AN: Here's the biggest chapter of the story, it's also the main part of the actual story I planned on writing originally. Reid isn't feeling sleepy, so he calls to talk to Dean about Metallica. The conversation doesn't exactly go as planned.

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to these two shows! If I owned even the slightest tiny bit of any form of rights to this show, believe me, I would be shouting from the rooftops.

Their plane landed late that night after they caught Vogel. Reid slept on the plane most of the way, and found himself annoyingly awake when they landed and he arrived back at his house.

He walked the length of his house, checking the locks for suspicious scratches, and making sure the salt lines were still in place. Though how the salt would have been moved when it had been practically built into the window sills and the flooring of every room, Reid didn't like to imagine... He had gotten Bobby to crack open his flooring and window sills to insert salt lines. Though it was possible to reopen them and check on the salt, it took a little work to pry up the wood. Still, he checked all the lines every now and then, usually after he spent several days out of town for a case. Tonight was looking to be one of those nights.

Some of the sigils on his walls had been painted over, but just because they weren't visible (or were hidden by furniture) it didn't mean they had power. The charms hung in fairly unnoticeable places throughout the house. They had been added to wall decorations, and blended in well enough to go unseen by anyone not specifically looking for them.

His place was probably one of the safest houses in the country. Bobby's place was most likely safer, but more for Bobby's being in it than anything else.

Everything was still in place. Reid checked everything, and was a little bit more careful than usual even, out of sheer boredom. He thought that maybe if he spent enough time messing with it, he might be sleepy by the time he was done. It didn't really work. He was still wide awake after practically ripping his entire house apart and then fixing it all so that every sigil, charm, and salt line was back in place.

He had been sitting in his bed, staring at the walls for twenty minutes, when he finally gave in and reached for his cell phone. It rang four times, and Reid almost lost his nerve, knowing it was probably late wherever they were in the country. But Dean answered before he could hang up.

"Hey, little man. What's up?"

Reid smiled at the greeting, but heard the tension in Dean's voice, so he still asked, "Am I calling at a bad time?"

"Nah man, you've actually just rescued me from a third episode of what is possibly the worst soap opera ever filmed. I mean, this show is really, really bad. You have no idea. I was getting ready to scratch my own eyes out. Thank you. Seriously. Now what's up?"

Reid couldn't hide the laughter in his voice. "It sounds like you are as bored as I am. I just got back from a case, but I slept on the plane, so now I'm not tired."

"What time is it there?"

He glanced at the clock to confirm what he already knew. "A little after one o'clock. What time is it wherever you are?"

"Um...just after ten."

Reid's gut started churning when he heard that. "Why are you on your third episode of a soap opera when it's only ten o'clock on a Wednesday evening?"

"I'm doing some research and left the t.v. on in the background...?" Dean tried.

"You don't research with the television on unless your dad or Sam is the one doing the actual research. Have you found your dad then?"

He had been missing for a few weeks, Reid knew. Mr. Winchester just kind of disappeared from the world. It wasn't the first time, but Dean had been a little more worried than usual.

"I uh, I think I've found a trace on him, actually."

"So why are you in a motel at ten o'clock instead of driving to meet him?"

"Well I..."

Reid frowned. "Are you in California?"

"What? Why would I be in California? I usually never go that far west unless Dad and I are going to check on Sammy. You know that."

"Dean, you're in a Pacific time zone. Where are you?"

Dean sighed. "I'm in Nevada."

"But you're heading towards California." It wasn't a question. He could always read Dean.

Dean didn't reply, but that was really answer enough.

"Dean," Reid said with a sigh. "You can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?" the older man asked as if he didn't know.

"You keep playing with the idea of taking him out of school," he tried his best, but he couldn't quite hide the anger in his voice. "This is the third time in two months that you've driven to California."

"I'm not going to take him out of school, you ass. Stop assuming the worst. I just..."

"What, Dean? If you go and track him down, he's going to go with you. You know that. He can't say no to you."

Dean let out a decidedly bitter sound from the back of his throat. Reid tried to ignore it.

