The last chapter had some really mixed reviews. (I thought it was funny, but I am kind of warped.) Let's see what ya'll think of this one. As always, thanks goes out to LaceyM, charis-kalos and Kanarah J for their editing efforts and to dear Amy, who braved the original draft and has been asking me when this would post. Future chapter may post a little slower, because I'm in the midst of some more rewriting. (Yes, more!! Hey, the editors want more chapters and the characters kept inserting stuff into the parts I've already written. What can I do?)

Chapter Six: Family Matters

(Scarecrow)

Dean was dead to the world, as usual, so Sam answered his phone. "Hello?"

"Sam? What are you doing answering Dean's phone?" Dad's voice blared through at this ungodly hour.

Sam sat bolt upright in bed. "Dad? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Dad said, sounding flustered.

"We've been looking for you everywhere," Sam rushed to say. "We didn't know where you were, if you were okay."

"Sammy, I'm all right. I take it you're with Dean?" Dad asked. "How are you?"

Sam felt there was more in that question than just an inquiry about his welfare. "We're fine," he said, allowing his tone to tell Dad there was a long, long talk in their future. "Dad, where are you?" Out of the corner of his eye, Sam watched Dean sit up in bed.

"Sorry, kiddo, I can't tell you that."

Sam ground his teeth, not that this wasn't exactly the type of thing he expected. "What? Why not?"

"Is that Dad?" Dean asked softly. Sam ignored him.

"Look, I know this is hard for you to understand. You're just gonna have to trust me on this."

A familiar feeling flared up. It was something that only yesterday had consumed him. "You're after it, aren't you?" Sam accused. No one knew his dad better than he did. "The thing that killed Mom."

"Yeah. It's a demon, Sam."

Answers. Dad had answers, and he wasn't sharing. "A demon? You know for sure?"

"A demon? What's he saying?" Dean asked, waving at Sam to get his attention. Sam refused to even look in Dean's direction, this was more important.

"I do. Listen, Sammy, I, uh… I also know what happened to your girlfriend. I'm so sorry." Sam felt the tears sting his eyes. Dad knew, but he never came? "I would've done anything to protect you from that."

"You know where it is?" he demanded. Ellicott was not responsible for all of his anger issues, clearly. Not with the way he felt now.

"Yeah, I think I'm finally closing in on it."

Red flashed through his vision. Dad planned to take on a demon, The DEMON, alone? "Let us help."

"You can't. You can't be any part of it," Dad snapped through the phone.

"Why not?" Sam demanded.

"Can I talk to him?" Dean asked, his hand in Sam's face. Sam brushed it away.

"Listen, Sammy, that's why I'm calling. You and, uh, Dean, you gotta stop looking for me. Alright, now, I need you to write down these names."

"Names?" Sam was floored. This was why Dad called? To tell them to back off? "Names? What names, Dad? Talk to me, tell me what's going on."

"Look, we don't have time for this."

"Is that my phone?" Dean asked, searching the nightstand between their beds. Again, Sam ignored him.

"This is bigger than you think, they're everywhere. Even us talking right now, it's not safe."

"No. All right? No way," Sam insisted. This was ridiculous. Couldn't Dad see that?

"Give me the phone." Now that tone of Dean's Sam never heard used on him before. He glanced over at the hard face.

"I have given you an order. Now, you stop following me and you do your job. You understand me?" Sam shook his head though Dad couldn't see him. "Now, take down these names."

The phone was wrenched from his hand. "Dad, it's me." Sam watched in horrified fascination as Dean talked to his dad. "Where are you? … Yes, sir. … Uh, yeah, I got a pen." Dean scrambled for the notepad and pen on the nightstand. "What are their names?"

Is that why Dad let Dean hang around? Because he finally got his perfect, obedient little soldier? Sam's stomach twisted. The instant Dean got off the phone, he planned to do a check on that number Dad called from. This was the best lead they'd had.

Later, on the way to some state highway in Indiana, Sam pulled off the road. He tried to convince Dean to go to California with him to find Dad, but Dean had to play the perfect little soldier. "It's the middle of the night! Hey, I'm taking off, I will leave your ass, you hear me?" Dean shouted from beside the car.

