PART ONE: FAMILY VALUES

CHAPTER EIGHT: STALEMATE

SAM, STARLING CITY, USA

Oliver didn't agree with Sam, in fact Oliver had even gone so far as to tell him to leave the city. Sam just moved to another motel, under another name and parked the car in an underground parking garage where the prying eyes of Mr. Queen couldn't find it. It took all of about two hours before there was a knock on his door.

Sam brushed the curtain aside and peered out to see Oliver staring back with a rather unpleasant expression on his face flanked by Felicity and Diggle and two other characters he did not recognize. He let out a frustrated sigh and undid the latches on the door before letting it swing open as he walked away. "What do you want Oliver? I'm not leaving," Sam said matter of factly, leaning back on the opposite wall to watch them file in.

Oliver didn't respond though, his lips were pressed in a thin line but Sam could see the muscles in his jaw twitching. He wasn't here by choice and he wasn't here doing what he'd rather be doing, which meant Felicity had won again. Sam took in the new guests and straightened immediately, recognizing one of the two faces.

"Detective Reid?," Sam recognised the face but couldn't put a name to it for a moment. 'Reid, Reid, Reid,' he wondered 'where was I Detective Reid?' He forced a smile while his mind ran a thousand miles a minute to place him. Despite his best efforts, the man could tell he was struggling to place him as they shook hands, the rest of the group looking on rather confusedly. "Detective West, Central City P.D."

"Murder right, drained of blood if I remember correctly?" the man nodded and Sam noted the momentary dimming in his eyes. Vampire, Central City five years ago.

"Solving that many murders you don't remember? We need more guys like you!" he laughed and Sam looked down awkwardly for a moment and tried to play humble while he waited for someone to give him away.

"Well, I'm glad I could help," Sam forced a smile again, as he tried to think his way out of this mess.

"Five years though, I don't believe you would have met our new forensic analyst - Barry Allen. The other man stepped forward, a wide smile on his face - the polar opposite of the dark and menacing feeling that radiated from the rest of the group. Sam sifted through his mind to the vampire case and working with Detective West, the detective at the time had asked him what had made him become a detective. He told the truth, as he did sometimes, the murder of his mother Barry Allen had been mentioned.

They shook hands and he couldn't help but find himself warming up to the newest two of the group more than any of the others. Formalities were put aside quickly as both Barry and Felicity cleared the table and began setting up computers, one that popped up with the 'Central City Police Department' crest and the other a mecca of customized software and advanced programming. His own computer looked childish in comparison, but his books, nothing could beat the books the were shoving aside.

There was a smacking sound that resounded through the room and the two at the table stopped abruptly and looked about their feet. Faster that seemed possible Barry picked it up, John Winchester's journal, it's contents now half splayed across the floor. But the room was frozen, taking in the pages that stared up at them. Diagrams and definitions, symbols and Latin, scratched out lines and John Winchester's frantic handwriting. Felicity bent to pick them up and Sam dove at them, but she already had numerous pages in her hands.

"Vampire, Skin Walker, Woman in White, Werewolf, Demons..." she trailed off and they all turned to look at Sam. He could sense that things might turn south and he watched them all cautiously, waiting for the first move towards him to happen. Sam firmly pulled the pages from Felicity's hands and the displaced journal, now open and being examined by the newest stranger, forcefully from his hands.

"Like I said," he said calmly, "I know what I'm looking for." The intensity in the room was amped up to an almost unbearable point and Felicity saved it.

"That's why we're here. We need your expertise, Barry said they've never seen anything like this. I figure we need to pool our resources now."

"You've done a great job of that so far," Sam spat, his nerves frayed as he acknowledged the book in his hands.

"What is that anyways, Felicity said you hunted things but I thought she meant meta-humans. You hunt what, monsters?" Barry asked, his eyebrows raising but an honest curiosity burning in his eyes. It was people like Felicity and Barry that kept Sam doing this, he reminded himself and made the decision to ignore Oliver and his sidekick for as long as possible.

"Uh, yeah," he said, letting his hands fall to his sides. "That's exactly what we do, and that's exactly why I'm here apparently, so let's get on with this before this thing kills someone."

Hours later they were scattered across the room. Barry was buried behind the pages of the mended journal, Felicity was so close to her screen Sam's eyes burned just looking at her and he was scouring his usual resources. There was simply nothing, there was no record or anything like this - Sam was half tempted to call up Crowley. The king of hell would surely know more than they did about the werewolves, but he stashed the idea as a last resort.

"I think I might have found something? I'm not sure, it's not really the same-" Felicity started, her voice unsure. Sam stood immediately and went to look over her shoulder. He had to commend her, she had article after article up on her screen - she was a natural Charlie, maybe even better. But Sam knew immediately what he was looking at and felt his shoulders slump.

"Angels," he sighed as she flipped through them. "They're not nearly as peaceful as the world would like to think."

"Angels?" Someone asked but Sam had leaned towards the computer himself.

"What are the dates on these?" he asked Felicity, the town names jumping out him as she scrolled.

"All over the last week or so," she answered calmly. Sam leaned back and stared at the article displayed on the screen, the image causing deja vu. A gas station this time was blown up in an all too familiar fashion, just like the health food store on the front page of the newspaper. He wanted to help these people, but angels being this public, this was bigger - this was so much bigger.

"I need to call Cas," he muttered.

"That angel, what a Jackass!" the voice filled the room, and Sam spun. He saw Oliver move from the corner of his eye but shoved him back with a solid arm to his chest. The familiar form standing, yelling at the ceiling sent a flood of relief through him. Blue flannel, brown hair worn jeans and boots looking one hundred percent solid, one hundred percent alive.

"Dean!"

"Sammy!"

He had his brother locked in an embrace before anyone else in the room could react. "It's about time, what the hell man? We've been looking for you and you've been shacked up with-" his green eyes darted around the room, taking in the crowd of people there, "the Breakfast Club?"

"Oh, great movie," Barry said casually and everyone turned to look at him.

"Wait, as in your dead brother Dean?" Oliver asked.

"Yeah, well," Dean shrugged, "wouldn't be the first time." He continued to take in the room, his eyes landed on the journal in the stranger's hands. He cleared his throat awkwardly and his gaze started to turn cold as he looked at Barry. "Doing a little hunting are we, what are you the newest Ghostfacers?" The room shared a confused look but Dean didn't skip a beat as he turned back to Sam and he immediately went for Felicity's computer.

"Pull up the footage," he demanded and Felicity had it up in seconds and he and his brother poured over it.

"How did-" but the question died on Felicity's lips as they watched the footage, Dean staring at it intently. Sam was wondering the same thing, how Dean came to be standing right there after what Sam saw, they'd have to discuss that.

"Calendar," Dean said calmly, hardly taking his eyes off of the screen.

"Not the full moon, already checked." Dean cast him a knowing look and then glanced around the room, his jaw tensed. He didn't seem to like that idea as much as Sam hadn't, this wasn't normal.

"I need pie."

A/N - So Dean's not dead, that happened. Sorry this chapter is a little on the short side, let me know what you think anyways!