New chapter is up. I am glad you guys are continuing to enjoy this. This one is a little shorter, but I felt it was the right place to break it and keep the flow of the story. Enjoy!

Chapter 5

"Damn it," Dean swore.

Sam actually felt relieved. He had expected something like that to happen. He had been on edge because of it, but now that it was finally upon them, he felt he could concentrate on the hunt more than on the heavy knots in his stomach.

"We knew the car would stop," he said.

Dean scowled.

"This is spooks messing with my baby, Sam," he snapped. "Don't ask me to be all Zen about it."

Sam raised his eyebrows.

"Zen?" he mocked.

Dean waved a hand in his direction, and Sam chuckled. Of course, Dean's possessiveness towards the car was no longer a surprise to him.

"Should have taken Dad's truck," Dean muttered. "Now you want to leave it here in the desert? Expose it to dust and sand and whatever else?"

The Impala had once been covered in Wendigo blood. Sam really did not know why Dean found dust and sand worse.

"You can hear the bells, right?" he asked.

Dean nodded.

"Church bells, yeah."

"Do you think this is how they lure people to the town?"

"Could be," Dean agreed. "I mean, church bells mean someone's there, right? And people might think it's a civilized place where people go to church and all. Goes to show you shouldn't be a sucker for that kind of stuff."

Sam snorted. Dean could not utter two sentences without being cynical. Then again, with the way he lived, Sam could hardly blame him.

"Alright," Dean said. "Now we get out of the car and head towards the town."

Sam tensed.

"Do you think it's wise?" he asked.

Dean shook his head.

"Sam, we can't stay in the car forever."

Sam nodded quickly. Of course they couldn't.

"No, you're right. I just meant that…we don't even know what's out there."

Dean shrugged.

"Not the first time we went in blind."

Sam's mouth thinned. Of course it wasn't. And during many of the previous times, one of them had nearly died.

"You don't see anything, do you?" he asked, just to be sure.

Dean squinted at him.

"See what, Sam? I see you having an existential crisis in the middle of a hunt."

Sam huffed.

"I meant the creature. Elizabeth saw it when she was in the car. Do you see anything?"

Dean frowned.

"Sam, if I'd seen something, I would have started shooting by now. You know me."

That much was true. Sam still had the feeling Dean was hiding something from him – more than whatever conspiracy he was having with dad – but at least he was certain that, if Dean would have been aware of anything threatening them, he would have acted by now.

"Now come on," Dean said. "Out of the car. And take water with you. Sound carries in here and we don't know how far the town is. Neither of us wants to add dehydration to the mix of weirdness that's around here."

Sam obeyed this time. He followed Dean to the trunk. Dean handed him a gun along with several types of bullets – both regular, as well as silver and rock salt.

"Just to be sure," Dean said, arming himself as well.

"Then take some Holy Water, too," Sam urged.

Dean looked skeptical.

"Holy Water doesn't work on everything, you know that. If it's something pagan, Holy Water will do nothing but give it a shower."

Sam nodded quickly.

"But we don't know for sure if it's pagan, do we?" he argued. "Being prepared doesn't hurt. Besides, we're in a desert and Holy Water is still water. If it can't protect us, at least it can stop us from dying of thirst."

Dean took two flasks of Holy Water, handing one to Sam while he kept the other to himself.

"Time to go," he said. "Stay sharp."

He was already on the move. Sam followed. The sun was hot against his skin, making him feel feverish. And he still could not escape the thought that something was about to go horribly wrong.

xxxXXXxxx

They walked for a while without nothing happening. The church bells had stopped, but they were sure they were going in the right direction. Dean wiped the sweat off his forehead. He was feeling slightly light-headed. Once more, he wondered if he shouldn't be sharing this with Sam. After all, he had all but promised to do so. But he was not certain that it had anything to do with the town. Besides, Sam would panic, and might even insist on them going back – if that was even still in the cards for them. No, better to wait until they got to the town, and see how they could take things from there.

There was another reason why Dean was keeping silent, and this one he knew he could not share with Sam yet, because Sam would completely freak out. If the creature had indeed started to target Dean, then Dean could be the perfect bait. He would have to inform Sam of his plan at some point, but it needed to be advanced enough so Sam could not have them both back down.

