Chapter Thirteen

Driving in the direction of the bar from the other night Dean leaned over to turn the radio off, his gaze briefly drifting to the Impala's rear view mirror as he did so. Dark moss green eyes stared back out at him, red rimmed and blood shot. He looked tired and not just from the lack of sleep. Memories of hell kept nudging forward, lurking around the edges of his consciousness, pushing through when he least expected it.

He didn't know what was worse. The nightmares that invaded his sleep or the flashes that hit him in the day. Either way, they were starting to affect him, physically and mentally and neither of those were a good thing. Alcohol at least helped, even if just a little but drinking his way to oblivion wasn't the solution, not in the long term and not with everything that was happening. Sam was also bound to notice eventually, if he hadn't already, and that was a conversation he wasn't willing to have, not now, not ever.

He blinked as the echoing sound of screams rang in his ears, a taunting reminder of Hell and his time there. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, hands taut, white knuckles standing out against tanned skin. Thinking about Hell wasn't doing him any favors. He needed his head in the game and focused on the hunt, because if they didn't catch this thing soon then more people were going to die.

He looked into the rear view mirror again, grateful that he could no longer see his reflection and stared at the gray tarmac of the road behind him.

That something was out there following them, hunting them was distinctly... unnerving. They were the ones who did the hunting, not the other way around and being bait wasn't exactly helping the situation. He had his doubts as to whether this plan would work but since it was the only plan they had his doubts didn't really matter. One way or another they needed to stop this thing and if keeping his doubts to himself was what it took, then he would do just that.

As for Jane well that was something else all together.

"What's going to happen to her when this is over?"

There was a brief moment of silence before Bobby replied. "The girl?"

"Yeah. I mean she's spent the past few years being treated like a crazy person when all she really was, was a hunter."

"Was being the operative word. She's one foot away from a padded cell."

Dean's eyebrows lifted up a little in surprise. "And Sam thought I was being harsh."

"Sam's an idealist. He likes to believe that everyone can be saved. She's white knuckling it. You know it. And I know it. And a hunter like that is dangerous."

Dean had no reply to that. He knew that Bobby was right. They knew of too many hunters who had loss their way, men and women who had given everything they had all in the name of a hunt. The past was littered with the trail of the lost and the broken. Dying for a cause was easy. It was living that was hard. Sometimes almost too hard.

But he couldn't say any of that. Not to Bobby. And not to Sam.

Especially not to Sam.

He couldn't lay that burden on him.

Hell had taken its toll.

And though he didn't regret the choice that had sent him there, didn't regret trading his life for Sam's, would do it again in an instant, without hesitation, living with the consequences of that choice were a lot harder than he had ever imagined.

SN*SN*SN

Sam couldn't say how long he and Jane sat in their respective seats. Not talking, not moving, just staring. Him at her and her at the wall. He wanted to help her but he had no idea how to do so or even if he could. There was so much pain and anger and hurt inside her and all of it was tied up with a bow made of fear. One tug and it would all unravel. And unravel she would, of that he was certain. She was on the edge and the only thing holding her back was fear and whatever inner strength she still had. It was only a matter of time before neither would be enough.

The loud rap-rap-rap of knuckles banging against the front door broke through the silence causing Sam to quickly flick his head in its direction. No one knew they were here. And that alone was reason enough to be surprised at the sudden intrusion.

With a tilt of his head and a quirk of an eyebrow at Jane he silently conveyed all that he needed to and waited as she went and hid in the adjoining bathroom. Satisfied that she was safely out of sight Sam grabbed his gun and took up position by the front door, one arm bent behind him as his hand rested on the gun's grip, his other hand on the door's handle. Only as the rap-rap-rap sounded out again did he finally pull the door open.

SN*SN*SN

At the sight of the Deputy Sam eased his hold on the gun, fingers uncurling, no longer tense. With his hand now free he stretched out and rested it against the door frame.

"Deputy," he said, with a flick of a smile.

The Deputy gave a curt nod in reply, his face unsmiling. "Marshall."