"I want you to, Dean! Go!" Sam waved him off.

"Goodbye, Sam." Furious, Dean jumped in his car and sped off. Sam glared at the retreating image of the car. Dad's car. Why the hell did Dad give that guy his car anyway? Okay, so it probably ran better than ever now, but still. Sam had known he would be able to get Dean to leave him, but he had hoped they would both make the California trip. It would have been easier with a car.

It took several hours of walking since no one would pick him up, even when he met that cute girl. At the bus station, Sam heard his cell go off. It was Dean. What the hell? "What is it, Dean?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Ah, I'm pretty sure it's a pagan god."

"Really?" Sam asked, wondering why Dean bothered to call. "What makes you say that?"

"The annual cycle of its killings and the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman, like some kind of fertility right. You should see the locals. The way they treated this couple… Fattenin' 'em up like a Christmas turkey." Dean sounded disgusted.

"The last meal. Given to sacrificial victims," Sam replied, his brain automatically coming to the same conclusion.

"Yeah, I'm thinking ritual sacrifices to appease some pagan god. It possesses the scarecrow, which takes the sacrifice, and for another year the crops won't wilt and disease won't spread."

"Scarecrow?" Sam asked. He listened to Dean's explanation, the usual horror and fascination he associated with hunting welling up. He attempted to push those feelings away, concentrate on the reason he was sitting alone in a bus station. "Do you know which god you're dealing with?" he asked, trying to distract himself from that emerging sense of guilt.

"No. Not yet."

Sam shut his eyes, trying ride out the current wave of guilt. "If you can figure out what it is, you can figure out a way to kill it," Sam offered. His long walk cooled his temper, but there was no way he was going back there if Dean wouldn't help him find Dad.

"Yeah, I figured. I'm on my way to a local community college. Since I don't have my trusty geek-boy with me, I have an appointment with a university professor."

Sam felt another stab of guilt. Had Dean ever hunted by himself before? He shouldn't have abandoned the guy, but Dean kept getting in the way of searching for Dad. Dad was more important. Dad was family. Dean was…well…what the hell was he, anyway? Every time Sam thought he had Dean figured out, something new popped up.

"Dean, if you want my help, all you have to do is say so." Did that really come out of his mouth? He must feel worse than he thought.

"Nah. I just…" Dean cleared his throat. Sam waited, trying to be patient. "I, uh, admire you, you know. The way Dad talks about you, and the way you are and how you stand up to Dad. I could never…" his voice broke. Well, Sam could understand that. Dad had to put up with him, but Dean? If Dean ever back-talked Dad, Dad would probably leave him in the dust. He wondered if that's what happened. "I'm proud of ya, Sammy."

Sam stared off into space. Proud? Of him? For abandoning the guy in the middle of a hunt? "I don't know what to say, Dean." No idea. No clue.

"Say you'll take care of yourself."

Sam started at the suggestion. He abandoned Dean, but the guy was still worried about him? "I will," he promised, feeling another, deeper stab of guilt.

"Call me when you find Dad."

"Ok," Sam agreed, mainly because at this point he figured Dean probably deserved it. Even if Dad didn't want him to, he would. At this point he owed Dean at least that. "Bye, Dean."

"Who was that?" The cute blonde, Meg, was back. He was relieved when she showed up; it was nice to see a friendly face. He hadn't realized how used to traveling with someone he was until he had to sit alone in this bus station.

"Uh, Dean." Sam nodded, realizing that Meg might not understand and assume the wrong thing. She looked away. A lifetime of lying really paid off at times like these. "My brother."

"Oh." Meg looked at him again, smiled. "What did he say?"

Sam swallowed past the lump in his throat that shouldn't be there. "Goodbye."

He exchanged a look with Meg before settling down on the floor to wait. The next bus to California, where Dad was, would not be there until tomorrow. Sam wondered how long it would be until Dean reached the college. When Sam rummaged in his wallet looking for a spare dollar for one of the vending machines, he ran across the Jerry Whitehead ID. Great, Dean was proud of him and trusted him with the legal ID. How long had that been in there, anyway? Consumed with guilt Sam slumped back against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor. He drummed his fingers nervously on the stained vinyl tiles until he managed to fall asleep leaning against the wall.

