A/N: Thanks, as always, to Catsluver, Cartersdaughter, and skzb for doing a wonderful job beta'ing this fic.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed as guests. For those who celebrated Christmas, hope you had a great holiday. If you're out there braving the crowds for after-Christmas sales, may the Force be with you. :)

Chapter 32

"So, I think having two mechanics to help with the lights made my dad more out of control than usual. He really went overboard this year," TJ commented. Bobby and Dean had helped Vern figure out how to wire even more electricity than usual from a generator, giving Vern extra juice to fuel his winter wonderland.

"Mm-hm," Sam agreed absently. He wasn't very talkative tonight, just staring at the small fake tree on the coffee table as if he were mesmerized.

The green, red, and white Christmas lights Vern had strung together and hung on the outside of the house twinkled brightly. Using baling wire, he'd also shaped lights into countless figures like Santa Claus, elves, reindeer, ice skaters, presents, toys—the list was endless—and placed them in the front yard. The glow from it all could be seen in spite of the fact that the curtains in the living room were drawn.

Her dad usually left the lights up until after New Year's Eve, and there was always a procession of cars driving by to see what lights Vernon Nelek had added to his yard that year. The house was far from the road, but people knew it was all right to come down the drive to the farm, and TJ got used to the crunch of gravel underneath tires as unobtrusive visitors stole looks at Vern's masterpiece from their cars.

The twins had been completely awed by their first view of their grandfather's lights, and both babies had thrown conniptions when it was time to go back in the house. TJ would have let them stay out longer, but it was so cold she was afraid they'd get frostbite.

It was now the day after Christmas. Heather hadn't made it to Kentucky. She'd decided to go on a hunt at the last minute with Ellen and Jo—two women hunters that Dean, Bobby, and Sam all knew—much to Dean's obvious worry and displeasure. The subject of Heather had been off limits since Dean and Bobby had made it to Moss Fork on Christmas Eve.

Bobby and Dean would be leaving tomorrow, and their impending departure cast a bittersweet mood over the evening. Everyone had enjoyed their company, and it was clear Sam loved having them there. Dean, Bobby, and TJ's parents were in the kitchen sipping bourbon or eggnog spiked with bourbon. A laugh or a chuckle could be heard occasionally, but considering they were imbibing pretty strong spirits, they were more subdued than TJ would have thought.

Sam was sitting next to her on the couch. The lights outside, the crackling fire in the fireplace, the large Fraser fir in a corner of the room with what seemed like a million silly ornaments her parents had collected over the years, and even the fake tree on the coffee table gave the living room a warm, ethereal atmosphere.

The artificial tree was about two feet tall and was one of those where the plain white lights and tiny ornaments all came prepackaged with the plastic limbs of the tree. TJ wondered why her parents had bought it. It was kind of puny by Nelek standards. Fern and Vern were usually scornful of fake trees and always insisted on getting a real tree every year.

It was a pain trying to keep Robby and Sami Joy away from the little tree and its mini ornaments, which were a major choking hazard. Both twins were starting to pull up and stand with the help of a coffee table or whatever object they could find to hold on to, and TJ had caught them reaching for the ornaments several times. When she'd complained about it, Fern had set the small tree on higher ground, but tonight, for some reason, it once again sat on the coffee table.

TJ's head was on Sam's shoulder, and she traced lazy circles on his chest, loving the feel of his steely pectoral muscles underneath the new sweater he was wearing. It was a plain, soft, tightly-knit, wool sweater in a dark coffee brown that TJ had gotten for him from the Gap as a Christmas present. It wasn't the kind of thing he usually wore, but he looked totally hot in it, and it also kept him warm.

"You're so quiet tonight," she observed.

"Mm-hm."

"You don't wanna hang out with Dean and Bobby, since it's their last night here?"

Sam's arm was around her, and he gave her an affectionate squeeze. "Maybe in a little bit. I'm pretty content where I am."

She smiled and rose up to give him a kiss on his cheek, feeling a flutter in her stomach when she got a whiff of Eau de Sam—a mixture of his aftershave, shampoo, and soap. Then she nestled her head back on his shoulder and resumed her leisurely exploration of his chest muscles.

"You know," he said, "that tree has some really interesting ornaments."

"Interesting?" she echoed, looking at the tall tree in the corner. "That's one word for them. 'Wacko' comes to mind. Did you see the ornaments my dad added this year, the Santa and reindeer butts that make a farting noise when you press on them?"

