AN: I'm a bad bad writer *hangs head in shame* my apologies for the delay in posting. While I do support them, as I am not paid I have not joined the writers strike, I've just been crazy busy. Please forgive me.

As always, toys belong to Kripke and co, much love and thanks to Meilean, and hugs and kisses to all readers xx

On with the show.

Chapter 6: Brady

Beneath the city streets, Dean followed his dad as they crept along the dark passageway. This thing was taking children, so Dean had been irritated when his dad insisted he stay behind him and stay close. Aside from the implication, it meant Dean couldn't see much ahead besides his father's broad back. Instead, he swung his flashlight into every recess they passed and checked behind them regularly.

John had already passed the vent and Dean was nearly past it too when he heard a sound. He jumped back slightly, pointing his flashlight and gun towards the dark hole. His heart was hammering in his chest. The pipe was covered with a grate but Dean was sure he had heard something, a sort of snuffling noise. John turned back.

"What?" he whispered. Dean shook his head to indicate he wasn't sure and inched a little closer to the grate, trying to get his light further into the tunnel behind it. He turned his head, moving even closer so his ear was nearly touching the grate, listening hard.

"I don't hear anything," John whispered.

"Just wait," Dean responded. They both stood frozen for a moment. There it was again, this time John heard it too. While Dean tried again to get enough light down the tunnel to locate the source of the sound, John used his torch to look at the hinges.

"Hold these," he said, passing his gun and torch to Dean. He dropped the bag, which had been slung over his shoulder, to the floor and crouched to open it. After a moment, he stood up again holding a crowbar.

"Eyes and ears open Dean. And give me some light."

"Yes Sir," Dean replied, keeping his torch and the gun steadier than his voice. With a loud scraping of metal on metal, John pried the grate open. He took his gun and torch back from Dean and pointed both down the dark tunnel. The light and the tunnel disappeared into darkness. They both listened. The sound could still be heard but was more muffled, as if whatever was making it was trying to suppress the noise. Dean thought the sound was familiar and he moved forwards trying to place it. John watched him, resisting the urge to pull him back from the mouth of the vent.

"It's a kid," Dean said, looking at his dad with wide eyes. "That sound, it's a kid crying."

"You sure?"

Dean listened again. "Pretty sure," he told his dad.

John examined the entrance. "It's too small, I'll never get in there. We'll have to find another way."

"I'll fit," Dean said, looking at the hole.

"Dean," said John uneasily.

"There's a kid in there." Dean started to remove his jacket. John looked at his son's scared but determined face. Dean looked back with obstinate eyes. A sharp memory of the first time he'd seen that look on his son's face pierced through the present and dragged John into the past. That boy would defy God himself if he set his mind to something, Mary had whispered as they'd faced off against the belligerent three-year-old. The memory brought a hint of a smile and an overwhelming threat of tears. John suppressed both ruthlessly before nodding to his son.

"Okay," he said reluctantly.

Dean laid his coat across his father's bag and looked in the tunnel.

"You got your gun?" John asked with a new wave of misgivings about this plan.

"There's a kid in there!"

"Who you can't help if you're dead! Where is it?"

"Right here," Dean said, pulling it from the back of his jeans where he'd stashed it.

"Check it, the magazine, the slide, the safety. And keep it in your hand, you won't be able to draw it once you're in there." Dean did as he was told, expelling the magazine, checking the silver bullets, then returning it and pulling the slide to load a round in the chamber.

Despite looking like it was against his better judgement, as Dean gripped his torch between his teeth, John helped him climb into the conduit.

The space was tight and Dean's shoulders brushed on the sides. He adjusted his weight on his forearms and pulled himself forwards.

"Hold on," John called, once Dean was mostly in. Dean felt his trouser leg being pulled up and after a moment realised his dad was tying a rope to his ankle. While John secured the anchor, Dean adjusted his hold on his gun and moved his torch from his mouth to his other hand.

"You good?" John asked him.

"Yeah Dad," Dean tried to sound more certain than he felt as he looked nervously down the route ahead. There was little room, a grim smell assaulted his nose, and the torch light seemed weak in the gloom. He had a nasty suspicion he was slightly claustrophobic, though it might just be that he had no idea what might be at the other end. The creature could be down there. As they didn't know what it was, he had no way to know if the bullets in his gun would even work. He adjusted his position, ready to start pulling himself along the tunnel, and took a deep preparatory breath.

"Dean," his father said sharply behind him.

