CHAPTER 26

"Okay, we have no idea where Diego's taken her but I'm willing to bet he'll stay in town," Dean thought out loud.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, he's been waiting a long time for this," he said. "He'll just find somewhere close and private so he can get started right away." He winced at his unintentional bluntness.

Dean seemed unfazed by the callous comment, clearly throwing himself into 'investigative mode' in an effort to keep himself from losing it, to keep him from obsessing over what could be happening to Tasha and how guilty he felt for not protecting her. Dean didn't have to say out loud that he blamed himself; Sam knew his brother as well as he knew himself and that fact went without saying. Dean was fiercely protective of those he loved and John Winchester had drilled into his eldest from childhood that his job, his duty, even his purpose was to look after his family. Sam had been the object of that obsessive protective streak his entire life and wasn't blind to the fact that Tasha had since joined him.

"So if he's still in town," Dean continued, "We're gonna have to find him by his wheels. He didn't carry Tash out of here on foot so he's driving something." He turned to face Roar and the big guy. "This is a quiet road," he stated. "Can't have been that many cars this way in the past hour. You got any neighbors who might have seen something?"

The big guy shook his head. "The road's a dead end just half a mile up," he answered. "There's only two other places on it 'sides the bar. Grey's Towin' up at the end and the Baker place you passed on yer way in. Ain't never no one at the Baker place but the old man and he's blind as a bat."

A grin was slowly spreading across Roar's face.

"You know somethin' we don't?" Dean demanded.

"Plenty," Roar grinned. "Including a way to find your man Diego's car."

In their second stroke of luck in an otherwise demoralizing evening, it seemed the local police had recently established a special task force to investigate the biker gangs in town suspected of criminal activity. Although the 'task force' only consisted of two junior detectives, this creative duo had managed to convince the Department of Transportation to install a traffic cam at the end of the quiet road in an effort to keep track of who came and went to Grimes Bar. Roar ushered the hunters and the big guy out of his office so he could make some calls in private and see if he could get a lead on Diego's vehicle from the footage. In a tone that left even less room for argument than John Winchester's, he suggested that the brothers use the time to get the particulars about the gang's ghost rider problem.

Sam and Dean agreed but as the big guy led them back into the bar and started filling them in, Dean barely heard a word he was saying. His mind was spinning with worry and dread for Tasha and he just couldn't bring himself to care right now about the biker gang's rising death toll. He couldn't forget the last conversation he had with Tasha.

"I don't own you. Hey, I broke up with you, remember?"

Godamnit, please don't let those be the last words he got to say to her.

Sam, on the other hand, found shifting his focus to the hunt a welcome relief. He didn't want to think about Tasha in Diego's hands or the slim chance they had of finding her or the look he was going to see on his brother's face when Dean realized she was gone for good.

Shane Kewitt, better known as Dirt, was apparently one nasty son of a bitch, even by these guys' standards, and used to ride with the Bastardos until his demise just over three years ago.

"I'm guessing the victims so far all had something to do with that?" Sam questioned.

The big guy narrowed his eyes at the tall hunter. "We're all law abiding citizens, Agent Plant," he drawled.

Sam just rolled his eyes, not one to be intimidated. "Whatever. Where's Dirt's body?"

"Fishfood 'bout five miles off the coast," was the unapologetic shrugged response.

Sam groaned. "And his bike?"

"Same place." It was one of the others who chimed in. By now they were hovering around the hunters, all clearly aware of the gang's ghost problem, and the animosity towards their possible saviors was quickly waning.

"How did that happen?" Sam looked skeptical.

"Boating accident," the big guy shrugged, getting a chuckle from the rest of the men.

Sam sighed. "Well, that could be a problem."

"Why?" two of them asked in unison.

"An angry spirit has to be tied to something to stay in this world. Usually it's their remains but it could be some object that the person had a strong connection with. Since Dirt's using his bike as a weapon, it would stand to reason that's his tie to this side."