Sam huffed out a soft laugh. "Yeah. Dean was especially fascinated by those."

TJ snickered. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Right." There was a smile in Sam's voice. He paused and then said, "Actually, I wasn't talking about the ornaments on the big tree. I was talking about the ones on the small tree."

She lowered her brows and frowned in confused surprise. "The one on the coffee table?"

"Uh-huh."

She peered at the small, twinkling tree, studying it and trying to find anything remotely interesting about it. The ornaments that came with it were simple balls in the colors of red, green, and gold—definitely too normal for her parents. She wondered again why her mom had bought it. "I don't see anything on it that compares to the farting butts," TJ said dryly.

Sam chuckled, and she loved the rumble of his chest under her cheek. "Sit up for a second," he said.

She did, thinking maybe he needed to get up for some reason, but instead of transferring to his chair, he levered himself to where his elbows were on his knees and leaned toward the little tree, scrutinizing it closely. She watched as he reached forward and plucked what she thought at first was an ornament from one of the branches. "Huh," he noised in a perplexed tone, a little crease between his brows. He sat back against the sofa, holding it to show her. The "ornament" was actually two rings.

Her heart instantly started to pound.

"Now, see, these look interesting." His voice was that husky tiger purr that never failed to wrap her in warmth and stir something deep in her core. One of the rings he held was a gorgeous diamond solitaire, and the other one was a plain gold wedding band.

Her voice came out strange, like it belonged to someone else. "Is—are those what I think they are?" She wanted to reach for them, but her arms felt strangely numb.

He took her left hand and slid the plain wedding band and then the engagement ring onto her fourth finger. The rings had been repaired and fit her perfectly, and they complemented each other.

Her eyes quickly welled with tears.

"TJ?" he said, his soft hazel eyes looking into hers, "I love you, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life."

A sound that was a mixture of a laugh and a sob escaped her.

"Will you be my wife?"

She was speechless as the tears spilled down her cheeks.

He wiped away the moisture with his thumb. "Are you gonna answer me?" he asked with a tender smile.

She sniffed, then nodded, her whole body trembling with emotion. "Yes," she answered fervently. "Of course I'll be your wife."

He pressed his lips to her mouth for one of the most romantic kisses she'd ever had in her life, then rested his forehead against hers, a cagey grin in his voice. "That's how I did it."

She laughed, her heart overflowing with happiness and adoration for her husband. She wrapped her arms around his neck, then kissed him passionately. He'd done it. He'd recreated the night he proposed to her, and it was beautiful and sweet and everything she'd ever dreamed of. When they finally came up for air from the kiss, she said, "I love you, Sam."

He smiled, his love for her shining in his eyes.

Suddenly, TJ heard a sniffle, and it wasn't coming from her. She froze, listening, and then rose up to look over the back of the couch. In the opening of the doorway to the kitchen area, Dean, Bobby, and her parents were each standing there, all grinning from ear to ear except for her mom, who was bawling tears of joy. Vern had his arm around her, idly rubbing her shoulder.

TJ rolled her eyes and looked at Sam. "We have an audience."

He quirked his mouth, his dimples doing their thing. "They knew I was planning to do this. I guess I should have waited until everyone went to bed, but I don't know. It just seemed like the right time."

"Well, since they were all in on the conspiracy..." TJ shrugged, letting him know it was okay. "Besides, we're sitting on Dean's bed," she pointed out, meaning the couch.

Dean came over and clapped Sam on the back, chuckling. "Sammy, you're smoother than I thought. Maybe there's still hope for you."

Fern gave Sam a hug. "That was just beautiful, hon."

He returned the hug, shrugging his brows uncomfortably in reaction to all the attention. Vern brought the Woodford, and Bobby helped him carry glasses into the living room. Fern went back and got the eggnog. Once everyone had a glass of either eggnog or bourbon, Dean said, "I'd like to propose a toast."

Sam eyed him warily.

"What?" Dean questioned indignantly with comically arched brows. "Dude, why do you always freak out when I want to give a toast?"

Sam's expression remained dubious. Dean rolled his eyes, then spoke. "Here's to my little brother, Sam, and to TJ, my sister-in-law." He held up his low-ball glass. "May your love for each other grow stronger with each passing day...and may you always triumph over any evil fuglies, crazy-assed humans, or retrograde amnesia that might come your way."

Vern snickered.

"Well, that's lovely, Dean," cooed Fern. She'd said it as if the things Dean mentioned were normal things every couple had to face at one time or another.