Dean regretted his plans. He knew Sam was not likely to forgive him for such subterfuges. But he had to do his job, and he had to make sure Sam was safe and out of the line of fire. This was a way for him to do both, and if Sam did not like it, well, at least he would be safe. And there was nothing more important to Dean than Sam being safe.

As they walked, they spotted a car in the distance. When they got close, they realized there was no one inside. The car had been locked, though, so whoever had left it there had done so voluntarily.

"You think that's the mom with her kid?" Dean asked.

Sam pointed to the Chemistry textbook lying in the backseat. Dean scoffed.

"Oh, look, Sammy, another nerd in the wild."

Sam glared.

"I don't even like Chemistry," he protested. "That's more your style."

Dean hummed.

"Oh, yes, it was the one time in school when I was allowed to blow things up."

Dean looked around, since the wind was blowing, all tracks had been covered up by then. Someone had been there that day, trying to fix the car, though. There were several tools close by.

"Well, that's not good," Dean said. "It means they're still in town."

"I hope they're still alive," Sam said.

Dean bit his lips. If the creature was only interested in taking one of a pair, then at least one of them was safe.

"If that thing targets only women," he began, "Then he would go after the mother."

Sam nodded, only half-convinced.

"And if it targets those who are sick, then the son would be the victim."

Yeah, Dean did not really want to think about that.

"What are the chances the thing went dormant after Elizabeth?" Sam asked.

"Not many," Dean admitted. "Cars are still breaking down around here. The bells are still there to lure travelers."

Sam grimaced.

"I was afraid you'd say that."

Dean was about to make one of his usual quips about how it was going to be fun – but if the lives of a mother and child were at stake, he could not really bring himself to do it. Instead, he grabbed Sam's shoulder.

"Let's get going," he said.

"Hold on," Sam told him. 'Check your phone, Dean."

Dean frowned, confused by the request.

"Why? Expecting a call?"

Sam huffed.

"Just check to see if it works."

Dean shrugged but followed Sam's instructions. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the phone.

"No signal," he discovered.

Sam looked tense but not surprised.

"I was afraid of that. Benny mentioned their phones not working, remember?"

Dean now knew what Sam was hinting at.

"Complete isolation. Just like the townsmen when whatever happened to them took place."

Sam's eyes were grave.

"We're cut off from dad," he pointed out.

Dean was sure John had expected something like that to happen.

"Well, if we finish this job quickly we won't have to worry him," he said, speaking with far more confidence than he felt. "Let's go."

Sam wavered.

"Aren't you the least bit worried?" he accused. "After all, you can't get any backup now."

Dean plastered a smile on his face.

"I'm not worried at all," he said. "Besides, you're all the backup I need, Sam."

Sam's eyes widened in surprise. He blushed.

"Thanks, Dean," he muttered.

Dean shook his head, hiding his amusement. His smile faded when he had his back to Sam. He had to acknowledge that Sam was right about one thing: it could all go very wrong for them – and if so, they were pretty much cut off from anybody who could help them.

xxxXXXXxxxx

John tried Dean's phone again. He grimaced in frustration when he was announced by a mechanical voice that the caller was out of range and could not be reached. It was not surprising, though. In fact, John had feared something like this would happen. He just had to trust Sam and Dean to handle things – for a while. He would send the calvary after them if they remained quiet for too long.

That evening, he drove back to Godfrey's shop. An angry woman was just leaving as he walked in.

"I wouldn't bother," she snapped. "He's full of crap."

John stared after her, as she strode down the street, radiating fury.

"What was that about?" he asked Godfrey.

The man was standing at the counter, gathering some money. He grinned.

"I told her that her husband was cheating on her with her sisters – all three of them."

John whistled.

"Did you really see that?"

Godfrey's eyes glittered.

"Of course not. I don't waste my skills on trivialities. I had a private investigator follow the husband. I do have my own resources, you know. Something you shouldn't forget."

John was not comfortable with Godfrey's words. He wondered if it meant the man knew he intended to send hunters on his head.

