Thank you so much Jenjoremy, Gredelina1 and SandraEngstrom2 for all the help. You ladies rock!

Chapter Sixteen

The motel was expensive for such a crap hole. It took a few days' pay to cover the night they needed. Gary knew his dad wasn't going to be happy if he realized that Gary hadn't stowed away his wages into his college fund that week. "How's that working to the plan, son?"

Screw the plan. He was making his own money his own way. No more flipping hamburgers and selling heart attacks to Housatonic's dumbest; he was going to be rolling in green before long. All it would take was one little bullet, which was why he was currently setting up a table of such obvious shadiness his mom would freak if she saw it. It looked like devil worship, but it really wasn't. He didn't worship Satan; he was just doing him a favor… Yeah, a favor.

"Pay attention, Gary!" Trevor snapped. "Your concentric circles aren't concentric enough."

"Dude, you're such a nerd," Gary said, laughing.

Trevor's hand snapped out and punched Gary's shoulder. It hurt. As soon as Gary was riding the giant's body, he was knocking Trevor on his ass. After he killed the other one. Kill Dean, punch Trevor, maybe do a few press-ups just to see how it felt doing it properly, some sex, definitely some sex, and then home before his mom came to wake him up for breakfast.

"I think it's okay," Nora said reassuringly. "It's more about targeting your mind than the actual layout. I think. Maybe."

"You do a lot of body swapping, do you?" Trevor said scathingly.

"Don't be a asshole," Gary said, making a concerted effort to keep his circles neater. "Screw around and I won't split the money with you."

Trevor glowered. "This plan would never have come together if it wasn't for me. I'm the one that biked over to Wells to buy the phoenix feathers."

Gary chortled. "What are you going to do? Tell your mom?"

Trevor opened his mouth to reply but Nora spoke over him. "That's enough, guys. We've got to stick together on this. We made a pact: no one person before another. We've got a job to do and we've got to be a team in this."

Gary nodded. She was right. Murder was tough enough to pull off without infighting. They had to be strong. Even though Trevor was an ass.

He set the copper mixing bowl he'd borrowed from his mom's kitchen in the center of the table and began to tip in the herbs. Trevor emptied the bag of phoenix feathers in to it—they sure looked a lot like a turkey's—and Nora lit the candles.

"Ready?" she asked Gary, her eyes wide and excited. She seemed to love magic almost as much as Gary.

"Ready," Gary said. He closed his eyes and fixed his mind on the man he could feel sleeping in the next room. The wall between them was no obstacle to his power. He lit the match and held it over the bowl and began the chant that he had practiced a dozen times. "Split in statera. Sit novam facere. Unde necesse est." He dropped the match and flames roared up. Sparks flew and some hit the table and carpet. A bag of ingredients caught fire and smoke began to rise from the carpet.

"Oh shit!" Trevor shouted. "Shit! Shit! Shit! Gary! Gary! Gary!"

Gary stamped on the carpet while Nora ran for the bathroom. His shoe sole started to melt and he snatched the cup of water Nora brought and poured it over his foot. Trevor was slapping at the burning bag with sleeve of his jacket and cursing loudly.

It took a few moments of chaos before the fires were extinguished and they were left coughing from the smoke, and in Gary's case wheezing. He took his inhaler from his pocket and sucked gratefully on a couple pumps.

"Gary…?" Nora said nervously.

"I'm fine," Gary said. "Just need a minute."

"And a new plan," Trevor said.

"What?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, "but aren't you supposed to be next door, killing right now?"

Gary looked down at his chest, his underdeveloped, 'You'll blossom eventually', chest. He was not a giant. He was as weedy, wheezy and weak as ever. "Oh crap," he sighed as at the same moment, a loud voice shouted from the next room. "What the hell? Why do you look like me?"

Nora and Gary exchanged a horror-struck look and spoke at the same time. "Oh crap!"

Dean was sleeping when the shouting started in the next room. "That's some kinky stuff with Gary happening next door," Dean said into his pillow.

