AN: So, this is the end my dear readers! Thank for taking this ride with me even though it was unnecessarily long. (There's already another story in the pipeline, nearly finished and I will upload it as a whole – yes, it slowed this one down a tiny bit but I couldn't help it. The boys kidnapped me and kept me chained to a chair with a bag over my head until I promised to start writing down what they were telling me.) Anyway, couple of quick notes. 1) I tried very hard to tie up all the loose ends, I'm very sorry if I missed anything and if you let me know, I may even edit to fix it. 2) I forgot to reference earlier that Dean's memory of being with John and Sam and seeing the cliff houses is based on the comics "Supernatural Origins" issue five. If you haven't read them, they take place just after the fire in Lawrence when John is first leaning to hunt and he didn't have the boys with him. I moved it forward a few years and had him take the boys because I wanted Dean to remember something about it – and for the bit that shows up regarding the entries in John's journal (which are from the "Supernatural: John Winchester's Journal" by Alex Irvine) and for the bit in this chapter.

Again, many thanks for all your kind words and follows and favorites. I really wasn't sure anyone but me would want to read what I've been writing and I'm sooooo happy you guys like it!

Seacaldubh

PS, The "Supernatural Origins" issues, as well as a couple of other SPN comic runs from back in the day, are available on Comixology if you've a mind to check them out.

Chapter 16

Dean watched Lizzie head for the entrance, dark shadows embracing her as she went. In the flickering firelight he looked slowly around at the carnage, then shared a long look with Sam. Besides the gore and fur and shattered bodies, there were unmistakable signs of the missing people. In the few moments the hunters looked around it became evident that the twins had spent a lot of time in the closed up mine. Sleeping bags and camping gear were off to one side. Makeshift shelves leaned against a wall, their surfaces littered with skins and feathers and bones, both animal and human. What looked like human skin was stretched in a frame, partway through the tanning process; a tattoo centered in the stretched flesh. Bundles of plants and bones and recognizable body parts hung from a rack in a dark corner. With difficulty Dean swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He looked up at Sam's grim expression and knew his brother felt the same revulsion.

Sam squeezed Dean's shoulder, a mute look asking if he could stand by himself. When Dean nodded Sam headed toward the shelves and bundles of leather and bones. Gingerly he picked up a few objects, gently replacing them after a quick inspection. Bobby joined him and Dean tuned out their low conversation.

He limped slowly to the mine entrance after Lizzie. He hoped she hadn't gone far. He was starting to feel how stiff his body was and his clothes were coated in blood and gore and the pain and warm rivulets running down his left leg meant that at least some of the blood was his. Despite the fuzziness in his head and the buzzing in his ears he planned on keeping it together as long as it took. But then he was going to get pissed, sleep for four days and find the biggest city as far away from nature as he possibly could. And stay there.

The entrance was blocked by chain link fencing; a gate hung ajar to one side. Beyond the darkness of the tunnel rosy early morning light created long shadows. He paused at the gate, holding it for support as he scanned the surrounding area. Though it had been a few years since this had been a working mine some of the skeletal remains of out buildings remained standing around a small asphalt lot. The lot was studded with potholes and scrub grass grew through long sinuous cracks. On the other side of the lot a blunt topped hill curved away to the east. He was relieved to see the Impala parked there in the lot next to a truck. At this point he would have been glad to see a skateboard. He wasn't up to another 'long ass walk'.

Lizzie was sitting on the ground to one side of the entrance, hunched over and hugging herself tightly. Moving slowly he went to her side and dropped heavily to the ground. She didn't look up, didn't move. He saw the white knuckles where she grasped her upper arms, the left one showing rent flesh through the torn sleeve. "Lizzie?"

She seemed not to hear him, just stared off into a distance that wasn't actually before her. He paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. He hated this part. The part when reality came crashing down and he saw the world changing in someone's eyes. Every time another monster fell he and Sam witnessed the transformation of an innocent's life. The way the fear made a home behind their eyes. The new hesitation as they moved. Knowing it meant the realization that they'd never be safe again - because now they knew what awaited them in the dark.