The smaller guy who had been the first to receive Dean's fist in his face snorted. "Dirt didn't connect with nothin'. He was about as friendly as a bear with burrs in its ass."

Sam continued explaining. "Usually we salt and burn the object or the remains to destroy the spirit but that's obviously not gonna happen in this case."

"So you can't get rid of Dirt?" the big guy asked warily.

"Nah, of course we can get rid of him," Sam assured them hastily, realizing they needed the bikers right now to help Tasha. "It's just gonna take a little more creative thinking." He decided not to explain that they needed to lure the ghost rider to hallowed ground to destroy it since it wasn't unlikely the bikers would then decide to take care of their ghost problem themselves and wouldn't feel the need to help the Winchesters anymore. Their knowledge on the supernatural was their only leverage.

"Your girl said she knew of a way but she wouldn't spill," the big guy divulged.

"Of course not," Sam scoffed. "It was her only assurance you guys would let her walk out of here free and clear."

Dean snorted at the irony of Sam's choice of words and looked around at the gang members. "So which of you have seen him?" he asked bluntly, trying to tear his mind from the dark thoughts he was being bombarded with regarding Tasha's predicament.

The men tensed a little at his question, glancing nervously at each other with pointed looks that would have answered the question for the observant hunters without the need to say it out loud.

"Roar," one man volunteered, "And Shank and Two-Bit and Paul." He pointed in turn to the smaller, lewd guy, then to a second man in the rear and then to the big guy.

Dean raised an eyebrow at the big guy. "Paul?" he said, managing a lopsided grin. "You're name is Paul? Not Lugnut or Wrench or Pickaxe?"

Paul grinned back at Dean, his huge arms folded across his chest. "You sure got a big mouth for a runt," he warned with no real malice.

Dean decided he liked Paul. The rest of the gang he didn't trust and could do without, but the big guy seemed okay and Dean got the feeling he and Roar at least were sincere about helping Tasha. That made them alright in his book.

"That means we're next, right?" the man at the back called Two-Bit queried.

Sam nodded. "Would seem that way. The victims all saw Dirt's bike days before it got them."

Just then, Roar marched out of the office and both brothers' hearts lifted to see the triumphant look on his face.

"You got something?" Dean pounced.

"Yup. I got someone to check the footage of the traffic cam."

"A cop?" Sam let slip before he could catch it.

Roar gave him a hard look. "Don't be nosey boy," he said simply. "You know what curiosity did to the cat, right?"

"Yeah, sorry," Sam said quickly. "Go on. What did you find?"

"We got six vehicles turning into this road in the past hour. Wallace here's bike," he pointed to one of his men. "One of Grey's tow trucks, the girl's red piece of shit, a blue Cavalier that turned around and went back out less than a minute later, your Impala, and a brown Crown Vic."

"So a brown Crown Vic," Dean surmised, hope surging within him. "Diego's driving a brown Crown Vic."

"Gets better than that," Roar grinned. "Brown Crown Vic with a noticeable dent in the passenger rear side panel. My guy couldn't run the plates without raising suspicion but I'd say we got enough to go by." He turned to Dean. "If he's still in the city, we'll find him inside of two days," he said confidently.

Dean couldn't help heave out a sigh of relief as he nodded his appreciation.

Roar turned to Paul next. "Get all the men in here," he barked, shifting instantly into drill-sergeant mode as he started barking orders. "Mace, get me the city street map from behind the bar. Wallace, take a picture of the dude paused on the screen in my office and send it out to everybody so they know who they're looking for. That's this Diego prick. Bunter, you're gonna have to bury the hatchet with Deke and his buddies – that'll get us six more riders out on the streets." His sharp frown cut off Bunter's protest to the command before the biker made a sound.

He took the map Mace handed him, spread it out over the table, and quickly began to draw grids on it, splitting the city up into quadrants for his men to search. Sam and Dean were impressed with his efficiency and control of the situation and couldn't help seeing the parallels between the way Roar ran the Bastardos and the way John Winchester ran his family. This was no democracy.

"How many riders you got?" Dean asked.

