Silver City wasn't a very big place, so in 10 minutes, Dean was parking on the dirt road in front of the address Sam had found. The houses on this edge of town were spread out with plenty of sand and scrub between them. Hector's place was small and beige, almost camouflaged into the surrounding desert like a pheasant in tall grass. It looked older than some of the other houses they'd passed on the way here; a classic pueblo style among more modern siding-clad homes. There was no one around when they got out of the car. In fact, other than a couple of mule dear passing by farther up the road, there was no movement other than the wind sweeping the sand around.

"You take the back, I'll take the front," Dean directed. The plan was to knock on the front door and see what happened. Either way, they'd catch the guy if he was home. Then they could have a little chat.

"Okay, give me 2 minutes." Sam crept around the left side of the house, carefully avoiding windows until Dean lost sight of him. There was no vehicle in the bare gravel area that passed for a driveway, but that didn't mean Hector wasn't home. When two minutes had passed, Dean casually walked up to the front door. Keeping his gun down by his thigh, he sharply knocked on the wooden door. Maybe their target was cocky enough to think he couldn't be found, and they could surprise him. No one answered, so after a few minutes Dean slowly circled the right side of the casita. Sam was crouched low, peering into a window. He gestured him over and Dean peeked in.

The rooms at the back of the home had been converted to a make-shift laboratory. There was no sign of Hector and the house had that quiet, vacant feeling. Ducking back down, just in case, Dean moved to the back door and slid his lock pick set out of his pocket. Presumably, Hector wasn't too worried about security because the lock snicked open almost as soon as he'd inserted the tool. Cautiously, they entered the building. Sam swept left while Dean took right.

There wasn't much to the little house. A tiny kitchen, empty except for a garbage can full of fast-food containers and microwavable burrito wrappers. There wasn't even beer in the fridge. Hector obviously wasn't a fussy eater. The bathroom was clean, but also bare. The single toothbrush and cheap aftershave spoke of a guy who didn't spend much time on his appearance. The bedroom held only a rumpled, unmade bed, a dresser, and a lone lamp. The rest of the house had been sacrificed to the lab equipment and the whiteboards scrawled with messy formulas, notes, and symbols.

Sam was studying Hector's work, moving from board to board. Dean looked at the scribbles, but much of it was meaningless to him. He gave the table of beakers and flasks, tubes, and dishes a wide birth. After all, the kids in the CCF had been dosed with some kind of powder and he and Sam had left their respirators in the car. There wasn't anything dangerous that he could identify, but better to play it safe considering. Poking around some papers lying on a shelf, Dean found a spiral bound notebook. Unlike the boards, it was written in plain English with some official looking letters tucked inside. He skimmed them.

"I'm not a scientist, but from what I can tell, this is just regular chemistry. I don't see anything that looks like magic." Sam waved at the boards in frustration, but Dean was excited by what he had found.

"It looks like Hector has a second location." He waved one of the letters at Sam who snatched it out of his fingers so that he could read it. Before Sammy had a chance, Dean spilled the beans. "Our killer inherited a cabin from dear, dead uncle Camilo."

"That's up in the Gila Wilderness."

"Sounds like the perfect place to work on your non-authorized, magic-enhanced, covert side hustle." Dean took pity on Sam and simply handed him the other papers. "According to these, he got an advance to work on some secret project for a corporation."

"I'll say, and based on this correspondence, he wasn't making his deadlines."

"Probably spent too much time perving on girls."

Sam kept reading, leaving Dean to wander around the cluttered room. Other than the table and science equipment, the only other furniture was a worn armchair, a side table littered with empty soda cans and an old TV on a battered stand. Oddly there was a large, framed poster of Alfred Nobel on the wall. Dean tapped it and it swung on the nail from which it was hanging. He was bored waiting on Sammy, so he did it again.

The poster fell off the wall and Dean caught it before it could hit the ground. He was going to return it to its spot, but he caught sight of the back of the poster. Taped to it were dozens of photos of girls. There were multiple of pictures of Emily, many of them taken from a distance, but there were also snaps of Sonya, Georgie and a few other young women.

"Sam," Dean called, displaying his find.

"Whoa," Sam breathed, after he dragged his eyes from the notebook to examine the pictures. "Looks like he did have a hobby."

"Yeah. I really wanna find this creep."

xxxxxx

The sun was barely brushing the horizon the next morning while Dean packed the car. As much as he wanted to go after Hector yesterday, they had decided to wait. Sam had determined that the cabin was in a remote part of the Gila Wilderness area. In fact, he speculated that the Yanez family had probably owned the property before the area got federally protected back in 1924. They were going to have to do some serious hiking and Dean had no interest in tangling with bears or mountain lions at night. The delay irritated him, but it had given them time to pick up a few supplies and to plan a route that would get them closest to Hector's place.

But now he was impatient and undercaffeinated. They'd have to stop for coffee on the way out of town. Poking his head back into the motel room where Sam was still getting ready, "c'mon Sam, we're burning daylight," he grumbled.

"Just finished downloading some maps onto my phone. I doubt we'll have cell service out there." Passing Dean on his way to the car, Sam dumped his computer bag into the back seat. The comfortable creak of the doors welcomed them, and they were finally off, pulling out of the parking lot into the sparse traffic.

