Memories & Demons

A/N: Look for my first attempt at Teen!Chesters in this chapter. I know, scary.

Chapter Two

Birkstown, West Virginia:

"You've got to be kidding me," Dean Winchester muttered, stopped at one of two redlights in the tiny rural town to take his first good look. "What self-respecting witch would haunt this place?" he asked no one in particular since he was aware that his brother was still sleeping in the seat next to him.

Driving straight through from South Dakota to West Virginia hadn't been easy on either the Winchesters or the Impala but since five days had already been lost, Dean hadn't wanted to lose anymore and he'd stubbornly refused to let Sam break him from behind the wheel.

Dean's excuse had been sound…or at least to him. Sam rarely slept these days. He hadn't been sleeping since it became clear that Lucifer could target him in his dreams so he'd taken to staying awake as much as possible…unless his brother was with him.

Since the attack by hunters a little over a month ago, Dean had worked on settling a lot of the problems that had been keeping him and his brother at odds. They'd been doing better…until Carthage…until Jo and Ellen had died…and until Lucifer didn't die. Now it felt like they were right back to where they started before that day in a cabin in Oregon.

'She'll be pissed when she finds that out,' he told himself sourly, drumming his fingers restlessly on the wheel while waiting for the light to change and letting his thoughts drift.

They drifted to a young woman he'd been trying to avoid thinking about since she'd once again ditched out during the night in Oregon a month ago rather than face him with just what the hell had happened between them. More importantly, according to what he'd learned from his brother, what the hell had happened between Morgan and his father.

Sam had said that John had threatened to split his sons up if Dean continued to be friends with Morgan. His brother had said that the fourteen-year-old British girl had left to protect them even though John had given Dean an entirely different story.

"Yeah, and Dad never lied to you or anything," he sighed, rubbing his tired eyes and once again wondering if dumping the fight to stop the Apocalypse for a personal reason was a good move, then just as quickly squelched the doubts.

Morgan had meant a lot to him, she'd always meant a lot to his brother and he owed her for saving Sam's life back in Oregon when he wasn't there so if for no other reason than that, he'd find the missing woman. "Then throttle her for making me worry, damn it,"

Looking over to see that Sam was curled against the door much like you would as a kid brought back memories of another time…sixteen years ago to when a fifteen year old Dean Winchester had snuck out one night to hunt what was supposed to have just been a restless spirit in an old graveyard but he found a hell of a lot more….

Flashback: 15 years earlier, South Dakota:

"Hmm, disturbed graves, ransacked tombs and some mutilated animals…sure don't sound like a vengeful spirit," Dean Winchester muttered to himself as he tightened the leather jacket around himself to ward off the chill that the damp October air, not to mention the rain, was causing him to feel.

Sneaking out of the motel was risky but since his eleven-year-old brother was sleeping soundly and their Dad wasn't due back for another couple days, Dean figured it was safe enough to take a quick hike out to an old abandoned cemetery to check into what a few locals were calling a haunting.

"What damn ghost haunts a cemetery?" he wondered, easily holding his flashlight, a shotgun loaded with rocksalt and a duffel with some salt, lighter fluid and matches while managing not to fall over any overturned stones or twist his ankle.

Raised by John Winchester, Dean had grown up knowing that there were things in the dark that killed. Hell, his own mother had been taken by just such a thing. It had been that incident that had changed Dean's normal life since it had been Mary Winchester's death that had sent her husband chasing the unknown and dragging his sons along with him.

Still regretting the Christmas night that his little brother had learned the truth of what their Dad really did, Dean had sworn to keep Sam as safe as possible…from everything. Which was why after hearing some people at the motel talking about the spirit in the cemetery and the string of missing kids that he'd chosen to strike out on his own to look into it and if needed, salt and burn the son of a bitch. Just in case it decided his little brother looked like a good target.

Stepping around what appeared to be a newly overturned gravestone, Dean frowned. He'd heard a lot about spirits, seen a couple, but he hadn't heard of one who would desecrate it's own cemetery or slaughter animals.

Setting the bag down, he shifted slightly when he heard a sound off to his right but it didn't sound like a ghost. It wasn't until he heard what sounded like an animal screech that he spun around with the shotgun held ready and fired a round off only to see what looked like a shadow move just out of reach of the rocksalt barrage.