TJ mused that her parents fit in a little too easily with the strange lives of the Winchesters. Then again, her parents had always been weird.

They all clinked glasses. Sam tilted his head pensively after taking a pull of his bourbon. "That was actually halfway decent, Dean."

Dean looked proud of himself. "Told you."

TJ sipped her spiked eggnog, trying not to laugh at the wry smirk on Bobby's face. He clearly loved Sam and Dean in his own gruff, paternal way. TJ had gleaned that much just from being around him the few days he'd been in Moss Fork. Underneath the rough exterior, Bobby Singer was a sweetheart. And he didn't act uncomfortable around her because of her amnesia, either—a huge plus in TJ's book. He'd put her at ease the moment she'd first met him. Again.

She thumbed the wedding rings on her ring finger and smiled at the memory of Sam's proposal, marveling again at how lucky she was to have such an amazing husband. He'd managed to do the impossible. He'd given her back at least one of her memories—and this time, she would hold on to it forever.

XXXXXXXX

Someone was shaking Sam's shoulder, and no matter how much he tried to sink back into the comfortable oblivion of a deep sleep, the intruder wouldn't stop.

"Sam," barked that same intruder in a harsh whisper. "Wake up."

Sam was lying on his stomach, and he pushed himself up a little with his hands so that he could turn his head toward the voice. When he saw it was Dean, he let his head fall back down to the pillow and closed his eyes. "Dean?"

"Sam," Dean hissed, "I need to talk to you."

There was something urgent and a little frantic in Dean's voice that put Sam on alert, despite the fact that his brother was whispering. Sam cocked an eye open. "What's wrong?"

"Get up. I need to talk to you."

Sam began the process of flipping onto his back while Dean helped with lifting the covers out of the way. TJ stirred but didn't wake. She was lying on her stomach, facing toward Sam, her body snuggled under the covers up to her chin. Sam wanted to kiss the freckles on her nose but resisted, since Dean seemed impatient and agitated.

Once Sam was settled in his chair, he followed Dean to the living room just as Bobby was coming out of the guestroom, bleary-eyed and frowning. Dean sat on the edge of the sofabed while Bobby sat in Vern's recliner. Sam remained in his chair, pushing himself closer to the hearth and the dying embers of the fire. Dean had barely let Sam take the time to throw on his sweatpants, and his upper body was bare. He was freezing.

Dean's brows were drawn into the telltale winged vee that indicated he was worried about something. "Just got a call from Ellen. Heather and Jo are missing."

The news hung ominously in the air.

Sam tensed and swallowed, knowing how that must be affecting Dean, how worried his brother must be. "What happened?"

"They're in Indiana, a place called Nulty. They were hunting a djinn and found the warehouse where their intel said its lair was. They were all together, and then Ellen turned around to say something to Jo, and both Jo and Heather were gone. Just disappeared into thin air." He looked at Bobby. "Ellen called as soon as she could. Aside from the fact that Heather and I..." Dean trailed off and glanced away, jaw rigid. When he turned back to Sam and Bobby, his features were like steel. "In addition to the fact that Heather is my girlfriend, the three of us here in Kentucky are the closest hunters. Ellen said she's searched the warehouse top to bottom, and there was no sign of Jo or Heather. She needs our help."

Bobby nodded grimly. "I'll get my things together."

A million things went through Sam's head. He knew what it was like to find a loved one hanging from the ceiling of a djinn's lair, being slowly drained of blood by a gruesome shunt that diverted blood from a vein in the neck. He would never forget finding Dean that way. Sam's heart had stopped at the sight, and he'd doubled over with sickening despair when he thought his brother was already dead. It was still disturbing, all these years later—and Dean had survived.

What if Heather hadn't survived? What if Dean found her dead? Sam didn't want to think about what that would do to his already guilt-prone brother. Dean would never get over it, never forgive himself for not stopping Heather from being a hunter. There was no way Sam would let him go through that alone. If Heather was dead, Sam wanted—needed—to be with Dean to pick up the pieces. After all, Sam knew all too well what it was like to lose the girl you loved. "I'm going, too," he stated.

Dean shook his head. "No. Bobby and I got it."

Sam clenched his jaw. "I'm going." Dean shared a look with Bobby, and Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. I can at least help with research, help you come up with other places the djinn might have taken Jo and Heather."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, then looked Sam somberly in the eye. "Sam, you've got that interview."

