AN: Here we go again!

Janice had to do quite a bit of fixing on this one. She is the best beta!

* * *

Jason was a coward about pain, but he didn't like it when other people knew that. In fact, he had killed before when someone had witnessed him wussing out, just to keep them from sharing his lapse with the rest of the crew.

So the longer he walked (limped, without his shoes, thanks to those smug bastards!), the angrier he got. This was supposed to be a fun little break from the normal routine. Beat up a few guys and drag them back to V for a big payout. Plus, Jason had another plan. He always had another plan, which was why he was going to run his own crew someday. He knew Len's girl who lived in the area and had heard her talk about a castle in the area. Not that the people who owned it were there very often. Well, Jason had had a plan to find that castle and help himself to some of the shit that rich people left lying around. Instead, here he was limping down the road in the middle of the night, the two guys free, and no way to find his boys or get to the castle to help himself to whatever he could.

He wasn't going back to Seattle with his tail between his legs though, no way. He was going to find those guys and waste them even if V did want at least one left alive. And then he was going to get himself some cash from the castle. After this, he deserved it.

Then headlights came up behind him. The engine slowed and a pickup truck pulled up next to him and a window opened. "You okay, son?" asked the sole occupant, a man on the far end of middle age. "It ain't safe to be out here at night. There's some kinda animal killin' people, you know?"

If there was something else Jason was good at, it was spinning a situation. He let his shoulders droop and pulled off his ball cap. He pulled out the manners his auntie had tried to teach him before he'd decided he'd rather run with the gang than follow her rules. "Yes, sir. My friends – well, I thought they were my friends – took my shoes and left me out here as a joke. But I don't want to be a bother."

"Climb in! No bother at all."

Jason smiled. These old trucks were damn easy to hotwire. Or, hell, he might be able to convince this moron to drive him there. It looked like he'd be going to the castle first and finding his nemeses after...but maybe he could get some grub and a nap first.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

Sam almost fell on his ass getting out of Bernard's ridiculous car. Sometimes he felt a little guilty acting like a jerk to stay in character, but hurrying away from the diminutive designer with nothing more than a quick "thanks" over his shoulder was not one of those times.

People did comedic double takes as Sam stalked past, probably intimidated by the combination of his height, the bruises, and the determined look on his face. It meant he got to Charlene's office very quickly. Even her assistant, poised to stop whoever dared attempt to intrude upon her boss' time, closed her mouth and sat back down once she got a look at him.

When Charlene saw Sam, her eyes widened and she jumped to her feet to close the door behind him. "Oh my God, Sam. You made the attack sound like no big deal! Are you alright? Is Dean?"

"It's fine. We're fine, Charlene," Sam reassured her in what Dean liked to call his Bob Ross voice. He hadn't given her details of the attack, just that it had happened and the Winchesters had come out on top. She was also aware that the local police now thought that they were feds. "At least one of the guys is under arrest, and we got some details about who might have hired them. We're making progress."

Though she kept her expression pretty well under control, Charlene still looked upset. "This happened to you because I called you here," she said with guilt in her voice.

Sam laid a hand on her arm. "No, Charlene. People were already getting hurt. You know that. If whoever's behind this is focused on me and Dean, that means they aren't hurting others. Calling us was your way of protecting the people who work for you and others, too. For us, it's part of the job. And, seriously, this is nothing." He waved his hand in a vague gesture at his face. "We've had way worse."

She sighed and leaned back against her desk, still looking at his bruises. "You know, I once got forty spoiled, drunk young socialites through customs without a single arrest. That was easier than this."

"That's because you care about people, and actual lives might be at stake. But you aren't dealing with it alone, remember? Dean and I have been doing this kind of thing for a long time." Sam patted her arm once more and smiled.

Finally, Charlene smiled back. "I know you have. I remember. I don't mean to whine, and I don't mean to sound like I doubt you. How about we get you inside the castle?" She tapped a fingernail on the desk in thought. "Hmmm. Bernard and a few others know you're on site. I can tell him that I sent you home because of your injuries. I'm sure he'll tell everyone he sees all about it." She nodded decisively. "Okay, you need to get going before our window closes. You said you have an idea?"

