Chapter Six

Bobby found them alternative accommodations. He and Sam carried in what they'd need for the next few days and locked the truck. Sam produced the bourbon he'd rescued from the straw. He still hadn't developed a taste for the acrid stuff, but he appreciated the effect it offered. He poured the two of them several refills while he described their experiences with the kind and capable doctor Beth Macy. Bobby shook his head, muttering something sympathetic. But the conversation quickly turned to the present predicament.

"Looks like he's been arrested then, and sounds like the same cop, apparently. She seems to have taken some kind of personal interest in seeing him caught.." he mused.

Sam agreed. "It was a dark-haired woman officer the first time. So should we go to the station?...or call? What do you think?"

"You can't go near it, Sam; you're wanted yourself right now. I can go but I have to figure out what to say. I don't want to establish any link in their eyes; if they decide to haul me in for questioning, I'll be useless. I can't help your brother if I end up on the same side of the bars that he is."

"Anyway of checking for info online?"

"I doubt it. No, I think I'll have to get in there on some false pretense. I can claim there was a break-in in my truck or something. That's small potatoes; they won't even offer to send an officer so we'd be ok. While they take my statement I can look around, maybe ask some things. If he's in holding, I'd see him. In the meantime you could call the local hospitals; see if a prisoner was brought in for treatment."

Sam nodded, grateful that Bobby was with him during this crisis. He was so damned worried about it all; Dean's physical state, and his arrest. Both were serious threats to his brother's future.

"Sam, can you get me an address for the closest cop shop? I don't do that computer thing."

Sam smiled. He knew perfectly well that Bobby had more than the average skill in navigating the net; he was just trying to distract Sam. But he accommodated his request, finding the station that had jurisdiction, and the location. While he was at it he located the most likely hospital, his gut tightening involuntarily. "Let me call the hospital first," he said. "It might save you the trip." But after the call, it was clear that no one named Dean Winchester or any injured prisoners were there. That was good...or bad.

Bobby chewed up some mints to lessen the whiskey on his breath and prepared to leave. "I'll call you as soon as I'm on the road back, Sam. Sit tight in the meantime."

"Ok. Careful…"

Bobby winked. "It may look like plaid, Sam, but trust me; it's pure Teflon."

Sam snorted and shook his head.

Bobby played the part of irate bumpkin well. He ranted that he'd left his truck unlocked for only a few minutes while he went in for some smokes, and someone had stolen his stereo. The police had little sympathy, but they humoured him by sitting him down and taking his statement. While that was underway, he scanned the precinct, looking for Dean in the visible holding cells. He also looked the staff over, hoping to see a female officer that fit. But he was disappointed, if that was the right term, on both counts. But as he was being patronized, he did make note of a name plate at an empty desk. -Officer Laura Brennen—

They showed Bobby the door, with the assurance that they would treat his complaint with the utmost gravity and would look into it immediately. He nodded and grinned like a satisfied idiot. As soon as he was back on the road, Bobby called Sam. "B-r-e-n-n-e-n, Officer Laura Brennen…google her, Sam. Hers was the only empty desk that I saw that had a woman's name plate. There were no other matches as far as I saw. And the pens were empty, except for one drunk; nobody in holding. They said it was a quiet night; not much on the front so far. I'd think that if a televised fugitive were brought in it'd make a few more waves than I could see. Any word from the hospitals?"

"Nothing; no Dean and no gunshot victims."

"Ok. Well, I don't know what to think at the moment, Sam…but we can talk about it more when I get there. Find out whatever you can about her and let me know."

Sam checked that name. When Bobby pulled up, there was a wealth of information waiting for him.

Bobby sat on his bed after pouring himself a fresh drink. "Ok, what have you got?"

"Listen to this: Laura Brennen, who's a brunette, by the way; was the sole survivor of a home invasion around four years ago. She and her twin lived with their Dad on a small farm. They were nineteen at the time, and some guy came up to the house, blew away the dad and took the sister, Karin, away as hostage. They found her body a week later; she was beaten and sexually assaulted and left for dead. Looks like Laura joined the police force a few years later, after college. She's been written up three times recently, for citations of merit, for bringing in accused rapists. Shit, it sounds to me like she's on a mission, Bobby."

"Hmm...yeah, revenge for her sister. Christ, you'd think they'd see this kind of thing when they do the psych testing of recruits, for shits sake. Looks pretty plain when you see it on paper now." Bobby sipped his bourbon, thinking. Then it struck him. "Jesus, Sam; that's what this is about! Think about what Dean's accused of in St. Louis. It's a sex crime, that girl was assaulted, and beaten, and Dean's the suspect. She's been gunning for him for personal reasons. And if she has him, but never brought him in..."

"Then she's got him somewhere else, so she can bring on her own justice!" Sam finished.

It seemed possible Dean hadn't been arrested after all. But the alternative was worse; he could be in the hands of bitter and unhinged vigilante instead.

Laura turned away from him in disgust. She found herself teetering on the edge of her deep emotion; she was too close to just blowing him away in that chair. But Daddy said it wouldn't be enough, that she'd regret not making him suffer for his sins. And she already regretted so much, and this was supposed to make her feel whole again. And there were his feelings to consider too. Dad had been mowed down in his prime; he had his own issues with that bastard. She walked away from her prisoner and picked up the metal chair, righting it and sitting down. She couldn't deal with him until she was a little calmer.

She glanced at him again. He was still staring at them, still looked shocked. –Good—she thought. Maybe he was finally realizing there were going to be repercussions for what he'd done.

