Underhill/Author's Note: Chapter nineteeeeeeeen! As always, thank you reviewers (especially miss Nightlock :D )! Also: disclaimers disclaimers I own nothing Supernatural. Uh... other stuff, other stuff. I think this chapter is a little longer than usual (barely) which is why it took a little longer. Also, it took a little longer because yeah, still exhausted. Work, whyyyyyyyyyy, I just wanna write fics all day! So, I hope this doesn't suck and I hope you guys review, and thank you for reading! Now, I will go start on chapter 20! Yay!

Feb 13, 5 PM, Montana

"Dean."

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts - -

"DEAN!"

It all freezes and the Voice is back. But this time it's not just a voice, it's a vague outline with solid, male hands. He feels like if he squinted just a little harder he'd be able to make him out, but when he tries it doesn't work.

"Don't strain yourself, kid. I'm still working on the corporeal thing. Seriously, those sigils? Annoyingly impressive."

Dean snorts. He's off the slab and wandering the room. Now that it's all stopped, the edges of the memory-dream have blurred, fuzzy and grey at the corner of his eyes. He wonders how far the dreamscape goes…

"Freaking Winchesters," the Voice mutters. "You're like a toddler on a sugar rush, can't pay attention to anything. Your brother's not this much work, that's for sure."

Dean snaps to attention. "My brother? You're talking to Sam?" He tries not to panic, but does Sam know he's alive where he is that he's with Bela that - -

"No, he doesn't. But that's not the brother I'm talking about. We'll get to that later though."

Dean frowns. He really hopes the other brother is Adam, because he doesn't think he can deal with having another sibling running around out there.

"Remember last time we spoke, I asked you to find me. It shouldn't be too hard, because I separated from my vessel fairly recently."

"Ugh. I keep forgetting you're an angel."

"Deal with it, kid. Now get your lady friend to start searching for two congruent events: shooting stars and the spontaneous growth of trees."

"So I'm looking for the vessel… what about you?"

"That's going to be the harder part. Focus on the vessel first. Though be careful with him - - "

Dean gasps awake. He finds Bela kneeling beside him on the bed, watching him with a concerned look on her face.

"You've been having dreams," she says. Dean snorts because that's incredibly obvious. Bela rolls her eyes at him. "They're not the usual nightmares. You thought I didn't notice," she accuses.

"Uh."

"So. Tell me what's going on."

So Dean does. He watches as Bela listens with rapt attention; she doesn't look angry, just curious. When he finishes though, she swats him in the chest.

"Hey! Ow!"

"Idiot. You should have told me." Still, she sounds more annoyed than anything. "I don't like the idea of you dealing with this 'Voice' on your own."

"I was planning to when we got back to New York. Didn't want to ruin the vacation." That startles a laugh out of Bela.

"Winchester, what would I do without you?"

"Probably a whole lot better than you are now."

"Tut tut. No self-depreciation on my watch. We'll deal with the dreams when we get home. Now, up and at 'em. We have a half-unhinged Hunter to stalk."

Dean groans. He hates stake outs. "You know, I changed my mind; let's just kill him."

"If only, darling, if only."

Last night, after Hamish had left the diner, they'd scouted out the local motels until they found the one he was staying at, fortunately or unfortunately the one on the other side of town. They'd followed him at a distance, watched as he went from one bar to another before finally settling outside O'Hara's. He spent the night outside, watching the comings and goings of the occupants, before finally retiring back to his room. At which point, exhausted, Dean and Bela had gone back to their own room for a nap. They would need it for the night ahead. They need to make sure Hamish doesn't do anything rash while he makes up his mind.

At around 8 PM, Hamish leaves his room again, and drives straight for O'Hara's. They watch from across the street as he parks, roots through his trunk, and comes out with a duffle on one arm and a sawed-off in his hands.

"Goddamnit," Dean swears. Now that he's not a Hunter himself, he can admit what predictable pains in the asses they are. Because to them, a monster is a monster is a monster. He kicks open his own door and Bela follows him out.

They hear a crash that is obviously Hamish kicking in the door. They exchange looks before drawing their weapons and dashing after him. They run through the door just as they hear a female voice scream.

Dean takes in the scene in the space of a heartbeat, old Hunter's reflexes honed by the four years he was on the run in the pit. A woman with brown curls is bleeding out on the floor. Dennis has a bullet in the gut and isn't far behind her. Hamish is facing the Boss with a knife to Carli's throat. At their footsteps he whirls, Carli forced to follow him.

"Bela. And… whatever your name is."

"Barton. Seriously, that is not a hard name to remember."

"Shut up." Hamish draws his gun and presses the knife against Carli's throat closer.

"Shutting up," Dean says, holding his hands out wide, letting his gun go slack in his hand.