"What I told you to find was not a triviality," he said.

Something dark passed over Godfrey's eyes. His jaw clenched.

"No," he said. "That it wasn't."

"Well?" John asked. "What did you find out? Is my son…is he a threat to us?"

He felt guilty even saying the words. But he needed to know. He loved Sam more than words could tell. He still needed to know.

Godfrey snorted.

"A threat to you," he repeated. "He's a child. When he grows up, he'll break your heart. When children grow up, they always end up breaking their parents' hearts for one reason or another."

John felt a twinge of irritation.

"That is not what I wanted to find out, and you know it."

Godfrey nodded.

"No, what you wanted to find out if the thing that had killed his mother was there for him."

John swallowed harshly.

"Was it?"

Godfrey placed Mary's photograph on the counter. He ran his fingers over Mary's features. John fought with the jolt of fury. He felt like grabbing the picture and then slamming Godfrey's head against the counter for good measure.

"Something very dark wanted your son," Godfrey finally said. "Something dark and cruel and ancient."

"Why?" John asked. "Why would it want him? He was six months, for crying out loud."

Godfrey shrugged.

"There is something that you must never do, and that is look into the reasons of why such things happen. You'd go mad. Trust me, I know."

John took a deep breath. His hands clenched.

"Did it do anything to him?"

Godfrey raised his eyebrow.

"It killed his mother and drove his father to obsession," he pointed out dryly. "I would say that yes, wouldn't you?"

Godfrey was looking at him with pity, John realized, and also reproach. He wanted to think that he did not care if a witch considered him a bad parent – but the twinge of guilt was still there.

He leaned forward and placed his hand on Godfrey's arm. Godfrey did not move, but looked at him, impassive.

"Is he my son, though?" he asked, speaking the words clearly and carefully. "Is it still him or…?"

Or something else. John had heard of Changelings after all. He had never encountered one, but what if he had been raising one all those years without knowing? What if Sam had never really been his? He had no idea what he would do if he found out it was so. He had no idea what he would tell Dean, how he would convince him that…that something needed to be done.

Godfrey was watching him impassively. John had the impression that the man knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Oh, he is your son. Through and through."

John sighed, feeling lightheaded.

"So, he will not turn evil?"

Godfrey laughed.

"Oh, you are a funny one. How can one tell how someone will turn out? Tell me something: do you think you are good?"

John allowed his hands to drop, not concealing his disgust.

"We're done here," he said.

Godfrey shrugged.

"I wasn't the one who asked you to come here in the first place."

John made to take Mary's picture. Godfrey slammed his hand over it. John frowned.

"That's mine," he protested.

Godfrey leered.

"Mine now. I asked for a price. You gave it to me fair and square, didn't you?"

John did not want to leave the picture there. He did not want Godfrey to use it for something. Still, he swallowed his distaste.

"Fine," he muttered. "Thanks. For nothing."

He made to leave when Godfrey stopped him.

"Tell General Croydon I'm sorry about his daughter."

John took several steps back into the shop.

"What do you know about that?" he asked sharply.

Godfrey looked away.

"I know she is not herself anymore."

What did that mean? Had the creature that took her turned her into something else?

"You know what's out there," John accused. "In the desert."

Godfrey looked at him, impassive.

"Death is out there in the desert. A death so horrible, it doesn't let ghosts rest."

John thought the room had grown colder. Even Godfrey looked unnerved. And he had sent Sam and Dean there! Without saying anything, he turned and walked out of the shop. His phone was already in his hands. He needed to reach Dean somehow.

xxxXXXXxxx

When Sam and Dean walked into the ghost town, the place was silent. They could not hear any bells anymore. In fact, the only church they could see looked as if it had been damaged by a fire, and half its tower had already crumbled. It was the only sign of ruin, though. the other houses looked untouched. Grass grew untamed on the streets and in the gardens, ivy swallowed some houses, but otherwise there was no damage that they could see.

"As if it's been taken outside of time," Sam said.

He did not like hearing his voice in the oppressive silence. It made him feel uncomfortable and exposed. He fought the sensation to move closer to Dean and grab his hand. He was fourteen, not four, for crying out loud.