"Shit!" he swore, turning quickly to fire another round when he suddenly felt the shotgun be knocked violently out of his hands. "Damn!" feeling more than seeing his attacker, he swung out a punch that would have made his former Marine Dad proud only to feel it go through air just as a stiff hand struck him in the chest, making him gasp.

Instinct had Dean fighting back even though the dark rainy cemetery wasn't the best place to get into a fight since any fall onto sharp rock could kill him…not to mention what his Dad will do if he ever found out.

Sensing the next strike, he grabbed the wrist of what he still assumed was a ghost or something paranormal only to frown when he realized his attacker was shorter than him. Before he could glimmer any other information, he felt a foot snake behind his ankle in a classic takedown maneuver that he couldn't counter in that quick a moment, and the next thing Dean knew was he was flat on his back, feeling the press of a knife against his throat.

"Lesson learned, mate. Next time, don't shoot rocksalt at somebody unless you know it's a bloody ghost cause all it does is tend to tick people off," a soft, lilting little voice remarked close to his ear making his eyes shoot open wide to find himself facing not an old crazy spirit but…

"You're a little girl!" he hissed, feeling the knife press slightly more intently and decided that talking might not be wise as he caught the glare of narrowed blue eyes.

"Right, and you're so bleedin' old, hotshot," the girl with the British accent tossed back, easily kneeling on his chest since they both knew so long as she held the knife that any quick movements would be stupid on his part. "Boy, they start hunters out early, don't they?" she seemed to be musing to herself, cocking her head as if watching the clearly pissed off teenage boy before smiling. "Not too bright though or you'd know that silly shotgun wasn't going to kill the problem here. It'll only bring…oh, shit!"

Surprised at not only the tone but also the really adult use of the swear word, Dean could only blink when the weight on his chest lifted as she moved with an agility he had to admire to look into the darkness. "Got anything besides a shotgun or lighter fluid in that bag, hotshot?" she asked him.

"No, why…?" Dean started to ask when a growl made him turn just as something hurled him against a stone, making him see stares before a bright light shot from somewhere to force the growling, pasty faced looking thing away from him. "What…"

"Zombies aren't affected by rocksalt, slick," she replied easily, tossing him the knife she'd been holding at his throat. "Use this to at least keep it from smashing that pretty face in."

Gritting his teeth, Dean swore he smash her pretty little face in the first chance he got but hesitated when he noticed that she seemed to be intentionally drawing the thing away from him and toward what appeared to be an open grave.

"C'mon, ugly, you were having too much fun trying to eat me or dismember me before slick there came along," she taunted, easily avoiding the zombie's grabs until finally she shifted to the very edge of the grave only to find the dirt had gotten slippery in the pouring rain and felt her foot slip. "Bloody…"

Seeing the girl fall into the grave just a second before the creature went to lunge for her, Dean reacted with the instincts his Dad was instilling in him. "Hey!" he yelled, wondering what the hell he was doing since he couldn't recall his Dad's journal having anything on how to kill a zombie much less distract one. "You're such a wuss that you'd rather pick on a little girl? Why not try me, fugly?" he taunted, glancing quickly at the knife in his hand to notice that the blade was etched with writing like he'd never seen before.

With a growl, he soon had other things to worry about when the living dead suddenly lunged toward him with more speed than a rotting dead guy should ever have and he readied himself to move out of the way after slashing the blade. Again, however he found himself tossed into a heavy marble stone but this time he had sinewy fingers clamped around his neck.

Struggling to bring the knife up, Dean stuck the blade into a forearm and saw it hiss and heard the zombie shriek but it didn't release its grip so as he fought to break its hold, something bring shot out to strike the creature in the back. Soon, he saw the bright light consuming the zombie who released the struggling teenager to whirl back to face the now muddy and highly ticked girl whose hand was held out steady to control the light searing the zombie out of existence.

Falling to his knees to gasp for air, Dean slowly looked up to see that the zombie had become nothing but a pile of dust while the girl who had just shortly before held a knife at his throat was glaring at the pile in disgust before slowly lifting blue eyes up to meet his wary green ones.

"I didn't want to wipe him out like that," she sighed, her hand clenching. "Hunters don't tend to take it very well when they see me do stuff like that and we both know that's what you are, right, slick?"

Staring at her, Dean wasn't sure what to make of this. He'd seen her take out a zombie with a glowing light so that would normally mean she'd be considered the same thing as the zombie but…she'd saved his life and…damn, why was his head ringing? Blinking, he was about to speak when the pain in his head reminded him of being tossed multiple times and the last thing he recalled was hearing her ask if he was alright before his face met the mud.