"I know. Doesn't matter." The interview with Wyman's sister, the Dean for Admissions at UK Law, had been scheduled for Wednesday morning. It was the first and only opening the dean had been able to squeeze Sam in. It was now two a.m. Monday morning.

"No," said Dean, shaking his head. "What if it's not enough time? It only gives us two days."

"Dean, I'm going with you."

"No. It's a little too déjà vu. I fucked things up for you last time, Sammy. I'm not gonna have that on my head again."

Dean was talking about Sam's interview to get into law school at Stanford. He'd asked Sam to help him find their dad and had promised he would have Sam back in time for his interview. Sam had gotten back in time, but he'd also found Jessica murdered. He'd almost burned to death himself, along with her body, in their apartment. He would have died if Dean hadn't pulled him out.

"Let me help, Dean," Sam insisted. "Just because I'm in this chair—"

"It's got nothing to do with that, Sam!" Dean snapped. He looked around, as if listening to see if he might've woken anyone with his outburst and, also, to make a point. In a quieter but no less intense voice, he said, "You want history to fuckin' repeat itself? Dammit, you've got a family now. Things are finally back on track with TJ. Chair or no chair, I'm not gonna be the one who puts you at risk or makes you miss that interview."

Sam glanced at Bobby, who held up his hands. "Don't get me involved in your lovers' quarrel," Bobby grumbled. He stood up. "I'm goin' to get my stuff. I'll be ready in ten minutes," he said to Dean.

"I'll be ready in twenty," Sam said stubbornly. "I just need time to get my stuff together and explain what's happening to TJ."

Dean looked pissed off, his features hard. "Fine. But if you're not out in twenty minutes, we're leaving your ass."

Sam was already pushing his way down the hallway to the room he shared with TJ before Dean finished speaking. He eased into the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him, and wheeled around to TJ's side of the bed, swiveling his chair sideways so he'd be flush to the bed and could reach her easier. Her face was turned away from him, and he reached over and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "TJ?" he said softly.

She was in a deep sleep and didn't stir.

He shook her shoulder. "Teej, wake up."

She drew in a sleepy breath through her nose and let it out on a soft sigh.

Love for her washed through him. He wanted to wrap himself around her body and never let go. He tried to force away memories of what had happened to Jessica, couldn't stand the thought of something like that happening to TJ or the twins while he was gone—or even Fern and Vern. Dean was right. Sam had a family beyond Dean and Bobby now, and this scenario of leaving them unprotected, coupled with the impending interview, was eerily similar to what happened at Stanford.

Dean was worried about putting Sam at risk, but Sam wasn't worried about himself. He was more worried about what he might find in Moss Fork when he got back. He was torn between a lifetime of owing Dean for taking care of him—plus the simple truth that he loved his big brother and didn't want Dean to face whatever horror he might find in Indiana without him—and not wanting to leave his new family.

The rational part of Sam said TJ and the twins would be okay, that there was no Yellow-Eyed Demon out there anymore to cruelly take away those he loved. He'd been away from TJ and the twins before. In fact, she'd taken them Christmas shopping to Lexington and been gone a whole weekend. But the hunter part of him said that's what he'd thought about Jessica. He'd thought he'd left the dangerous life of hunting behind and she would be safe, but he couldn't have been more wrong.

Still, Dean needed him, whether his brother would ever admit it or not, and he'd been there for Sam too many times in the past for Sam not to return the favor now.

Sam combed his fingers through TJ's long, soft hair and then gave it a gentle tug. "Come on, Teej. I need to talk to you."

She groaned and then turned toward him, a groggy frown on her face, long lashes fluttering as she tried to focus on him in the dim light of the room. "Sam?"

"TJ," he said somberly, "I have to leave for a few days."

Her frown deepened. "Why?" she drawled in a sleep-filled voice. "Leave to go where?"

He drew in a long breath and exhaled. "Heather is missing."

TJ sat up and faced him, more alert. "What?"

Sam swiveled his chair back a little and faced her, hands resting on his wheels. "Ellen and Jo are old friends of ours who are hunters. They've been training Heather because Dean wouldn't." TJ already knew this, but Sam was telling her again.

She nodded. "Okay." Her tone urged him to go on.

"Ellen just called Dean a few minutes ago. She, Jo, and Heather were hunting a nocturnal creature called a djinn when both Jo and Heather disappeared."

There was a what-the-hell look on TJ's face. "What's a djinn?"

Sam didn't want to tell her. It must have shown on his face because she said dubiously, "I don't want to know, do I?"

