**disclaimer: Sam and Dean are NOT mine, but Eric Kripke is my saviour for inventing them and YAY Jared and Jensen for making them come alive**

FOUR

"It's amazing; you wouldn't believe all that they can do!" Sam had been blabbering on and on about the Elementals since they'd gotten in the car. Claire had graciously offered the brothers the pull-out couch to sleep on while they were in town, but Dean had stepped in to decline before Sam could say "amazing" one more time.

Now they were driving around town, at nearly two o'clock in the morning, looking for a motel to stay in. Not many places were still open, but Dean was sure they'd find someplace, they always did, or they'd be sleeping in the car. He was also seriously considering getting two separate rooms so he wouldn't have to listen to Sam talk anymore. Maybe he'd quit talking in his sleep, or maybe Dean could just throw a pillow over his head and that would stop him.

"Claire told me all sorts of stories from when they were growing up and just getting used to using their powers, you would not believe how quickly they got powerful. It's amazing!"

Dean nodded and glanced to his right. Nope, only a superstore and a dry cleaners.

"There was this one other thing that she said that might be useful for the case."

At this, Dean tuned in, "Finally, something useful."

"What'd you say?"

"Nothing. Tell me what she said."

"Not funny."

"I wasn't making a dirty joke, Sam, tell me what Claire said that might help the hunt."

Sam sighed and his hyper-activeness toned down a few notches before he spoke again, more businesslike this time, thankfully, instead of the six year old boy he'd sounded like earlier.

"She explained to me the different types of witches that she knew about. Some of them you know too, the sell-your-soul witches, the striga, the Elementals, the ones born with a specific power and the practitioners."

"Your point being?"

"Practitioners can go either way, good or bad. The good ones are the Wiccans and the bad ones-"

"Let me guess, carve your forehead and leave you for dead cults?"

"Cults," Sam nodded, "Exactly. Of course, we knew this, but Claire happens to know a lot about a bunch of different types of witches. She might be able to help us pin-point exactly who is doing this and exactly what it is that they are doing."

Dean furrowed his brow, "Why not just stake out at those mansions we saw at the edge of town to see if there's something going on there?"

"Do you remember what became of our last stake out?" Sam tousled his hair, spraying droplets of water everywhere.

Dean rolled his eyes, "Okay, fine, so that didn't work like I planned, but we don't need Claire's help. We don't need any of their help. We know what they're doing, they want money, they're ritually sacrificing people to some sort of god to do it. Probably a pagan god or something, like that fugly scarecrow in Burkitsville. It doesn't matter who they are or why they're doing it though. We just have to find them out and get rid of them so that it doesn't happen again."

"Aren't you forgetting something? Cults may be evil, but they're still just people. Are you suggesting we barge in there and slaughter huge houses-full of people?" Sam gave Dean that look, that look that said "you're jumping again without thinking". The older Winchester suddenly thought of Tana, but shook his head and jumped again.

"No, I'm not suggesting that. We douse and burn whatever tree or bush or vase is giving them all the power, or the money. Whatever it is has the spirit of some kind of god and we'll just get rid of it. Easy as that."

"Not as easy as that. What if it's not a god, what if there's not a sigil or an item to burn. What if it's not that simple?"

"Then we figure it out ourselves, it's what we're good at," Dean said stubbornly. His hands were now clutching the steering wheel with such gusto that his knuckles were white. He didn't notice, however.

Sam sighed again with a shake of his head, "It would go a hell of a lot faster if you'd just let Claire and her sisters tell us what they know."

"We can do this alone, Sam, we have been for years. We don't need those witches getting in the way of our work."

"They're not just witches, Dean, they're also people and I don't like the tone you're using when you talk about them. You make them sound like the monsters that we hunt," Sam frowned and turned to face Dean in his seat.

"I'm sorry, okay. I don't mean to, I'm just-"

"You can't think of a reason for them not to help," Sam said matter-of-factly, "You just don't want them around because they have powers and they freak you out. Well, Dean, that's discrimination I believe and, last I checked, you were cool with anyone in a skirt."

Dean wanted to smack his own forehead, but, knowing that he had to drive, he clutched the wheel harder instead, "It's not that. I couldn't care less if they all had a second head and hunchbacks, I just don't like them. Not because they're witches, but because of who they are. Who they made their sister."

"You're talking about Tana," Sam said after a pause. The distain on his face melted away.

"Yeah, man, she was not treated right in that house. She's...mute for god's sakes, and where were they? Where was anyone?"