Dean felt a small, sharp thrill of fear deep in his gut. If someone who had her shit together like Lizzie could lose it, how could he justify being in one piece himself? The answer, of course, was that familiarity breeds contempt, and though she looked shell-shocked, he hoped she'd never gain the same familiarity he wrestled with. He sat beside her, not able to find words to comfort her, shivering occasionally in the cold morning air, and nearly falling into a stupor contemplating such things.

Sam joined them after a bit and in the distance Dean could see Tree and Rainbow still carrying the kids and following Bobby away from the mine. Behind Sam a young woman who looked a bit like Lizzie eased past him to kneel before her and enfold her in an embrace. He looked up at Sam with the question on his face, but Sam's expression was closed, and Dean knew he wouldn't get any answers for the time being. So he let Sam pull him upright and draw his arm over his shoulder without protest. Together they followed the others away from the mine. Dean wasn't sure how he kept dragging his feet forward and was half convinced that Sam carried him, but he was spent. Everything had become a blur except for the pain that sang through him like lightening. Rebounding against the inside of his skin to burn through him over and over as if he were a flesh pinball machine. And now that he was no longer being fueled by piss and adrenaline, he let Sam slide him into the backseat of the Impala and went limp.

888

When he awoke, it was daylight and he was up and in the bathroom to relieve himself before he was awake enough to notice that he was alone in their motel room. He padded back to his bed, the pain in his leg was still there, but greatly diminished. He had been sitting on the side of the bed for a few minutes wondering how long he'd been out and what day it was, before noticing the note beneath a water bottle and a yellow pill bottle he recognized from the medical supplies he and Sam kept in the trunk. He slid the note out from under the bottles.

Everyone is OKAY!

It was Sam's neat writing, the 'okay' written very large with three underlines. Dean snorted softly and read the rest. Sam instructed him to drink the whole bottle of water, take another pain pill and go back to bed. He explained that he and Bobby were tying up some loose ends and would be back in a few hours. A few hours from when, Sam didn't say.

Dean grimaced as he opened the bottles, tossing back two pills with a long swallow of the water. Then he gingerly regained his feet and went for the cooler. There was one bottle of beer left and it was only slightly chilled from lying in the water left by melted ice. Good enough. He popped the cap with his ring and chugged half of it before returning to his bed. Immediate needs sated he looked around the room, noting that Sam had neatened up the usual mess. He chuckled a little to himself shifting back to lean against the wall at the head of his bed. Sometimes Sam just couldn't abide Dean's mess. Especially when he felt it was encroaching on his side of the room.

Looking down he realized he was wearing a gray t-shirt and a very worn pair of Sam's old sweatpants. He must have really been out of it last night, or whenever it was they got back. Staring at the bottle in his hands he noticed the line of dirt and blood at his wrists, which meant Sam had cleaned him up some, too. Sighing, he decided he should get a shower and check his leg. Suiting actions to thoughts he headed for the bathroom and was soon letting the steaming water work its magic on his aching body.

After inspecting the few new stitches in his leg, obviously Sam's as they were no where as neat as Lizzie's, he wondered if she was really okay. But staring at the hollowness around his eyes and the scrapes and scratches and owl claw marks on his face in the foggy bathroom mirror he decided that he'd believe Sam. Didn't mean he wasn't going to see it for himself as soon as he felt up to it. But he didn't now, so he pulled the same clothes on and headed back to bed. Picking up his abandoned half full beer he took another long swig then settling back against the pillows. He toyed with the idea of locating the remote and finding something mindless to lull him back to sleep, but he was already so comfortable that he let the beer slip to the floor and was asleep before it emptied on the carpet.

888

When consciousness intruded again it was because of voices. Voices trying to be quiet, then forgetting themselves to rise into normal tones before quieting again. Dean rolled over and squinted across the room. Sam and Bobby were sitting at the rickety table with the half demolished remains of a bucket of chicken between them.

"Hey! What's a guy gotta do to get fed around here?" He sat up, realizing his stomach was growling.

"Well, another country heard from," Bobby greeted him and patted another place at the table, adding paper napkins and a can of soda. "Help yourself."

Dean cautiously rose to his feet and joined them at the table. The pain wasn't too bad. He helped himself to some chicken and took two biscuits from the box Sam held out to him.