"Lucky Gary," Sam replied with a muffled laugh.

Dean rolled over and opened his eyes. Something about the view around him seemed wrong, as if he was seeing the room from the wrong place. He remembered lying awake before, staring up at the ceiling at the water stain while he tried to switch his brain off to sleep—not an easy task given all that had happened lately. The water stain was gone though. He glanced to the side and frowned, then bolted upright, panting.

"Sam?" he questioned.

"What?" The body in the next bed rolled over and looked at him, concerned quickly morphing to anger. "What the hell? Why do you look like me?"

Dean shook his head in confusion. "I'm not the only one. You look like me."

"I do?"

Dean's gaze slid down. He was dressed in a grey undershirt and jeans, but the chest he was looking at was not his own. It was larger, broader. The denim-clad legs stretching down the length of the bed weren't his either. They were longer. His feet hung over the end of the bed. He brought a shaking hand to his face and saw the scarred knuckles and crooked fingers. He recognized them, but they were not his.

"Bastard!" Sam growled, and Dean turned in time to see him lurching out of bed and rushing at the duffel on the table. He pulled out a short knife that Dean knew had a silver blade. "You chose the wrong body to steal!"

Dean raised his hands in front of him, his mind working fast despite the panic. "Sam, it's me," he said quickly. "I swear."

"Doesn't look like you!"

"Neither do you," Dean said. "Stop, take a minute. Look at yourself."

Eyeing him suspiciously, Sam side-stepped over to the mirror and took a quick glance at it. He turned back to Dean and started, "I don't know what…" before his head snapped to the side again and his mouth dropped open.

"Yep," Dean said, "right there with ya."

Sam brought a hand to his throat and probed at it, looking awed. "Holy crap."

Dean felt his own neck, noting the line that curved across it—Sam's worst scar. It was unsettling to feel evidence of the injury that had almost killed his brother.

"How the hell did this happen?" Sam breathed, not seeming to expect an answer.

"No idea," Dean said, noting the change in his voice for the first time. It was Sam's. "I don't think it was the poltergeist though."

Sam shook his head. "Couldn't be. Ghosts don't have the power to do this."

Dean swung his legs around to the edge of the bed and stood. His head swam for a moment at the change in position and when it settled, he moved to stand beside Sam. He wasn't sure which was more unsettling, being taller than Sam or looking at his own body with someone else running the switches.

Sam looked at him, his head slightly tilted upwards, and shook his head. "This is…"

"I know," Dean said, a short laugh bursting from him. "What the hell are we going to do?"

Sam shrugged. "I have absolutely no idea. We need help."

Sam could feel Dean's eyes on him as he paced the room. He couldn't sit with the nervous energy he had buzzing through him, and he found it hard to look at his brother and see his own face looking back at him. Shamefully, one the first things he had noticed when looking at Dean in his body was just how scarred up he was. It wasn't like he never looked into a mirror, but he had seen them so much on a day to day basis that he'd become numb to them. Seeing them as an outsider was a head-trip.

There was a knock on the door and Dean got to his feet to answer while Sam glanced out of the window. Rufus' old Ford Taurus was parked outside the room. Sam had considered hard before calling the older hunter. It was the fact he'd been in the life longer than Bobby even and lived closer to where they were that persuaded him. Maybe he'd come across something like this before, though Sam suspected he would have heard about it before if he had.

Dean opened the door and a grim faced Rufus was revealed on the threshold. "Winchester," he said, nodding to Dean and then turning to Sam and smiling slightly. "Dean. Good to see you."

It wasn't like it was the first time he'd noticed how differently people reacted to him compared to Dean. It didn't bother him; it wasn't like he was expecting a hug, but it was strange. As far as he knew, Dean had met Rufus once—the night the hounds had come—and yet Rufus greeted him as in as friendly a way as Sam had ever seen. He wondered how much of it was Sam's own attitude and actions and how much was just how people reacted to Dean's more open personality.

