And the next chapter.

The OneThat Got Away

By Nomi

CHAPTER NINE

The Dawning Aftermath

The aftermath of a violent crime scene was usually chaotic. But it was also a peaceful sort of chaos. The firemen were busy putting out the final bits of fire. And they were aided by an unexpected morning shower. Several crime scene investigators were moving around, taking photographs and notes of the crime scene that stretched from the car and into the smoldering woods.

The sky above was a dark grey. That was in part due to the smoke from the forest fires, and in part due to the fact that the sun was rising. The few paramedics on scene were busy taking care of the injured. The dead body of the serial killer had been packed and was on its way to the forensic morgue for autopsy.

Joe sat alone on a makeshift bed next to an ambulance clutching a blanket tightly around him, his hands gripping the mug of warm tea that the paramedic handed to him. He ignored everything happening around him as he struggled to tame his own chaotic emotions and thoughts.

He shot Martin… He killed his classmate and friend…

Try as he might, Joe could not remove those sightless accusing eyes from his mind. He knew those eyes would haunt him for a long, long time. So he sat there alone, trying desperately to come to terms with what he had just done.

Someone sat down next to him. It was his dad. He turned and lifted his haunted eyes to his father. He was glad to see that there was no condemnation in Fenton's eyes. It made him feel a little better, but it could not wash away the sight of Martin's eyes.

"Talk to me about it, son," his father said. "It'll make you feel better, I promise."

Joe did not speak but merely took a little sip from the mug he was holding.

Fenton recalled the moment he scrambled on his knees past all those gun-toting officers towards Joe, and saw him seated on the ground, his eyes wild with fright and horror. Both Joe's hands were still holding onto the Colt, and they were shaking badly. He gently pried the Colt from Joe's tense white fingers and concealed the weapon just before the first police officer appeared on scene.

"I remembered how I felt after my first kill," Fenton prompted Joe, using his own experience when his son failed to respond. "You had no choice, Joe. Martin was holding a knife. It was either you or him. And you know that's not really Martin. You did not kill Martin, son…"

"I fired that first and killing shot, Dad…" Joe stated flatly.

"He was holding a knife and would have used it—" Fenton started but Joe cut in.

"I saw his eyes, Dad," Joe finally said. "He looked so lost, as if he had no idea what was happening…but I shot him and killed him anyway."

Fenton's eyes widened. He was starting to get the idea of what was bothering his son.

"What if the demon already left his body, Dad?" Joe whispered in a voice so soft Fenton could barely hear. Yet he could not fail to sense the magnitude of the underlying pain and guilt.

"What if I really killed Martin?" Joe asked again, and raised his haunted eyes to meet with his father's.

Fenton was quiet a long while before he finally answered. "I admit it was an extremely chaotic situation. Sometimes, it's hard to say what is the right or wrong thing to do. Sometimes, it's just a matter of doing your best under very difficult circumstances. That does not mean that you do not have to face the consequences of your actions, of course. But Joe, I can tell you that you would never have fired that shot if there was an alternative open to you that did not have you risking yours or Sam's life. Do you understand what I am saying, son?"

Fenton kept his gaze calm and steady on his son, and willed Joe to understand. "You're not a killer, son. Just remember that."

"You're definitely not a killer," Frank said as he seated himself next to his brother. He had waited impatiently for the paramedic to finish cleansing and dressing his wound under his mother's watchful eye, and had arrived just in time to hear the final bit of the conversation between his brother and his father.

"And how would you know that? I just killed Martin…"

Frank paused. Like his father had earlier, he knew it was important that he gave the correct answer the first time.

"Remember that assassin who killed Iola and was trying to kill you?" Frank hated to remind Joe of that incident, especially when Joe had only started to recover from Iola's death several months back. But given the situation, he felt he had little choice. Something told him that it was crucial Joe continue to believe in himself as one of the good guys. Perhaps it was what he learnt from the Winchester brothers last night…

"You were furious with him, and yet when the time came, when you could have just let him fall to his death with no questions asked, you risked your life to save his! That's why I agree with Dad. If there was any alternative available to you then, you would have taken it."

Joe looked his brother in the eye. It was the absolute faith that Frank had in him that finally gave him that bit of peace he needed. The rationalizing helped too…but ultimately it was his family's belief in his character that mattered.

"Thanks, Dad, Frank…"

"Hey, no worries, bro…"

"And what are we going to do now, Dad?" Joe asked. "We can't exactly tell the public that a demon possessed Martin and killed all those people…"

"No, we can't," Fenton answered. "But we have evidence and eye-witness account linking Martin Greenwood to the murders…"

"But Dad! Martin didn't—"

"It has to be that way, Joe" Frank told his brother. "The public would demand an answer, and the evidence tells a story. But Dad, how are we going to explain how the women were killed pinned to the ceiling?"

"It is not unusual for the MO of a killer to remain unknown if the killer refused to talk. In this case, the secret of how he did it died with the killer. As for the 'why he did it' part – let's leave it to the psychologists, shall we?" Fenton said. "And I think we all need a nice warm bath followed by a long lazy day in bed…"

The three Hardys looked at each other, all covered in soot and swathed in bandages, and laughed. It was the best therapy to relieve the tension of the past week and the horror of the last few hours.

"There's Mom coming over now," Joe said in a light tone as he watched his mother heading towards them, pushing the Winchester brothers in front of her.

"How are you doing, kiddo? Good shot – Sam told me, and thanks for saving my kid brother's life!" Dean said to Joe, even as he scooted over and sat next to Fenton, his back hunched as if he was trying to look insignificant.

"Hey, you guys saved our lives too!" Joe replied as he watched Sam crouch down on the ground next to Frank.