When he woke, Sam reached for his cell. No calls. Concerned that Dean did not call him after talking to the professor, Sam figured he should call. Sam felt the need to be sure Dean understood what he was dealing with and how to kill it. No answer. Confused, Sam kept trying. Maybe Dean was just out of range. After three hours of voicemail, he made his decision.

"Sam!" Meg rushed over. "The bus is here. Let's go!"

"You catch it. I have to go," Sam swung his bag over his shoulder.

"What? Where?" Her brow furrowed, like he just said the last thing she ever expected to hear.

"My, uh, brother. He isn't answering his phone, it keeps rolling over to voicemail. I have to find him." Sam tried to walk past her, but she jumped in his way.

"Your brother?" Meg demanded. "You mean the guy you were running away from? Now you're running to him? Why, because he won't pick up the phone? He probably just turned it off. Sam, come to California with me."

With her. The invitation was clear, and really tempting. "I'm sorry. This isn't like him. I'm sure he's in trouble. I have to go."

"What kind of trouble?" Meg asked.

"I can't explain. Go catch your bus." Sam headed for the door.

"But why?" she demanded again.

"Because," Sam turned around slowly as the words formed, "he's my family."

Whoa. That was weird, and yet the description felt right. The Jerry Whitehead ID felt heavy in his wallet as Sam walked purposefully outside the bus station. Dean's hotwiring lessons finally paid off. As he broke into and hotwired a car at the far end of the parking lot, Sam wondered if Dean would approve of Sam leaving such a hot chick for him. Probably not, he decided as the engine roared to life. Looked like he had plenty of gas to get back, he just hoped it would be in time.

As he headed toward town, Sam strained to remember Dean's description of the orchard and the scarecrow. Was it along this road? Wait a minute, what was that? That looked suspiciously like someone tied to a tree. Sam pulled over, slamming on the brakes. With the fresh scent of burnt rubber heavy in his nostrils, Sam raced through the orchard.

"I can't see." It was a woman's voice. She sounded scared. Sam moved closer, towards it. "Oh my God." He was nearly there. "Oh, my God!"

"Dean?" he asked of the lump next to the tree in front of him.

"Oh! Oh, I take back everything I said," Dean twisted around to look at him. Sam felt his shame burn in his cheeks. Yeah, obviously Dean had feelings too. "I am so happy to see you! Come here." Dean shook his well tied hands at Sam. Sam whipped out his knife to cut him loose. "Wait, how did you get here?"

"I, uh," Sam ducked his head, embarrassed as he cut away the last of Dean's bonds, "stole a car."

"Haha! That's my boy! And keep an eye on that scarecrow," Dean pushed himself up, "he could come alive any minute."

"What scarecrow?" Sam asked, looking around. He had been trying to spot one on the way in.

Dean and the girl both jumped. Sam cut away the girl's bonds. "So any idea how to kill it?"

"Sacred tree," Dean said, prying at the ropes holding the girl. "It's the source of its power." Freed, she grabbed Dean's hand and he led them both through the orchard.

"So let's find it and torch it." Sam suggested, keeping up easily.

"Nah, in the morning. Let's shag ass before Leatherface shows up." That particular note in Dean's voice struck an alarm in Sam's mind. They burst into a small clearing ringed with what Sam assumed were townspeople. "This way." Dean spun around, but more people armed with shotguns blocked their way.

"Please," the girl pleaded, "let us go."

"It will be over quickly," a gray-haired man said, stepping forward. Sam really hoped the guy was not related to her, but the familiar tones were hard to miss.

"Please," she said, her desperation clear.

"Emily," the man rested a hand on her shoulder, "you have to let him take you. You have to…" Red blossomed across his stomach, followed by a black object protruding through the fabric. A look of shock came over the man's face as he was dragged backwards.

"Come on," Dean said, a firm hand on Sam's shoulder spinning him around and shoving him away. They raced from the clearing. Dean paused just before they made it to the end of the orchard to look back. Sam turned, following his gaze. The clearing was empty. It got all of them. "Guess the apple pie wasn't worth it," he muttered, heading for the car.

The next morning they torched the tree and put Emily on a bus. Sam watched the bus pull away. "Think she'll be all right?"