Dean, in the meantime, was watching the place with distaste. His jaw was clenched.

"What do you think?" Sam asked.

"I think something is definitely wrong here," Dean replied.

Sam took in the houses, the pub, a building that had probably been the local library. It was probably the first time in his life when a library provoked distaste instead of excitement.

"We'll have to look inside all of these houses, right?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded tersely.

"Well, yeah, but not right now. Not this evening. It's gonna be dark soon. I don't want either of us wondering around in this place after dark."

Sam shivered.

"Don't you feel as if something's watching you?"

Dean shrugged.

"Something's always watching us."

The wind was blowing, bringing sand from the desert with it. dean started coughing. He bent over, giving in to the fit. Sam hurried to him and placed a hesitant hand on his back.

"Dean?" he asked. "Dean, seriously…"

Dean straightened up. His face was flushed, but it could be just exertion after all that coughing.

"Don't worry about me, Sam," he said steadily.

Sam snorted.

"You're making it pretty hard, you know."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Why can't you be a normal, selfish teenager for once? Just worry about yourself."

Sam felt a pang of bitterness.

"Because you were never one. You never worried about yourself."

Dean looked as if he did not really want to hear all this, and Sam knew how much he hated it when Sam tried to get him to open up – or tried to open up himself.

"Who did I worry about, then?" he muttered.

Sam looked at him without flinching.

"Me. It was always me."

Dean turned away.

"What was I to do, Sam? You were a kid. You're still a kid."

Sam nodded fervently.

"Yeah, and I don't know what I would have done without you, cause Dad, he might mean well but he sometimes…" He paused and swallowed, not really wanting to continue, but too late to stop. "Sometimes I really feel I'm second place with him."

Dean turned swiftly around. The flush now was probably caused by anger more than anything.

"Don't you ever say that again, Sam!" he hissed. "Dad always puts us first. Always."

Still, Sam could not help delivering the final blow.

"Then where is he now?"

Dean drew back as if Sam had struck him. Sam felt a twinge of guilt, but he told himself to ignore it. After all, nothing of what he had said was false. Their father had sent him in the desert in an abandoned town where there were a thousand ways in which they could get killed. And he had not even come with them.

Sam had no idea what Dean was going to do now. Whether he would have one of those explosive moments of anger that would lead to him not speaking to Sam for days, or if he would refuse to acknowledge Sam's words altogether. He did not have the chance to find out. The sound of a door opening had the both of them on the alert.

In front of one of the houses now stood a middle-aged woman. She was tall and well-dressed, although her clothes looked slept in, and her hair was uncombed. She was holding a knife, probably one she had grabbed in haste from the house when she heard the two and thought she would be in danger. Seeing how young they were, though, she lowered her knife slightly.

"Who are you?" she asked sharply. "You don't live here, do you? Where are your parents?"

Sam tried to take a step towards her, but Dean held him back.

"Beatrice?" he asked. "You're Beatrice, aren't you? I've heard your aunt looking for you. At the library. She was worried when you didn't get there in time."

Beatrice allowed her knife to drop.

"Where are your parents?" she insisted.

"That's a long story," Dean said.

Beatrice shook her head.

"I don't seem to be going anywhere."

"Well, maybe we can help with that," Dean said. "I'm Dean, this is Sam, and we are here to get you out of here, ma'am."

Perhaps the words would have had more of an effect if Sam and Dean had really looked like the knights in shining armor they were pretending to be and not the eighteen- and fourteen-year-olds that they were.

"Is your son here?" Sam asked.

A shadow passed over Beatrice's face.

"Yes," she said flatly. "He is."

"He's sick, isn't he?" Sam asked knowingly.

Beatrice hesitated.

"You'd better come in," was all she said.

Since I usually stay in canon, I could not have John find out too much about Sam, but he was already on the track of suspecting the demon was in Sam's room for a reason, so I had Godfrey's meeting confirm his suspicions. We haven't seen the last of Godfrey yet in this story, though. And now I'm thinking of writing a fic about Changelings next :D

Yes, Dean has a reckless plan in mind and Sam is not going to like it one bit when he finds out.

See you next week!