A/N: Sorry it's been awhile. Hope you all like this chapter, please drop me a note and let me know what you think. :)

Chapter 11

It was early afternoon when they finally left the cabin, and the sky was filled by gunmetal gray clouds heavy with rain. Dean opened the Impala's trunk, grabbed his duffle, checked the contents and began gathering other items he thought he could use.

Sam walked up beside him and stood quietly watching, a chill breeze from the southwest ruffling his hair. "What are you doing?"

Dean didn't look up, just continued loading silver bullets into a clip for the 1911. "What's it look like I'm doing?"

"You're just going to find the place, Dean. So when I get back here with Bobby the three of us will go and check it out."

"I know." Dean, leaning into the trunk and rummaging through more of the contents now, flicked his eyes up at Sam who was hovering over him. "I just don't want to walk in unprepared again."

Sam scowled. "There's no reason for you to walk in anywhere. Just find out where the site is, stay in the truck and come back here."

"And what if," Dean stood, packing his jacket pocket with the clip of silver bullets and a second loaded with hollow tips. "Bobby doesn't show up this afternoon, huh? Then what? I just sit out here in their way until he finally shows up and you guys make it out here? All the while we're losing daylight and maybe someone else gets stranded and snatched tonight?"

Sam sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face. "We don't even know for sure what it is! Or how to kill it!"

Dean patted one of his chest pockets, "It's a shape-shifter, Sam. Silver bullet to the heart. You've known that since before your first library card. Besides, Grandma seemed pretty sure the stuff she gave me would work."

"Do you even know what that stuff is?" Sam was skeptical. "Or how to use it?"

Dean pulled the small leather pouch from the pocket and opening it peered inside. "Yeah, it's – uh – white powder. And, uh, I'll wing it."

"Great. So what? Now you're grandma's cocaine mule? Come on."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts and one hand rubbed his forehead, fingertips feeling the slightly gritty residue of the tobacco ash grandma had insisted she mark both brothers with. He looked at Sam steadily, noticing that while it appeared that he'd made an attempt to wipe it away, a faint shadow of the ash mark still clung to his forehead. "What did you make of that ritual, thing, whatever, she did?"

Sam shrugged. "I dunno. I don't know anything about Navajo rituals. But she seemed to think it was doing something." He paused. "And so did Lizzie."

Dean nodded. "I think Lizzie knows all about this stuff. She's just trying to scare us off."

Sam took a quick glance around before answering, "I agree. I don't think she told us a fraction of what she knows and it worries me. So please tell me you're not going to be stupid again, Dean."

"I'm never stu-" But the look on Sam's face caused Dean to immediately drop the bravado. "I won't Sam. I'll wait for you and Bobby. Okay?"

Sam locked eyes with his brother, and something unspoken passed between them. "Okay."

Sam waited until Dean had finished and closed the trunk, then held his hand out for the keys. "We'll be back soon."

888

The sprinkling rain had grown heavy enough that Lizzie flicked on the wipers which thumped out a beat in four/four time. They'd already checked one cliff which contained a few eroding brick dwellings, but it wasn't familiar. Lizzie hadn't said a word when Dean shook his head and said this wasn't right. She'd only put the truck back into gear and turned onto another barely discernible track that wound its way through the brush and trees and rocky canyon outcrops.

It was slow going on the rough rocky track and the silence between them had become more uncomfortable with each passing minute. He cast around for some small talk from where he could steer the topic around to a couple of burning questions. "So, um, who's Holly?"

Lizzie gave him one of her side eyed exasperated looks. "Sister's kid."

"Ah," He smiled slightly remembering how gently Holly had been getting grandma resettled as they started to leave after the ritual. "She seems like a good kid."

"So get to it." Lizzie demanded.

"No foreplay, huh?" Dean asked wryly.

"Nope." Her voice was hard. "I'm a slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am kinda girl."

"Okay then," he chuckled nervously. "Right to it. Um, what was all this stuff grandma did?"

"She said she was going to bless you, so she did." Her voice was hard, her tone evasive.

Dean frowned. "Look, I get that I'm a real pain in the ass. But I won't apologize for it because some monster is out there snatching and killing people. And no one else around here seems to give a shit, but ya know what? I do. And I'm gonna put those evil sons of bitches down before somebody else dies."

No answer.

"Besides, it's a little personal for me. Should be a little personal for you, too, since you're the one who sewed me up."

"I thought that was a rock." Lizzie just stared straight ahead.

Dean examined her profile until her features softened slightly, and he tried again, "Why won't you help us? What if they get your family, huh? What if one of them grabs Grandma? Or Holly? I assume they travel that road now and again."