"Hamish," Bela growls. Her gun, unlike Dean's, is still trained straight on Hamish.

"Shoulda known you'd follow me."

"And I should have known you would not listen. We all make errors in judgement."

The Boss looks between them. "I take it you two know each other."

"She left me for dead!" Hamish yells again.

Bela shrugs. "He deserved it."

The rest of the skin walkers are shifting nervously, full of energy and the instinct to hunt, attack, kill, but holding back for Carli. How Hamish thinks he'll get out of this, Dean doesn't know.

"I swear to God, I'll kill all'a you. You," he says, pointing at Carli. "And you." He gestures his head at the Boss. "But starting with you," he says, finishing on Dean. "I'm going to kill you first, demon, and make her watch." His finger is on the trigger and Dean eyes widen. He wouldn't…

Carli stomps on his instep and Hamish yowls, giving her a chance to slip out of his grasp. Bela aims.

She shoots.

Hamish goes down.

The room is quiet as Bela lowers her small pistol, barrel still smoking.

"No," she says. "I don't think you will. Dean, you alright?"

"Peachy." He's already checking the pulse on Dennis, shaking his head when the Boss gives him a questioning look. The girl, he knows, is already gone.

This, he thinks, could have been him a year ago. It could be him that shot Dennis, him lying dead where Hamish is lying. This stupid war? It used to be his.

Thank God it's not anymore.

He looks over at Bela, still standing, face impassive, as she turns to the Boss.

"Now," she says, gun lowering. "About payment."

Dean, in spite of himself, starts to laugh.

Carli's getting her neck bandaged but still manages to say, "Are they crazy? Are they seriously crazy?"

The Boss hmms in neither agreement or disagreement as he circles the bar and kneels down behind it; they can hear the tick of a safe as he turns the wheel. Click-clank. A rustling, and the safe door slamming shut.

"Catch," he says, tossing the small statuette at Bela. She snags the article one-handed. It's about the size of two-closed fists, shaped like a female wolf reared back on her hind legs. Bela smiles.

"Lupa," she says. "It's Roman."

The Boss shrugs. "Was my grandfather's, and his father's and so on and so on. Family relic. Never did us much good. Thought about selling it at one point, but didn't know how to go about it."

"And you're willing to just give it to us now?" Dean asks. Bela shoots him a glare that clearly states, 'Shut up, Dean.'

"I figure I did sell it; I hired you for a job and you delivered on the payment. Besides, my grandfather, he was a sunofabitch if there ever was one."

"I can respect that," Dean says. He walks forward to shake the Boss's hand, and to his surprise, the skin walker takes it.

"Thought you might," the Boss says.

Bela scoffs. "I hate to interrupt this beautiful little moment here, but we should be leaving." She holds out her hand as well, but not to shake. "In case you come across any other rarities, give us a call. We'll cut you in for a good sum." Bela is holding out a stiff, white business card. Seeing it, Dean snorts, because of course she had business cards made.

The Boss looks at them, then down at the card, then back up them. He shakes his head and grins wide. "For an antiquities dealer and a demon body guard - -"

Dean sighs and Bela chokes but neither of them correct him, because, really, why bother?

" - - You're alright. Maybe we will call."

Bela gives him a curt nod before looping her arm through Dean's. Only once they're outside and alone again, Dean finally feels at ease.

They clamber into the car.

"Why," Bela asks, "does everyone find it so easy to believe you're a demon. You don't look or cary yourself even remotely like a demon." And they, better than most, would know.

"What? I could be a demon." He winks at her. "A sexy demon. Ow, ow! No hitting, no hitting!"

Bela revs the engine. "Stop being a baby, Winchester. Now, let's get the hell out of here."

Feb 13, 8 PM, Connecticut

Blood.

Not just any blood, demon blood, coursing through his veins and he can feel it feel it feel it as it works and he's strong again, powerful.

He doesn't remember getting to the diner. Just a haze of red and a pounding in his ears before he's through the doors and there, there's Famine.

He almost misses him because there's blood blood blood all around him so many demons but Famine, Famine's important, because Rufus is slamming beer after beer at the counter halfway to drinking himself to death. And Famine? Famine smells good.

Sending Rufus in alone was stupid because he's weak not like Sam never like Sam because God the blood he needs to do something, needs to get rid of some of this power brimming under his skin.

"I see you got the snack I sent you."

"You sent?" Snack, barely a snack, just scratching the surface…

"Don't worry. Your'e not like everyone else. You'll never - - " Blah blah blah blah blah, so much talking monsters are always talking too much not enough action.

" - - Have at them!"

No objections Dean wouldn't like it but so much blood and Dean's not here.

"Please, be my guest."

