Thanks again to everyone following this. It's going to take a left turn into serious AU-land pretty soon, mainly because I've had requests to do so. Future chapters are still being written, so if there's anything you really, really want to see...now is the time to say so.

Chapter Fourteen: The Demon's Trail

(Salvation)

Dean followed Dad's black truck toward Salvation, Iowa. Dad had said something about electrical storms.

"What's with the electrical storms?" Dean asked. "Why is that a big deal?"

"When demons show up, they cause all kinds of disturbances. One of them is electrical storms," Sam explained patiently. It amazed Dean how Sam put up with all of his stupid questions. He had seen Sam lose it with a few librarians and bookstore clerks asking more innocuous questions.

"So that's why Dad figures one is coming to Salvation?" he asked.

"Pretty much. Dad puts a lot more effort into it than just weather reports, but essentially that's it." Sam shuffled through some of Dad's papers. Dean couldn't understand half that stuff, so he preferred to drive while Sam read up.

The truck swerved off the road. Dean followed.

"Sam? Something's up." Dean braked quickly off the road, stopping just behind Dad.

Dad stepped out of the truck with an expression on his face that Dean couldn't recall seeing before.

"Shit," Sam breathed. "This is bad. Come on."

Dean stepped quickly out of the car, his worry level amped all the way up. He decided to follow Sam's lead now, having no idea what to do with Dad in this kind of mood. This was new territory for him.

"Dad?" Sam called out as Dad dropped out of the truck. "What is it?"

"Jim Murphy." Dad met Sam's eyes, they shared a moment heavy with emotion. "He's dead."

Sam's face registered shock. "Pastor Jim?"

Dad nodded, eyes still on Sam. Dean felt like an outsider, for the first time in a long time. They grieved for someone from their past, someone he had never met.

"I'm ending this." Dad's voice was deceptively soft. "This ends. Now." He glanced at Dean, nodded subtly toward Sam. Then Dad climbed back inside his truck and gunned the engine. Dean could take a hint. He jumped behind the wheel as Sam slid into the passenger seat.

Take care of Sam. That was what Dad just told him to do, and here he was, still taking orders. This one he would have done even without the order. Dean cleared his throat, uncomfortable. Hell, this couldn't be worse than all the crap they'd already been through because of Jess.

"Were you close?" he asked, breaking the silence. Sam did not answer. "Pastor Jim?"

He glanced over at Sam. His brother flinched a little at the mention of Pastor Jim.

"I can't believe he's gone," Sam muttered. "He was always there, you know?"

Now Sam sounded more normal. Oh yeah, Dean was in for a monstrous monologue now.

"Even when I was at school, I could always call Jim. Whenever Dad went on a hunt he thought would take a while, more than a week, he would leave me at Pastor Jim's. He and Bobby were the only people I ever felt like I could count on growing up."

"Bobby?" Dean interrupted. He couldn't help it. Sam actually trusted Bobby? Was it the same Bobby? "You're not talking about Bobby Singer?" he demanded.

"Yeah, Bobby Singer. Why? Did you meet him?" Sam asked, turning in his seat.

"Not exactly," Dean grumbled. "No offense, Sam, but I don't care much for the guy."

"Why? What happened?" Sam asked in that overbearing, demanding voice he inherited from Dad.

"You mean before or after he chased us off with a shotgun?" Dean said, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. "I assume Pastor Jim wouldn't have done that?"

"Uh…no." Sam threw him a few confused glances. "Jim is a…was a great guy. He'd never do that, no matter what. I can't imagine…"

Dean shook his head. "Forget it," he insisted. He was supposed to be looking after Sam, not getting him more worked up than he already was. "Don't worry about that. Tell me about Jim."

Sam talked for a good thirty minutes before he trailed off into silence. Maybe a half a minute into the silence Dean started to get worried. Sam usually wrapped up his monologues, he didn't leave them hanging like this. Before he could prompt Sam again, his brother spoke.

"Why did you do that? Ask me to tell you about Pastor Jim?" he asked softly.