Sam nodded. He didn't know if it would actually work, but he had a vague outline of a plan. "So, I understand that there are tunnels connecting all the buildings, dating back to the time when servants needed to move around and be seen as little as possible." The unintentionally helpful Cindy had dropped that tidbit when telling them some bits of history about the castle. She was too loyal to say anything about the family that currently called it home (or one of their homes), but she had plenty to say about the customs and foibles of their ancestors, not to mention some unique features of the grounds.

"Yes," Charlene nodded. "They've been closed for a couple decades, though. They're only opened about once a year to air them out and make sure everything's still structurally sound. I guess they're a kind of safeguard, a little bit like a panic room. In some ways, the family is pretty lax about security.

"Like I told you on the phone, I can show you where the one in this building starts, but I don't have any keys or access codes."

"That's okay." Sam had had Charlene send him a picture of the access panel itself and done a mental fist-pump as soon as he'd seen it. This place wasn't exactly the Louvre – the technology was a good twenty years old. And fortunately for him, it was the exact same system that Rufus had had on a vault of goodies they'd taken possession of after he'd died. It had taken Sam three full weeks to figure out to outsmart it, but now he knew exactly what to do. Especially since this wasn't likely to have a captive and very angry lutin as a fail-safe.

Besides, Sam had his own backup plan in case of emergency. Not that he wanted to use it due to the volume and damage, but at least he had it. "Now you're sure that the main house will be empty?"

"Positive. Their staff is basically a skeleton crew, partly because the family isn't here, partly because our security is doing some of their jobs, and partly because a few people quit after the attack on the grounds. Anyway, there is only security crew at night, and they leave at ten." She glanced at her watch. "The cleaning crew doesn't come in until 10:30, so there isn't a big backup of people getting checked in and out of the gates. Do you really think you can get inside in half an hour, then avoid being seen by anyone while you check out the library and somehow sneak out too?"

"Yes, I really do. The cleaning crew should stick to the main areas. If they even enter the library, it can't be for much more than vacuuming. I'll be able to get into tunnels when I need to, and I'll sneak back out this way when I'm done and we can figure out how to get me off the grounds." Sam smiled confidently. Of course, it wouldn't actually be that easy, but he was pretty sure he could pull it off. And if he did get caught, it was likely that he could bluff his way out of trouble. "You don't happen to know where the library is located, do you?"

Charlene didn't, but they still had a plan hashed out before their window of opportunity came. Charlene would distract her assistant so Sam could get to the tunnel entrance without being seen. She'd also run interference on the off chance that anyone else came into the building where she had her office while he was still working to get into the tunnel. Sam would get the door open, go into the tunnel, and close the door behind him, which was the easy part.

At the far end of the tunnel, Sam would have to exit and quickly get his bearings, finding the library and figuring out how to stay out of sight if anyone from the cleaning crew ventured inside. Unlikely didn't mean impossible.

Depending on a lot of factors from how big and thorough the cleaning crew was to how noisy the doors to the tunnel were opening and closing, Sam could potentially be stuck inside the castle until the crew left for the night unless he could get back to the tunnel before that, but he didn't mind the risk. He had plenty of food and water bottles in his bag and never minded a day of quiet research, especially when he had a headache.

"There's just one thing I'm worried about," Charlene admitted. "Well, more than one thing, but most of it I can't do anything about. What happens when the evening security report shows you checking in but not out again?"

Sam had an idea for this too, this one suggested by Dean during a discussion about the security measures in place on the grounds. "Do you have anyone running to town to do errands? Or just leaving the grounds and coming back?"

Charlene nodded. "Sure. All of the food is delivered, but there are always some specialty things the ladies ask for. I end up sending one of the gophers to town every day."

Perfect. Sam nodded. "Good. When that happens, make sure to send the guy out through the gate on the southeast and tell him you'll call ahead so he can drive right out. Then call that station and tell them to mark out your gopher and me. Then you just have to find a reason for him to come in a different gate. The guy – Todd, I think – who mans the southeast doesn't double-check anyone who's leaving. And if someone different checks your gopher back in, they won't think it's weird that I'm not with him because they won't know I supposedly left with him. Does that make sense?"