He pursed his mouth, searching for something appropriate to say that wouldn't be a lie but that wouldn't freak her out. "It's okay. Don't worry. Dean and I killed one several years ago. It's nothing we can't handle. Plus, we've got Bobby and Ellen."

"How did you kill it? Did you shoot it?"

Sam rolled his shoulders, reluctant to tell her. "Uh, no."

TJ's brows went up. "How did you kill it?"

He cleared his throat. "Silver knife dipped in lamb's blood."

She threw up her hands in exasperation, her brown eyes wide and round. "Are you serious? That means you have to get close to it!"

Sam held his hands up, palms outward in supplication. "Yes, but it won't be me. I'll just be there to back up Dean, Bobby, and Ellen."

Several emotions flashed across TJ's face: worry, fear, doubt. "Sam, I hate to state the obvious here, but you use a wheelchair. What if that—what's it called again?"

"Djinn. It's Arabic, prevalent in Islamic mythology—except it's not a myth."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course. That makes me feel so much better."

He couldn't hold back a small smile.

"What if that djinn chases you?"

"I can roll faster in my chair than I used to be able to run."

"Yeah. As long as it's a hard, smooth surface. What if the djinn lives in a bumpy cave somewhere or a swamp or something?"

He shrugged. "That's possible. It's a loner, likes ruins and abandoned places like that. If we find out it's in a place I can't access, I won't go; but I can at least help with research and try to figure out where it might have taken Jo and Heather. The more heads working on it the better. We don't have much time," he added grimly.

TJ pressed her fingers to her mouth, her brow creased with worry and thought. "But, don't Ellen and Jo live in Nebraska? Won't it take you a long time to drive there?"

"No. They were hunting the djinn in Indiana, a town called Nulty. It'll only take us about five hours to get there. Less, if Dean's driving."

With a sudden look of alarm, TJ said, "Sam, you have that interview on Wednesday with Wyman's sister."

He clenched his jaw. "I know."

"What if you don't get back in time?"

"I will." He was determined. He would make it happen.

She eyed him narrowly. "What if you don't?"

"I will," he insisted.

TJ's jaw tightened and she exhaled harshly through her nose, then looked away. Her hands were in her lap, fingers knotted together tensely.

Sam positioned his chair closer to the bed, pressed his palms down on his seat, scooted himself forward onto the edge of his cushion, then quickly transferred to the bed, sitting next to her. He put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him. "Hey, everything will be okay. I promise."

She huffed. "Yeah, right. You're cursed, remember?"

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "Hey, that's my line. You're supposed to tell me I'm not."

She touched his bare torso, tracing a finger over one of the many scars he had. He swallowed hard, instantly reacting to her tender touch. His blood pulsed through his body, warding off the chill he'd felt earlier.

"I'm afraid for you, Sam. I don't want you to get any more of these." She traced another scar over his rib.

He took her face gently in his hand and tilted her head up to look at him. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears, making his heart ache. "I'll be back in time for my interview," he assured, "and I won't take any unnecessary risks. I just got you back, and I plan on growing very, very old with you."

Her chin was trembling, but she valiantly held back the tears. He kissed her chastely, tracing her jawline with his thumb as he savored the softness of her lips, lingering there for several seconds.

When he pulled away, he placed his hands on either side of her face, holding her close to him and gazing into her eyes with intensity. "After we leave, salt the doors and windows and be thorough. And do me a favor. I want you and your parents to be hermits the next few days until I get back. Don't answer the door to anyone, even people you trust, and don't go anywhere by yourselves. Tell Vern to take the next few days off and stay inside with you, Fern, and the twins. Like I said, if you have to go to the barn, go together."

Her expression was perplexed. "Why?"

Sam closed his eyes, resting his forehead on hers. He didn't want to scare her or worry her any more than she already was, and he didn't want to remind her of what had happened to Jessica. He was probably just having a case of post-traumatic stress or something like that. After all, he hadn't had any freaky visions warning him that anyone was in danger. "It's me being overly cautious," he told her. "Just don't answer the door or talk to anyone until I get back."

She pulled away and searched his eyes, and he knew she wasn't buying it. He traced the freckles on the bridge of her nose. "Do it for me. Okay? It's for my peace of mind. I want to know you're safe while I'm gone. I know it's overkill. Just humor me."

She looked troubled but nodded. "Okay."

"I love you, TJ. Kiss the twins for me."

She nodded and wrapped her arms around him, burying her head in the curve of his neck. "I love you, too, Sam."