"How're you feeling?" Sam asked.

"Better," Dean grunted through a mouthful of biscuit and chicken. Then he swallowed hard, "Wait, what happened?"

"You mean after you went missing? Again." Bobby glared at him. "You fill us in first."

Dean looked guiltily between Bobby's glare and Sam's expectant look. "Yeah, uh, I was planning on coming back." He stared at Sam with a slight pleading expression. "But we ran into Lizzie's uncle and – wait! Where's Lizzie? Is she really okay?"

Sam nodded, saying, "She's fine. She's home with grandma and her sister. They're taking care of her. She's all right." he finished firmly, trying to banish the worried look in his brother's eyes. "You are a lot worse off than she is. Really. You tore most of the stitches and I had to redo them. Not as neat as Lizzie's, but they'll do. You're welcome, by the way."

Dean sighed a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Yeah, I saw. Good. Thanks."

"And?" Bobby prodded.

"And what?" Dean stared at him quizzically.

"You ran into Lizzie's uncle and?"

"And, yeah, he drugged us and trapped us in a kiva," he slowed over the unfamiliar word, "Lizzie figured out how we could get out." And he recounted the hours struggling through the cave and ending up in the mine to find the hippie couple and the kids. "We were just trying to get everyone out when we ran into the skinwalkers. Hey, how did you find us? And how did you know about the powder, Sam?"

Sam settled back in his chair and wiped his lips then fingers with a paper napkin. "Remember that website? I wrote the guy?"

Dean nodded and rolled a finger in the air to encourage Sam to go on since his mouth was full again.

"He wrote back. He already knew it was skinwalkers. Some years back another hunter came to the area looking for them." Sam paused to show Dean a photo on his phone.

Dean's eyes grew wide. "No shit?"

Sam grinned. "Yup. It was dad. That's why you remembered the cliff face, I think. And," he gestured at Bobby, "Bobby had some lore about the cursed land here and the war between the Utes and the Navajo. It also said that these skinwalkers can only be killed by wooden arrows or spears dipped in white ash. So...I figured that had to be the white powder grandma gave us."

"So dad never got 'em."

"Oh, he got one all right," Bobby answered. "After talking with the old lady we think it was her brother. The twins' dad."

Dean grabbed the can of soda, gave it a disappointed look, but cracked it and drank anyway.

"So, when you didn't come back," and Sam gave him a disapproving look in accompaniment, "we headed out to the ranch. Holly and her mother were there with Grandma, and Maggie - Holly's mom - had an idea where to go after we told her about what happened that got you to the ranch that night.

Grandma wouldn't let us leave without her. She kept giving directions as we drove out. It was kinda of freaky actually. Plus, she and Bobby really hit it off." Sam grinned. "Poor Maggie could hardly keep up with translating."

"Hunting ain't only about killing monsters, boy. You gotta understand them, too." Bobby's pedantic tone only served to widen Sam's grin. "That old lady's forgotten more than you two will ever learn."

Sam smiled and nodded at Bobby, "You're right up there with her though."

Bobby gave a dismissive wave of his hand at Sam's comment but did return the grin.

"So, we got out to the mine entrance because Grandma said that's where we would find you."

Dean raised an eyebrow, "how the hell could she know that?"

Sam shook his head, " I don't know, really, but she kept insisting that's where we had to go. Of course when we got close to the entrance we could see the firelight and knew someone was inside."

Nodding, Dean asked, "What about the kids?"

"Ah, well, we dropped them off with Rainbow and Tree back where they parked their van. They drove them back into town. Gave the Sheriff some story about finding them lost. They'll be cool," Sam assured them, "They're not too keen on anyone else knowing about their, um, extra curricular activities."

Dean returned the grin, "Yeah, I bet not."

"And the kids are so little I doubt anyone will believe them about seeing anything weird."

"Which leaves the mess in the mine. What are we gonna do about that?"

"Well, after we got back here and got you fixed up," Sam continued, "Bobby came up with an idea that should take care of everything. We've already been back and salted and burned the bodies. All the bodies. And Eileen's used her truck to pull some of the supports out through the entrance."

"Which brought most of the entrance down. Nobody's going to get in there again," Bobby added.