"Wow, you really got attached to the girl," Sam raised his eyebrows and sat back as if he had to take a moment to contemplate.

"I didn't get attached," Dean protested sheepishly, "I just didn't like it and I don't like them."

Sam was silent for a moment, "Okay, so you don't like them. I'll go to Claire's tomorrow and talk to them then. You can stay...wherever we can find a motel."

Dean shook his head, "No, I'm not letting you go in alone."

"Then you'll come?"

"Yep."

"You're not afraid of losing your mouth are you, because, I promise, they don't have those kind of powers," Sam smirked.

"That's not funny,"

"Course it's not. Sorry," Sam eyed his brother thoughtfully for another minute and then turned away, gone back to staring wistfully out his window.

They eventually found a motel and checked in through a crotchety old man who obviously wasn't happy with the shift he was working, but he managed to grumble out directions to their room and roughly hand over their keys and that was all they needed.

In a matter of minutes, both Winchesters were in queen beds of their own and each pretended to sleep, while staring at the ceiling, the sheets pulled up to their bare chests.

Morning did not come quickly. Dean woke up to drawn curtains, the daylight spilling into the room and temporarily blinding the elder Winchester. Sam was already up and sitting at the desk in the room with his laptop open and a cup of coffee in his hands.

Dean muttered a profanity to himself and then spoke louder for Sam to hear, "Do your girlfriends make the sun brighter every morning just to torture me?"

Sam smiled, "They don't control the weather, they just manipulate it. I'm afraid the sun shines like that on its own. Although, God may have a thing or two against you," There was a short pause before he turned around to face Dean and added, "And they're not my girlfriends."

Dean nodded and sat up, ignoring Sam's last comment, "So it's a personal vendetta. What did I ever do to deserve this?"

"Maybe it's offended that we're hardly out in the daytime. It's like we're nocturnal or something," Sam got up from his chair and brought another cup of coffee over to Dean's bedside. He put it down on the night stand and stood there jeering down at his brother, but casting shade over his face with his tall figure.

"In our line of work we can't afford to frolic in parks or go shopping on days like this," Dean finally did get up and drink from his cup, "This tastes like dirt."

"Well, it was ground earlier today."

Dean snorted and stood, pushing Sam in the direction of the laptop, "What are you doing over there? Not looking up blondes in bathing suits again, are ya?"

"Very funny. Actually I was looking up articles in the town newspaper and I found something interesting. We were wrong about the deaths." When Dean furrowed his brow in confusion, Sam led the way back to the desk and continued, "The girl and the boy were found in the park with that symbol carved into their foreheads. They bled to death."

"Yes, we already knew this. So did that priest."

"No, he didn't. That's what we thought, but I just looked it up and he died alright, in the church, but with a completely different symbol on him. It wasn't actually carved into his skin, though, it was found on a piece of stationary on the body."

Dean thought for a moment, "How could Bobby have missed something like that?" It had been Bobby to send the Winchesters to this town in the first place.

Sam shrugged, "He probably just saw 'symbols' with both cases and assumed they were the same. I wasn't able to find a picture of the symbol on the priest, the police kept that under wraps, but we know what the symbol on the couple in the park looked like, so we can work with that for now."

"So...two different cults?"

"Possibly, or the same cult and two different ideas."

"Or something else altogether," Dean shook his head and sipped his coffee, "This is going to be harder than I thought."

"Which is why it's an even better idea to meet with Claire today," Sam stated.

"Boy," Dean said as he turned around to get some clothes from his duffel bag, "You sure like saying that girl's name."

"Excuse me?"

Dean shrugged, "Oh nothing. It's just it's been 'Claire this' and 'Claire that' and 'Claire and her sisters' for the past eight or so hours, minus the time you spent sleeping. It's just something that I noticed."

Sam swallowed, "Well, it's just she's the oldest and we met her first so-"

"Yeah, I know. You think she's hot," Sam shook his head, but Dean gave him a sly look, "You said so in the restaurant, remember? You were pretty gung ho about getting her number. Now you know where she lives."

"You started the talk about getting her number," Sam protested, "I was just going along. I thought it was a brotherly bonding thing, but it was just a mistake."

Dean laughed and headed towards the bathroom.

"Ten minutes then we go see-"

"Claire?"

"No. The elementals."

"Right," Dean laughed again and slammed the door behind himself. It'd be at least twenty minutes before they left the motel.