Chapter 2

Sam hurried out of the cottage with Dean close behind him. Boy, was he glad to be out of that place. The smell in that basement had quickly become overwhelming.

He turned back once he reached the bottom of the front steps to see Dean close the door behind him and walk down the steps with a slight stagger. "You okay?" Sam asked, reaching out a hand to steady him.

Dean brushed off Sam's help and laughed. "Fumes in there gave me a bit of a buzz," he said, leaning against the side of the porch and shaking his head to clear it. "Hoo! Not a good trip."

Sam watched him in concern as he blinked heavily and raised a hand to his forehead as if he were dizzy. "Dean?" he said quietly, edging toward him to rest a hand on his back without Dean noticing. "Sure you're okay?"

Dean looked at him as though he were about to protest his close proximity, but once he got a look at Sam's face, a brief flicker of anxiety passed over his face. "You're not feeling this?"

Sam shook his head. "I feel fine," he said. "The smell was intense, but... no buzz."

Dean looked confused for a second, but then he seemed to understand what Sam was thinking. "What, you think I'm sick or somethin'?" he said with an edge of anger in his tone. "Not this time, man. I just got closer to the stuff than you did, that's all." He pushed Sam aside and started walking away from the house, his gait steady and straight. He turned around victoriously on his heel and held out his arms as he walked back again. "See? It's wearing off already. Now let's go see what we can find out about the son of a bitch who lives here." He grabbed his bag from the top of the porch steps and hauled it onto his shoulder, marching back into the woods in the direction of the town without another word.

Sam sighed and picked up his bag to follow. He wasn't sure what the whole thing had been about, but he intended to watch Dean like a hawk for the next while just to be sure he was okay.

It took them a few minutes of hiking to get to the outskirts of the town, and by the time they got there Dean seemed to be himself again. Sam wasn't sure if he was just faking it to avoid suspicion or if the effects of whatever it was had really worn off, but pretty soon they had more pressing concerns. The first building they saw upon reaching the edge of the woods was the high school.

The place was sealed off with police tape, but nobody much was around aside from a couple of cops who were doing a pretty bad job of guarding it. Sam and Dean had no trouble sneaking inside to take a look around.

"So, the school backs onto the woods where the crazy witch-slash-scientist lives?" Dean said in a low voice once they were sure they were alone in the school's main hallway. "Seems like more than a coincidence for this place to be a hotzone for whatever was cooking in that basement."

"You've just gotta wonder if this was the main target or a trial run," Sam said.

"Trial run? He hit fifteen people here at once. The other eight cases were all just random."

"Could have been accidents, or he might be working his way up to something bigger," Sam said. "That's how terrorists do it."

"So, you think this guy's a terrorist?" Dean gave him a doubtful look.

Sam shrugged. "Stranger things," he said. "Come on, the cafeteria's probably this way."

He led the way to the scene of the incident, which would have been easy enough to identify even if they hadn't known where it had all gone down - all they had to do was follow the police tape and the trails of blood and debris left over from the panic-caused riot.

The cafeteria itself looked like a bomb had gone off. Food was splattered all over the place, tables were overturned, trays and plates and cutlery were strewn about, battered textbooks and random personal items were littered everywhere, and mixed in with it all was blood. A lot of blood. To top it all off, Sam could still smell a trace of tear gas in the air.

"Holy crap."

Dean kicked aside a science book as he wandered further into the room. "That article didn't make it sound this bad," he said gravely.

"No, it didn't." Sam winced as the images of crazed and terrified teenagers floated through his mind. "It did say some of the kids and teachers sustained life-threatening injuries, but God... they must have been tearing each other to pieces."

"Uh... yeah, I'd say so," Dean said, turning away from an overturned table with a grossed-out look on his face. "Just found a finger."

Sam shook his head in disbelief. "What the hell, man?"

"I don't know." Dean rubbed the back of his neck as he scanned the rest of the room with anxious eyes. "But we've gotta stop this guy before this entire town goes insane."

"Yeah, ya think?"

Dean stepped carefully through the rubble toward the door. "Let's get out of here," he said. "This place is giving me the creeps."

Sam couldn't agree more.

When they left the school, they could see that it wouldn't be quite as easy to skate past the cops and FBI on their way into the main part of town. They decided to make a detour around the outskirts first and see if they could find somewhere to stash their stuff and call home during their stay. Sam's pack was starting to feel unbearably heavy, and Dean was definitely sagging under the weight of his. They claimed the first rundown barn they came across, dumping their packs and changing into their FBI suits just in case. They were ready and on the road again within minutes.

"So, what should our first step be here?" Sam asked as they walked toward the town's main street. "I mean, we can't exactly go knocking on people's doors when the real FBI is already doing that."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck as he thought it over. "Police records are gonna be hard to get," he said, gesturing down the street to what appeared to be the police station. It was crawling with cops and feds, from that distance appearing like a beehive with uniformed bees buzzing in and out and around it, along with frightened civilians who seemed to be hovering around in search of answers.

Sam looked up and down the street, trying to act as casual as he could in case they were spotted by curious onlookers. He settled on a large building half a block down from the police station that looked important yet seemed to be free of crowds. "Think that's the library?" he asked, pointing.

Dean followed his gaze and nodded. "Worth a try," he said, leading the way.

They walked right past the police station, passing along the edge of the crowd with a purposeful stride as though they belonged there and knew exactly where they were going. They went straight up to the library's front door, even though it would more than likely be locked. Sam got himself into position to casually pick the lock as though fumbling with a key, but it proved to be unnecessary. The doors swung open with a slight tug.

They entered cautiously, looking around to see if anyone was inside. "Anybody here?" Sam called. "FBI. We need you all to return to your homes immediately."

No answer.

