with a wave of heat and the smell of sawdust, beer, and sweat as they entered the crowded room buzzing with dozens of people. In the corner, set up on a small stage, was a live band who were currently attempting a rendition of Guns-N-Roses' "Sweet Child of Mine" without much success.

The actual bar, which was shaped in a large U, sat in the middle, surrounded by people either sitting on stools or packed between them. There were several pool tables set up to the left and Sam could hear pinball machines somewhere nearby as he followed Dean to the bar. Dean squeezed in beside a busty bleach-blonde woman who was talking to a heavy set man in ripped jeans and a leather vest which showed off the man's massive, tattoo-covered arms.

The bartender, a guy about Sam's age with short, spiky blonde hair, held up his finger when Dean waved at him. "Be with you in a minute," he called as he expertly poured several drinks at once.

Dean tapped the countertop with his finger and turned to smile at the busty blonde who was now checking him out. He raised his eyebrow and winked at her. She giggled, which got the attention of her date, who had been talking to another biker sitting next to him. Sam had to laugh at the look on his brother's face when the guy in the vest nodded at him and threw his arm over the blonde's shoulders.

Finally, the bartender made it to their end of the bar and Dean was able to order them two beers. He paid the guy, who disappeared as soon as he got their money, and handed Sam his beer. Sam took a sip and scanned the crowd, his height a clear advantage over Dean's.

"So, see any suckers?" Dean asked, eyeing the pool tables. Sam rolled his eyes and looked down at his brother.

"I see a lot of people, Dean, but I can't really tell who's gullible enough to fall for your con just by looking at them. Only you have that Jedi mind trick." Sam went back to watching the crowd of people.

"This band sucks," Dean yelled just as the song ended. His voice barely made an echo, though, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that not many people, other than the few directly around them, had actually heard his brother. The trio on stage started another song which Sam had trouble recognizing.

"What is this?" he yelled to Dean. Sam caught the appalled look on Dean's face before he heard his brother answer.

"I think it's supposed to be Rush's "Working Man"," Dean said, rolling his eyes as the lead singer's voice went off key.

Sam had to admit Dean was right about the band. Even he could tell the song sounded awful. A commotion to their right caught Sam's attention then and he turned to see a large group of guys, all appearing to be around Dean's age, cheering loudly at something. He glanced at Dean and saw that his brother had noticed the commotion too.

"Wanna go check it out?" Sam asked and Dean nodded in agreement. They weaved through the people dancing to the music and made their way over. As they got closer, Sam realized the men were surrounding a small area which was mostly cleared of furniture, with only a few tables scattered about. Dartboards had, instead, been fixed to the wall and a guy dressed in a khaki colored polo shirt stood in the center of the space, looking nervous and a bit agitated. He tossed a dart, its tail a bright blue, at the dartboard, and actually managed to get it inside the circle just outside the bull's-eye.

The crowd of men cheered and the guy grinned more confidently as he prepared to throw his next dart. A chant raced through the group and the man tossed the dart, this time, barely making it on the board. The sad attempt was met by boos, which made the man's already pink face turn a dark shade of puce.

From within the crowd, a female voice called for order. "He's still got one more turn, boys! Give the man some room." The guy glanced angrily behind him, apparently not enthused to be defended by a woman, and tossed his third dart. It soared through the air and struck the center of the board.

"Bull's-eye!" several of the drunk men in the group yelled at once. A loud cheer went through the circle again.

"Very good, very good," the female voice cried. "You've only got six points left. I think I might be in a little trouble."

A rumble of laughter followed this and Sam strained to get a glimpse of the woman. Unfortunately, at that exact moment, one of the men in front of him chose to turn around and stepped right into Sam. Sam stumbled backwards and felt Dean's hand grasp his elbow to help steady him.

"Watch it bean pole," the man grumbled as he continued to make his way to the bar.

There was a groan as a dart, one with a ghastly red tail, landed in the center of the dartboard, a solid bull's-eye. Sam watched as two more darts, in quick succession, sailed through the air and into the dartboard, all three red-tailed darts scoring a bull's-eye. Sam looked over at Dean and saw that his brother looked just as impressed.

"And that would be game," the woman called and drew Sam's attention back to the circle of grumbling and booing men. "I guess you gotta pay up." The khaki guy stepped forward and slammed several bills onto an empty table, before pushing his way through the crowd.

"Stupid..." he mumbled as he shoved past Dean. Sam noticed that Dean's expression had quickly turned devilish. Sam could guess what was running through Dean's mind; this woman offered him a challenge.

"Any other takers?" the woman's voice called over the crowd and Dean took a confident step forward.