Waking up with a killer headache and feeling like crap, Dean looked to see where he was only to find that he was laying on his bed back in the motel. Reaching up carefully, he noticed that his head wound or wounds probably had been cleaned and dressed…and…he frowned when he realized he'd been put into dry clean clothes.

The last thing the fifteen year old remembered was being at the cemetery, fighting a zombie with…the girl…he recalled her blasting the thing out of existence and nothing so how'd he… Sam…

Looking around, Dean noticed that his little brother wasn't in bed any longer when he heard the sound of the TV playing in the living room and his little brother laughing happily. "Sam!"

Forgetting his wounds or the way his stomach would revolt at the sudden movement, Dean ran for the living room to find his brother was…sitting on the couch happily eating the dinner that Dean couldn't get him to touch and chatting with…the very little girl that he'd just met.

Alright, now that Dean could see better he'd admit she wasn't a little girl. She was probably a year or so younger than him if he had to guess. Now in the light of the motel, he could see her strawberry blond hair was long and still damp from the rain as she sat on the couch with Sam cuddled up to her side while he showed her something that he thought was vitally important and she seemed to be agreeing with him.

Looking up as if sensing him, he found himself looking directly into bright blue eyes that appeared slightly wary now but also calm and as she glanced back at his brother, he saw a kindness that very few people showed Sam.

"Hello…Dean," she greeted softly, a tiny nod down to tell him how she'd learned his name. "Sam has slightly more brains than you and knew not to follow when he woke up to find you gone. He figured it best to have the first aid kit out though. You must need it a lot."

The teasing tone wasn't lost on the older boy nor was his brother's giggle as Sam scooted off the couch to run over to his brother.

"Morgan said you fell down in the cemetery and hit your head while saving her from the ghost, Dean," the smaller boy replied, clearing worried for his brother but also clearly pleased to have helped clean his brother's wound…after he'd made certain this stranger wasn't going to hurt them. "She said you blasted the ghost and then salted and burned the bones like it says in Dad's journal but we shouldn't tell Dad because he'd be upset that he missed it. Right, Dean?"

Placing a hand on the smaller boy's shoulder, Dean took the time to notice that his brother looked cleaner than he had before he'd gone to bed the first time and actually smelled like his favorite bubble bath which he hadn't wanted to use in months.

"After I got done helping clean you up…boy, did you really fall in the mud, Morgan helped me take a bath and wash my hair since I was all muddy too," Sam went on cheerfully, looking back at his new best friend before tugging on Dean's hand.

"Morgan, huh?" he repeated the name as he locked eyes with her, lifting a brow to ask every question he had in his mind right then.

"Little chatterbox, isn't he?" Morgan grinned at Sam before lightly running a hand down his wavy hair to push it out of his eyes. "Sam, how about going into the kitchen and getting your brother that other bowel of soup on the counter?"

Hazel eyes lighting up, Sam was quickly gone to the kitchen and as soon as the boy was out of earshot, she aimed a warning look at Dean. "Ask fast while he's out of the room because despite the attitude you give off, I actually like your brother."

Considering, Dean eased down on the arm of the chair to watch her. "Got a last name?" he asked rather than the trillion he had been thinking of asking.

"Harrison," obviously that wasn't the question she'd been expecting when those same blue eyes narrowed again. "You want to ask, so ask about what you saw. Like I said, most hunters tend to freak."

"My Dad's a hunter. I'm just a brother looking to protect my kid brother," Dean returned, hearing Sam in the kitchen. "A witch?" he guessed, seeing a smile that made him want to smile back.

"That's the easiest way to explain it," she shrugged, absently tugging on a strand of hair, which was the first clue he got that she was uneasy. "The powers don't get used very often unless it's with my own people but I kind of figured you were too cute, if a little cocky, to get wasted tonight so I broke my own rules. Now, I guess the ball's in your court. I've been called every name in the book by some hunters we've crossed paths with and I figure John Winchester won't be any different…how's his son feel?"

Swallowing hard, Dean found himself wondering the exact same thing since he knew how his Dad would probably react to the girl. So how did he feel? He was taught that anything supernatural was bad but…now as he sat looking at this girl who had not only saved his life but had clearly been taking care of his little brother…he wondered about that.