Charlene nodded back slowly. "That is...logical and slightly terrifying. You noticed a weak spot in the security that fast."

"We have to be good at that for our job," Sam reminded her. "Now what time did you say the house would be empty?"

Sam had a chance to grab a little breakfast and ask the ladies (with lots of dimples and pleases and thank yous and maybe a tad bit of flirting) to set aside some food for Dean, who was so disappointed to miss their breakfast spread. (It wasn't even a lie. Dean was always serious about food.)

Before he knew it, Sam was back in the basement of the building Charlene was working out of, standing in front of a familiar-looking panel box. It wasn't exactly the same as Rufus' but looked similar enough that it was probably just a fancier version of the same thing. All of the wiring was the same and nothing indicated a problem when Sam carefully popped the cover off using the hidden release.

Looking it over, he was relieved that he wouldn't have to pull out Plan B. No, he'd learned through trial and lots of error that these boxes could be fooled into thinking the override had been tripped, allowing him to change the entry code. In theory, that could only be done from the main box, which would be somewhere in the big house, but in reality, there was a work-around.

The system was designed to still work if someone cut the power. In fact, if it had to switch to the self-contained generator, it would go into an emergency lock-down. However, if you could shut the power off to only the panel and the generator with the right timing, the system would reset itself from scratch, assuming it was in the process of being installed for the first time. So Sam had to do several things in extremely rapid succession without an error. It was really a 2-person job but Sam was pretty sure he could pull it off.

It wasn't easy, but then again, he'd done it before. Trusting Charlene to keep him from being interrupted, Sam quickly went through his steps, knowing that any delay between them could set off an alarm or get him shut out for good. He was quick and careful and precise, and in moments the display was blinking lines at him, giving him the chance to set the code to his choice. Sam allowed himself a brief smile of triumph. Without hesitation, he punched in 08121950 then confirmed it. The door hissed open and released a puff of stale air.

To Sam's relief, it was clean and looked like nothing more than an industrial hallway, well-lit by overhead fluorescent lights and about seven feet tall and wide enough for four people to walk side-by-side. It was eons better than the kind of musty, cramped "secret" passageways they'd had to traverse more than once in some old, moldy haunted house. He was grateful, because it was a long walk. There were no branches or forks until Sam estimated he had to be close to the main house. Then the entire hallway splintered off into five spokes, each about a third of the width of the main part. With a mental shrug, Sam took the middle one and soon found himself at the terminus with a door in front of him.

He had to punch in the code here, too, and took a deep breath before doing so. The house was supposed to be empty, but things didn't always work out the way they were supposed to.

It took Sam a moment to decipher what he was seeing. Apparently, he was at the back of a large, walk-in pantry, a good place to keep a door like this out of sight. He exited slowly. He needed to get the lay of the land sooner rather than later.

That was easier said than done. The castle, while an attractive blend of classic "castle" and modern style and all beautifully decorated, had apparently been laid out by someone who was either drunk or had a nasty sense of humor. Hallways ended abruptly at bathrooms or bedrooms and once at a gigantic entertainment room which also opened to an entirely different wing of the castle. Bedrooms seemed sprinkled around haphazardly instead of being clustered together. When he finally found it, the library itself was a huge disappointment, mostly leather-bound classics that looked like their spines had never been cracked. Sam would still explore it, but at the moment, he needed to get out of sight as it seemed a crew was doing a quick sweep of the house.

The library was one of the places he'd found access to the tunnel in a false bookshelf, so he supposed he should stay inside the tunnels for a while. The doors didn't exactly open and close silently, after all. It would be bad enough to be caught in the house – it would be impossible to explain how (and why) he'd gained access to the tunnels. If he could stay out of sight, nobody would discover that the passcode had been changed until it was time for routine maintenance some time down the road.

So Sam grabbed a book off the shelf to bide his time and slipped into the tunnel. It was Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose, something he'd been meaning to read for years. He figured he'd give them half an hour then risk peeking out.