"Wrong brother, Rufus," Sam said.

Rufus frowned. "I'm sorry, what?"

Sam sighed. "I'm Sam, that's Dean."

"And you know I really doubt it," Rufus said.

"It's true," Dean said. "We woke up and we'd been… swapped."

Rufus huffed a laugh. "That's a new one on me."

"You've never seen it before?" Sam asked, disappointed.

"No. Never. What were you doing when it happened?"

"Sleeping," Dean said.

Rufus sighed. "I meant what were you hunting."

Dean looked a little embarrassed. "Oh, possible poltergeist."

"Not that then," Rufus scrubbed a hand over his face. "We need to break it down to facts. Who've you pissed off lately?"

That was a long list, Sam thought, with the Devil, demons and angels at the top, followed by practically every other fugly on the planet. He didn't think this was down to Lucifer though, and he doubted demons had the juice to do something like this. That left angels, but what could they hope to gain other than shits and giggles out of seeing Sam and Dean stumbling around in each other's bodies?

"Pretty much everyone," Dean said grimly.

Rufus scowled. "That narrows it down to the planet then. Should be an easy fix."

"Damn kids. Could've set the whole place up!" a male voice came muffled through the wall.

"Thin walls," Rufus said. "You boys really splashed out on this place."

Sam wasn't really listening to him though. He was listening to the grumbling voice in the next room as it launched into a monologue about the youth of today and their devil worship and disrespect for other people's property. Sam opened the door and peered out to see the motel manager they'd dealt with the day before coming out of the next room with a garbage sack in his hand and walking away around the side of the hotel.

"What's going on?" Dean asked as Sam slipped out of the room and hurried into the adjoining one.

Sam didn't stop to answer. He knew he would only have a short time before the manager came back and he was following a hunch. His eyes fell on the table first and he saw a copper bowl with a blackened base and encrusted remains of whatever had been burned in it. There were scorch marks on the table and it looked like the carpet had been set alight in places. He quickly ducked out of the room and back into his own.

"What was that?" Dean asked Sam clicked the door closed.

"Witchcraft," Sam said bitterly. "It's witches that did this to us."

Rufus cursed. "Well ain't that just great."

"Not all bad," Sam said reasonably. "We got a glance at the kids going in. Couple of virgins and a camp counselor looking girl."

"You think it was the kids?" Dean asked doubtfully.

"Uh, yeah," Sam started to say, but then trailed off as a feeling of doubt crept through him. He'd seen a lot in his life, some really messed up kids, but none of them had resorted to witchcraft to deal.

The feeling and thought, so intense, brought him up short. He hadn't known a kid since he'd been one. He had only seen one messed up kid and that had been Mitch. The thought, intense and false, hadn't been his own. It was Dean's.

What the hell was happening to him?

Gary sat in the booth at the Turbo Burger joint across from the motel. The food was crap and he couldn't eat half of it because of his damned allergies, but, hey, staff discount. Nora was beside him and Trevor opposite. They were feasting on their hamburgers—complete with buns, thank you very much—and discussing the failure of their plan between bites.

"So," Gary said, pushing away his salad shake, "Gigantor is in male model's body and vice-versa."

"Yep," Trevor said. "You really screwed up, man."

Gary scowled. "Yeah, because I was the only one in that room at the time. Neither of you were there helping me."

Nora patted his arm. "It's okay, Gary. Mistakes happen."

"Not to real warlocks," Trevor said snidely.

"Okay, first of all, keep your voice down," Gary hissed. "If my boss hears what you're saying they'll fire me. They canned Lucas and all he was doing was smoking weed on shift."

"True," Trevor said. "They'd sure be pissed if they found out you worship Satan."

Gary kicked him under the table. "Shut up!"

Trevor looked smug and Gary decided there and then that Trevor wasn't getting a dollar of the reward money. In fact, if he kept annoying Gary, he'd be the next one killed. It would probably be easy to kill again after taking down Dean.