"I hope so," Dean replied, turning to head for the car.

"So. The townspeople? They're just going to get away with it?" Sam asked, following in step behind Dean.

Dean shrugged. "I guess whatever happens to the town now will have to be punishment enough." He glanced back at Sam. "So, can I drop you off somewhere?"

"Nah." Sam reached for the door handle of the Impala. "I think you're stuck with me."

"Really? What made you change your mind?" Dean's brow furrowed as he studied Sam.

Sam wondered if Dean would believe him, even if it was the truth. That drive last night had scared him, more than he wanted to admit. "I didn't. I still wanna find Dad. And you're still a pain in the ass." He was surprised Dean just nodded without comment. "But, Jess and Mom—they're both gone. Dad is God knows where. You and me. We're all that's left. So, if we're gonna see this through, we're gonna do it together." Plus, it nearly killed Sam to see them tied to a tree left for sacrifice. That was his fault, for not being there. Dad created and then abandoned Dean, leaving Sam to pick up the pieces. Sam decided he would not be responsible for dropping any of those pieces again, not with peoples' lives on the line.

"Sam," Dean rested a hand on his shoulder, "that was beautiful. Hold me."

Sam knocked it away, laughing. "Dude, you should be kissing my ass. You were dead meat." He dropped down into the passenger seat. When it was Dad's car, this was his seat, and now that it was Dean's, he was still in the passenger seat. It seemed to be his lot in life.

"I had a plan," Dean protested, sliding behind the wheel, eyes sparkling. "I'd have gotten out."

"Yeah, right." Sam rolled his eyes as Dean started the car. Somehow this felt right to him, more so than he had felt in weeks.

(Faith)

Sam carried Dean out to the Impala. A couple of minutes of CPR and Dean started breathing on his own, thank God, but he did not wake. The kids scrambled into the front seat so Sam could lay him down in the back. This so did not go according to plan.

He raced to the hospital, the kids still whimpering in the seat next to him. He hated to admit it, but Dean was better with kids than he was. He should be up here keeping them quiet. That whimpering was annoying.

At the hospital, it took all of Sam's restraint not to sucker punch the doctor. Can't work miracles, huh? Well, he'd see about that. He tried calling Dad. Voicemail, of course. Sam heard the crack in his voice as he left the message about the accident, hoping Dad would call with a miracle. He knew it was false hope, but he'd already left messages with about a dozen people out of Dad's journal. Someone had to know something.

There was a knock at the door. Sam jumped up, wondering if his fake credit card had thrown up a red flag. Dean, pale and weak, leaned against the doorframe.

"Are you insane?" Sam demanded, leading him inside.

"Dude, I am not dying in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot," Dean said with a chuckle, allowing Sam to guide him into a chair. Sam shook his head. At least Dean still had that annoying sense of humor, so he couldn't feel too bad.

Sam reevaluated that judgment when they were on the road. The snarky comments still flowed from Dean's mouth, between long naps and turning up the heat. He finally decided Dean's annoying sense of humor was just a coping mechanism.

"Did Dad call?" Dean asked for the two-hundredth time as they pulled in for gas.

"Not yet," Sam replied. "We don't even know if he checked his voicemail."

Dean nodded, sinking lower in the seat. "Yeah, that must be it."

Sam heard the resigned tones and it made him cringe. Jerry hadn't had a family since he was five, and now Dean felt neglected. That wasn't right. It wasn't fair. It also wasn't fair that Dean had single-handedly faced down a rawhead so Sam could get those kids to safety. It wasn't fair Dean got himself electrocuted, mainly because he idiotically amped up the tasers to a hundred thousand volts, but it was for a good cause. The weight of Jerry's ID was heavy in his pocket.

Sam restrained a groan as he gassed up Dean's beast; his car. When did he start thinking of it as Dean's car, anyway? Even if Dean…no, he did not want to go there. No matter what, the Impala was Dean's. Period. He hoped that Joshua guy, the friend of Dad's, was on the level. No one had ever intentionally crossed Sam and he really hoped this would not be the first time. He knew what happened to people who crossed Dad, and Sam did not have Dad's patience. He had a lot less.