Chapter Two

"I can't believe we've been pardoned," Sam Winchester said blankly, staring at the card in his hand. It was an ID card proclaiming him as a Special Agent for the government run group H.A.U.N.T. It was the last thing either brother had been expecting, being pardoned of all 'crimes' by the President of the United States.

"Took them long enough," Dean, his older brother, muttered. "I mean, we saved them nearly two months ago…and nearly died in the process." Dean kept his eyes on the road, but felt like grinning. No more running from the FBI. That would certainly make their job of saving lives a lot easier.

"Not to mention nearly being arrested again," Sam added. Yeah, that gig two months ago had been a kicker.

Dean allowed himself that grin. "Well, we did break into the White House, kick zombie butt and practically save the government of the United States." When they had gotten word that people in the White House were dying, they had known that they needed to check it out. And it had been probably the most difficult thing they had done so far, and that included coming back from being dead themselves.

Sam grinned as well. "Dude. No more credit-card fraud." Because they now had paying jobs, and back accounts that could be accessed anywhere in the US. Which meant that they no longer had to lie their way through life.

Dean blinked. "Hey, I hadn't thought of that."

Sam shook his head, sliding the card back into the flip wallet that also had his badge, a shield with a Key of Solomon engraved onto it. "Still, making hunters legal employees of the government? Who woulda guessed?"

"And for a group called H.A.U.N.T.?" Dean snickered. "What's that even mean?" One had to admit, the name did seem a little cliché, given what these 'special agents' were out to do.

Sam laughed. "I think they just picked a bunch of random Latin words…"

Dean's phone rang and he dug in his pocket for a moment, frowning at the number on the screen. "Hey. Dean Winchester."

"Alec, we need your help."

Dean swung the Impala around and pulled to a stop. "Logan?!"

"Well, actually, I go by Tony now, and you go by Dean, but yeah."

Dean glanced at his little brother, noticing Sam's inquiring face. "Okay, what's up?"

"Manticore's on the move again."

Exhaling fiercely, Dean let lose a few expletives. "Where are you?"

"I work for NCIS in D.C."

"Oh goody," Dean muttered. "The feds."

Sam blinked, only hearing one side of this conversation. "Technically, Dean, we're feds now too."

"Yeah, but do they know that?" Dean snapped to his brother, before turning his attention back to the phone call. "We're about an hour out. We'll meet you there."

"Kay."

Dean hung up, throwing the phone in the back seat and denying himself the pleasure of bashing his head against the steering wheel. "Dean?" Sam asked. "What was that about?"

"Nothing, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes, but didn't correct the nickname. "This about Manticore?"

Dean gave Sam a shocked look. "How'd you know about that?"

"One, I'm psychic. Two, you talk in your sleep." Sam grinned. "And three, Dad told me all about it before I left for Stanford."

Dean blinked. "Figures."

Sam motioned to the road they were parked on, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, adopted or not from some not-so-government-run lab, you're still my brother." He paused, and Dean read the truthfulness of that statement from his brother's eyes, and gave a small sigh of relief. He had never told Sam of his past with Manticore for the very reason of being abandoned by his little brother. Obviously, that wasn't an issue. "So, we gonna meet up with your friends, or not?"

"Shut it," Dean grumbled. "Bitch."

"Jerk."