Lizzie slowed the truck from its current crawl until it was still. Her chin sagged nearly to her chest and her expression was guarded. "Grandma is very traditional. She's just trying to protect us all from the yee naaldlooshii. I told you they're after you now. We go back out there and they will get you, Dean. Do you get that?"

"Yeah, I get that. Not the first time I've been in the crosshairs."

Lizzie sighed, then raised her head and turned to regard Dean. "Do you really? Look, you're a nice guy and all, but you don't know what you're getting into. Walk away, man. Just walk away."

"So these monsters just go on killing people and nobody does anything then?" When she didn't answer right away, Dean poked the stick into the corpse again. "Besides, your grandmother thinks we can help."

"She does," Lizzie admitted softly. "But I don't like the idea of getting innocent people involved."

"Usually I say the same thing. But I'm far from innocent." He shook his head and realized he sounded a little grim. He paused a moment and pushed back at the guilt rising in the back of his mind. "Look, Did you hear what we told you? We've been hunting practically our whole lives. We're not some glampers complaining there's too much nature out here in nature. So let's just get this done and argue about it later, okay?"

"I don't know." Lizzie shook her head sadly.

Dean scoffed. "So you think it's smart to tackle them alone? What were you saying about meat grinders?"

"You might be right." Lizzie gritted out softly.

"Okay. So quit getting your panties in a wad and let's go find this place so we can get to work."

Lizzie turned away from him and watched the raindrops being obliterated by the wipers while she gathered her thoughts. Finally, "fine."

"Fine."

Still not looking at Dean, Lizzie hit the gas and the truck started forward again slowly, but after a few dozen yards, where the track widened a bit, she carefully turned the truck around a small stand of pinyons and headed back down the track the way they'd come.

Dean stared out the side window lips pursed and shook his head to himself slightly. Sonuvabitch. He turned back and asked accusingly. "So how many places were you gonna take me? I mean before you tried to convince me it was all in my head?"

Lizzie was quiet for a moment longer, a guilty look on her face. Then her expression quickly changed, as if some emotional damn had broken inside her. She turned to Dean and grinned, "ya caught that didja?"

Dean gave her a mocking look, "uh, yeah..."

Lizzie snickered softly for a moment longer, then turned back to the road. "Truce?"

"Hey, you're the one with the stick up her ass." Dean chuckled.

"I'll take that as a yes."

They rode in silence for a bit, the soft pattering of rain on the truck their only company.

888

It didn't take long for Sam to drive back to the motel. He parked the Impala and grabbed his phone even before going into their room. No messages from Bobby while he was out of service range. But there was a text. From Ruby. One word: Soon

Sam shook his head and sighed deeply. If he didn't know better, he'd say Ruby was simply playing games with him. But he did know better. Their mutual need to destroy Lilith, her reason revenge, and his to stop the apocalypse, was enough to make them set aside their cultural animosity. And while he considered that he might be getting too close to Ruby, it was, he reassured himself, all for the greater good.

He decided to give Bobby until mid afternoon before calling to check on him and grabbed his laptop. Wouldn't hurt to do a little more research while he waited. Maybe he could find out more about the ritual grandma had performed. And what that white powder was that she'd gravely handed to Dean. Sam settled at the table and got online, pulling up his email first. As he scanned through the list one subject line caught his eye. He opened the email and began reading. After a moment concern furrowed his brow, and the further he read the more concerned he became.

888

After the side trip to the cliff Lizzie tried to confuse him with, they turned back and were nearly back at the cabin before taking another track. After a short drive Lizzie parked in a wide dead end next to another pickup and a camper van. As they'd headed to the dead end Dean felt things were familiar, but seeing everything in the half light of the rainy day was deceptive. He reckoned that this was the trail he'd come across and realized that if he'd turned the other way, he'd have ended up here at the dead end the night before. For once he had some luck on his side, and he hoped fervently that it would hold out.

Lizzie climbed down from the cab of the Silverado and strode to the dark blue pickup already parked and peered through the driver's side window. Dean slid from shotgun, carful not to jar his left leg too much when he hit the ground. He slung the duffle straps over a shoulder and adjusted the 1911 in the waistband at the small of his back. Suddenly a vision of Sam's bitch face number seven flashed in his mind. Ah, fuck it, he thought, he wouldn't know if this was the right place until they walked there. Lizzie had said this was as far as they could drive so he had to get out of the truck. And what Sam didn't know wouldn't cause an argument.

Lizzie had fallen silent as she lead him down a path that seemed little more than a coyote trace. She'd recognized the pickup as her uncles' truck, commenting that they were supposed to be on their way back from Teec Nos Pos Arizona, planning to return that evening, but ignored Dean's fishing expedition for more details. They turned off the track started down a narrow gorge that bottomed out to a wash filled with large puddles from the earlier rains. Dean hissed to himself when the descent proved to be almost more than his injured leg could bear. But at the bottom the wash was filled with sand and somewhat level. He navigated the puddles haphazardly, ignoring the water splashing onto his jeans and caught up with Lizzie quickly.