"He's happy there. He's got a girlfriend, and she's really good for him."

"I know," Dean said tiredly. "I got all the pictures you sent."

"Then why are you going to get him? Even though you'll never admit it, I know you hate hunting alone—I hate you hunting alone!—but why does it have to be Sam? Can't you call Bobby or Caleb?"

"No, I can't call Bobby or Caleb! I don't need Bobby or Caleb! Spencer!"

Reid bit his lip nervously.

"I just..." Then it was like he deflated. Dean's voice went soft, and Reid found himself pressing the phone closer to his ear to be sure he caught every word. "I was on a hunt last week. A lower level demon. I was in some nothing town, just trying to rest up a bit before I found my next job. It came out of nowhere, but I got it trapped easily enough. Wasn't exactly the smartest hellion I've run into over the years..."

"So what happened?"

"Well, I'd just gotten it tied up to the chair when it started waking back up. I figured it would be a simple exorcism and didn't think much of it when it started threatening me. I was almost done reading when it started yelling."

Reid swallowed. "What did it say?"

"Said that it knew I was looking for my dad. It tried to bribe me. The thing actually had the guts to tell me it would help me find Dad if I let it loose."

Reid had to smile at the disbelief in Dean's voice, but it faded as he thought through what Dean had just said. "How would it know you were looking for your dad?"

"That's what got me. I paused long enough to question it a bit, but it could've been anything. I wasn't too subtle, going around town, asking if anyone had seen someone like my dad recently. So I exorcised it, and headed on my way."

He knew Dean's story couldn't be that simple. "Why is it still bothering you?"

"I haven't found my dad, Spencer." Dean sighed. "He's been off-grid for almost three months. I've been searching on my own for two. But I haven't found him. I knew I was getting frustrated, but when I paused last week to actually consider this demon's offer...?"

"So you want help?"

"I want to find Dad."

"And you want Sam to help," Reid said, displeasure in his voice.

"Dad always disappears around this time of year," Dean admitted, "but he always checks in with me before he does. He knows I worry about him every year, especially with Sam not here to distract me."

Reid swallowed. He had forgotten it was almost that time again. The Winchester's anniversary of Mary's death.

John usually took off on the second of November every year, but he made it a point to speak to Dean a day or two before, even if they weren't hunting together at the time. It had become a habit several years back, when John disappeared without a word, and Dean freaked out, not knowing if he had finished his last hunt or not. It had been back when Dean was a senior in high school. He cut school one day, pulled Sam out as well, then set off in search of their father. It took them three days. They tracked him down to a town not too far away, and found him buried in a bottle, with at least a dozen lying empty beside him.

Sam told Reid later that he had never seen Dean so angry in all his life. He grabbed the bottle from his dad's hand, smashed it against one of the motel walls, then proceeded to yell at him until his voice was hoarse. He made his father sleep it off; then as soon as he woke up the next morning, Dean started yelling again. After almost an hour, Dean had finally had enough, and left the motel. It took Sam and John four days to find him. And it took John two more days to get Dean to talk to him.

When the next year rolled around, John was sure to call Dean ahead of time and let him know his hunt had been successful and that he was heading out of town for a day or two.

It turned into three, but Dean curbed his anger when John called early on the morning of the fourth day, terribly hung over. Dean only yelled a little that time, and that was because he was battling strep throat at the time.

Thanks to those two rocky years, John learned to call Dean and be where he was supposed to be around the second of November. He always wanted to be alone, and Dean respected that, but John made sure Dean knew he was okay during that time.

Reid sighed. "Do you think he's going to call? He's still got a few days, Dean. I'm sure he knows he has to call you."

"He did call, Spencer. That's the problem. He called, and left a message, but it wasn't one of those 'hey Dean, I'm disappearing again for a week and a half' messages, it was him saying that he thought something big was starting to happen. He said it was serious. Then he said that we were all in danger."

"He said 'all'?" Reid asked, to be sure.