"I know Dad, I got this. If there is a kid in there, I'll get them out." As Dean started to crawl forwards the 'be careful son' died on John's lips. He grabbed a glove from his bag and put it on, so he could let the rope trailing behind Dean run through his hand, giving him (hopefully) immediate notice if anything went wrong. He kept his attention on the surrounding area, listening for the slightest sound, looking for the slightest movement, all the while keeping one eye on the tunnel entrance.

π π π

Sam looked over the investigation again. He followed the lines and connections as he tried to figure out what he was missing.

After scanning every inch twice, he closed his eyes and pictured the wall before him. Using his mind's eye, he reconstructed every image, every connection carefully, thinking about everything he knew was there. Then he opened his eyes to look at the wall directly.

What was different? What else was up there?

His gaze narrowed in on one of the images. He squinted at it, then he ran back to the table, pulled the translation dictionary towards him and opened the large leather book.

π π π

Dean inched himself along, trying to keep his gun and the torch as steady as possible. He couldn't hear the sniffing anymore and he hoped this was because the child had managed to silence themselves, fearing his approach, and not anything worse. The pipe seemed to go on forever but he kept moving. After a few minutes he noticed a bend up ahead. He listened carefully.

There was something just around that bend, he was sure. He hoped it was the kid, he knew it might be the monster, and there was a chance it was both. Just before the turn he paused, noted the feel of the gun in his hand and tried to get reassurance from it. Then, with a final push, he threw himself forwards, turning his head, gun, and flashlight to see around the corner.

Curled in a tight ball, against another grate about 5 feet further along the tunnel, was a young boy. He couldn't be older than eight and looked younger. He was pale and shaking in the beam of light, his eyes wide and terrified, his mouth open but silent.

"It's okay," Dean said, lowering the torch so he wasn't blinding the kid. "I'm here to help." Having ascertained that they were alone, he carefully (and somewhat awkwardly in the tight setting) stowed his gun inside his jacket. He adjusted the torchlight in a way that would hopefully allow the boy to see him a little, enough to know he was human at least. He saw a slight flicker of hope on the boy's face but the kid was still too scared to move or respond. Dean felt a light tug on the rope tied to his ankle, his father checking he was okay since he'd stopped moving. He managed to move his leg enough to tug back the appropriate response then returned his focus to the scared boy before him.

"What's your name?" The kid just stared at him, though he had at least managed to close his mouth. "I'm Dean," Dean offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "It's okay, I promise."

"B…B…Brady," said the boy, quietly.

"Brady?" Dean checked, the boy nodded. "Okay Brady, look I know you're scared but we need to get out of here." Brady shook his head and pushed himself back harder against the grate behind him.

"There's a m…m…monster," he said. It was obvious, even through his terror, Brady didn't expect to be believed.

"I know," Dean said sincerely, keeping eye contact. Brady looked surprised, then relieved, then terrified in quick succession. "But it's not here right now," Dean pressed, trying to keep Brady's focus on him and not his fear.

"It will come back." Brady was still pressing his back hard against the grate behind him. Dean could see how frightened he was, could understand why he was clinging to his hiding space, but they needed to move.

"Well if it does, my Dad's out there and he'll stop it." Dean wormed his way a little closer to the boy.

"How?" There was a little touch of hope in the question and Dean knew Brady just wanted this to be over.

"Trust me, it's what he does." Dean smiled again and held out a hand towards the boy. Brady wasn't ramming himself against the grate at his back anymore but he still looked uncertain and didn't reach back. "You don't want to stay here, do you?" Dean coaxed. He saw the indecision. "Look at my face," Dean said, tipping the torch to be sure the boy could see him. "I swear, I'll get you home safely." Looking into Dean's reassuring, candid eyes, Brady finally nodded and moved towards him.

Dean took Brady's hand with a firm encouraging grasp and nodded to him.

"I'm gonna go backwards, so you can see me the whole time," he said, as if this was optional. He had no chance of turning in the tight space. "You just stay with me, okay?" Brady nodded and even managed a small, heartened smile.

It was hard going. Dean still had his torch in one hand and Brady clinging to the other while he wormed his way back towards the entrance on his elbows. He was reassured by the rope not getting caught up under him, it meant his dad was pulling it back and therefore safely guarding their exit. It was still worrying not being able to see what he was backing into, though. What if the creature was at the end of that rope instead of Dad? As soon as he felt a slight draught around his ankles he stopped, putting a finger to his lips to keep Brady quiet. They were close to the end of the tunnel but still more than an arm's-reach inside.

"Dean, you okay?" came his father's voice. There was no warning, no hidden message, and Dean exhaled in relief.