In town, the day was already heating up as they left, but the mountains to which they were headed promised to be cooler. Dean happily sipped his extra-large coffee as he drove the winding road. Over a couple of hours, they wove their way up, down and around the geography, climbing steadily higher. The scenery outside the windows, slowly changed from spindly ocotillo and cactus to juniper trees and ponderosa pines. Dean had to admit it was beautiful.

"So get this," began Sam, turning down the stereo. Sam had been reading Hector's notebook as Dean drove. "You know how casinos pump in scents to make people stay longer and gamble more? It's called olfactory-evoked recall."

"Yeah." During their last Vegas trip, Sam had told him way too much about the science behind smells and how they influenced your feelings. That trip had been a few years ago now. Maybe once they were finished with this case, they could take a detour and hit up a casino. Of course, that would mean leaving Miracle with the dog sitter for longer.

"Hey, are you even listening?" Sam whined.

"Of course," Dean lied. He'd zoned out for a minute, but he snapped his attention back to the conversation. Whether Sam believed him or not, the kid continued.

"Well Hector was working on a formula for an aerosol scent that would make items more attractive to consumers and encourage them to buy more."

"Okay, but a smell doesn't turn people into stone."

"Not by itself it doesn't. But I think Hector has been mixing his chemistry with magic. He writes that he was failing, but then he found a book in the library that contained love spells."

"Ugh, I hate those." Dean still felt angry and embarrassed by what the Plum sisters had done to him. Friggin witch bitches. He was glad Rowena had them kill each other. Fitting justice.

"Yeah, me too." Sam didn't elaborate but Dean knew he was still a little sensitive about his brief marriage to Becky Rosen.

"Anyway, initially Hector thought it was nonsense, but get this…" Sam paused as he scanned a page of the book. "He says the book 'spoke to him.' As in literally said words out loud."

"Since books don't normally narrate themselves, I take it he got sucked into some kind of spell." Dean really did hate witches. What kind of sleezeball booby-trapped a book?

"Hector definitely stumbled across a powerful grimoire. After he finds the book, all he talks about are his fantasies about making Emily to fall in love with him and how the right formula will make him irresistible and rich." Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Great, is he a witch or not?"

"Hard to know. The guy obviously had issues which left him wide open for a curse or some form of possession." Sam shrugged.

"Awesome."

Of course, it was anything but awesome. Most monsters had some logic behind their actions. They killed for food, or territory or by instinct. Even vampires and werewolves were relatively predictable. Humans were far more dangerous, then throw magic into the mix…taking out the guy might get tricky.

Sam lapsed back into silence and Dean ran through the plan they'd developed last night as he drove. There were no actual roads in the Gila Wilderness, in fact motorized vehicles of any kind were banned. The map he'd looked at showed a single remote access road that the forestry service used occasionally. It was as close as they could get by car to where Hector's cabin was supposed to be. Dean wasn't looking forward to a strenuous hike through the underbrush.

After another little while, Sam broke from his reading and checked the map he'd downloaded onto his tablet. "The access road is coming up here on the right, in about half a mile."

It was a good thing Sam had reminded him, because Dean would have driven right past the unmarked passage without the warning to look for it. The edge of the road was overgrown and obscured the entrance. Silently Dean apologized to Baby as he turned onto the bumpy track. It had rained recently so the so-called road was little more than two muddy ruts tucked between trees grown so close, the branches scraped down the sides of the car. Going barely above a crawl, Dean crossed his fingers that they wouldn't get stuck in the mud.

"Hold up, what's that?" Sam called, pointing towards a section of forest on the left. Dean came to a stop.

"What?"

Instead of answering, Sam opened his door and got out to walk around in front of the car to poke around in the bush. Rolling down the window, Dean enjoyed the rush of fresh, pine-scented air. It was still warm, but underneath the lush trees, there was a sense of peaceful solitude. Sam went another few feet into the shrubbery and then began to run his palms over a slender tree. He was about to ask what Sammy was looking for when his brother gave a shout of success and began pushing a chunk of the underbrush up into the air.

It was a gate, carefully camouflaged to integrate into the edge of the route, but once Sam opened it, Dean could see a new set of tracks leading farther into the wilderness. He debated leaving Baby here where it would be difficult enough to get her back to the main road. But honestly, he wanted the security of the Impala and her well-equipped trunk as close as possible to where they were hoping to find Hector. Sam got back into the car with a self-satisfied look that Dean chose to ignore. With a shrug, he began to guide his girl deeper into the forest.

The track bounced them up and down for a few miles. Branches of cottonwood heavy with leaves brushed the windows and at one point Dean drove through a narrow streamlet. Eventually the tight path widened into a clearing. The ground here was rockier, dotted with ferns and moss. At the other end was parked a dusty pick-up. Other than the truck there was no sign of Hector or a cabin. Sam got out again and helped direct Dean as he carefully maneuvered the car around so they could make a quick getaway. Well, as quick as you could get driving down a forest path.