Soon caught up in the mystery, Sam would have been carried away completely if he wasn't sitting on a hard floor with his ass going numb. After probably fifteen minutes, he got up and walked down the hall a little ways in a likely futile search for some other place to sit. To his surprise, he found a narrow door that he hadn't seen at all, because it blended almost seamlessly into the wall. He tugged at it and found a narrow staircase that, unlike the rest of the tunnels, had years' worth of dust. The oddness of it stuck out to him, as the rest of the tunnels were all alike, obviously utilitarian, and while not obvious, the doors were not particularly hidden so as to be almost invisible. He quietly climbed the steps and risked opening the door, book forgotten in the face of a real-life mystery.

He found himself in a closet the size of a normal bedroom. A secret door in an already (fairly) secret tunnel system? That was an almost Hunter-level of paranoia, though it must not be shared by the current family given the age of the security system still in place. Sam tucked the book in his back pocket and went to the outside door of the closet then peeked out.

If the closet was big, the bedroom it was attached to was obscene. It was really three distinct rooms but without walls separating the sections. Sam was in a part with a massive bed and other typical bedroom furniture (and a chandelier...seriously). In front of him was a sitting area with a TV and other amenities, but to the left was a smaller library.

Jackpot! This collection had a lot more interesting-looking books. There was even an Official Family Hiftory under a dome of light-protective glass. It was very old but well-preserved with a beautifully hand-written and -decorated cover. The glass covering it wasn't connected to any wires or even attached to the table beneath it, so Sam covered his hands with bandannas to avoid leaving very obvious fingerprints and lifted it off. He should have gloves to handle the delicate onion-skin pages, but he could be careful and turn them with a pencil or something similar from the desk.

The book actually started before the family came to the area, so Sam skimmed that part so he could focus on what happened in Washington. Dean would have found the content boring, but Sam found it kind of interesting to read about what family historians over the years had considered noteworthy: a cousin whose inheritance was to be held in trust 'unless the bottle ceases to hold such sway over him,' a daughter-in-law who gave birth to eleven children, all of whom survived to adulthood, which the author claimed proved her 'highly blessed indeed,' and a fire that had nearly decimated their orchard, resulting in a broadening of their interests to prevent another such event from having such a significant impact on the family fortunes.

Unfortunately, nothing he was coming across implied a particularly vengeful spirit or family curse or even a sudden uptick in prosperity that could indicate a demon deal or something similar.

Still, Sam worked diligently, occasionally snacking on the trail mix he'd brought along, careful not to leave evidence that someone had been there. He pilfered a pad of paper and a pen and started to make notes of anyone who was buried in the family cemetery they'd found and their manner of death. It was slow work and didn't seem terribly promising, but he kept at it. People aware of the hunting world but outside of it had no idea how much of this kind of tedious work it involved.

Sam read and searched for hours, moving on to books about the land and husbandry and so forth and so on but found only a few vague and highly unlikely possibilities for what could be plaguing the area. He drank some water, stretched a few times, and used the very plush facilities. He wanted to check in with Dean, but his phone had said No Service in the tunnels and that didn't change here in what could only be the master bedroom. He didn't quite dare step out onto the balcony and try his luck there.

It was probably late afternoon when Sam caught himself half-dozing over a handwritten ledger of investments (including a note to try to buy a stake in the Winchester repeating shotgun, which the author thought would prove extremely profitable). In that state, he remembered his dream from the schoolhouse. He didn't force himself awake, hoping to follow the winding trail back to what made him think he'd figured out the case. He let his thoughts go where they wanted, pulling up the facts of the case sort of in the background of his awareness and just allowed things to sift themselves out. He knew he should get back to his reading soon, but his headache had blossomed into something approaching a migraine, and he knew he'd be SOL if he didn't take a break, so here he sat.

Nosy neighbor...badly mauled bodies...reading whatever he wanted from the school library with nobody telling him something wasn't age appropriate...witnesses didn't see what had attacked...writing a high school paper about Ernie, aka "Evil Mr. Rogers" and calling him a wanna-be Romeo who wasn't the hero of his own story – wait. Romeo and Juliet. Just like that, Sam knew what they were hunting.