Dean shrugged, not understanding why Sam would ask something so obvious. "You needed to talk."

Sam chuckled. "You do that a lot. I've noticed."

"What?" Dean glanced over, still confused. "What do I do?"

Sam actually smiled at him, even if it was kind of a sad smile. "Be my big brother."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Pain in my ass," he grumbled.

Sam laughed at that, reached out to shove him in the shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. Just keep denying what a great brother you are."

Dean shook his head, working hard to pretend that he wasn't reveling in the praise. "Well, when compared with such a girly guy for a little brother…"

"Oh, no!" Sam snapped. "You did not go there! Dude, I am so kicking your ass at the motel."

Dean snorted, relieved that the touchy-feely moment had passed. "How? Bringing friends?"

"Oh, I wouldn't need any friends," Sam stated in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Still living in that delusion?" Dean asked. He honestly wasn't sure which one of them would win in an all-out fight, and he would go to any lengths not to find out.

"Oh, I'm delusional?" Sam demanded. Dean could hear that teasing tone in his voice. "How old were you when you started traveling around with some crazy guy who hunted demons?"

"Hey, hey," Dean warned, holding up a hand.

"And calling him Dad?"

Dean pretended to be angry so he could glare at Sam. "Complaints?"

Sam laughed again, but this time it sounded distinctly lighter than before. "Nope. Not one."

"Yeah, I didn't think so," Dean snapped. It was the closest he could get to 'thanks' and 'you're welcome', but obviously Sam knew that. He relaxed into his seat, grateful that the awkward moment had passed. "And he never said anything about demons. It was a Wendigo."

"Oh, yeah," Sam replied with a chuckle, "that's much better." He let out a huge sigh. "Jim would've really liked you."

Dean shrugged. "What's not to like?"

He heard Sam chuckle again. The silence was not heavy, it was simply the absence of words. The radio provided background music for their thoughts as he followed Dad into Salvation. Strange name for a town.

"So this is it," Sam said, breaking the silence.

"Guess so," Dean replied. Dad pulled off at the first motel, Dean followed.

"Too bad," Sam said as they parked.

Dean turned to frown at his brother. "Why's that?"

Sam shrugged. "Dunno. Guess I was just enjoying the drive."

Dean frowned at him. "You're seriously weird, you know that?"

Sam shrugged again. "Comes with the territory. So, are we sharing with Dad or getting our own room?"

Dean smiled at that. "Probably sharing, unless you two start going at it again. Then I might leave you two at it and go get my own room."

Sam's eyes widened comically. "You wouldn't. Would you?"

Dean chuckled at the reaction. "Nah. Might kick your ass if you start it, though."

Sam breathed out sharply. "Best behavior. I swear."

"I'm holding you to that," Dean warned with a shake of his finger.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever."

Dad was already in the office to rent a room for them by the time he and Sam pulled their duffels out of the car. Dean figured Dad probably already had a full plan of action for them, all they had to do was walk into the motel room to find out.

--

Sam adjusted his duffel strap nervously as he followed Dean to the room. Dad waved them inside, so clearly they were all supposed to be sharing again. Dad hadn't really started the usual crap last time, except for the need-to-know stuff, but he guessed that was to be expected. Sam felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Did Dad act the same way with Dean that he did the whole time Sam was growing up?

There were three beds in the room, which was kind of surprising. Not many hotels had rooms with three beds, much less a motel. Dad had already claimed the bed by the door and Dean stretched out on the one in the center. Sam dropped his duffel by the bed furthest from the door. That was a pattern in his family, he noticed: Sammy sleeps by the wall.

Sam nearly bit through his tongue as Dad outlined the plan. He and Dean were find records of all births from six months ago and make a list of all the children who would turn exactly six months old within the next few days. Dad had 'something else' to research. Sam looked pleadingly at Dean, but Dean just nodded and replied 'yes, sir.' Great. No idea what Dad was up to and they were stuck with the grunt work, as usual. Obviously it didn't bother Dean half as much as it bothered Sam.