It nearly killed him to break away from her, but he had to go. Dean was waiting.

XXXXXXXX

Dean heard a knock on the door that had to be Ellen. They'd only been at the Moonbeam Motor Inn for fifteen minutes, but Ellen wasn't wasting any time, and he was glad. It was seven a.m. Monday morning. They'd been on the road since two-thirty, and the clock was ticking. So many things at stake: Heather and Jo's lives, Sam's future.

Surprisingly, the dump of a motel they were in had a wheelchair accessible room, which would make things easier on Sam. Dean was still questioning the wisdom of bringing Sam along, but his brother was stubborn, and there was no doubt Sam would be an asset in the research department. Dean knew Sam's capabilities. He'd be decent backup, chair or no chair. Dean wasn't worried about that.

But the whole situation was just a little too much like all those years ago when Jessica had been killed, and he had a bad feeling and knew Sam did, too. If they couldn't find Heather and Jo, Sam would miss his interview, and they were already short on time. Sam's future hinged on that interview, and Dean didn't want to be the reason his brother missed it. Then again, nothing was more important than finding Heather and Jo, and Dean respected the sacrifice Sam was willing to make to help find them.

Added to the whole history-repeating-itself thing, Dean was afraid something could happen to Sam. The djinn had superhuman strength and speed. Sam was fast in his chair, but not that fast. Then again, no human was.

Dean wanted to punch a wall in frustration. Damn Heather for doing this to him. He wouldn't let himself think of what could be happening to her and tried to push away thoughts that he was too late. She had to be alive. His gut clenched sickeningly when he thought of the alternative.

Sam was sitting on the bed, back supported by a pillow and the headboard. His legs were stretched out in front of him, one jiggling slightly, but he seemed oblivious. Dean hoped Sam's legs weren't hurting. Sam gave no indication they were, but he'd gotten pretty good at hiding the pain, and sometimes even Dean couldn't tell. Sam's fingers were already clicking away on his laptop to see what he could do as far as figuring out where the djinn might have taken Heather and Jo.

Bobby sat at the tiny dinette table, his stoic demeanor a counterpoint to Dean's frenetic pacing. Dean was at the door in a split second when he heard the knock. When he opened the door, Ellen stood there, the same attractive lady he remembered with thick, long, dark hair and a warm smile, despite the worry in her eyes. He'd always thought Jo was lucky to have such a badass mom. "Dean?" she said in her slightly smoky voice. "It's good to see you, honey. Wish it was under better circumstances."

He took her into an embrace, hugging her tightly, then looked her in the eye. "Ellen?" His voice was gravelly and thick with emotion, a thousand questions about Heather warring within him.

She patted him on the shoulder and, as she walked past him into the room, said, "I'll tell you everything."

When Dean turned around, Bobby was standing and gave Ellen a hug in greeting. She patted him on the back. "Hey, you old coot."

"You're lookin' good as always, Ellen," Bobby complimented.

She gave him another quick hug and said something softly in his ear that made his eyes dart to Dean and then Sam uncomfortably, like he was looking to see if they were paying attention. If Dean didn't know better, he'd say Bobby was almost blushing.

Ellen chuckled at Bobby's unease and made her way to Sam. He set his laptop aside, and she bent down to hug him, holding him in a maternal embrace for a long time. When she finally broke away, she jerked her chin toward Sam's chair that was parked next to the bed. "You too good for us now that you've got a new set of wheels?"

Sam pursed his lips and shifted his shoulders, looking uncomfortable.

She took his face in her hands. "We've missed you, honey." Then, letting her hands drop to her thighs, she sat next to him on the edge of the bed.

"I've missed you, too, Ellen," Sam said quietly. "I'm sorry I haven't been in touch. It's been kind of crazy these past few years. I wasn't feeling too sociable after, you know..." He looked down at his legs.

She nodded.

"Then, with college and everything that happened with TJ—she's my wife—"

"I know who TJ is. Heather told us all about her and what happened, about the amnesia and everything." Ellen patted Sam's hand. "Now that TJ has her head on straight, it sounds like she's perfect for you. And twins? Talk about not doing anything half-assed."

Sam's quiet laugh was indulgent and fond. "Yeah. They keep us pretty busy."

"Well, once we—" Ellen stopped abruptly, pressing a fist to her lips for a second as if composing herself. "Once we find Jo and Heather, you'll have to show us pictures of those babies and get us all caught up on everything."

Sam's trademark wrinkled brow was the picture of concern and sympathy. "We'll find them, Ellen."