"Twenty three plus six from Deke's club minus us four that have seen Dirt so that's twenty-five out on the streets," Roar answered. He gave the hunter a slightly sheepish look. "I'd join in myself but with Dirt after my ass…"

Dean gave him a dismissive shrug. Without these guys, it would be just him and Sam in the Impala, combing a city of a half million people. Twenty-five more people out searching for Diego increased Tasha's chances dramatically and he was sincerely grateful for the help.

"Your guys shouldn't approach Diego if they find him," Sam pointed out.

"Yeah." Dean agreed quickly. "He's…" he hesitated, "He's not human." The hunter didn't want to have to explain that vampires were real. These guys believed this vengeful spirit thing because they had seen it, but the Winchesters were likely going to lose credibility if they tried to explain that Edward fucking Cullen had kidnapped his woman. "You need to let us handle him." He also didn't want some clueless bikers charging in with guns blazing and getting themselves and very possibly Tasha killed.

"Is this guy a demon like you were saying earlier?" Roar gave them both a wary, skeptical look.

Sam shook his head. "No. He's something else entirely. Trust me, don't approach him. We just need you to find him for us."

Roar nodded. "All this ghost and monsters crap stays in this room," he announced to his men. "Tell everyone I got a personal beef with this Diego and they better not tip him off. Find him and call me; that's it."

Sam and Dean stayed a few more minutes, feeling more and more encouraged about their chances of finding Tasha as men started to arrive and Roar assigned each one an area to search. They were getting unfriendly looks from the newcomers but nobody said boo to them since they were clearly approved guests of Roar's. They finally exchanged numbers with the gang leader and left to start searching for the brown Ford Crown Victoria themselves. They decided to leave Tasha's car where it was for the time being.

As soon as Dean pulled out of the driveway, he hauled his phone out of his pocket and hit a speedial button. "I'm calling Bobby," he said. "These guys might be able to find her but this could be a wild goose chase. There's gotta be another way to track this son of a bitch down."

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Dean flipped his phone shut two minutes later. "Bit of luck," he announced. "He's in Oregon. Says he'll be here by morning."

Sam nodded. Bobby was the most knowledgeable hunter he knew, more so even than their dad. They had asked him to look into Diego back when they had first met Tasha and Bobby never refused a request from the Winchesters. After Dean had died and gone to Hell, Sam had cut his ties with the older mechanic, taking off to wallow in grief and self-hatred and then to work with Ruby seeking revenge on Lilith. He now felt guilty that he hadn't looked for Diego himself or at least pressed Bobby to keep looking. He had asked Ruby one night to see what she could dig up after he had parted ways with Tasha in Illinois but that had been the extent of his efforts. In fact, he hadn't even thought to ask Bobby if he had found out anything when he had seen him again last week.

Dean apparently had. "Bobby he filled me in last week on everything he dug up so far," he said in his professional voice.

Dean was working hard to focus on the evidence, follow the leads and process the little information they had, just like he would for any other hunt. Tasha needed him in hunter mode, needed him to be on the top of his game. He was going to find her.

"He put feelers out to every hunter he knows a few months back," he continued. "He hasn't got much feedback but every hunter he talked to agreed to ask a few questions before beheading any vamps. Seems most vamps have heard of Diego but they all claimed they didn't know where he was and didn't know how to find him."

Sam nodded. This much Tasha had told them when they first met him. "He's apparently over two thousand years old so it makes sense they've heard of him," he pointed out.

"Yeah well they've more than heard of him. Some of them knew him first hand but they all refused to give him up; too scared."

"So they're more terrified of him than a hunter about to chop their heads off?"

Dean nodded. "Can you blame them? Look what he did to get back at Pappy Montoya."

Sam gave Dean a puzzled look. "Who?"

"Tash's great great times-six-or-something grandfather. The hunter in Spain who killed Diego's mate."

"Huh," Sam voiced his amusement at the revelation. "So her name's Montoya?"

Dean shook his head. "Her mother's would have been if she hadn't used fakes all the time but Tash thinks of herself as a Malick, her dad's name."