Dean scrutinized the trees as shut down the engine and got out. Everything seemed calm. In the distance he could hear a woodpecker, drumming out rhythm and birdsong harmonized with the sound of the wind in the treetops. The sun was strong here in the clearing but under the canopy the forest looked shady and hospitable. Really, if they weren't here to hunt a killer witch, it would be a beautiful day. Sadly, they had work to do, so Dean met Sam at the trunk as they geared up.

xxxxxx

Sam checked his gun before tucking it into the back of his jeans. He loaded a short knife into his boot and slid a larger one into a sheath at his waist. Then he double checked that his backpack was stocked with bottled water, a first aid kit and the small notebook where he'd transcribed some of Rowena's more effective counter curses. He added a respirator mask, sincerely hoping he wouldn't have to wear the stuffy, hot headgear. Finally, he opened the GPS on his phone. As predicted, there was no cell service, but the offline navigation would have to be good enough.

"Ready to go?" asked Dean. Unlike Sam, his brother had added his own chosen equipment to the army-green duffle that held their weapons.

"Did you bring a mask?"

Dean patted the bag, slung over one shoulder. "Yup."

There was a trail leading from the clearing, scored more deeply into the vegetation than an animal track would be. Dean took the lead down the narrow path and Sam followed, holding his arm up to keep low hanging branches from slapping into his face. All around him were the vibrant sounds of the thriving wilderness, teeming with life. It was cooler here under the trees and the air was moist with humidity. In different circumstances, it would be a nice hike. Sam had read about the cliff dwellings of the ancient Mimbres people that were dotted around this wilderness. He wondered if, in a different life, he and Dean would be hiking to see the fascinating cave drawings the ancient culture had left behind instead of on their way to hunt a murderer.

They'd been walking for about a mile and a half. The path was rocky and scattered with tree roots. Sam was glad they'd decided to wait for daylight instead of trying to make this journey at night. Neither of them needed a broken ankle. Ahead of him, Dean paused and looked back, swatting an insect away from his face. "Tell me we're headed in the right direction."

Sam checked his phone. As far as he could tell from the small screen, they were still headed towards the coordinates for Hector's cabin.

"If the records are accurate, the cabin is about a mile away."

Dean just grunted and started walking again. Unlike his brother, Sam didn't mind spending time in nature, especially when it was as beautiful as their current surroundings. According to his GPS, they were only a few hundred yards away from their destination when Sam caught a glimpse of a building through the heavy undergrowth. With a few quick steps, he caught up with Dean and touched his arm.

"I can see the cabin," he said. They moved forward silently.

Creeping close, the path widened, allowing them to walk side by side until they came to the edge of the uneven clearing. The cabin was old, made of wood that had aged to a silvery-grey. It had a single window in the front of the building covered by a faded curtain. Beside the cabin on the left was a garden of some kind surrounded by chicken wire and topped with camouflage net. On the right was the hulk of a rusty school bus, crammed in under the trees so far that the forest had grown around it.

Ideally, he'd circle around back so that they could cage Hector between them but if he tried to force his way through the vegetation, it would easily give away his position. Dean had obviously sussed out the same problem because he nodded with a frown and whispered instructions.

"We'll surveil the perimeter. Stay just inside the tree line. You take left, I'll cut right, and meet at the back of the cabin."

Sam pulled his gun. "Be careful." Hector had already hurt Dean once.

"You too."

And with a quick nod of acknowledgement, Sam headed in his assigned direction. The shrubbery was annoying, tugging at his clothes and forcing him to move slowly. The clearing was wider on this side so it took him longer than he would like to work his way around to the other side of the garden.

It was doubtful that Hector was growing tomatoes out here in the bush, especially if he made efforts to hide what he was growing from the sky. The structure mostly hid him from the cabin, so he inched his way out of the tree line to take a closer look. Frankly, he'd been expecting marijuana, but nestled inside the wire fencing was a bed of beautiful flowers in full bloom. Each plant sported several impossibly massive red blossoms. The flowers were as big as Sam's head, an unknown species somewhere between a dahlia and a poppy. He didn't recognize the plants, but he did recognize several symbols that had been carved into wooden stakes around the garden. The garden gave off the unworldly vibe of powerful magic. Sam didn't need to consult Rowena's notebook to know that these plants were unnatural. They would have to burn these before they left.

Inching farther along, Sam approached the cabin itself. He'd expected Dean to meet him there, but the other side of the clearing contained the old bus and Dean would clear that before moving on. Peeking in the one of the two small windows didn't reveal much. The cabin was a single room, the whole structure was made from rough hewn logs, weathered with age. The interior contained a large table, a lopsided bookshelf, and a cot with a sleeping bag. Along one wall was a series of whiteboards that contained more of Hectors formulas and scribbles. Sam couldn't make out the writing through the wavy, dusty glass. There was no sign of Hector himself.

Behind him another path led farther into the woods. The truck parking the first clearing meant Hector was around somewhere and their priority was to find him before he killed anyone else. Sam waited impatiently for Dean, swatting away bugs and listening closely for any sign of Hector. Finally, when he saw Dean step out of the old bus, he gave a quick hand signal to convey his intent and headed down the path into the forest.