"I don't worship Satan," he hissed. "I'm just… working a job for him."

"Working a job?" Trevor said scathingly. "Who are you even?"

Gary closed his eyes, summoned calm and said, "Like Nora said, we're a team, so we need to work together to fix this."

"We could try again," Nora ventured. "Put them back in the right bodies and then do the spell again."

"I don't think so," Gary said thoughtfully. "I think we just need to lure them out somewhere and take the shot."

Trevor nodded energetically. "Yeah, take the shot. Let's get this done."

Gary rolled his eyes. "You're such a dumbass."

"Says you," Trevor said.

"Guys!" Nora said loudly. "Look at that."

Gary followed her gaze out of the window and across the street. The giant was walking away from the motel down the street and the male model was climbing into the car. They'd changed out of their street clothes and into suits.

"Funeral do you think?" Gary asked.

"Not yet," Trevor said with glee. "Give us a little longer and there will be though." He slid out of his seat and crossed to the door.

"Trevor," Nora hissed. "Where are you going?"

He looked impatient as he replied, "I'm going hunting. You coming?"

Gary and Nora exchanged a glance and followed him out.

They followed the giant down the street, through Main Street towards the park. Trevor was muttering under his breath as they walked, "Just a little further. Come on, somewhere nice and quiet."

As if he had heard the whispered instruction, the Winchester turned right through the park gates and came to a stop in a small copse of trees. Trevor hurried ahead of the others, reaching into his duffel.

The giant was leaning against a tree when they caught up to him, and he looked a little impatient as he said, "C'mon then, guys. Let's talk. I'm not—" He cut off as the dart shot from Trevor's tranquilizer gun hit him on the side of his scarred throat. His eyes rolled as he topped forward to the ground.

"Whoa, Trevor!" Nora said. "What was that?"

"That was awesome," Trevor replied. "Hell, let's do it again."

Gary looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Maybe later. Let's get him out of here."

Dean felt his body being moved and positioned upright but he couldn't seem to wake himself up properly.

"Damn, he's heavy," a voice said.

"Damn, you're dumb," another replied. "Have you seen the size of him? Of course he's heavy."

His eyes cracked open and he was met with a pasty-faced kid who was wheezing with effort. Behind him stood a blonde-haired boy who was smiling smugly. There was a girl, too, chewing her lip and looking tense. They were the kids he'd seen at the motel the day before.

"What…" Dean slurred. "What are you doing?"

"Killing you," the blonde boy replied.

"Trevor!" the girl hissed.

"What?" the kid, Trevor, asked. "It's not like it's a secret. He's going to find out when it happens anyway."

"Yeah, but…"

"What, Gary?" he asked irritably. "Not having second thoughts are you?"

"No," Gary said, though Dean thought there was doubt in his voice.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to focus his mind. It was hard as he was still feeling the drugs coursing through his system.

He had been heading to the school to try to track down the kids under the guise of a fed. Sam had gone by the PD to do the same while Rufus took to the streets. He'd barely gotten a hundred yards down the street before he'd felt them following him. He'd stopped and waited for them to catch up, thinking maybe he could get them to talk reasonably. That was when the blonde kid had pulled the tranq gun. Now, looking around, he saw he was in a basement of some sort, and he was tied down tight.

"Okay," he said slowly. "Leaving aside teen angst and rebellion, why do you want to kill me?" As the words left his mouth, Dean wondered at them. That wasn't the sort of thing he usually said to kids, and definitely not to people who were threatening to kill him. It sounded more like something Sam would say than him.

The blonde kid broke into his thoughts as he snapped out a fist and punched him across the jaw. It was more annoying that painful. This body could handle pain, and the kid wasn't exactly built. "We're not rebelling. We're taking control of our lives," he said.

"Okay," Dean said slowly. "And on which planet does murder equate to controlling your life?"

Trevor shook his head slowly. "It's not about the murder. It's about money. See, we've been contracted, and we're going follow through."