"They probably just forgot to lock up," Dean said. He glanced nervously out the window at the crowd still gathered around the police station. "Think they'll come back?"

"Let's just find the property records and get out of here," Sam said. "I'll look upstairs."

He started moving toward the winding staircase in the middle of the library's main room, but stopped when he realized that Dean wasn't following. He was just standing there, still staring out the window.

"Dean?"

"I think somebody spotted us," Dean said in a low voice. "There's a couple cops out there that keep looking over here."

Sam sighed. "All the more reason for us to find the property records and get out of here," he said as though chiding a five year old. He grabbed Dean by the shoulders and pulled him away from the window, ushering him in the direction of the stairs.

"Alright, alright," Dean said, shoving Sam away. "No need to get testy."

They hurried up the stairs, but they hadn't gotten very far with their search before they were distracted by a noise down on the ground floor.

"I told you," Dean whispered with a pointed glare.

Sam shrugged and shook his head as they moved quickly to find a place to hide. He didn't know what Dean's problem was, but he sure hoped he'd snap out of it soon. They crouched down behind a long, low bookcase near the stairs and waited.

"I know I saw them come in here."

Sam leaned closer to the stairwell to better hear the voices coming from down below.

"You sure they weren't around earlier?"

"Positive. They ain't no townies, and I met all the FBI guys when they first arrived."

"Alright, you check upstairs. I got the back rooms."

Dean was getting impatient, situated too far from the stairwell to hear what the men were saying, so Sam answered his nudge with a hand motion to indicate that they were about to have company. Then he started scanning what little of the second floor he could see, looking for anything even remotely resembling an escape route. The last thing they needed right now was to get arrested and be stuck in a jail cell while this entire town went insane. Unfortunately, all he could see were books and a large paned window facing the street that was crawling with cops. Great.

The guy took his sweet time tiptoeing up the stairs, but finally Sam caught a glimpse of his balding head as he walked right past their hiding place. He seemed to be muttering something under his breath as he scanned the aisles on the other side of the room, but he was too far away for Sam to make out the words. It was clear that he hadn't seen them, though, so they still had a chance. Sam readied himself for a quick run to the stairs as soon as the guy's back was turned.

Suddenly, Dean gripped his arm. "Did you see his eyes?" he hissed into Sam's ear.

Sam shook his head. "What about 'em?"

"It's Alastair."

Sam did a double take between Dean and the back of the cop's head. "How do you..."

"You didn't hear what he was saying? He knows it's us, man. He's not gonna let us out of here alive."

Dean's eyes were wide with genuine fear, and it sent a chill down Sam's spine. Still, it couldn't be Alastair... could it? "Dean, Alastair is dead," he said as he watched the man disappear behind one of the bookcases lining the far end of the room. "Anna killed him, remember?"

"Not necessarily. I'm telling you, man, it's him."

"Then we should go while he's out of sight." Sam grabbed Dean's arm to pull him over to the stairs, but Dean was already moving in the other direction. "Dean!" he said in a fierce whisper.

"I'm not letting him get away again," Dean said, drawing Ruby's knife from his belt as he crept along to the other end of the low bookcase.

In those few seconds, a million thoughts ran through Sam's mind. If Alastair really was possessing that cop, then Ruby's knife probably wasn't going to be enough to take him down. Not to mention that if Alastair was behind what was going on in this town, they had stepped into some pretty serious apocalyptic crap, which meant that attacking Alastair now would just bring more demons out of the woodwork. They weren't anywhere near prepared for that kind of attack.

Either way, he had no way of stopping Dean in time without drawing attention to their hiding place. There was really only one thing that he could do. He just prayed that the blood he'd downed two weeks earlier would be enough to at least hold Alastair in place and increase Dean's chances of stabbing him directly in the heart.

Sam rose to his feet as the cop came back into view. He was still facing the opposite direction, so they at least had the element of surprise on their side. Sam raised his hand and felt the demon blood stirring in his veins as he concentrated all of his power on...

Nothing.

There was no demon inside the man at all.

"Dean, no!"

He ran forward just as Dean leapt out from behind the bookcase and lunged for the innocent police officer with the knife raised.

Everything happened so fast, but he felt like he was moving in slow motion as he watched the cop draw his gun and Dean prepare to strike. He knew he was running as fast as he could, but the cop had managed to dodge the knife and fire his gun before Sam threw himself between them, knocking Dean to the ground and wrestling the gun out of the cop's hands. Before the cop could even blink twice, Sam had pistol-whipped him into unconsciousness.

By then, he could hear the cop's partner calling for backup and running up the stairs. Sam fired the gun into the air to hold the guy off, but he knew he had no time to lose. He quickly hauled Dean to his feet and practically carried him through to the back of the building. He knew there had to be a fire escape somewhere. Hell, even a window they could throw themselves through would do in a pinch, although Dean's near-unconscious form would make a safe landing somewhat difficult.

All he found were steps leading up to the roof. Having no time to make an informed decision, he took them. He vaguely remembered that the library sat very close to the building next door, whatever it was, and any slim chance of escape was a chance he was willing to take.

He could hear cops swarming into the building as he dragged Dean up the stairs and burst out onto the roof. He didn't even let himself take a second to glance over at his brother to see if and where the bullet had hit, knowing that he couldn't do a damn thing for him unless he got them both out of there alive. He searched around frantically for a way out, and almost collapsed with relief when he saw that a building slightly lower than the library backed onto it with only a few short feet between them.

"Okay," he said, attempting to steady Dean on his own two feet at the edge of the roof. "We gotta jump, Dean."

Dean swayed a little, and his face looked tight with pain, but he nodded.

Sam wrapped Dean's arm around his shoulders and gripped him securely around the waist. "On three," he said, ignoring the approaching footsteps on the stairs behind them. "One... two..."