A sound snapped Sam out of his reverie, and slower than he normally would have, he stood and spun around. He only got two steps toward the closet before the big door of the bedroom opened. Sam was putting on his best sheepish/I'm-harmless-and-lost expression when he realized who he was looking at. "Jason?" he groaned out as the other man said,

"You!" The guy grinned, not a nice smile, and pulled out a shiny 9mm. "All that trouble and you're just another thief?"

Sam put his hands up to shoulder height silently cursing Winchester luck. How the hell had Jason gotten here, much less gotten inside? And had he really just stumbled on Sam by accident? He kept his face placid, however. "I'm unarmed," he lied in his most earnest voice. His gun was in the bag on the floor and his knife was at his ankle because if security had actually seen either on him, it'd be hard to explain away. "Remember – we didn't really hurt you, even during the fight. We didn't even call the cops. And you guys are the ones who came after us."

Jason's grin only widened as he shut the door behind him and covered half the distance to Sam. "Tell me what you're here to steal, what's worth taking in this dump, and I'll make it a nice one-and-done. Otherwise, I can just start shooting arms, legs, whatever until you tell me anyway."

Sam sighed. His head hurt too much to deal with this guy. "First, you have to know gunshots will bring all kinds of security inside. Second, I'm not here to steal anything. I was just reading. See? Books." He waved a hand toward the desk where he'd been sitting to indicate the books that were scattered over its surface. "I didn't touch the safe or anything." This time, he waved a hand back toward the bed.

Though Jason's body language showed that he was very comfortable with the gun, he was also inexperienced enough to look away from Sam to the places he was indicating. As soon as he turned to look toward the (nonexistent) safe, Sam threw the only missile he had – The Name of the Rose – in the same direction. As he'd hoped, Jason turned and pointed the gun toward it.

As he made the throw, Sam flung himself forward. He took two really long steps and launched himself into a flying tackle. Jason was clearly startled and though the gun went off, he hadn't gotten it back around first, and the shot was well wide of Sam.

They crashed to the floor and the gun went flying, though Sam didn't land on top of the kid like he'd hoped. The impact jarred Sam's entire very sore body, and his head went slightly fuzzy just from the jolt of the landing. It took him a second to recover, which gave Jason a chance to kick himself free. He got to his feet, but Sam rolled to his side, wrapped a hand around his ankle and gave a sharp tug, knocking Jason right back to the floor. The kid was a street fighter, and he kicked out as he fell. With more luck than skill, his foot clipped Sam's chin and slammed the back of his head into the leg of a solid walnut coffee table.

As the bump he already had there impacted, pain detonated inside Sam's head. He couldn't see. He couldn't hear, he could only gasp and roll blindly onto his stomach. He curled into himself and maybe could reach the knife at his ankle but was knocked back to his side when another, stronger kick caught the side of his head. He tried to crawl away from the blows, vaguely just trying get away enough to regain his faculties a little. His ears were ringing and there was so much pain in his head that he couldn't hold onto his thoughts or figure out a strategy. Heck, he hardly even noticed the follow up kick to his ribs. In desperation, Sam flailed out and in a lucky shot managed to grab hold of the foot that kept coming at him and shoved.

He heard a crash, then snarled words he couldn't understand, then the very clear sound of a gun cocking. The snarling – wait, that didn't sound human at all – increased in volume to a full-on roar followed by a crunching sound and a scream. Something heavy hit the floor, and there were more screams and some squelches that were all too familiar. Sam crawled faster, as fast as he could. He tried to stand and promptly fell over a piece of furniture. That was...that was the desk, which meant he was close to the closet and the tunnel door. He just had to get there before it (they?) finished killing and eating Jason and decided Sam would make a good dessert.

On cue, the screams fell silent, though there were a couple more crunching sounds. Sam was inside the huge closet now. He used a clothes hanging bar to get to his feet and stayed there, holding on for dear life and stumbling along. His vision was back but so blurry that if he hadn't left the tunnel door open, he would have been completely and utterly screwed. He was less than a foot away when he heard a snuffling sound at the door he'd just come through.