He gave a quick scan of his surroundings peripherally, and spotted an FBI agent he did not recognize talking to some of the firemen and another agentcontinually peering through the broken windows of the '67 Chevy Impala. He shifted his position slightly to better shield Dean from sight, and noted that Frank did the same thing for Sam.

"Yes they did," Laura concurred, her eyes on her husband. Help them, she mouthed silently, and was happy to see Fenton give her an almost imperceptible nod.

Fenton passed over his car keys to Sam. "The dark blue SUV over there. And leave your car keys behind, please – we need some means of transport later."

Dean glared at Fenton, who blithely ignored him.

"No one drives my baby but me!" Dean gritted out furiously as slapped away Sam's hand trying to reach into his jacket pocket for the car keys.

Fenton simply ignored him and continued talking to Sam. He passed the Colt over to Sam who took it gratefully. "Here, I believe this is yours."

"Don't bother, Dean, Fenton had seventeen years of experience dealing with Joe, and I am telling you now, you can't win," Laura told Dean in a voice that brooked no dissent. "And don't worry about your baby. Joe here loves classic cars and knows just how to handle that cool baby of yours."

"But…"

"Now you two better get going, I see that your good friend, Agent Hendriksen, is about to head our way," Fenton reminded the stubborn-looking Winchester brother.

Laura pushed Dean towards the SUV, adding "Just go – and drop by for Christmas dinner next week. You'll get your car back then, I promise...so go…now! And take care."

She glared at the elder Winchester until he finally made to move off after his brother. "And remember, Christmas Eve family dinner. We'll be waiting for you!" she added softly before turning her attention back to the approaching FBI agent.

The agent flashed his badge at them before showing them two photographs. "Special Agent Hendriksen, FBI. Have you seen these two around?"

Fenton took his time with the two photographs before passing them on to his wife. "They look real familiar, don't they, honey?"

Laura took her time, just like her husband did. "Hmmm…I think it's them, but I can't be certain. Too many things happened tonight, Agent Hendriksen, and your photographs are a little blurry. I hope you understand…" Laura gave the agent a sweet vulnerable smile before turning to her sons. "Frank, Joe? Take a look. Do you think they look like the two young men who just saved our lives?"

Agent Hendriksen watched with mounting irritation as the two teenage boys trotted over obediently to their mother's side to take a look at the photographs. His eyes narrowed. If it weren't for the fact that the local police chief just told him the Hardys had just survived a vicious serial killer followed by a forest fire, he might have thought they were stalling for time.

"Yes Mom, they were the ones who saved our lives," the blond-headed one answered.

"Saved your lives?" the agent queried.

"Yes, they saved our lives from the serial killer. If I may ask…why are you looking for them?" Frank asked.

"They are wanted for several murders and a bank robbery," Agent Hendriksen answered and noted the suitably surprised expressions on the mother and sons' faces. "I would appreciate if you would help us apprehend these two dangerous criminals."

"Given that they just saved my life and my sons' lives from a serial killer, I find it a little hard to believe that those two are murderers and robbers," Laura told the agent in a cold tone. "So unless you have absolute proof that they are what you claim them to be, please forgive my inability to assist you."

"As you can see, Agent Hendriksen, the persons you are looking for are not here. If they were that dangerous, shouldn't you be out there searching rather than bothering us?" Frank asked without bothering to be subtle.

"Perhaps you might have an idea where they might be heading?" Hendriksen chose to ignore the less than subtle hint toback off.

"We don't even know their names, mister!" Joe answered curtly, not bothering to hide his irritation. As far as he could see, his family was tired, dirty, injured and emotionally wrung out. There was no need for him to be polite.

"Their names are Dean and Sam Winchester," Hendriksen added just to see if he could elicit any other reaction. He had a feeling that the entire family before him was hiding something.

"Ah…" Fenton said – he was getting irritated as well.

"Ah…?" Hendriksen queried.

"Now that you mention their names, I would like to let you know that I have been approached by their father to take on their case and find out who framed them and why. Given that they saved my wife and sons' lives, I believe I will be taking on the case," Fenton stated emphatically. "I've seen some of the 'evidence' and have good reason to believe that it might have been tampered with."

"Mr. Hardy—" Hendriksen started in a warning tone, and was surprised to find himself cut off so casually.

"Agent Hendriksen… Please understand that my family has gone through a lot tonight. I appreciate your concern for our well-being. We can exchange notes on the case tomorrow – say, at three in the afternoon? Good, I knew you'd understand. Now, if you will excuse us…" With that, Fenton brushed the agent aside and led his family away.

Agent Hendriksen stared at the retreating backs of the Hardys. Somehow, those pesky Winchester brothers had gained a powerful ally. He knew all about the Hardys and their reputation.

Then he shrugged. There was no way even Fenton Hardy could prove a real guilty person innocent. The PI would soon realize that he was wasting his time. Meanwhile, he would continue to hunt for those two criminals. They would live a life on the run, forever looking back in fear, until the day they were caught or died, he promised himself. No criminals should escape justice.

Happy with his conclusion, Agent Hendriksen turned and walked away. He did not realize that his own eyes turned black for a merest moment in time.

---supernatural---

The young police officer wheeled the body of the serial killer into the forensic morgue located in the basement of the Bayport Police Department.

"This is the killer?" the forensic doctor asked.

The young police officer gave a quick nod as he signed over the body. "Yeah. The Chief requests a standard autopsy; the cause and time of death…the usual."

The forensic doctor nodded tiredly as he took over. Things never changed down here. "And you're off for the day?" he asked instead. Not that he was really interested…it was all a matter of courtesy.

"Yeah, I've pulled two consecutive shifts and am totally worn out."

"Have a good rest!" the doctor called out just as the young officer left the room. He did not notice the little smile on the officer's lips, nor the fact that his eyes glowed yellow.

---xxxSUPERNATURALxxx---