"I suppose his son feels like…he ought to thank you for getting that one in a bathtub without World War III," he grinned finally, holding out a hand. "Dean Winchester, though I'm sure you know that by the eleven year old motor mouth in the kitchen."

Suddenly almost shy, Morgan reached out to take his hand just as Sam was bustling back in with a tray filled with soup, a hastily made cheese sandwich and juice. "He was scared," she murmured softly, seeing Dean nod while taking the tray from his brother to sit it on the coffee table. "Sammy, Dad didn't call did he?"

Grabbing a peeled orange off the plate that he'd been sitting by, Sam stuck it in his mouth while shaking his head. "Not Dad," he said, adding helpfully. "Jus' Pastor Jim who said he'd be stopping by to…"

Two sets of eyes pinned the boy before Dean groaned and Morgan rolled her eyes. "Well, I didn't think to ask him that one," she admitted. "I just asked to make sure your Dad wasn't around."

"Son of…" biting off the words because of his brother's recent fondness of repeating them at the worst times, Dean figured his new friend probably didn't want to be around when the Pastor turned Hunter arrived and was trying to think when a knock came on the door and Sam ran for it before his brother could react. "This bad?"

"If it's your Dad, yeah," Morgan admitted, never having met the senior Winchester before but having hear of him she wasn't exactly eager to meet like this. "If it's…"

"Pastor Jim!" Sam was thrilled to see the kindly older hunter who he and Dean often stayed with when they were near his home. "Guess what? Dean fell and the mud and…"

Smiling at the smaller boy's obvious exuberance, Jim Murphy was about to caution Sam about talking to fast when his gaze fell on the girl and he stopped to eye Dean. "Really, Dean fell in the mud?" he sat his overnight bag in the chair before closing the door. "I guess that's where he was when I phoned?"

Nodding, Sam knew he shouldn't tell his Dad but no one said anything about not telling Pastor Jim who you could tell anything and he wouldn't repeat it. "Yeah! He went hunting a ghost and saved Morgan but then he fell in the mud and hurt his head so she brought him back here and we cleaned him up and then she put me in the tub with bubbles cause I was muddy too and…"

"And to think, Dad was worried he'd never say his first word," Dean muttered out of the corner of his mouth while wishing his little brother would develop a cramp in his vocal cords. "Sammy."

Placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, Jim held out the travel bag. "Sam, how about taking this into your Dad's room for me?" he requested, explaining at Dean's unspoken look. "I'll be staying here until John gets back in a few more days. He picked up on word of something close by here that he didn't want you boys on your own."

"Too late for that," Morgan replied under her breath, smacking Dean in the back of his head lightly when he went to nudge her.

Jim waited until Sam had left the room to eye the older two, looking between them for a long moment before sighing. "Head hurt bad, Dean?" he asked the elder Winchester brother first, seeing the bandage on his head and wondering how many other bruises he'd had but wouldn't be there now.

"Umm, no sir, Pastor Jim," Dean scuffed the floor, thinking rapidly of a way to explain this when to his shock the hunter merely shifted a dry, almost amused look, at Morgan.

"I guess I don't need to say that you're lucky I showed up and not their Father?" he remarked casually, noticing that the living room certainly looked better cared for than what the boys usually did. "Had Sam help pick stuff up after you conned him into a bubble bath, I take it?"

Dean's eyes went back and forth between them to see his new friend merely offer a mild shrug before reaching for her jacket.

"He was scared for Dean, so after I got him cleaned, dried and redressed, he needs new shoes by the way, I mentioned that maybe it would be better for his brother to wake up to all the stuff put away," she didn't seem to know how rare a treat it was to get Sam to do anything when he was hyper. "Don't worry, Jim. I'm leaving." pausing to look at Dean with a smaller smile. "Tell Sam I said goodbye and maybe we'll run into each other again."

Unsure what to say to that, he only nodded. Very certain for some reason that they would meet again but frowned when Jim laid a hand on his shoulder after the door had closed.

"Dean, I can't tell you what to do and since I'm fairly certain you probably know that Morgan isn't your normal thirteen year old, I'll only say to be careful what you tell John," he cautioned the boy seriously. "Your father can be a bit too intense and obsessed for some things so…"

Understanding what he was saying, Dean stared at the door and wondered if or when he'd see her again and why he had the strange feeling that he and his brother's lives might've just changed for the better for once…

Present Day West Virginia:

The loud honking of a horn behind him reminded Dean that he was sitting at a red, now green light, in some tiny town in rural West Virginia on his way to hopefully find a friend.