She gave a sharp nod. "Damn straight we will."

Sam cleared his throat and grabbed his laptop. "So, looks like there's two other abandoned warehouses here in Nulty besides the one you were in with Jo and Heather."

Ellen nodded again. "Yep. Already checked them out top to bottom."

Sam sighed. "All right. We need to get a map of the town and figure out every abandoned house, church, commercial building and—if there are any—caves or ruins within a thirty-mile radius of here. It's gonna take a lot of legwork to canvass that much area, but we don't have a choice."

Dean sat down across from Bobby at the table in defeat. "Dammit! It'll take days to cover all that."

No one said anything. Heather and Jo may not have days, if they were the djinn's main course. Dean hated himself for thinking it, but he hoped some other poor sap was keeping the djinn fed so that the bastard wouldn't start in on Jo and Heather right away. There was only one consolation: Djinn had the power to make their victims hallucinate, to make them believe they were living in whatever their version of a perfect world was. It made the victims docile and unable to escape. Dean hoped Heather and Jo were in la-la land instead of experiencing pain or fear.

It was a crappy consolation at best.

XXXXXXXX

They split up into pairs: Sam with Dean, Ellen with Bobby. They'd been searching for a day and a half and had gone through countless musty, cobweb-filled, empty buildings until Dean felt like he would get black lung from all the dust. And the clock was still ticking. Each hour that went by put Dean more on edge. Time was running out—not only for Heather and Jo but also for Sam to get back to Kentucky for his interview. Sam had blown it off when Dean mentioned it, saying Jo and Heather's lives were much more important, but Dean knew how much that interview meant to his little brother.

Dean was driving the Impala while Sam called TJ for the five-billionth time. He'd called her almost every hour, except during the night, reassuring himself everyone was safe. "Okay. Love you, too," Sam said, ending his call.

"TJ and everyone okay?"

"Yeah. They're getting cabin fever, but everyone's okay."

Dean nodded. He and Sam had spent the last thirty-one hours scouring the southern half of Nulty while Ellen and Bobby searched the north. It was like old times for Sam and Dean, when they'd practically lived in the Impala, but they'd pretty much said everything that needed to be said. Long silences had been the norm for most of the day today. They were both feeling the pressure, knowing things were getting down to the wire, and neither of them wanted to rest. They were both jacked up on caffeine. Dean knew it wasn't good for Sam to push himself like this, but Sam seemed to be all right.

Dean could no longer hold horrific thoughts of finding Heather dead at bay, and it felt like every muscle in his body was tense and knotted. He could barely breathe.

"We'll find her, Dean," Sam said astutely, as if he knew what Dean was thinking.

"Don't use your Vulcan mind-meld crap on me."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I didn't. You know it doesn't work that way. I just know what I'd be thinking if it were TJ. We'll find Heather. Don't do that to yourself, Dean."

Dean snorted. "Says you, who can't go more than sixty minutes without calling TJ."

Sam looked away, his mouth tightening. "Right." Another few minutes of silence went by, and then Sam said, "Turn left here."

Dean did, and they pulled up to the eleventh building they'd searched that day. Not only were they running out of time, they were running out of buildings and would have to start searching farther away from town, which would take more driving time they didn't have. This building was a commercial building that was wheelchair accessible, so it didn't take Sam and Dean long to search it. There was nothing there, and Dean was pissed off. He hadn't felt this frustrated, useless, or scared since right after Sam's spinal cord injury.

When they were on the road again, Sam was pensive. Dean knew that meant the gears in his little brother's gargantuan brain were turning. "What?" Dean barked.

"It's probably nothing."

"Tell me," Dean demanded.

"You'll think it's stupid."

Dean rolled his eyes. "My girlfriend's probably getting all the blood and life drained out of her while she's in la-la land having wet dreams of being the best woman hunter who ever lived. Meanwhile, I'm driving around with my thumb up my ass like a fucking moron. Tell me what you're thinking, Sam. I'm all ears."

"Right." Sam drew in a breath and exhaled. "Okay. We've searched every abandoned building in town and found nothing."

"And?" Dean said impatiently.

"Well, the djinn aren't stupid. They're humanlike creatures that can think and reason. It had to have figured out that Jo and Heather are hunters."

"So?"

"Well, either it risked moving its...food supply...to another town farther away, or maybe it's doing the unexpected—or at least what hunters wouldn't expect."

"Come on, Sam. Get to the point."