Need the blood so much blood too much not enough. He starts to pull them from their hosts - -

Dean wouldn't want it, got to resist it, don't need it…

"No."

"Well… fine. If you don't want them… then I'll have them."

He ate them Famine ate them all but that's good because - -

"I'm a Horseman, Sam. Your power doesn't work on me."

Sam smirks. "You're right. But it will work on them." Sam tears into him, pulls him apart.

The buzzing fades. The burning in his veins stop. At the counter Rufus drops his beer.

"'Bout time, boy," he slurs, before landing face down on the counter. Sam sighs.

Rufus will live, but it was a close call.

Hauling the older Hunter to his feet, he drags him back outside towards the car, pointedly ignoring the dead demons on the floor.

Feb 13, 8 PM, Montana

Cas is circling a town in Montana when the pull in his gut stops.

Ever since helping Sam and Rufus in Massachusetts, he'd felt a hunger, but he had no idea for what. It was a steady pull to the west, towards Montana.

But now it's stopped, and he's sitting on the pavement outside of an empty bar, exhausted beyond all belief. He's tired. He wants to sleep. He needs to return to Bobby's, so he stretches his wings - -

Nothing happens.

Confusion is his first reaction, followed by panic. Has his Grace finally failed? Has he finally Fallen without evening knowing it? He reaches inward, feels for the tiny spark that should be there - - and he finds it intact. He breathes a sigh of relief. It's fainter, it's flickering, but the spark is still there.

He just needs sleep. A solid six hours, maybe more, and he'll be able to fly again. But he needs to get back to Bobby's first, where it's safe and warded and no angel can find him. He's going to have to drive, and to do that he needs to steal a car. Cas feels a slight pang in his heart at that, because Dean? Dean would be infinitely pleased that an angel of the Lord is carjacking.

Calling Sam or Bobby is not an option, Cas thinks as he starts checking vehicles. He doesn't want them to know the extent of his failing powers. It's not exactly shame that stops him - - though that's a factor - - it's fear. If he's no longer an angel, if his powers fail, he will no longer be useful. Will they bother keeping him then? He knows they wouldn't kick him out, but they might grow to resent his uselessness, because while he knew how to fight as an angel, he cannot shoot, or throw a true punch, or anything Hunters really need to know. He can answer phones and do research and occasionally find cases, but is that enough?

A door opens, unlocked. The keys are in the ignition, almost like the owner is inviting someone to take it. In fact, there's a lot of abandoned vehicles around, like a lot of people have taken off all at once and in a hurry. Cas frowns but shrugs the confusion off. He needs the car, end of story.

Now, he wonders, which pedal means 'Go' again?

Feb 13, 9 PM, Sioux Falls, South Dakota

"Yeah, Sam, I gotcha. Cas? Naw, haven't heard from him. Said he was going out for some more books. Yeah, he's still lookin', for all the good it's doing him. Rufus is all right? And you've got the ring? Good, head home, we'll figure out our next move."

Bobby hangs up the phone and frowns. He thought for sure that Cas would have gone to Sam when he called, but it turns out the angel was distracted. Maybe he's sleeping, Bobby thinks, those more common naps that Cas thinks they don't know about. Stupid idjit of an angel.

He walks through the house, peering into different rooms, looking for the boy, but nothing. Where the hell did he go? He goes back to the phone bank and dials Cas's cell.

"Cas, where are ya? Call me back," he growls and hangs up. "Dammit, I need another drink." Cas might be older than the earth, but hell if that boy isn't hell to raise.

Zachariah is raging.

Adam Milligan, gone in five minutes, and it's Zachariah's ass on the line.

There's only one thing that could drag Adam out of Hell, and that's an angel. There is a traitor in the ranks, and Zachariah will raise both Heaven and Hell to find him if he has to.

He will find Adam Milligan, and he will find the rebel angel, and he will destroy the latter and make the former wish he'd gone down with him.

"Oooh, Zach knows you're missing."

"How do you know?" Adam asks. He shouldn't bother because L rarely answers anything, but it's not like he's got anything better to do.

"He's throwing the kind of hissy fit I haven't seen since my brother Lucifer - - and let me tell you, he cried about EVERYTHING. 'I want to be angel of Saturday, I think the grass should be greener, why do giraffes have to be so TALL?' Ugh."

"I thought he was your older brother?"

"He is. Never really felt like it though."

"So what does this mean now?" Adam asks. "Are we in danger?"

"We're always in danger, kid. But yeah, we're probably going to have to move. I'm going to have to find another safe house for you. So sit tight; I'll be back as soon as I can."

L disappears and Adam kicks the wall. He wants to ACT, to DO something. Sitting here helpless is not what he's used to. It never occurs to him that that trait? It's probably from the Winchester side.