"Wow, you guys have been busy." Dean grinned.

"Yeah. Hope you enjoyed your beauty rest Princess." Bobby grinned and raised an eyebrow at Dean.

"Yes. Yes I did." Deadpan for a moment, then Dean returned Bobby's grin.

Bobby gathered up the napkins and chicken bones at his place then rose, tossing the refuse in the can. "I need to get going boys. Ya'll take it easy and drop a dime once in a while."

8888

They were loading up the Impala and having a good natured argument about where their next destination should be.

"Vegas, baby!"

"No, Dean, I'm gonna find us a case." Sam dropped his bag into he trunk after extracting his laptop.

"Come on Sam. Isn't it time to air out that stick you keep up you ass?" Dean closed the trunk and and wasn't pleased to see Sam had already occupied shotgun and ignoring him. He slid behind the wheel. "Fun, Sam, remember fun?"

"Fun? Is that when you get drunk, stay out all night and I have to peel you off the carpet in the morning?" Sam answered, with a hint of laughter in his voice.

Dean frowned and shrugged one shoulder, "It can be, I mean, if that's what you want. But I'm thinking Circus Circus. Yeah, see if there's a clown show."

Sam gave his brother a sharp look, suppressing his laughter. "It's not Vegas week, Dean. We can't mess with traditions. That's BAD."

Dean gave a long suffering sigh. "Okay, where to?"

"Well, I haven't found anything yet."

"Oh? I'll tell you what, I want to go out and see Lizzie. You keep looking and when we hit the interstate again, if you haven't found a case, we're going to Vegas." He punctuated his declaration by stabbing his forefinger in Sam's direction. "Get busy there Mr. All Work and No Play is a Good Way to Kill Your Brother." Then he started the engine and cranked up the radio over Sam's protests.

They pulled up to the cabin and Dean cut the engine. He turned to Sam, "Sure you just wanna wait?"

Sam looked up from his laptop and smiled, "I'm sure." But there was a glint in his eye that warned Dean he'd be in for a ribbing later.

Dean got out of the Impala but stopped before closing the door as Lizzie was heading down the porch steps to him. "Hey."

"Hey. How's the leg?"

Dean grinned, turning a bit toward Baby to make sure that Sam could hear him, "Good. But I won't let you look at it because it will embarrass Sam. His stitching is nothing like yours."

Lizzie grinned, ducking her head to see if she could see Sam in the passenger's seat but he was engrossed in whatever was on his screen.

"How's the shoulder?"

"Tis but a scratch."

"A scratch? Your arm's off!"

A Lizzie's face was mock serious as she replied, "No it isn't!"

Dean closed the car door and mirrored her expression, "What's that then?"

"I've had worse!" She laughed, then added, "Seriously, I'm good, the bite wasn't that deep."

"Don't encourage him!" Sam slid over a bit and rolled down the driver's side window to groan.

Lizzie leaned down to meet his gaze. "Sorry Sam!"

Sam waved a dismissive hand and closed the window.

Lizzie returned to the porch stairs and sat on one, beckoning Dean to come and join her.

Once he settled, he turned and appraised her with a serious expression. "You good?"

She frowned, "As much as I can be, I guess."

He nodded, "Hmmm."

He fumbled in a chest pocket of his jacket, holding a slip of paper out to her. Lizzie took the paper and unfolded it.

"My number. If you need help, just call, okay? I mean, you know, if any other family members decide to break bad."

"Yeah," she whispered and put the paper in a pocket. " I have something for you, too."

She dropped a beaded bracelet into his hand. "These are ghost beads. They're powerful protection, and grandma blessed them for you, too."

He ran his fingers over the beads and stones strung together, looking at them closely. "Protection, huh? What are these beads?"

"Juniper berries, and that's turquoise." She pointed out one of the blue green stones. "You don't have to wear it or anything, but keep it near you, okay?"

Dean met her gaze, eyes narrowing at her sober expression. "I will." He ran the beads through his fingers again, then carefully placed them in the chest pocket of his shirt. "Thanks, Lizzie."

"Doesn't mean we're engaged or anything."

"So what's next for you?"

She sniffed, wrinkling her nose, "Maggie is going to drive me to Salt Lake tonight, I have a commercial flight to Houston and from there I'll pick up a military transport at Hood back to the sandbox."