"Yeah. So I recorded the message onto a tape recorder, messed with it a little bit, found EVP on it, and started driving. I found my dad's car, but he was gone. So after a day of searching the area, I started driving again. I reached a town on the edge of Nevada, practically hugging the border, and I've been here for two days, pacing the smallest and most smoke-filled room I've ever seen—and that's saying something—while I keep trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do. Dad said he's we're all in danger. All of us. And if Sammy's in danger..."

If Sam was in danger, Dean had to be there to protect him.

"I've been sitting here for two days, hoping Dad would call me up, say he was taking a break for a few days and disappearing. Tell me we were good for a few days, and that whatever freaked him out a couple days ago wasn't as bad as he thought. I thought he might even call me to tell me things were worse than he thought, and I had to check on Sam immediately! But he didn't. He hasn't called me back, even though I've called him almost every hour since he left that message on my phone!"

Reid had no idea what to say. But apparently Dean wasn't done yet.

"It's October twenty-ninth, Spencer. And I haven't spoken to Dad in three months. The only thing I've heard from him in that time is just this cryptic message that we're all in danger. It's three days until the worst day of the year for our family, where he usually becomes either the drunkest or most reckless hunter in the country. If we're really in danger, and he goes off on one of his legendary benders...! I can't even think about it, Spencer! This is bad. Really bad. He's been gone for too long, and I have reached a point where I honestly don't know if I'll ever find him again. He doesn't want to be found! He always leaves town just before I get there. Always finishes the hunt just before I can figure out what it is he's taking down. I'm tired of searching, and tracing his steps, and calling a freakin' cell phone that's never freakin' answered."

"But why do you need Sam?" Reid finally asked in desperation. "How do you know he's in danger?"

"Because I do, Spencer! Dad knew what I would think when he left that message! He knew I would start worrying about Sam. It's got to mean something. Do you think I really want to take him out of school? I know how happy he is there! I've seen the pictures of his blonde-haired beauty! He's got a good thing going for him, and much as I'd like to tie him up and throw him in the back seat of the Impala, I can't freakin' do that to him because he's too freakin' happy at Stanford! Sure, my life sucks on ice right now, but that's never mattered before, so why should it now? I want Sam to be happy, even though he's shunned me from his entire life and decided I'm not worth it. I can live with him never speaking to me again, I will find a way, but what I cannot live with—ever!—is the thought of Sam being in danger. He's been out of the game too long. He might not see the signs. Whatever's coming, it's gonna hit hard, and it's gonna—"

"Dean!" Reid interrupted. He could stand it no more. "Calm down and think this through, okay?"

"Think it through? I've been thinking it through for days! I got this message five days ago, and started driving as I thought it through. I've been sitting almost on top of the Californian border for two days, thinking it through! I can't think about it anymore—I have to do something!"

"Dean!" Reid yelled. "Shut up!"

Dean fell silent, but Reid could feel the tension still radiating through the quiet.

Reid sighed as he stood to pace the length of his bedroom. It took him two circuits, across the room and back, to figure out what to say. Dean stayed silent as he waited.

"You have to check on him."

Dean hesitated. "Wait. Seriously? You think I should go see Sam?"

"You have to make sure he's okay," Reid said with another sigh. "Or you have to at least warn him about what's going on."

"If I left now, I could be there by morning."

"No. You need to sleep." He was already starting to second-guess his advice... Sam had that big interview on Monday. It was important—like, whole future important. "Get some sleep, Dean. Then head out tomorrow morning to see him."

"I'm not sure I can sleep," Dean admitted quietly. "I think I'm a little too wired now..."

"If you don't rest, you're just going to be exhausted when you see him. Is that really what you want?"

"Dude, I'm already exhausted. I've barely slept in five days. All I can think about is what might be happening in Palo Alto. Dad didn't say what kind of danger it was, just that we're all in it. I know Sam used to be able to handle himself, but...he's been out of the game. All I can think about is every possible way that some monster could jump him. Werewolf while he's crossing the campus a night. Shapeshifter in his apartment complex. Witch in his classroom. Hex, curse, demon, ghoul, black dog—it never stops. I can't stop thinking."