Waving a hand to the driver behind him, he shook his head to clear his thoughts of the past but for some reason still couldn't forget the night he'd first met Morgan. Or how quickly she'd become so important to both he and Sam…or the way a package with new shoes for Sam had arrived at Pastor Jim's house the very next week. His Dad had just looked at him but didn't ask.

"Dean?" Sam woke up at the horn, looking around as he sat up to rub his eyes tiredly as he had once. "You okay?" he asked, noticing that his brother seemed even more distracted than when he'd fallen to sleep.

Glancing over, Dean eyed Sam closely to see that he still looked tired but for some reason he let his eyes drop and he couldn't help the smirk that came. "Huh," he muttered, looking back up. "You need new shoes."

"Huh?" certain now that Dean had flipped, Sam was about to suggest they pull over so he could drive when he spotted the large three story white house at the end of a winding hill. "Up there, that's where we want to go."

"Figures," Dean sighed, wondering why he figured the only bed and breakfast in the town would be situated a little closer to downtown.

As the Impala pulled the hill easily, both brothers frowned when they noticed the local Sheriff's cruiser parked in front.

"We haven't been in any trouble recently, right?" he asked, wracking his brain to recall if they had when Sam shot him a 'Are you insane' look.

"Dean, when aren't we doing something to attract the cops?" he countered, still uneasy around local cops even though they often pretended to be law officers themselves. "It's a small town, the Sheriff could be a regular or something. Just be cool and don't threaten anyone while he's here."

Deciding to remain silent on that, Dean pulled off to the side to finally notice that the Sheriff seemed to engaging in a rather loud argument with a sandy haired boy of about fourteen while two other boys looked on and his gut seemed to clench. "What're the odds that the one he's yelling at is the one we need?"

Considering the odds and their luck, Sam just chalked it up to another slap in the hand of fate and got out of the car. "We have a cover?"

"Yeah, we're looking for our friend," Dean replied tightly, stepping out of the car and paused to fasten the worn leather jacket as the October wind blew past them. "Remind me to ask Morgan why she couldn't have relatives in California or Texas or someplace warm."

Sam grinned a little, pleased that his brother was talking more but he waited until Dean moved around the car to follow a little behind.

Working on keeping a blank face, Dean knew the moment the boy spotted them because his eyes slid past them to eye the Impala with a tiny grin before refocusing on the Sheriff. "What?" he asked blankly even though Dean knew the boy had heard every word shouted at him.

"I said, I do not want you, Ian, or Tony going into those damn woods, Shane!" the Sheriff, a rather tall rangy man who might have been a little around Dean's height of 6' with thick dark blond hair that looked out of place since he'd been running his hands through it since this nightmare started. "Your Aunt's a big girl and knows what she's doing. I'm sure she's…"

"Been missing for five days when she didn't take her phone, any provisions for staying in the woods or any way to call for help," the boy put in, clearly not happy but finally waved a hand. "Fine, Dad. I'll stay outta the woods but don't you think you or Uncle Jason should take a look? Estranged or not, Aunt Morgan is still your sister…adopted or not."

As the Sheriff for the town, Shea Murray had always dealt with a lot of stress around the time of the annual reenactments and he'd been dreading this years for the very reason his younger sister had come back. He hadn't liked the idea of her going into the woods alone but trying to tell Morgan not to do something is mainly what caused the issues between her and the family to start so he'd let her go. Now he wasn't sure what to do.

"Just stay out of the damn woods and give it some time. I'm sure she's fine," he sighed, turning to go back to town when he spotted the two new strange men and instantly his warning bells went off. "Can I help you?"

The shorter of the two in Shea's opinion and the one who seemed to be the one to talk to just arched a brow easily but it was the way he did it that made the Sheriff think that these two could be trouble.

"The local law runs the B&B?" Dean asked calmly, feeling Sam's elbow nudge him in the back.

"Yeah, actually I do," Shea admitted, tilting his hat back to take a closer look at the men but while the taller of the two seemed to be more hesitant about confrontation, the same couldn't be said for his pal.

"Funny, shouldn't you be out looking for crime or do people vanishing in your town not mean much?" Dean tossed out, hearing his brother hiss something at him but for some reason the lack of caring the cop was showing really irked him. "Must not be an election year."

