My apologies for the wait! Thanks to everyone following this fic and those who take the time to leave reviews. Really appreciate it! Also a big thanks to hotshow who always has time to read a new chapter, comment on it, and send me pages of emails with suggestions on the next chapter. LOL!! Thanks again, H!

Chapter 15

George watched the kitchen nervously out of the corner of his eye. Dean barely let him close enough to apply the butterfly closures to stop the bleeding. Well, mostly stop the bleeding. He added a layer of clean gauze with tape to hold it in place as Dean jerked his head out of George's hands.

Frustrated, George stepped back. He could only hope he would find an ally in Mike or the older guys. This was insane. As much as he liked Dean and Sam, George could not believe this imp and fairy story. That mug exploding though, that was weird.

The idea that his aunt and uncle, Birdie and Marty, wouldn't question any of it crossed his mind. George tried to discount that, telling himself the same thing his mother said all the time, that his aunt and uncle were nutty as a fruitcake. He still wondered what she meant by that – fruitcakes didn't have nuts. Usually. Mostly just that weird candied fruit.

He stepped back until he felt the solid wall behind him again. George felt safer this way, regardless of what things might be in the room. Oh, God, he actually admitted there might be things. He was going to be as crazy as his aunt and uncle soon.

"Dean?" Bobby led the others out of the kitchen. "What did you put in that mug, to bait the imp?"

George saw Dean focus on Mike as he answered, "Just a couple of stones I found in your cabinet."

"My special goods cabinet?" Bobby asked, pushing his cap back a little. Dean nodded. "Dean, everything in there is because it has some kind of supernatural significance."

"Nice work, Dean," Sam grumbled. Dean kicked his brother's leg.

"Do you remember which stones you used?" Bobby asked, moving over to inspect the cabinet.

Dean shrugged, glancing at Mike again. "A red one like a ruby and a pretty white one."

Sam looked over at his brother, mouthed the word 'pretty.' Dean shoved Sam using his shoulder. Bobby frowned and scratched his jaw. "The ruby and the opal, huh? I can't imagine what it would want with those. Then again," Bobby moved around to his desk, "I never did find out what was so darned special about that opal."

"Except it was pretty?" Sam asked, voice dripping with derision.

Dean stood, glaring down at his brother. "Well it was. When you looked at it, it looked like there was this little flame on the inside. I never saw anything like it." He shrugged. "I figured the imp might like it."

"A fire opal?" Mike asked. "Aren't there stories about fire opals?"

Mike sounded calm and sure, like all of this crap made perfect sense. Then again, the poor guy could just be in shock that his partner believed all this crap, too. George decided he needed to get Mike aside to talk to him, find out what was going on. Maybe Mike had a plan to get them out of here.

"I never noticed it was a fire opal," Bobby said, giving Dean an odd stare. "Well, that might explain it."

"Explain what, Bobby?" Sam asked, moving as if to stand. Dean's hand on his brother's shoulder and a sharp look kept Sam on the couch.

"The fire opal has inherent powers that the imp could use to not only break out of any container, but pass the wards and charms on this house," Bobby explained.

Sam glared up at his brother. "Nice one, Dean."

Dean seemed to close in on himself as he shrugged. "So what do we do, Bobby?" His voice did not carry the confidence it usually did. It was strange to see Dean like this, sounding and looking so much like a little boy.

"Well, assuming it was a fire opal and not just some cursed jewel, I'd say our best bet is to get a black opal. It'll cancel out the powers of the fire opal," Bobby explained. When Bobby's gaze shifted to George, he felt himself squirm. "And I have a pretty good idea where to find one."

George heaved a sigh. "Don't tell me."

Bobby nodded. "I'm pretty sure I found one for Birdie a couple of years ago. She still have it?"

George shrugged. "No idea, and they're out of town visiting Uncle Marty's brother in Pennsylvania."

"Got a key?" Dean asked, eyeing him.

-------

Mike glared at Reid as he stood outside George's aunt and uncle's house. He was trying to keep track of how many laws they were breaking, for the hearing. There would undoubtedly be a hearing later, after someone caught them.

"It's not like Marty will press charges," Reid whispered.

Mike shot his partner another glare over Dean's back. "Got it," Dean said, opening the door. "You two gonna keep watch out here?"

Reid responded with a short nod. Dean paused before going in, trying to make eye contact with him. Mike finally, grudgingly, met Dean's gaze. "Yeah," he answered, "we'll be here."

Dean gave him a lop-sided smile before going in, but Mike did not have the heart to return it. What he really wanted was some alone time with his partner. George looked distinctly uncomfortable following Dean, Sam and Bobby inside.

"I don't suppose, uh, you two might need, um," George glanced around. "Another set of eyes?"

Reid shook his head. "Besides, the place belongs to your family. You ought to be going in. If your aunt and uncle have ever said you're welcome anytime, then it can be argued that this isn't trespassing."

George heaved a deep breath before stepping over the threshold. "Can't believe…"

Mike waited until the others were out of earshot. "Me either. Reid, how the hell could you keep this from me?"

Reid's eyes moved away, staring out over the neighborhood. "I hope no one thinks something is going on here."

"Why?" Mike demanded. "Because two of the ten cops in town are standing guard? Gee, why would anyone think something is up?"

Reid snorted. "Sarcasm doesn't become you, rookie. Been hanging with Dean too much."

Mike scowled. "Or maybe not enough."

Reid did look at him then. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, if I hung out with Dean more," Mike reasoned, "he might have told me about what he does. I tried asking him once, and he gave me some hokey answer so I figured whatever he did must be borderline illegal."