Daddy came up and rubbed her shoulders. It was strange…comforting, but he'd never have done that before. He referred to himself as Daddy; that was strange too. Never in their years growing up could she ever remember them calling him that. It was always Dad, or "Da". Not that it mattered, just semantics, that's all. The feeling was the same. But she was concerned by his pervasive and strengthening smell. She would have to insist that he bathe; this was unthinkable for the tidy father she remembered.

Daddy crouched in front of her, touching her cheek. "You're tired, aren't you, love? It's been a heavy day for us. Look, why don't you go home and take a break. We have what we want, there's no rush now, he's not going anywhere. When you're rested, we can do this as we've discussed, alright?"

She always found his words compelling, almost mesmerizing. Ever since he'd returned to her, his voice was like a soothing lullaby that she couldn't resist. She nodded, smiling wearily. "Yes…yes, Da. You always know best. Will you come too?"

"No, dear." he soothed. "I'll stay behind, just to keep watch. There are many conversations I'd like to have with our guest. I promise I won't finish him without you." He kissed her hair and she smiled. She got up and cast a glare of pure hatred towards Dean.

"You and my Dad can talk now. I'll be back, later." And she hauled up the door and left.

Dean was left in the chilly quiet. He could hear his own breathing, fast and inefficient. He was apprehensive; fear growing like an icy blossom in his center. No sound at all came from Will Brennen.

Will; or 'Daddy' —approached him and pulled up the chair. He sat uncomfortably close to Dean, and his eyes were twinkling with mirth. "A lot to digest, isn't it?" he smiled.

Dean wrinkled his nose at the smell. "She prayed, you came back. Sure, ok. So what are you then? You don't look like any ghost. Where'd you come back from? You sure as hell aren't dear old Dad."

Daddy Brennen sat back and chuckled. "Sure I am. I'm the spitting image of Will, right down to the whiskers. Who else would I be?"

"She said she prayed. Who'd she pray to? Who answered?"

Will stared at Dean. He kept staring, until his eyes changed, flooding with a fathomless black. His smile faded, and he seethed with evil. "Who do you think?"

Dean stared back in horror. "You...you're a demon." he whispered.

Will laughed. "Aw, you hunters. Can't pull the wool over your eyes, can we? Well you're bang on. Poor little Laura; all alone, abandoned by god. My Master saw fit to help her. And at the same time, we could take care of the annoyance that you've been. You know there's more to baby brother; I know you do. But there's so much your dear old Pop never told you. Your brother is headed for greatness, Dean, but you stand in his way. You're an obstacle; a pothole full of shit in his shining road to destiny. Every time we turn around, you're there, suffocating him with your 'protection'. We just can't have that. So you became a handy target for poor, overwrought Laura. After all; you did kill her sister. And dear old Dad." He laughed heartily at that.

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "That's what this is all about, then? Freeing Sam so you can turn him into some demon freak? Nothing to do with her dad, or her sister...none of it?"

"That's right. Poor dumb twit; she opened the portal with her need, but now she's just a handy tool. See, Dean; when someone prays hard enough to the Master; offers enough to him; it's like it opens a crack down to us. I was chosen to squeeze through, with this little mission. And hey, she's happy. She thinks her prayers are answered; her daddy's back, and she gets to see you pay for what happened to her family. And Good Sammy will fulfill his true destiny without having to haul around the dead weight of Big Brother. Everybody wins." He smiled unpleasantly. "Well...everybody except you."

Dean was trembling with cold, and with fear. A nebulous panic swirled through him; he felt weak from his wounds and his rough treatment. -And again with the Sam's Destiny crap; what the hell was all that about? "Why are you telling me all this? Don't you think I'll tell her everything you told me?"

"Go ahead!" he snorted. "You think she'll even listen to you? She's dead sure you're the one she's been searching for. You're the devil himself, as far as she's concerned. And here I'm the one who confirmed it; such tasty irony. After all, I'm Dad, I was there when it all happened; who would know better but me?"

Dean closed his eyes hard, fighting off a sickening vertigo that threatened his clarity. He wracked his brain frantically. "No, you're lying; you need a living host and Will Brennen's been dead for years. You can't be in him-"

"Yeah..." Daddy sighed. He pinched the greyish skin at his wrist, frowning as it failed to spring back. "You're right, Dean. Daddy Brennen was just a box of ashes. I had to make this halloween costume from scratch. I pulled every happy little memory she had to put it together; just about made me sick. I missed a detail or two, but a pretty good likeness, I think. But yeah, unfortunately it's got no juice."

-no juice-? Then he realized... The demon meant the form he was inhabiting was unnatural, lifeless. Nothing sustained it, and as a result… Dean's eyes narrowed, and he recoiled. "Jesus, that's why you stink! You can't keep it together, you're rotting in front of her!"

"Pretty much."

"Aw, that's gross!" Dean grimaced.

"Yeah, well, they're not always glamour jobs, but we'll take anything to get the chance to go top-side. But you understand then, that I'm on a tight schedule here. Can't have parts falling off in front of her, that'd get hard to explain. So that being said; she's expecting I'd do you some damage while she's out. With all our chit-chat, we're running out of time, and I don't want to disappoint the poor girl."

Dean didn't have time to voice a protest. He instantly felt a crushing pressure in his chest. He strained against his bindings with what was left of his strength, but they held tight. The demon stood with arms crossed, still smiling, as invisible coils squeezed and constricted his prey so relentlessly that the breath and blood were forced from him. Unable to inhale, or scream, Dean struggled desperately against the excruciating pain. He turned ashen, and losing strength, his eyes rolled up and he passed out.

Daddy reluctantly released him. He had after all, promised Laura her turn.