With a final burst of effort, Sam pushed himself through the narrow door and slapped the Emergency Close button.

He was safe here. Probably. He had to call Dean. But he'd forgotten one very important fact: there were steps going down just inside the door.

Off balance and with almost non-existent vision, Sam didn't even realize that he was falling until he was halfway down the stairs. And he was unconscious before he hit the bottom.

* * *

AN: Er...so at least Sam didn't get eaten, right? (That makes me think of The Princess Bride: "She does not get eaten by eels at this time.")

The late Bob Ross taught painting on public television for many years. He had a very calm voice and manner.

The word "Hiftory" on the old book is not a typo. In Old English, a soft 's' (as in the word soft itself) was often written 'f' where a hard s, as in the word as, was written with the 's' we are familiar with. I love that stuff.

The Name of the Rose is a whodunnit that I chose mostly because a lot of it takes place in a library. And because I love it.

The first Winchester gun ever produced was a lever-action repeating rifle in 1866 and followed that up with the first-ever repeating shotgun in 1887 that would have been a very lucrative investment in the early 1900's.

Christine: Aw, you're so nice! Sam sure would have loved staying in a school. All those books! Something about Penny just makes me happy. He's probably going to keep showing up in this story just because I like him. He wasn't planned at all. I have to admit that I giggled when I wrote about the rock flying out of the cemetery and Sam just watching it fall short, not to mention Dean mocking the thrower for it. Quick proud moment from real life (many years ago). My daughter came home from school and said, "Ethan says girls can't throw footballs." I asked her what she did in response since she's pretty laid back but doesn't take any crap about her gender, being my only girl. She said, "Threw a football at him…" LOL.

Timelady66: I know, I know. I couldn't help myself. Why have one monster/bad guy/problem when you can have hired gangsters, Vaughn, his pets, and an old cemetery? Just call me the overkill queen. I wouldn't think that Sam could get in an MG either, except that I saw a picture of Jared in one of those little kid cars that sits outside of a grocery store that you put money in to ride...in full Walker get-up no less! And by the way, I can just hear Castiel saying the world "gangsta." Ha!

Colby's girl: I should have Dean call the rock-thrower "the fail ghost." LOL. I sure wasn't very nice to Sam to stick him in that car and with Bernard too! But I have to admit, the visual gave me a chuckle. I picture him having to basically unfold himself to climb out of it. Poor Sam. I like Penny too! I like having people comment on the connection the guys have and felt like Penny could be someone who noticed it. And being from a small town myself, I felt like he'd care about his own town. Plus, from the pics I've seen (thanks, Google), Yakima looks like a cute, rural little town and I'm partial to those!

scootersmom: I'm so glad! Writing those is kind of a guilty pleasure.

Shazza19: Yeah, Vaughn is definitely going to be in for it! Also, I'm always so happy when people like the flashbacks and memories because I adore them!

Jenjoremy: I knew it when I wrote it and put it in anyway. And I have a general idea of how that story will go already! It's so fun that you share my sense of humor.

muffinroo: Ooh, interesting idea! I've done it where a current case parallels or is a continuation of an old one, but not two they're solving simultaneously. I literally giggled while writing about Sam folded into that car and all of Dean's snarky comments. I'm pretty sure that Penny said something about his wife so, sadly, Judy will have to stay single for now. Now THAT is a shame. Can you imagine what she'd wear? LOL!

Kathy: Flashbacks make me so happy! I'm considering writing another Weechesters story in the future. I've only done it once before where the entire story is set when they're small (not teens).

sfaulkenberry: So, let me see. You're requesting more of the guys doing some torturing and more of Sam being tortured? Gotcha. *g* Got some of the latter for you here, or at least Sam getting whumped on. Your comments always make me smile!

stedan: If Guinea pigs show up in this story or another one soon, consider it your fault! LOL. Actually, I know for a fact that I've incorporated things from your comments into stories before so it could actually happen. I'm glad you like the flashback. I just adore them! And you are right that I've done friendly monsters. I think Timmy was my favorite.