Shea's eyes fired dangerously as he stepped forward only to find his son pushing between himself and the stranger.

"Dad, go. These guys are the students from that community college up in Wheeling that was coming down to study the reenactments," he broke in quickly, keeping his back turned to Dean and Sam as he concentrated on getting his father out of here. "Mom's got their reservations ready. Go, before you're late for the council meeting."

Giving the smart ass another warning look, Shea finally nodded. Walking off toward he cruiser he paused at the door. "Y'know, we're a small friendly town, Mister. I don't take troublemakers coming here mouthing off about crap you know nothin' about. I'll be watching you."

"Yeah, I'm sure you will, Sheriff," Dean muttered, whirling to smack Sam in the back in the head. "What's with the shushing?"

"Why'd you have to talk to the cop like…" Sam drew off as he recalled another conversation like this and sighed. "Just calm down, Dean. Getting arrested is not going to get us what you want."

"Yeah, and my Dad won't hesitate to throw you in a cell if you get on his bad side," the boy spoke, turning to face them finally but while he gaze Sam a cursory inspection, it was Dean that drew the longer look. "Funny, the way Aunt Morgan talked I thought you'd be…taller."

Sam grabbed his brother's shoulder to urge restraint but it was already being shrugged off in favor of looking down at the light haired bright eyed boy.

"So, you the one with the attitude on the phone?" Dean asked, noticing the other two boys. "There's more of you?"

"Ian and Tony Murray, my cousins," Shane Murray acknowledged before finally sticking out a hand to both Winchesters. "C'mon. I stashed all the stuff out in the garden house."

Without giving them a chance to ask anything, the boys took off around the back of the house while the other two boys seemed to vanish as if to distract anyone from within the house while Sam and Dean followed Shane to the backyard.

"By garden house, I kind of expected a tool shed," Dean coughed, eyeing the small but quaint looking guest style house. "Check this family out as soon as you can fire the laptop up, okay?"

Merely nodding, Sam was also taken aback by the house that Shane was motioning them into, shutting the door behind him but then he was distracted by something else.

While it looked pretty and well sized from the outside, it was basically one room that included a small kitchen and a pull-out sofa style bed with a few chairs littered about. The problem was, he also recognized the lingering scent and hoped his brother didn't.

"Soooo," Dean blew out a breath while straddling a chair. "Morg not good enough for the main house or what?" he asked casually but the tension was obvious as the boy began digging into a familiar worn duffel.

"She and my Uncle's wife's family don't exactly see eye to eye so Aunt Morgan just chose to stay out here," Shane now hoped he could keep these guys from the rest of his family. "Anyway, here are the files on the history of the area, the witch in question and the disappearance and anything else that Aunt Morgan thought was vital though I'm sure she recorded more on the digital recorder she took with her."

Sliding the files to his brother to look at, Dean was reaching for something else the boy pulled out and felt his jaw tighten as he closed his fingers around the silver chain with an engraved heart. "Why'd she leave this?" he demanded, feeling something like fear begin to curl in his stomach.

"Said it was yours and if anything happened then she wanted you to have it back," Shane shrugged, leaning on the edge of the table to watch Dean. "Like I said, Aunt Morgan was acting weird anyway when I called her so I'm not sure what was really going on. She only came because this thing tried to grab my sister but told me to call that number if she didn't come back. I'm guessing you know her."

"Yeah, you could say that," Dean muttered, staring at the necklace for a long while before sliding it into a pocket of his jacket. "So, you making any sense of her notes?"

Face tight, Sam felt like pounding his head in. "Sure, give me two weeks and a decoder manual and I might, might mind you, figure out half of what she wrote in the margins," he replied sourly, shoving a folder toward his brother. "These aren't like her journal, Dean. It's like she jotted notes in code so no one else could understand it. Hell, it's like deciphering your writing which, by the way, is easier than figuring this out."

Alright, so we'll work on that later," not liking this turn of events since he couldn't see why Morgan would code notes on such a simple thing. "Directions to the general area she went to?" he asked. "We'll go take a look, see if we can't pick up a trail or something."

"I wrote 'em down," Shane slid a paper over, chewing his bottom lip uneasily. "She's alright, right?" he asked, sounding like a frightened teenager for the first time since Dean had picked up the call. "I mean, Aunt Morgan survives crap like this all the time so a little witch couldn't really hurt her, right?"