"I got him Dad, we're coming out," he replied. He gave Brady an encouraging smile and started moving again. Seconds later he felt a firm hand grip his ankle and he was half-dragged from the tunnel, but he didn't see the relief on his father's face or the repressed urge in his father's arms to hold his son close, he was too focused on the boy he'd brought with him.

"It's okay Brady, this is my dad, you're safe now," he said, helping the kid down. Once he had Brady vertical, Dean looked up at his father and whispered, "any sign?"

"No. Let's get out of here," John glanced at the small boy who was clinging to Dean's hand with both of his and obviously had no intention of letting go. Dean didn't seem bothered by this, or even particularly aware of it. But then, John thought, it hadn't been that many years since his brother had stopped hanging off him most of the time.

Once in the car with traffic and lights all around them, Brady seemed to relax more, but he still clung to Dean who had ended up sitting in the back of the car with him. Without letting go, he had curled up against Dean's arm and Dean had covered him with a blanket that John had passed from the trunk before they set off. Slowly, as they drove, Dean managed to coax the story out of the boy.

He'd been playing with friends, hide-and-go-seek, when something had grabbed him and pulled him into the storm drain. He'd managed to twist free of the thing's grip and run. When he'd found the vent, it had been open and he'd crawled in to hide from the monster. The monster hadn't been able to fit and couldn't reach him but it had shut the grate, clamping it closed so Brady couldn't get out. Eventually it had left. Dean tried to get a description from the boy but whatever he had seen he wasn't able to articulate. Dean didn't have the heart to push him too hard.

John pulled the car up to the curb a short way from Brady's house. There were no obvious signs of the police but that didn't mean they weren't around.

"Dean, you'd better stay here," John said, turning in his seat to face both boys and giving Dean a meaningful look. It had not been that long ago Dean had been arrested in relation to a missing child, to show up with another one was just asking for trouble. Dean turned to Brady.

"You know where you are?" he asked. Brady nodded. "My dad's going to take you home. You'll be safe. I promised, right?" Dean smiled at him and after a pause Brady managed a small smile back. John got out of the car. "Now listen to me," Dean said, turning to Brady seriously. "You tell them you got lost and scared and hid in a pipe. Then my dad found you and brought you home." Brady stared at Dean with wide eyes. "It's more or less the truth, right?" Brady looked doubtful but nodded. "And well, the thing is, they probably won't believe you about the monster." Brady's large eyes were trusting; he wasn't hearing anything he didn't already know. "But I don't want you to worry because I do believe you. And so does my dad, and we're going to stop it, right Dad?"

"Damn right," John said, opening the back door for Brady.

"But it might be best not to mention the monster to anyone else, okay?"

After a pause, Brady nodded. He let go of Dean and moved towards the open door, then turned back and flung his arms around him. Dean pulled a face of discomfort at his dad but John noticed he squeezed Brady briefly before disentangling him.

"Thank you," Brady whispered. Then he crawled backwards and let John help him out of the car.

π π π

When John returned to the Impala a while later it was empty. Instantly tense, he looked around for his son. Had the thing followed them here? Taken Dean when he wasn't expecting it? Before he could panic fully, he saw a familiar form running back down the road towards him.

"Damn it Dean, where were you?" Fear made his voice sharp and Dean's panicked face wasn't helping.

"Sammy's not answering," Dean gasped.

"What?"

"We need to go." Dean had reached his father but darted around him towards the car.

John grabbed him and held him still. Dean struggled but John firmed his grip and expression. "First you need to explain," he pointed out, trying to get the boy to control his panic and focus. It was something they'd been working on. Dean understood and, although he thought all that didn't really apply when it came to Sam, he tried.

"There's a payphone just up there. I went to call him," he explained.

"And?" John finally asked.

"I jut said! He didn't answer!" Dean tried to move away again but John still held him.

"He may just be in the can," John offered calmly.

"I told you he shouldn't be here." Dean's voice had raised, his eyes glared.

"Dean …" John growled in warning.

Dean felt the reprimand and swallowed. Then he blinked a couple of times. "But what if that thing …" He had returned to worry.

"That thing has a very specific hunting pattern, Sammy's safe at the motel."

Dean looked at him. Much as he tried to control his body language, the plea was in his eyes.

"Let's go back and see what he's found," John part-capitulated.

π π π

AN: The comment about Dean being arrested in relation to a missing child relates to my story 'In The Shadows.' I hope you enjoyed the chapter, all comments welcome. More soon (and I'll try not to be late I promise). Much love to everyone, I hope you are all well xx