"It is," Reid agreed. "So, even knowing that much, you were already willing to look the other way?"

Mike shrugged. "I figured I'd take the military view on it. Don't ask, don't tell."

Reid nodded. "I started out that way. There's a lot of their kind of stuff that happens out here. It's one of the reasons Bobby lives here."

"Uh-huh." Mike glared, waiting for his partner to explain over a year's worth of omissions. "And back when I first met Dean and his brother? The rabid mountain lion?"

Reid nodded. "It wasn't a mountain lion, you're right." He chewed his lower lip before continuing. "I guess you want to know why I didn't tell ya, huh?"

Mike didn't move, just continued glaring.

"I don't want you doing it." Reid said.

Mike waited, but his partner did not offer anything else. "Meaning?"

Reid looked down, rubbed a patent leather shoe across Marty's front porch. He raised his head, making eye contact. "There's a high mortality rate in that business. Being a cop is bad enough."

Mike felt his eyebrows lift. "Excuse me? You were protecting me from it?" That was so not what he expected.

"The guy I hired before you," Reid said softly, "he was a hunter. Like them." He nodded toward the house. "Lasted about six months on the job. I figured he finally ran out of luck."

Mike's eyes narrowed. "Well, this actually explains some of the stranger questions you asked me during that informal interview."

Reid did not smile. "I'm still hoping you won't do it, that you'll stay dedicated to this job."

"You mean, that I won't push my luck?" Mike said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Basically," Reid replied, his eyes drifting out over the street again.

Mike considered that. An hour ago he was blissfully ignorant of Dean's occupation, and now he wanted nothing more than to know all about it. The attraction of hunting things that went bump in the night was strong, far stronger than he might have suspected. Then again, he had a commitment to this community, to the people who lived here. If it was a hotbed of activity for supernatural creatures, though, he just might be able to learn about it on his own while sticking close.

"I'll think about it," Mike promised. He noted that Reid did not look particularly pleased with his answer. Tough.

-----------

Sam wondered where Birdie might put a supernatural black opal. He wondered if that statement would sound as stupid out loud as it did in his head. Probably worse, he decided, rounding a corner.

Pushing open the next door, Sam noted it was an empty room. Curious, Sam stepped inside. Benches lined the other three walls and there was a raised platform in the middle of the room. He approached, curiosity peaked. The raised platform was hollow and filled with water. Sam laughed. "A steam room? Man, I wouldn't have thought that."

Shaking his head, Sam turned around to leave. Dean had been reluctant to separate, but Sam had insisted that he was not dizzy and they would cover more ground faster by splitting up. It took a few minutes, but eventually he wore Dean down. He usually did. Just before he could pass the door, it swung closed. Funny, he did not feel a draft. Sam grasped the doorknob. It would not turn.

Confused, Sam pulled back on the door. It did not budge and the doorknob was frozen in place. "Hey!" Sam beat on the door from the inside. "I'm locked in! Dean! Dean!"

A hissing noise caught his attention. Sam paused in his pounding to look around. Nothing seemed out of place. He continued to beat on the door and call for his brother.

"Sam?" Dean's voice came from the other side. "What's going on?"

"The door closed. I'm locked in!" Sam shouted.

"Hang on! Back in a minute!" Dean shouted back.

"No problem!" Sam called, leaning against the door.

That hissing sound grew louder. Slightly concerned, Sam moved away from the door to investigate. It was a little warm in here. Was it warmer than when he came in, or did it just seem that way with the door closed? He moved around the room trying to locate the source of the sound. Sam was drawn to the center of the room. He glanced casually into the water source. It was boiling.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, moving away from it as though it would burn him. He reflected that it could as he stepped close to the door. "Dean! Dean!" Sam pounded on the door again.

"What, Sam!" Dean demanded from the other side. "I'm trying to find something to open the door."

"Just kick it in!" Sam demanded. "Now!"

There was a pause before Dean asked, "Why Sam?"

"It's a sauna!" Sam shouted.

"So?"

"So it's on!" Sam heard his voice rise in pitch. Since when was he afraid of small rooms full of steam? Honestly, he did not know but he had a better appreciation of Dean's unwillingness to board planes now.

"And?"

"And I want out! Kick it in, Dean!" Sam demanded, pounding on the door.

"Fine. Stand back!"

Sam moved to the side, keeping his back pressed against the wall. Steam rose into the air from the center of the room, filling him with dread as he felt sweat collect on his brow. He heard a dull thud and looked expectantly at the door. Nothing. It didn't even budge. There was another thud.

"Ow! Damn it!"

Muffled sounds of something hitting the wall came through. "Dean?" Sam called out. "Something wrong?"

"Uh, hang on, Sammy. I'll be right back."

"Dean!" he had to refrain from screaming. "Why didn't you kick it in?"

"I can't, okay?" Dean sounded disgusted. Great. From the tone it sounded like it would be at least a week of Dean abusing his own ego. Oh crap, he forgot. Dean probably couldn't kick it in with cracked ribs, could he? "Now hang on, I'll be right back."

"Dean!" Sam shouted, desperate.

"Damn it, Sam! I can't get something to knock in the door unless you let me move more than a foot away! So shut up!"

Sam clamped his mouth shut as the temperature, and his panic, rose. He tried closing his eyes, thinking of happy thoughts. That didn't work. He tried thinking cool thoughts, snowy winter days and long drives through the Midwest in the fall, but through it all he could hear that sinister hiss and knew, beyond a doubt, the imp had a new recipe for disaster. The damn thing wanted to cook him, and it wanted him well-done.