Sam was reminded suddenly of the bond his brother had formed with Tasha in the short months they had spent together, the rare openness they had apparently shared. His heart went out to Dean as he subtly watched the pained look on his face when speaking of the missing brunette. Sam's insides were knotted in worry and hurt and he knew these feelings must be tenfold for his brother. Dean really couldn't take a loss of this magnitude right now; the guy was barely hanging on as it was. His tour in Hell had broken him.

"She and her dad were really close," Dean was saying, his voice gone soft.

"Kinda like you and our dad?" Sam compared. It had always seemed to him that Dean and John Winchester had a far closer bond than Sam and their dad had. At least, they rarely argued and Dean had always worshiped the man, trying his hardest to prove himself to him in everything he did.

Dean gave him an almost disgusted look. "Nothing like me and Dad," he scoffed. "Howcome when I finally start to see Dad for what he really was you all of a sudden start singing his praises?"

Sam was surprised by the question and the vehemence in his brother's tone but decided this was not the time to get into the whole 'John Winchester: good or bad?' debate. "How did Diego find her?" he asked in an effort to avoid the subject. The question was mostly rhetorical, however, as he knew they didn't have an answer. "She just got back into the country last night and he must have known exactly where she would be to have shown up at the bar."

"Yeah, that's one Hell of a coincidence that he found her when she was alone, without us," Dean agreed. "And you know what I think of coincidences."

"And the mojo thing!" Sam added. "What was that? Vampires don't have mojo."

"He ain't a normal vampire," Dean spat. "We should have known. Plenty of hunters have gone after him over the years and he's still walking. We should have known there was more to him than just plain vamp."

"Can a demon possess a vampire?" Sam asked, still trying to figure out how Diego could have the flinging power they had seen on the video footage.

"You think Diego's possessed by a demon?" Dean's forehead creased in thought but he looked doubtful. "He would have to have been a demon for over a hundred and fifty years because a demon wouldn't follow through on its meatsuit's vendetta. It wouldn't care about Diego's revenge, just its own."

"Yeah, that's true," Sam shrugged. He made up his mind to ask Ruby as soon as he got a few moments away from Dean. He had seen her back at the motel and had told her to steer clear of them for a while because Tasha was back and had figured out that she was Chrissy. The demon had been pissy about getting the brush-off but had agreed.

They drove around all night, concentrating on the more rural areas with barns and empty summer homes as well as deserted warehouses and factories. Tasha had informed them that these seemed to be the most common places for vampires to hold up and their own limited vampire experience didn't contradict the information. They saw quite a few bikes driving the night streets, always in pairs, and guessed many of these must be Roar's men. Dean checked in with Roar every couple of hours via phone but nothing had turned up yet in the search.

Sam offered more than once to take over the driving and give Dean a break but the elder Winchester insisted he was fine. It was after noon the following day before Bobby finally called to say he was in town and would meet them at the motel. Dean was clearly getting frustrated and slammed the steering wheel with the palm of his hand as he turned the big car around.

"Damnit," he cursed. "We should have seen the Crown Vic by now! He could be halfway to Nevada with her for all we know!"

Sam didn't know what to say so he didn't say anything. They pulled up to the motel a few minutes later to see Bobby's old van parked outside instead of his usual multicolored Chevelle.

"You're late," Dean growled in welcome to the scruffy, bearded man.

The mechanic narrowed his eyes at the hunter in a scowl. "Took a detour," he fired back unapologetically. "Had to pick something up in Nevada."

"We're kinda on a tight schedule here, Bobby," Dean groused. Manners went out the window when Dean was scared. "There's an innocent girl at stake. That couldn't have waited?"

Bobby sighed and shook his head as he walked around to the rear doors of the van and yanked one side open. "No, as a matter of fact it couldn't," he said simply, jerking his head towards the van's interior.

Sam and Dean both stepped around so they could see what Bobby had in the back that was so important. They were shocked to see a man lying gagged on the floor wrapped in ropes and chains and staring wildly at them.