"What if it's not hiding in someplace abandoned? What if it's hiding in plain sight? They're like shapeshifters, right? They can disguise themselves and pass for humans."

Dean swallowed a surge of panic and fused it into anger. "Great. So now we have to search every damn place with four walls looking for someone that appears human. Piece of cake." He slammed the heels of his hands against the steering wheel. "Fuck! That's like looking for a single Storm Trooper in an army of a million Storm Troopers."

"Maybe not. In Arabic and Islamic lore, one way to appease the djinn is to offer them falafel. In fact, they can't resist it."

"What the hell is that?"

"It's a deep-fried ball or patty made from ground chickpeas, fava beans, or both. It's an Arabic food that's very popular in the Middle East. A lot of vegetarians use it in North America as a substitute for meat."

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? What are we supposed to do, find a falafel recipe and go all Martha Stewart on its ass?"

"No. But we find a grocery store or a restaurant that has falafel. This is a small town. Chances are, there won't be too many places that have it, if any." Sam was typing on his cell, long Sasquatch fingers surprisingly deft. "I just searched for it on my phone." He was staring at the glowing screen, and after a moment, he said, "Yahtzee. According to this, there's one restaurant in town that serves Middle-Eastern cuisine." He shrugged and looked at Dean.

Dean stared at him for a second, pissed off that this was the best lead they had. He debated whether they should pursue it—it was a long shot at best—or widen their search of abandoned buildings outside Nulty, which would take forever.

Sam cocked his head. "Got any better ideas?"

No. He didn't.

XXXXXXXX

Entering the Silence of the Lambs Grill a couple of minutes after Sam, Dean raised his brows at the name of the place. The restaurant was in the corner suite of a strip mall and had two entrances, one on the east side and one on the north. Sam was at the north door, keeping the waiter or owner or whatever he was busy. Sam was making a big deal about, first, the high step that led up to the door—making a production of getting over the step in his chair (although, normally, it wouldn't have fazed him)—and then struggling with the door itself, asking the waiter guy for help.

While all this was going on, Dean quietly slipped in through the east door. He quickly snuck behind the counter where the cash register was and headed toward the back rooms of the restaurant. Sam was still keeping the waiter-looking guy distracted. The big man had brown skin, a closely-clipped black beard, and a shiny bald head that reminded Dean of an Arab version of Mr. Clean. The man spoke with a slight accent and was the only employee in the restaurant Dean could see.

It was three in the afternoon, and the place was empty. Apparently, at that time of day, the good citizens of Nulty, Indiana had no need for falafel. Dean had to admit that the place smelled good. The scent of unfamiliar spices was enticing and made his stomach grumble with hunger. He forced himself not to look at the glass counter where the cash register was or the interesting and exotic pastries inside the case.

Mr. Clean acted like it was a major inconvenience to help Sam, and Dean wondered what kind of jerk wouldn't want to give a dude in a wheelchair help if he was asking for it. Dean was instantly suspicious, although he reminded himself some people were just dicks.

Dean could hear Sam apologizing for not being able to get to the counter because the tables were too close together and heard the scraping of chairs and the shuffle of tables being scooted—probably Mr. Clean making a path for Sam. Leave it to Sam to apologize for something like that to a douche bag who might be a friggin' blood-sucking monster.

Dean made his way into the back room of the restaurant, which was actually a large kitchen. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, just stacks of baking supplies, pots, pans, skillets, an industrial-sized freezer/refrigerator, gas stove, and a couple of giant ovens and sinks. It was all very neat and surprisingly clean, like no one had been cooking for a while—like it had been abandoned.

There were two doors he assumed led to storage rooms or maybe an office, and he tried the first one. Locked. He dug his lock-picking tools out of his back jeans pocket and had the door open within a minute. Sam was quicker at picking locks than Dean was by a second or two, but that was because Sam had a damned fine teacher: his big brother. Well, and their dad.

Dean carefully turned the steel doorknob and eased the door open. The light from the kitchen illuminated the dark room enough that he could see a large, burly body hanging from the ceiling by a rope tied around its hands. It was the same way Dean had been trussed up when he'd been taken by a djinn all those years ago. As he got closer to the hanging figure, his blood ran cold. Despite the dim lighting, he could tell the body was the waiter guy—the real one. That meant Sam was alone and vulnerable out front with the djinn.

That was Dean's last rational thought. In the next instant, something attacked him, slamming into him hard and knocking the breath out of him—and it was something with way more arms and legs than any human or djinn had a right to have.

TBC