"Maggie's your sister, right?" That was what Sam had told him, wasn't it?

"Yeah. What about you? You just go find another monster or something?"

He chuckled, "Probably. Yeah. Gotta say though, I'm glad to be doing that instead of flying. Better you than me."

Lizzie gave him a quizzical look, "You don't like flying?"

"Nope."

Lizzie had a hard time squelching her grin. After a moment she gave up, "So, wait, you hunt down and kill things from nightmares and you're afraid to fly? Seriously? Flying is scarier than vampires and witches?"

"That about sums it up."

"Why?"

"Planes crash."

Lizzie didn't even try to hold back the chuckle bubbling up, "Dude! You're far more likely to die in that land yacht of your's than in a plane crash!"

Dean gave her bitch face number three. Nobody insulted his Baby.

Lizzie only laughed harder. "Do you want me to give you the actual statistics or the smart ass ones?"

"Are those my only choices?"

She snorted, then managed to compose herself. "Okay. Sorry, sorry. It's not nice to make fun of other people's phobias."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, when Dean cleared his throat and said softly, "Be careful over there Lizzie."

"Yeah, I will. You be careful, too, Dean."

He nodded and rose heading for the Impala. He heard Lizzie's hollow sounding footsteps as she headed up the porch stairs into the house. For some reason they sounded very final to him.

Epilogue

Outside the Motel room window the sun was nearly down, it's last rays reaching for the encroaching darkness above the horizon. Dean glanced up and out the window, then paused to watch the sunset for a moment. Sighing, he turned back to their dad's journal. He had turned to a spot in the back where he and Sam had been adding pages with their own cases and observations.

Sam was off indulging in high school nostalgia at Truman. Cleaning the floors, probably. Dean was glad he was posing as a gym teacher instead of cleaning up after teenagers. He didn't want to spend any more time here than they absolutely had to, which was why he was trolling through past cases, looking for something, anything, to help them piece together what was going on. Memories came unbidden and he felt his cheeks warming slightly with embarrassment at a few choice ones. Funny how a little maturity made small the big things that consumed him a few years ago. He shook himself mentally and returned to the journal, paging through the newest entries in the notebook. Not finding anything of note he closed the journal and pulled the shoebox full of extra cells to him. He'd retrieved it from the Impala before Sam went back to Truman to scrub toilets or whatever the hell he was doing there as cover in the evenings. Dean hoped Sam would find something useful, but in the meantime he'd see if he could figure anything out. Idly, he started checking the extra phones for messages. Might as well make good use of his time. His 'other, other cell' had a three day old message on it. He punched in the PIN and pressed play.

An unfamiliar male voice coughed nervously before speaking, "Yeah, uh, Dean Winchester? I'm Aaron. Aaron Martinez. Um, Lizzie, um, Begay, she mentioned you. Something about you helped her out of a tight spot a while back. I was checking her phone for some numbers for her family and saw your's. I figured maybe you'd want to know. Lizzie was in a convoy and her humvee hit an IED. She didn't suffer or anything, it was fast. I mean, I'm sorry man, but she's gone." There was a long pause as Aaron took a few hoarse breaths. "Yeah, I'm sorry. Just thought you'd want to know."

After the message ended, he rolled it back and replayed it. It was just as awful the second time. Dean rolled his lower lip over his teeth and bit down hard. It was all he could think of to do to distract his eyes from prickling with tears. He saw Lizzie in his mind's eye. The confident Lizzie who called him 'jackass' and sternly instructed him to take care of his wound. The broken Lizzie when her world caved in and the things that hid in the night became real. The new somber Lizzie who had waved them off when they drove away from the cabin the same day she was leaving to go back to the 'sandbox'.

He sat there at the table holding the phone for a long time, motionless. And when he finally heard the Impala's throaty growl as Sam pulled into the space near their room he snapped out of his reverie. Frowning, he deleted the message and dropped the phone back into the box.

Sam entered their room, the warm smell of pepperoni pizza accompanying him. "Anything happen while I was gone?"

Dean relieved Sam of the pizza and setting it on the table answered, "Not a goddammed thing."

END