He and Dean split up to check out the birth records. Dean planned to hit the hospital and Sam wanted to check the town's public records. However, if anyone moved here with a child about to turn six months old, they would never find out this way. As Sam scanned through the public records, making his list, he wondered what Dad might be up to. He was probably trying to find more evidence of the demon coming.

Deciding that he couldn't get any more information here, Sam stuffed his papers in his bag. He shouldered the bag as he headed outside. When the first warm rays of sunlight struck his face, a headache started. Sam rubbed his forehead, trying to ignore it.

The world around him blinked away for a moment. Sam froze, knowing what was happening to him now. Shit. Dean wasn't here. His hand found a pole of some kind, maybe for a streetlight. Sam hung on as the lights turned sharply off. He saw a dark nursery, with a mobile above the bed. He heard the sound of a train whistle. A dark figure stood over the crib. There was a scream. The scene shifted, the room spun. The scream came from a woman. She slid slowly up the wall making terrified noises as her eyes fixed on the baby in the crib.

The world around him snapped back, blinding him with the brilliant sunlight. Sam blinked hard, forcing his eyes to adjust.

"Hey, buddy. You all right?" The voice came from the vicinity of his left elbow. Sam looked down at a short elderly man.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine." He released his death grip on the streetlight. "Just got a little dizzy for a second. I'm fine now."

"Okay." The man looked skeptical. "You take it easy now."

"Yeah. Thanks." Sam dug through his backpack for the map of town he just acquired. He searched it for neighborhoods near train tracks. One in particular looked promising.

--

Dean checked his watch. It was nearly time to meet up at the motel. He had a list of baby names and addresses, as well as the number of the cute gal who worked at the hospital. All in all, it was a successful day. He drove by the library, but Sam wasn't out front. Dean pulled out his cell, called Sam's number. It rang twice before Sam answered.

"Hey, Dean. I'm not at the library."

"Well, you're sure not out front. Where are you? Need a ride or did you call Dad?" Dean asked, putting his car in park.

"I found where the demon is coming tonight. Pick me up and I'll explain everything." Sam rattled off directions that Dean struggled to memorize as he pulled away from the curb. His memory was just not as good as Sam's or Dad's.

He found Sam in a nice little neighborhood, the kind of place where kids still played in the streets. Sam looked a little pale as he pulled up.

"Dude? You okay? What happened?" Dean demanded, slamming the car into park.

Sam dropped heavily into the front seat, ran both hands over his face. "I had a vision, about the woman in that house." He pointed out a nice suburban house down the street. "The demon is going to do to her what it did to Mom and Jess. We have to stop it, Dean. We have to."

"You sure it's tonight?" Dean asked. At least now he knew why Sam looked so pale. Those damned visions really took it out of him.

Sam nodded. "Their daughter is exactly six months old today."

"Good enough for me," Dean replied. And it was, too. Now all they had to do was convince Dad. Yeah, that was going to go over well. 'Hey Dad, Sam had this vision so we know exactly where the demon is going to hit next.' Maybe he should go get that other room.

"Thinking about getting another room, aren't you?" Sam asked, breaking his train of thought.

"Who? Me?" Dean asked, startled. When did Sam learn to read him so damn well, anyway?

"Thought so," Sam replied. "Might not be a bad idea, but I'm coming with you. And that means Dad is going to follow us, so it won't do you any good anyway."

Dean rolled his eyes. "God, you're a pain."

Sam flashed him a genuine grin, the first real smile Dean had seen for a while. "That's what little brothers are for."

"Wish somebody had warned me," he mumbled. Dean was rewarded with a light smack on the shoulder.

He wanted to delay this, maybe grab something to eat first, but the anticipation of telling Dad would make anything they stopped to eat taste bland. So Dean headed for the motel, wondering if Dad was even there. The black truck in the parking lot answered that question. He shared a long look with Sam before they exited the car.

Sam followed him to the room. Dean wasn't sure how he wanted to tell Dad, but somehow the fact Sam was following his lead already was reassuring.