Reid sat down on his bed. "I tracked down a serial killer today by using my knowledge of Metallica's Some Kind Of Monster album."

Dean fell silent. Reid could almost hear his brain as it tried to connect the non sequitor.

"You're kidding..." Dean said after a long moment.

"Not at all. Lay down and I'll tell you about it."

"Gonna tell me a bed time story, Spencey?" Dean teased.

"Shut up." He waited a moment. "Are you in bed yet?"

"Yes, Spencer," Dean said, sounding annoyed. But Reid heard the slight amusement in his voice that usually came about when Reid tried to order him around.

"We were chasing this unsub who kidnapped women and held them for days on end, torturing them, before finally killing them and dumping the body." Reid heard Dean mutter something about humans and monsters, but he chose to ignore it. "We found one unsub, but discovered he had a partner. So we started going through the first man's house. We found his laptop, but it was locked and set to destroy all of the information if we put in the wrong password too many times."

"So how does this relate to Metallica?"

"Well Morgan figured out that the password was probably related to one of the literally hundreds of CDs the guy had in his room, so we started going through them. You would have appreciated this guy's style too. It was all Metallica, AC/DC, Zepplin, and whatever else you listen to, plus more like it. But one of the albums was bothering me. I had found an empty case on the headboard, but the CD wasn't anywhere I could find."

"Metallica?"

"Some Kind Of Monster," he confirmed. "I finally realized it was probably in the laptop's CD drive. So I used one of my paperclips to pry it open. It turns out this unsub dealt with insomnia, so Morgan guessed that the password had to do with a song that helped him sleep at night."

"Enter Sandman," Dean guessed immediately.

Reid laughed. "Exactly. I told Morgan to try that song, and it worked. The next thing we knew, we were watching live video footage of the latest victim. Through that, we were able to get the clue we needed for Hotch to interrogate the unsub. Gideon and Elle went down to the shipyard, found the partner, and rescued the woman."

"So Metallica saves the day again," Dean said with some amusement.

Reid smiled at that. "Yeah, it did. Morgan asked me later how I had guessed the song so quickly. I lied and told him I had read the back of the case while I was searching through the rest of the CDs, and that it was the only title that made sense."

Dean laughed. "So he doesn't know you could sing to every word of that song then?"

"Not exactly part of the person everyone around here expects me to be."

"I know what you mean..."

Reid frowned at the tone of his voice when he said that. "What do you mean?"

"It's nothing, Spencer. Doesn't matter. Listen, sorry for kind of dumping all of that crap on you earlier. It's been a long five days, and I've been cooped up for two days in a motel room that I feel like I can't even stand up straight in."

"Exhausted and nearly claustrophobic," Reid commented, "a bad mixture."

"Add that on top of knowing my family's in danger and you can see why I snapped, I hope."

"Dean, it's fine. I know you're just worried and tired. You should get some rest." Reid hesitated, but knew he had to say it. "And Dean? When you go to see Sam...if he doesn't want to come with you...?"

"Don't push him?" Dean asked quietly, knowing what was on his mind already.

"He's really happy there, Dean. You have to make sure he's safe, and that he knows something is going on with your family. But Dean, you can't just take him away for good and hope everything else falls into place."

"I know, Spencer... I know."

Reid winced at the defeated tone. But he wouldn't take it back. "Make sure he's safe. Then call me, okay? I've got a friend who's good with computers and could maybe help you track down your dad. She wouldn't ask questions. If you really want help, she's a safe bet."

"I'll think about it, Spencer. Okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine. Now rest, Dean. Get some sleep and call me tomorrow after you talk to Sam."

"Okay. And Spencer?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for calling. And...thanks for trying to distract me. Sorry I dumped on you."

"It's fine, Dean. What are friends for?"

"You're family, and you know it," Dean countered.

Reid smiled, but he didn't reply, already knowing that they were edging too close to a chick-flick moment. "Night, Dean."

"Night, little man. I'll call you tomorrow."

Reid hung up.

AN: Up next, we have a short tag to the Supernatural pilot episode. (Tissue-warning!)