"Contracted by whom?" Dean asked.

"Satan," Trevor said proudly.

Dean groaned. This was a new level of screwed up. Lucifer taking Sam and having him tortured he understood, it was him doing it, but hiring kids to murder for him seemed a little low rent. "You've seen Lucifer?" he asked.

"No," Gary admitted with a shudder. "We've spoken to his demon though."

"We were down here," Nora said, "playing with Gary's book, when Gary went into this kind of trance. He drew this." She held up a pencil sketch of Dean's face.

"Yeah," Gary took up the tale. "There was this voice in my head saying you had to be stopped. The demons promised me a reward if I killed you. So, we made our plan."

"And the weird thing is," Trevor said, " that Gary can't even draw."

"Yeah," Dean said slowly. "That's the weird part."

Trevor struck out again and punched him, against Nora's protests.

"So, you swapped me and Sam," Dean said. "Doesn't that strike you as supremely dumb? Put the better hunter and fighter in the body you want to kill?"

Gary and Nora exchanged a glance while Trevor looked indifferent.

"You know," Nora said slowly, "he might have a point."

"It wasn't our first choice of outcome," Gary admitted. "We were supposed to be swapping me with your brother. I was supposed to run the giant and kill you that way, Trojan horse style."

"But Gary screwed up," Trevor said. "Still, we can make it work. I figure we wait for your brother to come save you, and kill him."

"Maybe not… " Gary said in a musing tone. "Does it have to be the body that's destroyed or the soul? I mean, we didn't exactly as the demons for specifics."

"No one knew you'd screw up so bad," Trevor said scathingly.

Looking pinched and annoyed, Gary went on. "We could kill this one and maybe that'd do it."

An overwhelming feeling rushed through Dean. It was like a migraine headache of emotion and fear followed by a thought that seemed to rip his head apart. 'Not Dean! Not again. They can't kill Dean. I can't take it. Kill them.'

Dean sucked in a shaky breath. The thought, which was a more intense realization than he had ever felt in his life, was not his own; it was Sam's. That absolute panic and need to protect came from his brother. Or at least his brother's body. What the hell was happening to him?

"We could kill them both," Trevor said. "Take this body out and then the other one next."

Dean stared up at him, his chest still heaving from the rush of emotion he'd felt transferred from Sam's body to him. "You can't do this."

"I get it," Trevor said conversationally. "No one wants to die. But we really have no choice."

"He'll kill you," Dean said. "My brother will end you." He almost hated to admit that it was true. He knew now, after what he'd felt, that Sam would do it.

Nora looked scared and Gary uncertain, but Trevor, idiot that he was, looked amused. "I don't think so. We have the protection of demons."

"You really, really don't," Dean argued. "Demons take what they want and do what they want. They don't give a crap about humans. They wouldn't even take the time to thank you before taking you out, too." He sighed. "I'm trying to do you a favor here, kids. You kill me, it'll suck, but it won't be the end for me. Believe me. See, you might think you have demons' protection, but I have angels', and they actually follow through. And my brother will kill you. Trust me."

"He'll have to find you first," Trevor said smugly.

At that moment the door was kicked open and Sam appeared on the threshold. Dean didn't think his own face had ever worn a look of such devastating fury before as it did now under Sam's control.

Dean turned away from the unsettling sight and looked at Trevor. "Looks like he found me."

Trevor blanched and reached for something on the table behind him. Dean shouted a warning but Sam was already moving. He crossed the room and grabbed the tranquilizer gun from Trevor's hand. Flipping it in his hand, he aimed at Trevor's leg and pulled the trigger. The dart imbedded itself kid's thigh and his eyes rolled back in his head as he dropped hard and face-first on the floor. Nora cried out but Gary looked relieved. Dean guessed he was as glad of the break from Trevor's crap as he was.

Sam aimed the gun at Gary next and Dean called out, "No, Sam! We need that one."

Sam turned it to Nora and tears sprang to her eyes. "This one?" he asked.