He stepped forward, invading Sam's personal space, his body tight, his gaze hard and direct. It was a maneuver designed to intimidate someone; getting up close, challenging them. It might have worked on most people but Sam wasn't most people and he nearly smiled at the absurdity of it. Facing a deputy who was fueled with barely control anger was nothing compared to facing off against a demon. Once you had done that, there was wasn't much left that could intimidate you.

Sam leaned into the door frame just a little bit harder, his body relaxing into it as he smiled, warm and easy. He might not use it as often as his brother but he could still call upon the Winchester smile and charm when needed. "What can I do for you?"

The Deputy held his stance, staring into the room beyond.

Sensing that he wasn't going to back down, Sam pulled away from the door, opening it further in invitation.

SN*SN*SN

Jane pressed her back hard against the bathroom wall, the palms of her hands braced upon its surface for support as she bent her legs, easing herself into a half crouch.

Resting her head against the wall she took calming breaths, trying to slow down the hammering of her heartbeat as the adrenalin began to kick in. The fight or flight response was a powerful one but Jane knew she needed to stay calm. Slowly breathing in and out she closed her eyes and listened to the voices in the other room as they seeped through the tiny gap she had left in the doorway.

SN*SN*SN

Walking in the Deputy stood in the middle of the room, fingers tucked through the front belt loops of his uniform trousers, his back ram rod strait as he surveyed his surroundings.

Sam waited, letting the silence drag out. Intimidation tactics were something he knew all too well. Growing up with men like John Winchester for a father and Dean for a brother; men who knew how to instill fear into others, Sam was familiar with the routine. He had tried it himself on occasion though at 6'4 he generally found that his height a lone was enough to intimidate most people. Smiling faintly Sam picked up a half drunken bottle of water off the table and took a swig.

"So Deputy. What can I do for you?"

Silence again.

For a second.

Then two.

Then three.

Only then did the Deputy turn around facing Sam. "Actually Marshall it's what I can do for you that is far more important."

He smiled. A smug smile of arrogance, fake with warmth that didn't quite reach his eyes which were hard and cold before they flicked away towards the front door that had been left opened.

That tiny flicker was all Sam needed to know that something was very wrong.

Not hesitating for a second he spun around, his hand already bending behind him to grasp the gun that was still tucked into the back of jeans but it was all ready too late as he came face to face with a shot gun pointing directly at him and the man who was holding it.

The man, dark eyed and grizzled bearded, took a step forward, the shot gun remaining on Sam. "I'd put that down if I were you Marshall. Don't want anything going off by accident now, do we?"

"You should listen to him. Unless you fancy having a hole in your chest where your heart's suppose to be," said the Deputy, unclasping a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

Knowing it would be foolish to challenge them Sam carefully raised his arms, hands in front of his body, palms facing out as a sign of compliance. "Look whatever it is that you think is going on, you're wrong. Arresting a Federal Marshall without good reason could get you in to a lot of trouble. I really think you should ring my boss."

"Your boss? Right." The grim smile on the Deputy's face lingered for a moment then disappeared completely as a blank coldness replaced it and his hand curled into a fist which punched out hard and fast.

The sound of knuckles hitting the soft, fleshy part on the side of the jaw sounded out as the Deputy's fist connected with Sam's face, the force of punch making Sam's head snap as he staggered backwards. Disoriented he was only dimly aware of the Deputy roughly grabbing him by the shoulder and forcing him on to the ground, his knee pushing into the middle of Sam's back as he quickly snapped the handcuffs in place.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you at government expense."

The words washed over Sam as he lay on the floor, his bearings coming back as his head cleared. With his cheek pressing into the carpet he saw not one but two pairs of boots and realised that a third man had entered the room. Straining his neck a little so he could look upwards he saw that the third man was little more than a boy, perhaps 18 or 19 at best, slim built, plaid shirt and fresh faced.

The Deputy pressed harder into Sam's back, forcing him to remain down as he continued talking. "Go and get the girl."