Dean felt Sam's eyes on him while he seemed to stare at anything but the boy's worried eyes before he finally lifted his own gaze up to meet his. "Yeah, Shane, Morgan's going to be fine. Me and Sammy'll get her back safe and sound," he replied firmly, seeing the relief that came while praying he hadn't just made a broken promise.

Reaching for the duffel, Dean stuffed the folders inside for later inspection. "She say anything else that might help?"

"Aside from you being too pig-headed for your own good and that you were both probably self-destructing by now. That she really didn't have the time to handle a screwy witch when she had to go sort your heads out…again," Shane quoted in a way that both Winchesters knew that the British girl had indeed said those very words. "I know she was hurt from some fight she had in New Orleans but all she'd say was that she'd have Jack deal with that bald SOB and then let it go."

"Uh-huh," Dean gritted, figuring he knew what that meant and swearing to find out from their resident Angel pal if Zachariah or someone had been screwing around with his friend. "Alright, stay here and see if you can't dig up any hard facts or better yet an idea where this witch was buried since I guess we won't be lucky and people back then would think to salt and burn a corpse."

"Dude, what world do you live in?" the boy asked with a laugh. "Back then, a shallow grave was probably too much to ask for."

Reaching into his pocket, he removed a cell phone that he held out. "This is her phone. Not sure if she just left it or not but it was in the pile of stuff that I was supposed to hand over if you came. I still can't figure why she said to call you and not Kel or a mystic but…"

Sam thought he knew but didn't say it since he knew his brother wouldn't want to hear it. So instead he just said, "We should check this out before it gets dark, Dean. Something tells me that we won't want to be in that forest at night."

"We're not leaving those damn woods without her, Sam," Dean returned firmly, having already made up his mind that he'd find his friend or some witch was burning today. "I…we're not losing anyone else," he finished, coughing to cover the way his voice had changed slightly and hoping that neither his brother nor the boy had caught it.

Shane Murray had caught the change but didn't comment on it since he heard the same infliction in Dean's voice as he'd heard in his Aunt's when she spoke of him. "My number is on the cell in case you find anything or need help."

Grabbing the duffel, Dean merely nodded before looking at his brother. "Let's go."

Sam waited until they were back in the Impala to turn. "Was promising that we'd find her a smart idea, Dean?" he asked slowly, knowing he needed to word this carefully. "It's been five days and…"

"We're finding Morgan, Sam. It's as simple as that," Dean cut him off with more force than he intended, sighing when he saw his brother pull back. "Losing Jo and Ellen was one thing but…I won't just give up on Morgan like that. She's too good to have allowed a simple witch to take her out so something's going on and we're going to find out what and then we're going to do what we do best and burn the bitch."

Deciding to stay silent, Sam dug the files back out to try to glean some information when a photo fell out of one…a photo he knew his brother still kept a copy of in his wallet. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?" figuring his little brother was going to ask eventually, he kept his voice neutral while figuring out the directions on the paper.

"When did you give Morgan that necklace?" Sam asked, seeing the tension in Dean's arms as he maneuvered the car around a tight turn. "Did…Dad know?"

Not answering right away, Dean thought back to a time when he'd actually had good thoughts of his future. "No, Dad didn't know I'd given her Mom's necklace," he finally replied and then Sam had to listen hard to hear him. "I gave it to her up in the cabin one night after you'd fallen asleep…or finally fell asleep since you just did not want to go down that night."

"That the night you threatened to bury me in the snow until the thaw came if I didn't go to bed?" Sam remembered that night since he'd enjoyed driving his brother nuts. "Y'know that I only did it because I knew you wanted to be alone with her, right?"

"Shut up, Sam," his brother growled, briefly taking his eyes off the road to throw a glare to his almost smirking little brother when he saw Sam pale just before he shouted.

"Dean, look out!"

Jerking back to the road, Dean only had a split second to glimpse the form of the bloody young man in the road before the car went through him and then they were spinning out of control, straight for a thick patch of trees.

TBC

A/N: Sorry for the delay in CH 2. It took an unexpected turn. Hmm, just what are the boys getting into? Is it a simple witch's curse or something more sinister? Will Dean find Morgan before he winds up in jail for getting on the Sherrif's bad side? All good questions. Come back to find out and remember…feedback and reviews are love for a writer's soul.