It was a long ass walk,but Dean wasn't going to let Lizzie know his leg was painful and forced himself not to limp. And though he hated to admit it, even to himself, the longer they walked the more his leg was hurting and feeling weaker plus his head was starting to pound. He kept plodding on behind Lizzie who hadn't slowed her pace at all since leaving the truck. It wasn't long until the wash started to rise and soon they were back on the desert floor. A couple of minutes later they caught sight of a cliff face nearly dead ahead.

"This is it." Dean said as they crested a rise. From that vantage point he could look up the cliff face and see the same strange little stone houses. At the base of the cliff was the hole – kiva, Sam called it.

Dean started forward but Lizzie stuck out an arm in front of him, arresting his motion.

"Wait, someone's coming." A tall man was heading toward them from the base of the cliff. Lizzie dropped her arm, "It's my uncle Jacob. Let me handle this." Then she called out in a loud voice, "Yahtahey Jacob!"

"Yahtahey ats'i." Uncle Jacob continued toward them, and began speaking to Lizzie in Navajo.

When he stood before them he indicated Dean and Lizzie finally replied in a dismissive tone. Jacob was obviously asking questions, and Lizzie's answers, while in a respectful voice and with her eyes lowered in respect for her elder, held an undercurrent of tension that wasn't lost on Dean. He took a half step forward, intending to break into the conversation and try to make them switch to English so he could understand, but Lizzie's hand fumbled for his and she held it for a moment in a tight grip before disengaging.

Awesome. Dean thought, but he kept silent. The conversation continued for another moment when Lizzie turned to him, "We need to leave."

"Wait. What?" Dean stood his ground. "Why?"

"We just need to go," Lizzie stared at him hard, trying to communicate something that Dean wasn't getting.

Something that he didn't want to get. Even on his best days, Dean struggled to curb his impulsive reactions. But he wasn't about to go through every bit of the crap he recently had, then walk out in the cold and rain on a painfully busted up leg to the threshold of the answers he wanted only to turn around without them. Today was not one of his best days.

"Why?" he demanded again.

"Dean, just come on."

During this Jacob turned and begun to walk back toward the cliff. Dean took a couple of long strides, caught up with the man and grabbed his arm. "What did you say to her?"

Jacob pulled away roughly, turning to stare at Dean in surprise. His piercing gaze regarded the hunter with unbridled malevolence. Without thinking Dean reached behind his back and pulled out his .45, pointing it at Jacob's face. "What. Did. You. Say. To. Her."

For a long moment Jacob didn't move, just stared Dean down hard. Dean began to feel himself tremble, and he tightened his muscles, trying to make it stop. His mind flashed to the night they drove into town. To the fear of the shadows in the rain; of the burning red eyes, he now knew with certainty he'd seen that night. Because he was seeing them now. Staring at him out of the proud face of the Navajo man standing before him.

"It was you..." Dean whispered, almost to himself.

"Dean!" Lizzie was trying to pull his gun hand down, to point it at the ground, and in a blur Jacob moved to pull a handful of powder from a pocket and and blow it at the two young people before him loudly chanting a few words.

Dean's eye's flew wide in surprise and he gasped and coughed. Lizzie turned away from Jacob, pulling Dean's gun hand along with her and he inadvertently discharged his weapon as he twisted with Lizzie's pulling him away.

Then he was falling. Falling, tumbling, feeling nothing, feeling everything. Sensations and memories crashed over him in waves, shattering together and mingling in impossible ways, so that he could feel colors and taste sounds and hear everything he had ever touched. When he hit the ground he didn't feel it or Lizzie's legs beneath him because he was floating up out of his body and he saw himself and Lizzie below, but at the same time she was beside him, still holding his wrist. She was speaking to him, but he couldn't hear her for the roaring in his ears. Then he was buffeted by wind blowing hot and cold. Ripping away her grip and blowing him and Lizzie away from each other, and in what seemed only a second she was so far apart that her face was starting to blur though he could still make out the black hole of her mouth as she screamed. He fixated on that darkness, strained to hear her screams, realized his own mouth was open and he couldn't hear his own screams. Then the wind blew hot, buffeting him, making him twist as it threw him down towards flames below him, and as he fell closer the roar of the wind became the roar and crackle of the flames and his screams turned to wails of fear which he still couldn't hear. He hit the flames and was engulfed in the pain of burning and his wails turns to screams of 'No! Noooo!'

Then one final word as his body exploded to ash.

"Sssaaaaaammmmmmm-"