"One vampire who admits he knows who Diego is," Bobby grinned, narrowing his eyes again at Dean. "You're welcome," he added sarcastically.

"Where'd you get him?" Dean stammered, still piecing together what this meant.

"I got word Garth Neville was huntin' a nest of vamps outside of Vegas so I gave him a call last night," he told them. "Most of the suckers were already a head shorter when I got a hold of him but he still had this one alive … well undead anyway … so he handed him over for us to question."

"You mean torture," Sam clarified. It went without saying they were going to have to get physical to get any answers from the captured vampire. He couldn't help but notice Dean's visible flinch at the statement and his heart twisted in sudden pity. It made sense that Dean would be hesitant to torture anything, even a vampire, having spent four months being the victim of torture himself, whether he remembered it or not.

A tiny wave of disappointment also swept through the younger Winchester as he watched the color drain from his brother's face. There was a time when Dean would have been the first in line to start slicing this monster, especially to find Tasha, but this Dean, this new fresh-out-of-Hell Dean, was actually taking a shaky step backwards.

The ever-astute Bobby must have noticed Dean blanch at the prospect of torture also, for his brown eyes softened and he slammed the van door shut quickly. "We can't do it here," he told them. "It might get noisy. Dean, I'm gonna need some dead man's blood. Lots of it. Get down to the morgue and load up. Sam and I'll find somewhere a little more private and you can meet us there."

Dean's gaze met Bobby's but he barely heard what the older man was ordering him to do. His mind was flashing with images of cutting and slicing and stabbing, of blood spurting and his own voice laughing and sneering at the sniveling pleas and screams of mercy. He wasn't that thing anymore. He was himself again, human again - barely but here he was. An angel had reached down into Hell and pulled him up, had believed there was something salvageable inside of him, some part worth saving. He couldn't become that monster again, not even for a few minutes.

And a few minutes was all it would take. He knew that because he knew he was good at inflicting pain and suffering. Correction, had been good. He had been Alistair's pet, his fucking star pupil for a decade. He should do this. For Tasha, he needed to do this. But even though he knew it had to be done, every fiber in his being was screaming at him not to. What if he became that monster again? Hell, he would have to become that monster again if he was to get what he needed from this vampire if it decided to be stubborn. Bobby was tough and Sam was certainly darker than he had been before Dean's death but neither of them had what it took to completely break someone. They didn't have the hatred and the pure evil he had discovered within himself after thirty years on the rack. The two men standing next to him, his only family, lacked the sinister creativity and the passion for suffering Dean had displayed.

"Okay," he managed finally, trying to keep his voice steady. "Dead man's blood. Right."

Bobby gave Sam a questioning look when Dean turned and headed towards the Impala. As the classic beauty purred her way out of the lot, he jerked his head for the taller man to get in the van.

"You up for this?" he asked as Sam climbed in the passenger side, studying the young hunter's face. "It ain't gonna be pretty and we gotta move quickly."

"Yeah, of course," Sam agreed honestly. He had no qualms about what they were going to do. Tasha needed them to do this. It was a vampire, a monster. It didn't even really count as torture. "I'm not so sure about Dean though."

"That's why we gotta move quickly," Bobby explained. "I ain't blind. I saw his face when you used the T-word."

"You don't need dead man's blood, do you?" Sam accused, scolding himself at not figuring out crafty Bobby's plan to ditch Dean.

"Got plenty in the back of the van," Bobby acknowledged. "But it ain't easy getting' into the morgue in the middle of the day so that should keep him busy for at least a couple of hours. We shouldn't need any longer than that."

"Are you kidding? Give me five minutes," Sam growled, not noticing the wary and vaguely disappointed look Bobby gave him at the cold words.

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A/N: Hi there! Anyone as happy as I am to have Bobby join the hunt? Sorry not the most exciting chapter but things are heating up. Just three or four more chapters to go! Thanks for all the alerts and faves and reviews – I hope I am still keeping you entertained and I really appreciate all the feedback.