"No, she's okay," Dean said. "Just easily led."

"Okay," Sam said, lowering the gun then walking to Dean and getting to work on the knots holding him. "Did you find out what happened?"

"Yeah," he nodded his head at Gary. "Brainless over there was trying to swap you out with him so he could kill me." Again that feeling of fury and fear rolled over him. "He screwed up which pulled the Freaky Friday crap on us."

Sam turned his glare on Gary and he couldn't blame the kid from flinching back. "You were going to kill my brother?" he asked in a menacing voice.

Gary blanched. "Uh…"

"Sam," Dean said gently. "We need him alive to put us back."

Sam nodded stiffly. "Okay. Get to work, kid. Screw it up this time, I will make you regret it."

Gary nodded energetically. "Absolutely. I'll fix it."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "You better."

Sam had known when Dean didn't come back from his trip to the school that something was wrong. He'd gotten Ash on the case at once, and his friend had delivered an address. From there it had been simple enough to find him and scare the crap out of the kids holding him. The girl was currently sitting in the corner, wiping at her eyes occasionally and sniffling. The blonde kid was still unconscious on the floor, drooling onto the concrete, and Gary and Dean seemed to be locked in some kind of bizarre therapy session while they waited for Rufus to come with ingredients to do the spell to swap them back.

"He's so intense," Gary was saying. "It's all about the big picture all the time. It's like I have no choice in my own destiny. It's all been decided for me. You don't know what it's like."

Dean shot an amused glance to Sam, but Sam didn't return it. He was thinking about what the kid was saying. He could relate. He hadn't ever really had a choice in his destiny either. From the age of six months, he had been bound on course to be the man he was now, a hunter with demon blood in him. The demon blood had been Yellow-Eyes and the hunting his father, and though he loved his Dad and missed him with an almost physical yearning still, he had bound Sam to the life of a hunter.

Now, for a moment, Sam wondered how his life would have ended up had he accepted his place at Stanford. Would he have made it as a lawyer? Would he have fallen in love maybe? Would he be married with children now? Would he have made a good dad or would he have screwed that up, too?

He wondered if this kid would be asking himself the opposite of these questions in ten years, fifteen, when he was settled in his life as an engineer with his wife and kids around the dinner table?

"It doesn't have to be his plan," he said quietly.

Gary's head snapped up. "What?"

"It's your life, kid," Sam said. "Make your own plan. What would you want to do with your life?"

His face lit up with a smile. "I want to be a real witch. A powerful one."

"No," Sam said slowly. "Do that and I will come back and kill you. Try something a little less satanic."

Gary looked away as Dean barked a laugh.

"What I mean is, make your life what you want. Believe me, it's not easy to live otherwise."

Dean's eyes were sad and Sam shook his head slightly.

"Take care of Nora," Dean said, standing and walking toward Sam at the door. "I want to talk to my brother."

They walked across the basement and Sam came to rest leaning against the furnace. "What?" he asked.

"Okay," Dean said, "in the interests of full disclosure I have something to tell you. I don't know how it is for you, but this body swap is somehow more than physical for me. I've felt and heard things that aren't me."

"Yes," Sam said calmly, though inside he was reeling. What had Dean heard and felt from him? Which of his nefarious deeds had Dean now insider access too?

"Have you… poked around?"

Sam shook his head. "Not really. I've just felt a little different about these kids. You?"

"I felt a few things," he said. "Nothing bad, just different reactions to situations. You felt bad for the kids?"

"Yeah, I can kinda relate to them. Weird as all hell." He eyed Dean, wanting to ask his question and at the same time afraid of the answer.

"Ask, Sammy."

"Do you miss it?" he asked. "The kids, that life, being a civilian?"

Dean smiled slightly. "You know you could get the answer by just looking, right?"

"Felt wrong."

"Do it," Dean encouraged. "Look."

