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Chapter 1 - Collision Course

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"Why are we here again?" groused Dean as he was jostled for the umpteenth time by the crowds ebbing and flowing around him.

"You know why, Dean." Sam patiently responded without turning. "The Walker necklace is a key artifact that belonged to Grant Walker, and his spirit is going to continue to wreak havoc at the old Walker plantation until we can put it to rest." Ignoring the continued grumbling about crowds and museums, he doggedly pressed through the crowds, leading them slowly ever closer to the museum display that was their intended destination.

"Son of a - !" At that, Sam did turn - concerned both for his brother and whatever sort of altercation might be about to take place. When he didn't immediately see Dean his anxiety rose quickly, only to be replaced with a hastily hidden smirk as he located him sprawled on the floor. A grinning, tall, rugged, sandy-blonde man stood over Dean with a hand held out to help him up.

"Sorry brother, my bad!" laughed the stranger, unfazed by the glare Dean was leveling at him. Dean ignored the outstretched hand, levering himself up from the floor, intending to give the stranger a piece of his mind. However, in the brief time it took to regain his feet the grinning man had whirled, and was gone.

"You ok?" Sam asked with only a slight tremor in his voice, determined not to make things worse by laughing. Dean glared, somehow knowing Sam was WAY more amused by his tumble than he.

"Idiot! Guy should watch where he's going…!" He craned his neck to see where the guy had gone, but he was already indiscernible in the crowd. Dean gave one last "harrumph" and turned back to resume trailing after Sam, only to bump into his unmoving brother and nearly land himself back on the floor. "What the - Sam! Really?!" Angling to the side, he noticed Sam staring open-mouthed, and followed his gaze to a glass case just visible through the crowd. An empty glass case. The very same glass case, according to the display label, which had held the necklace they had come to investigate. Well crap, Dean thought, can this day get any worse?

"Dean, the guy who knocked you over…could he have…?" Suddenly Sam grabbed Dean's arm, pulled him around and led the way as rapidly as possible back the direction they had just come. Weaving around an oblivious tourist stopped in the middle of the doorway staring at his phone and finally bursting free of the claustrophobic crowds into the attached parking garage, Dean put a halt to Sam's hurried pace. "Dude. What?"

"The museum doesn't realize they've been robbed."

"So?" Dean usually could catch onto Sam's thought processes quickly, but currently he was still at a loss.

"Weren't we going to do that very thing after they closed? Seems this guy has saved us that trouble."

"One small problem though, we don't know who "this guy" is or where to find him." he responded, complete with air quotes. Sam deflated a bit at that.

"We will find him. You'll see." Stubbornly optimistic, he led the way back to the Impala, where they both just sat for a moment, trying to think through their next moves. A rustling behind them had them reaching for weapons, only to pause at the sound of a gun cocking.

"Easy now, fellas." came a strong Texan-like drawl from the back seat. "No stupid moves now. No reason why we can't be friendly-like. I just need to hitch a ride out of here." Hands up, Dean glanced in the rear view mirror, started, and turned abruptly, forgetting they were at gunpoint. "You!" he exclaimed. Looking back at him behind the barrel of a gun was the same shaggy blonde guy that had knocked him over earlier.

"Hey, face front!" the intruder exclaimed, waving his gun towards Sam's head. Dean abruptly spun back, face grim at the implied threat to his brother.

"Just relax man, we're cool." Sam soothed. "We were actually looking for you…"

"You cops?" he growled, stiffening.

"No, no…nothing like that." Sam responded hastily. "But…Dean," at this he gave Dean a pointed look, "this conversation would probably be better had elsewhere." Dean nodded and slowly moved to start the engine.

"No funny business now," the stranger instructed, "just a simple ride out of here and across town, and this will all be over. But do something stupid, and your friend here is going to be in a lot of pain." Dean simply nodded and eased Baby out from her parking spot, taking the ramp to the exit. Glancing again in the rearview, he noticed the gun had been covered by a jacket, but when their eyes met the gunman waggled the end peeking out from underneath, threat clearly implied even while he smiled amicably. As Dean pulled up to the exit payment window he could feel the tension rolling through the car, but his simple exchange with the attendant was over quickly and then they were on their way.

"Where am I going?" Dean growled, as they headed out of the museum district towards more open roads. Glancing back, he noticed their unwelcome passenger seemed already more relaxed.

"Take the highway south, please." Huh, a polite kidnapper. Too bad he'll still be in a world of hurt when we're done. NO ONE threatened his little brother and got away with it. Pulling onto the highway, he glanced over at Sam, who seemed lost in thought and not nearly tense enough for what the situation warranted. Puzzled, he continued driving, thinking through and discarding various scenarios to get them out of their current predicament. He was startled when Sam suddenly spoke up.

"Dean, pull off here. Now!" Caught off guard, Dean obeyed without thinking, pulling onto a dirt road that ran off the highway and quickly disappeared into a stand of trees.

"Hey! What are you doing? Stop!" shouted the gunman. Dean obliged by stomping on the brakes, throwing him forward. Sam threw himself backward at the same time, grabbing at the gun, with a twist deftly disarming the man. Putting the car in park, the brothers turned to stare at the back seat, gun now trained on their assailant.

"Well, ain't this a lovely pickle!" The look on the man's face was one of chagrin mixed with grudging respect, but not fear. This reaction prompted Sam to check the gun, which he quickly realized was unloaded. Dean immediately drew his gun, and the passenger pressed himself back against the seat with hands out.

"WHOA there cowboy! Wait just a minute…"

"Dean, put the gun away. He was never going to hurt us." Sam looked thoughtfully at the guy. "You got a name, or should I just refer to you as 'Thug'?"

"'Thug'? Hardly!" he retorted, looking offended. Then offering his hand, face open and friendly, "Name's Hoyt. Hoyt Rawlings."

Dean and Sam just stared at the offered hand, then up at the man. I bet he cons a lot of people with that face, Dean thought, almost as good as Sammy's puppy eyes. He smirked out loud at the thought, which earned him a strange look from the other passengers in the car. Hoyt shrugged and dropped his hand. "Just being civil," he muttered.

"Civil? Like kidnapping us at gunpoint. That kind of civil?" questioned Dean.

"Kidnapping? Man, y'all misunderstand me. I just needed a ride…the gun wasn't even loaded!"

"Do you have it? The necklace?" Sam interrupted. Hoyt stared at him, surprised, then shrugged again.

"I do. It's mine, actually. A family heirloom."

"An heirloom you had to STEAL." Sam pressed.

"Well, yeah. My family and I, we don't always agree on what should happen to heirlooms." Hoyt looked contemplative, almost like he was going to continue, but then stopped.

"So you're a Walker…" Dean prompted.

"Yes. Sort of. It's a long story."

"Right." scoffed Sam. At this, Hoyt stiffened, apparently mad at not being believed. He suddenly dove for the door, and was out and running before either of the Winchesters could process the movement.

"Son of a - " ground out Dean, following as Sam booked it after Rawlings. If they didn't need the necklace he would have just shouted to Sam to let the annoying guy go, but need it they did, if they hoped to put the ghost to rest. He caught up to both as they were rolling in the dirt trading blows. They actually seemed pretty evenly matched, but he knew that it just took one good punch to change everything, so he shouted "Stop!" loudly. When that didn't get the desired effect, he fired a warning shot in the air. Both men froze, then rolled apart, panting from exertion. As they stumbled to their feet, Dean suddenly closed the gap, and with a solid right hook, laid Rawlings flat, out cold.