Sam hesitated for a moment before curiosity won out. He closed his eyes and brought to mind the feeling he'd had when talking to the kid. It was like the answer was there waiting for him. He felt pride, compassion, need to protect, sometimes anger, and yearning for something else. Sam probed the yearning feeling and his own face was brought to his mind, his face from many years ago, before Dean was left behind. All the other feelings were tainted by that child's face. Sam opened his eyes and looked at Dean, at his own adult face and that feeling of yearning was replaced by a kind of peacefulness and a thought of just, "Sammy."

"See?" Dean asked. "Not a single regret."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I see." He cleared his throat. "Have you, uh, looked, too?"

Dean looked apologetic. "I didn't mean to. It just sorta happened for me." He blinked and his eyes looked wet. He reached out a hand and laid it on Sam's arm. "Thank you, Sam," he said fervently. "Thank you. And me, too."

Sam frowned. What had he seen? Was it the fact that Sam wouldn't put any person in life before him? That he would protect Dean to the end, whatever that cost him? Was it that, in all his life, Sam had never cared for someone as much as he did his brother? Because that was all true. They were family. That meant something.

He grappled for something to say, but at that moment Rufus stomped into the room, his arms full of paper sacks of ingredients. "Okay," he said, "I got all you need, but let me get out of the room before you start. I don't want to be body swapped with a damn Winchester if Harry Potter here screws up again."

Dean laughed and turned away and Sam took a breath before doing the same.

"I don't know about you, but I need a drink," Sam said as they turned into the parking lot of The Roadhouse. They'd made the last leg of the drive back from Massachusetts taking turns at wheel and sleeping in shifts, and it felt good to be home.

"Beer sounds awesome," Dean said tiredly. "Then sleep and one of Ellen's breakfasts in the morning. Arrange that for me and I will be a happy man."

"Yeah, I'll put a mint on your pillow too, shall I?" Sam asked with a smile. "If you want Ellen to cook for you, you have to ask her. You choose a diner over her food once; she'll never forget it."

Dean groaned. "Aww, man, she's going to be—"

Whatever he said next, Sam didn't hear as he was focused on the rustle he'd heard in the bush and what sounded like a soft breath, a sigh.

In all likelihood, it was a bar patron using the bushes as a restroom. Some people did that, and it made Ellen madder than all hell. Sam wasn't sure though. His senses were alert for everything and even as he said, "Yeah, she's going to give you hell," he was listening hard, hard enough to hear his name spoken in a sigh.

He clapped Dean on the shoulder and said, "You better get in there and start with the groveling," and then leaned in close and whispered, "There's someone out here. Go inside. Call Castiel here. Get the weapons from the stash."

"But…"

"Go on," he said loudly and brightly. "She's waiting. I've just got to grab something from the car."

He could feel Dean's struggle in the tension of his shoulder and he silently willed him to do as he said. His own tension was high. Whoever was out there, they were there for Sam, he knew it. He didn't think it was Lucifer. He doubted the archangel would linger in bushes. But it was definitely someone.

"Fine," Dean sighed and stepped out from under Sam's grip to walk to the back door. He pulled it open, stepped through and then it closed behind him with a clunk.

Sam drew a breath, and made for the trunk again. There was a wealth of weapons inside, but before he could reach it, there was a rustle and crunch of footsteps on the twig strewn ground. Sam reached for the knife in his boot but before he could do more than bend, he heard a voice.

"You're not going to need that."

Sam froze, bent comically with his hand reaching for the weapon. He knew that voice. That voice was impossible. He straightened slowly and blinked into the gloom, his whole body shaking.

The man stepped out of the bushes into the dim light that came from the shaded kitchen window. Sam swallowed hard, and his heart seemed to beat in his throat.

"You got nothing to say to me?" the man asked.

Sam spoke in a rasping voice. "Dad?"

John Winchester nodded and smiled. "Hello, Son."

So… Day before Alpha and Omega aired, I finished this chapter. Next day, watched the episode and swore like a sailor. I thought I was being sooooo clever….

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx