Title: Lost and Found

Chapter: 39

~~~~~~~~~~

Lisa picked up the phone and stared down at the card again.

Silly. She was being silly.

She set the phone back down and sighed, checking the locks on the windows again. She tried to remember everything Dean had ever said about demons and witches. What was it she needed for demons? Salt, right? Did it matter what kind or would just any old salt do? And how much did she put down? It was going to be a mess later, but…. Lisa used up her open salt canister and the new one on the lower windows and doors and wondered then if she needed to do the upper ones, too. She bit her lip. Maybe not? Maybe it was the lower points of entry that mattered? She tried to think about it with some logic.

Task completed, she put the canisters in the trash, wishing she’d paid more attention to those details on the few occasions Dean had spoken of them.

Nothing she tried to do kept her interest. She watched tv, worked out, cooked herself dinner, read a library book, and cleaned the house. She found herself drifting from one task to the next before any of them were completed, pausing by the table with the card and phone.

Over and over, Lisa checked the locks and contemplated calling the number Sam had left. Several times she stopped herself in the middle of actually dialing and all day, she considered the things Ben had said and what Sam and Jo had told her. She didn’t want to consider it as truth. For it to be truth would mean she couldn’t get away from the life Dean had tried to leave behind any more than he could and she’d never been immersed like he had. To accept this meant she’d forever be looking over her shoulder, afraid there was something there. It meant she’d need to have a hunter on speed dial just in case.

The hours passed and when she thought she saw a strange car slowing in front of her house, she reached for the card and phone.

Stop it, she told herself.

Sam and someone else she couldn’t see were watching the house. She could see the car and him parked just down the street. The shadows and reflection on the windshield kept her from a clear view. Maybe it was Dean or Jo or the other hunter they’d mentioned. Was the other hunter someone she’d met? The man whose house Dean had once taken her and Ben to? Or was it someone she hadn’t met?

When she looked out another time, the Impala had replaced the previous car and it was Dean sitting there.

A part of her felt a bit safer knowing they’d not taken her refusal to heart. They’d be there if something did happen. They were there, protecting her as they’d promised they would if she said yes. Apparently they’d do it despite her refusal. They were on top of things.

Dean was on top of things.

Once, she almost made a pot of coffee and took it to them, but had stopped before pouring the water into the machine. They probably came prepared. Besides, she was leery of stepping outside.

It looked like rain.

According to the weather channel, a doozy of a storm was heading their way. Outside, the treetops were already swaying, though it wasn’t supposed to hit until tomorrow sometime. The system was large and slow-moving, having formed suddenly in the past few hours, and was coming straight for them -- almost like it was being drawn here. That thought flitted through her mind and she considered it for only seconds, remembering Dean once saying something about some weather systems connecting to demonic activity.

Her gut clenched.

Demons, witches, sacrifices.

Lisa swallowed hard and turned the volume up a little. No, no, no. It’s only a storm system, nothing more, she told herself. It doesn’t mean anything.

The storm was predicted to cause tornadoes and plenty of damage as it made it’s way across the U.S.

She stayed up late, watching the news, trying to pretend an interest in the fighting overseas and the current president’s latest policy proposal on energy and finally went to bed late. She was jumpy at every slightly strange sound and didn’t sleep well, waking on July 1 with a trembling, anticipatory sensation in her stomach. The air felt charged with electricity and she thought she could actually feel the storm coming towards them.

All day long, she waited for something to happen, unable to sit down, constantly pacing inside the house.

When night fell without incident, she released a shaking breath with a little laugh. Everything was going to be okay. They’d been wrong.

Lisa got ready for bed and by ten-thirty, she turned the lights out.

~~~~~~~~~~

July 1 dawned rainy, nasty, and oppressively hot, remaining that way the entire day and into the evening. They’d all been keeping an eye on the storm system and agreed it wasn’t a good thing, likely connected to whatever was going to happen in the next day.

They took roughly six hour shifts watching the Braeden house. It was boring work. Lisa didn’t leave, staying inside the entire day, which was good in Dean’s opinion. It meant that she was taking the situation somewhat seriously.

At present, Gwen was back in the room with Jo and Ben, getting a little shut-eye. She’d be coming to relieve him soon, then when six hours had passed, he’d head back to relieve Sam. Jo had reported that Ben appeared to have lost interest in hunting and was behaving himself, watching tv and not asking constantly how he could help. Dean wondered on that change of heart and thought it could have something to do with Gwen. She and Ben had been having some intense conversations.

“You didn’t tell Lisa about what happened in the cemetery, did you?” Sam took the lid off his coffee and blew across it in a nonchalant manner. It smelled like he’d gotten a girly coffee this time, something with cinnamon.

Dean leaned his head back. “No. I gave her the bare bones of things.”

“Why not? I mean, why not share it all with her?”

“She wouldn’t have understood if I had.” Instinctually, he’d known that. Even as broken as he’d been, Lisa wouldn’t have fully grasped the life he’d led up to coming to her. She’d understood some, but not the entire sort of life he led. His world was so different from the one she’d been raised in right from the get-go, that he’d kept most of it folded to his chest. It had been far less painful to do that, a protective move, a shielding of himself from feeling that pain.

Therein had lain one of the problems however. He’d never given her enough information to gain much understanding at all. If he’d opened up to her the way he had with Jo, perhaps things would have been different.

But she wasn’t Jo and he couldn’t have opened up to her because she wouldn’t have understood like Jo did. Jo had the benefit of growing up in the life. A different side of it than he’d had, but a side of it nonetheless. Not to mention that she’d experienced the other side as she’d gotten older, becoming well-rounded in it. It was more natural to tell her those things than it had ever been to tell Lisa.

The benefit of growing up in the life. Funny how he’d never considered it a benefit before. Dean almost laughed to himself at that. It was a benefit, however, enabling him to have a close relationship with his wife and to even have a wife at all. In fact, right now, it was a big plus. Strange to see it that way.

As his own coffee cooled, he thought about what might have happened if he’d told Lisa everything, ultimately deciding that things wouldn’t have been different. Knowing all the details about his past and understanding certain matters in his life wouldn’t have changed the fact that Lisa hadn’t wanted an active hunter. She hadn’t wanted the sort of life he had with Jo. She’d wanted a man he didn’t think he’d ever truly be. He’d tried, but it wasn’t him. He wasn’t her retired white knight.

He was a hunter. That was who he was, what he was, and he’d be one until the day he died, however long or short a time until that day.

“You didn’t tell me you hadn’t told her.”

“Telling her wouldn’t have changed anything, Sammy. We’d still be at this point. She didn’t like the waiting and wondering; couldn’t get past the worry and other things. It wasn’t real enough to her even when it should have been.”

“Unlike Jo.”

“Unlike,” he agreed, conjuring a mental image of his wife’s beautiful face. He still dreamed about Jo at night. Sometimes those dreams were naughty and sometimes they were sweet, but they were always pleasant dreams. That was a good sign, right? “I knew Jo would understand. She just….” Dean smiled a little and deliberately changed the subject. “I tell you the baby likes the name Jack? Kicks at me whenever I say it.” Sort of. He thought he felt kicks anyway.

“Uh-huh. And how many times in a row do you say the name while tapping a finger on Jo’s stomach?”

“Enough to annoy her and get smacked at,” he admitted, sipping at his own coffee.

“It’d be funny if you had a girl then, the name Jack and all.” Sam laughed.

“Jack could be a girl name,” he protested. “Jacqueline Winchester. Jackie. Jake. Jack. It works.”

“Uh-huh. You decided on a birth plan yet?”

“We’re working on it. Jo wants drugs.” She’d made it very clear that his first job upon reaching the hospital was to find someone to give her lots of drugs to dull what she assumed was going to be earth-shattering pain.

A snort of laughter left Sam. “I don’t blame her.”

“Me either. I suggested a home birth at first, then read the baby book she got at the library. Have you read some of the birth stories in that baby book?”

“Um…no. I’m not really --”

“I tell you, Sam, those stories would be enough to put any woman off having kids. One description made being ripped apart by Hellhounds sound like an easier time.”

“I can imagine.”

“I don’t really want to. Other than that? Don’t know yet. I thought we’d have some Zeppelin playing in the delivery room --” He could picture it in his mind. Zeppelin playing, Jo blissed out on drugs for the pain, and a nice short two to four hour labor with no complications. And when it was done, everyone filed in to congratulate them.

It probably wouldn’t be like that, but he could dream, right?

“Zeppelin? Clear it with Jo first.”

“Maybe the Stones,” he amended.

“Clear it, Dean. Last thing you want right then is her pissed with you. You might want to stay out of reach of her fists regardless.”

“Why?” He took a drink of coffee.

“How likely do you think she’ll be to punch you in the crotch for putting her in that condition?”

Very likely if the stories he’d read were true. “Good point.”

An hour later, Gwen tapped on the window. He rolled it down and she bent with a grin, looking far more refreshed than she should for the amount of sleep she’d been getting. “Hey boys. Any trouble?”

“Nope. No sign of the pod mom or anything. Cop drives by every now and then and the little brat at the end of the street rode by on his bike and gave me the finger twice.”

“He rode by twice and gave you the finger each time or rode by once and gave you the finger twice in a row?”

“Yes. Rode by twice and gave me the finger twice both times. Little brat.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t yelled at him,” Sam said, gathering his coffee and the papers he’d brought with him.

“Hey, he could have mowed down a little old lady or something riding like he was on the sidewalk. That kid’s a menace.”

Gwen laughed. “Okay. I’ll watch out for the kid.” She glanced over her shoulder at Lisa’s house. “She left the house at all?”

“Not that we’ve seen.”

“You’re sure she’s still in there?”

Dean looked around her at the house. “She looks out occasionally.” They were close enough to tell it was her, but not what her expression was. Had she noticed them there? Lisa wasn’t stupid. Surely she’d seen them out there. She’d know they were watching the house. As yet, there’d been no acknowledgment from her that they were there, no nod or wave or anything.

“Okay.” Gwen tapped one fist lightly on the door, then jerked her head towards the road. “Go get some sleep, Batman. Be ready in case Gotham needs you.”

Sam got out of the Impala and Dean waited until he and Gwen were in the other car before leaving, doing a careful visual search of the area as he drove. Just because it didn’t look like there was trouble didn’t mean it wasn’t there. He saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Jo was watching tv when he got back and Ben was in the shower. She hit the mute button on the remote. “Sam still upset with Gwen?”

“Hell, yeah.” Sitting, he took off his boots. “He’d rather she was here with you than out there in full view of Lisa’s house and anyone who might possibly recognize her.” Dean crawled up the bed to her, lying beside her and putting an arm around her. “How’s Ben holding up?”

“Remarkably well. Gwen did talk to him, gave him the whole downside speech. He’s pretty much stopped asking leading questions to get information on hunting.”

“Good. Hope it holds up.” It’d be a relief for Ben’s interest in hunting to be squashed flat. Then a part of him could stop worrying.

“Gwen and I took another look at the pictures.” She shifted a little against him. “I don’t think there’s anything we can use. Pics of the pod mom, pics of the house, pics of a mansion. Ben says it’s the Hotchkiss place. I left the laptop on if you want to look at them. Maybe you’ll see something Gwen and I missed.”

“Later. I’m going to sleep awhile first. Wake me when it gets dark, okay?” That’d give him a good four hours of sleep. Dean slid down so that he could rest his head against her breast. He yawned, groaning a little as he settled into place.

“Sure.” Her arm moved around him, hand sliding through his hair. After a moment, she punched the mute button again and sound filled the room. She continued to gently touch his temple, cheek, and hair, slow sweeps that lulled him into relaxing.

Dean laid still, his eyes closing. He heard Ben come in the room and then sound retreated and he slid into sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was dozing. That was okay with Gwen. He’d had a difficult, long couple of days and was getting testy. She flicked a glance to him. He had his head laid back, his legs stretched out as far as he could, and wasn’t even snoring, though his breaths were loud.

Lightning flashed. It had yet to rain, but when it came, it was going to be a torrent. Had to be. The clouds in the sky had had a swollen, purplish cast all day.

Something was coming. Something was waiting. She thought it was a good bet it was Molek. Either the storm was in response to the final ritual nearing or something was waiting for him to arrive. She wondered if there had been storms like this on any of the dates of the sacrifices. It would be interesting to track down that information and she might just do that when they got back to base. It’d be a good fact to add to the database.

Opening the small cooler she’d brought, she drew out a sandwich and ate it slowly, gaze ever moving about the area. As she ate, Sam woke and accepted the two sandwiches she’d made for him, plus a snack bag of pretzels that he shared with her. Time passed, night falling. Occasionally, a cop car would drive by like Dean had noted earlier, moving very slowly. Each time, they slid down in their seats.

The trees began to sway.

Sam closed his eyes again. “Man, I’m tired.”

“Take another nap.”

“And fall down on stakeout duty?”

She snorted. “You’ve done that once already. I’ll wake you if anything happens. Promise.” She did the cross-your-heart gesture.

His hand lashed out, stilling hers. “Don’t do that. Just…don’t, okay?”

“It’s a gesture, Sam.”

“I know, but since we’re pretty sure tonight’s the night, I’d rather not take any chances on anything like that coming true.”

Slowly, Gwen nodded. “Okay. I won’t say it, but I do promise to wake you.”

Night had fallen by the time she saw movement at the Braeden house and it wasn’t Lisa coming outside, it was…. She peered more intently at the person on the doorstep, his profile fully displayed. If it had been Dean here with her, she might have wondered if Sam had decided to go in and do a sweep of the house to make sure Lisa was still in there and okay. He wouldn’t do that without discussing it first, but it’d be the first thought that came to mind. As it was Sam sitting beside her….

“Sam.” Gwen smacked his arm hard. “Wake up.”

He drew in a startled breath and stretched. “I’m awake.”

“Obviously not or you would’ve just seen yourself breaking into Lisa’s house.”

“What?” He shook his head. “No.”

She opened the door. “Oh yeah. Ben’s doppelganger is a shape shifter. Has to be. Let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t often that Lisa suffered from nightmares, but when she did, they were of the variety where she knew she was dreaming yet couldn’t quite wake up. She’d try to scream, to move, to do anything and end up enduring the final moments of her nightmare before the paralysis would lift and she’d wake.

This nightmare….

She dreamed of Sam Winchester watching her sleep, of him standing over her staring.

Lisa woke with a start from the half nightmare and let loose a strangled gasp to see a man actually looming over her.

Sam Winchester.

She felt cold in seconds, goose bumps stripling her skin.

What the hell? Not a dream, not a dream, not --

She rolled on the bed, scrambling away. He was too fast, grasping her arm and pulling her towards him, yanking her so hard that she was airborne for several seconds. She hit the wall, her head smacking hard. A groan slipped from her lips. Lisa slid down the wall, her vision wavering a moment before she lost consciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~

They approached cautiously, checking the back, going in quietly and slowly. While the back door wasn’t standing open, it was unlocked. The house was dark, but certainly not quiet. From upstairs came a strangled noise, like a scream that couldn’t quite be loosed, then a heavy thud and thump. Gwen and Sam went up the stairs.

“Took you long enough, moron.” In a bedroom doorway, Not-Sam appeared, startled for a second, then smiling. It wasn’t a nice smile, throwing Gwen back to when Sam had been soulless. She’d seen that sort of smile on his face a few times. “Well, well, well. The lost child.” His glance flicked to Sam and back. “Excellent.”

“Stop right there.” The voice came from the bottom of the stairs. A man stood there, tall and big in the way some ex-football players were, with the layer of fat over existing muscles rendering a solid, mountainous appearance. His uniform was stretched tight over his frame and he held a gun in a sure grip.

My God, she thought as he came closer. He’s bigger than Sam.

“Up those steps the rest of the way if you please.”

Crowded into the upstairs hallway, she could see Lisa on the floor in the bedroom. There was a small sachet on a chain about her neck and a bloody spot on her brow, but her chest rose and fell with breath. She was alive.

“Put your weapons on the floor. All of them. Your phones as well.”

They did, the man patting Sam down and cuffing him. He turned to Gwen, patting her down with a thoroughness that left her feeling violated. His hands lingered on her, roughly squeezing. The sickening taste of bile rose in the back of her mouth. She had a vague wondering as to whether he was like this all of the time or just when he thought he could get away with it, like now.

“Get your hands off her,” Sam snarled.

He chuckled and stepped away. “Relax, loverboy. This one’s nice, but I’d rather have that blond that was with you yesterday.” He gave Sam a shove. “I saw you two go in and come out awhile later. She’s mighty tasty. I get done tonight, I think I’ll go motel to motel and find her. Have a screaming good time.” He pointed the gun in Sam’s face, pressed it right to his cheek. “What? No protest over her?”

“Stop it, Tim.” Not-Sam came to her, fingers tilting her chin up none to gently, gaze studying her coolly. “It’s amazing.”

“What is,” she asked.

“The resemblance, of course. The one between you and Mia. I didn’t believe her when she showed us the picture, but it’s true. You’re her spitting image.”

“Mia,” she repeated with a glance at Sam beside her, a sinking sensation in her stomach. She imagined his expression mirrored hers at present: surprise and a growing realization of what must have happened when she’d been a baby. Her own mother had taken her away to be sacrificed, likely the one who’d killed her father. No, she thought. Oh no….

“Your mother, dear. She’s going to be so happy to finally see you again.”

“Of course,” Sam whispered. “She disappeared. She ran. If she really did mean to sacrifice you, Neal would have killed her.”

“They got away. They all did.” Not-Sam held out a sachet on a chain. It was the same thing that was around Lisa’s neck. “Put this on.”

“No.” Gwen refused. If they wanted that on her they were going to have to force it on her.

“I could have Tim put it on you. Of course, that’d mean he’d have to subdue you first. I mean, if you really want him groping you again….” Not-Sam shrugged. “One way or another, you’re putting it on.”

Not much of a choice. No way was she going to make it easy for them. “I won’t.”

It didn’t take Tim long to wrestle her to the floor, taking more liberties as he did so. He placed the chain about her neck, then dragged her back up to stand.

Anger swam in Sam’s eyes, a hot ire that bled across his face as well. “I’ll kill you for touching her.”

Tim snorted. “You got one for him, too?” He made a fist. “If not, I’ll gladly beat him senseless.”

“Down boy. I’ve got several of them. Mia made plenty in case we needed them.”

When Sam had one about his neck as well, Not-Sam said a few words in a language she didn’t know and Gwen lost consciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~

At the appointed time, refreshed and ready to take over for Sam, Dean pulled up and got out. Headlights swept the street, a car slowly coming towards him. Going to Tommy’s mom’s car, he knocked on the window, then bent and glanced in. They weren’t there.

Where the hell were they? Had Lisa relented and let them in the house? Or had something happened?

Drawing out his phone, he checked his texts, then called Jo. “Hey. Did Sam or Gwen call after I left?”

“No, why?”

“They’re not here. I’m going to check the house and call you back.”

He hung up and as he turned, the car that had been coming stopped, red and blue lights flashing. The driver’s door opened, a man every bit as tall and big as Sam getting out. Maybe he was even bigger than Sam. He adjusted his belt and swaggered forward in the way of self-important bullies everywhere. The buttons on his shirt were strained and Dean could see dark splotches of sweat under his arms. “Evening, sir. Care to tell me what’s going on here?”

Crap, Dean thought. “FBI. I’m in the middle of an investigation --”

“That so?” The officer snorted. His nametag had the name ‘Calvin’ on it. “Got credentials?”

“In my car.”

He pursed his lips. “Get it for me, moving nice and slow.”

Dean found it and held it out.

Officer Calvin took it, looking it over far more carefully than most people ever did. “Come with me please.”

“I’m in the middle of an investigation,” he tried again. This was the worst possible time for this to happen.

“So you said. Tell me all about it down at the station.”

“The woman who lives here --”

“At the station. We’ll sort it all out there.”

Great, he thought. Sam and Gwen are missing and I have to deal with Deputy Barney. Seeing no other way out, he got into the cop car.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo waited a reasonable fifteen minutes for Dean to call back and when he didn’t, she called him. Nothing. Nor did Sam or Gwen answer their phones. She even tried Lisa’s numbers. No one picked up and she tried Dean again.

“Come on, pick up.” Jo didn’t leave a message. “Something’s wrong. Let’s go.”

“But Dean said to stay here.”

“He’ll understand.”

They’d just pulled out of the motel lot when Jo’s phone rang. “Finally,” she answered. “Where the hell…. Oh, mom. Hold on.” She held out the phone. “Ben, put her on speaker. Go on, mom.”

“I did that digging Sam asked. He said ASAP, so here it goes. Turns out Molek isn’t actually a god -- don’t ask how Bobby and I got confirmation on that. Let’s just say it wasn’t through usual channels. Anyway, he’s a demon that was worshipped like one. He’s very old and very nasty and probably cranky from being shut up in hell for a couple thousand years or so. He’s not as old or as deep as Lilith and others were, but he’s supposed to be in a corner there somewhere.”

Static crackled on the line and Jo frowned. Was the storm now affecting the cell towers? “All of the usual methods of dealing with demons should apply?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Jo, he looks to be on the same power level as that yellow-eye demon. Source said he’s mad, bad, and completely dangerous to deal with, possibly insane, if you can imagine that.”

“An insane demon? That’s a new one on me.”

“Yeah, well, be careful. I wouldn’t want to be going up against that bad boy if he’s the one being set free. ”

“Anything else?”

“Couple things. Not sure how they fit in. That property Sam mentioned is owned by the family still, but up for sale --”

“I thought some group bought it,” Ben interrupted.

“Jo, who’s there with you?”

“Long, long story that I’ll tell you later. You say it wasn’t sold?” She turned onto Lisa’s street.

“Nope. It’s for sale, no takers.”

“Which means the people there are squatting.”

Ellen cleared her throat. “It’s possible the murders were a set of locks that can crack open a small window into hell and free him. Who knows what might ride his back out with him once that window is open? Not saying anything but him could get free but if it so…. Could be a mini Devil’s Gate if you’re not careful and you know just the sort of things that got free there.”

“I do. Thanks, mom.”

“You be careful, Jo. I’d like to meet my grandkid, not bury you and him or her, okay?”

“I know. Love you, mom.”

They got out of the car. The Impala was parked behind the car Sam and Gwen had been using, but no one was in either car. The windows on the Impala were down. Jo surveyed the area. Dark and peaceful, a warm breeze rustling the treetops. “Dean didn’t leave here willingly.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’d be here and so would Sam and Gwen. Not to mention it’s about to pour and he’d have those windows up so the seats wouldn’t get damaged. Something’s wrong. Help me roll these up real quick.”

When the windows were rolled up, Ben asked, “What do we do? Dean said to stay at the motel.” He seemed to be hung up on that order.

“Dean’s not answering his phone.” She dialed him several times, listening carefully like she had years before, only this time she didn’t hear the ring around them. “He’s definitely not here either. Let’s go in the house, check for anything. We’re going to go in slow and quiet. Follow me and don’t make a sound.” She took out her gun. His gaze lowered to it and he swallowed hard enough she could hear it. “I mean it, Ben. No running up the stairs to check on your mom. We do this my way or you could get seriously injured.”

“Okay.”

They headed around to the back of the house. The back door was wide open.

“She never leaves the door standing open,” he whispered.

“It’s okay. Stay behind me.”

They cleared the lower level, Jo grabbing the cordless phone and shoving it into Ben’s hands before they moved up the stairs. Ben’s room was empty and she motioned him inside with a whispered order to stay put and call 911 if he heard any commotion.

She finished clearing the second story. Lisa’s bedroom a mess. Covers trailed the floor towards the door and there was a smudge of blood on the wall. Jo closed the door, not wanting Ben to see that if he came out of his room. Someone had gotten to Lisa first and since Sam, Gwen, and Dean weren’t here, she had to assume they’d all been taken as well. She had to assume it was up to her and Ben to save them.

“Jo?”

She turned. Ben had opened his door and was staring at the floor inside the room, lip curled like he was seeing something disgusting. “What?”

“I think I found something.”

She approached him, stepping into the room. “What?”

“Over there.”

On the floor on the other side of the bed was the skin of a shape shifter in all of it’s ickiness. Jo put her gun away. “There’s your doppelganger, Ben. That’s a shape shifter skin.”

“Like a snake?”

He looked more disturbed than fascinated, which boded well for him dropping the subject of hunting. She remembered the first shape shifter skin she’d seen. She’d been fascinated by it and grossed out at the same time. “Pretty disgustingly much, only human sized. Crapsticks. Does your mom have any silver in the house?”

“Just the good stuff great aunt Bernice gave her.”

“Get a couple of the knives.”

It had to be the Hotchkiss mansion, didn’t it? That was where the invitation had been to and that was where Ben claimed there was activity, not to mention that it was out in the middle of nowhere.

She chewed at her lower lip. A pregnant hunter and a frightened teenager did not a cavalry make, but it was going to have to do. Jo pressed one hand to her stomach, then nodded. They’d make it work. Somehow.

Going to the Impala, she opened the trunk, surveying what Sam and Dean had packed. Geez. Everything but the kitchen sink it looked like. No way she was going to leave it unlocked when they left. She searched quickly and found the Colt, then grabbed up a few provisions they might need.

The drive to the mansion didn’t take long, Ben guiding her on the best place to park. He took her in on an access road and not the driveway, the end of the road giving a good view of the front of the mansion. There were no cars parked out front and it didn’t appear that anyone was there.

“I’m going to check it out. You stay here,” she told him. She’d barely gotten her door closed before he was beside her. “Ben! I told you to stay in the car,” Jo hissed. “Get back in it!”

“And let you go in alone? You’re pregnant. Dean’d kill me if I was here and didn’t do anything and you got hurt. I can shoot a gun.”

“I’m not giving you a gun.”

“I’m going in with you.”

Jo rolled her eyes. She didn’t have time to argue with him on this. “Fine, but you do exactly as I tell you. No improvising or thinking you’re immortal. This isn’t a video game and if we screw up, I highly doubt any of us will get out of here alive -- if they’re even here.”

“I got it.”

“Do you?”

“Let’s go.” He gestured at the building.

She took a knife from her jacket pocket. “Here. Use it if you have to, but be careful. It’s sharp. Is your phone turned off?”

“Why?”

“You want it to give away our position if it rings?” Her own phone was off as well.

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.” He pulled out his phone and shut it down. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Follow me then. Keep quiet, keep low, and whatever you do, don’t scream if you see anything.”

The house lived up to the term ‘mansion’, a sprawling structure that seemed to glow eerily in the flashes of lighting. It was empty, no lights showing. Jo was about to turn away, when she heard…. “Do you hear that,” she asked.

“Someone talking,” he whispered back.

The voice was from the north, back behind the house near the woods. Jo took a few steps along the path. “You do exactly what I tell you,” she reiterated.

“I know,” he returned.

They headed north.

~~~~~~~~~~

Officer Calvin didn’t arrest him, though he did seem to relish having what he thought was an FBI agent in cuffs over suspected burglary charges. He took his time dragging Dean into the office and cuffing him to a chair. As Dean’s phone began to ring for the fifteenth time, Calvin growled. “Give me that damn thing!”

Dean took it out. It was Jo calling. She’d be worried by now about what had happened and he knew very well that if she didn’t get an answer soon, she’d head out the motel room door to investigate for herself. “I’ll just power it down.” When he’d done so, he slipped it back into his pocket. He didn’t want to not have it on him when he did need it and suspected giving it to Officer Calvin meant it’d be destroyed pretty quickly.

Calvin sat, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up over his muscular forearms.

There, on the right forearm, was a tattoo. It had that raw look of one done recently. Dean’s eyes narrowed a fraction as he studied it. He’d seen it before, like in the past few days. It was the same tattoo Sam had had a picture of in the file. A symbol with the initials ‘MLK’ in the center.

Alarm ticked his pulse a bit faster and he began to study his surroundings more carefully. It was awfully quiet. In fact, for the size of the town, it was too quiet. Leaning back in his chair, he stretched as far as the cuff on his left wrist would allow and turned his head to look into the office on his right. A woman was behind the desk, slumped in her chair, her brown uniform darker on the chest than the fabric should be.

“So where is everyone?”

“What do you mean?” Calvin glanced up from the paper he was writing on.

“Seems there should be more staff here. Town size and all.”

“Convention, maternity leave, vacations and budget cuts. Surely you fancy Feebies got all that too?”

“Of course, of course.” He smiled thinly and continued his study of the room. In the aisle between the desks was a dark splotch that could have been spilled coffee. Could have been, except now that Dean was paying attention, he could smell the slightest scent of blood in the air. Minutes passed, the only sounds were their breaths, the clock on the wall, and the scratching of Calvin’s pen on the paper. “Do you think the raising will be successful this time,” he asked in an earnest, friendly tone.

Calvin froze. “Raising?” He cocked his head. Dean could almost hear him trying to decide what to say next.

With a glance left and right, Dean leaned forward. “Come on, man.” He shrugged his brows. “Molek. It’s tonight.”

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair. Surprise glinted in his eyes, quickly followed by annoyance. “Son of a…. She send you?”

She? Dean nodded. “Guilty.”

Officer Calvin shook his head. “Why didn’t you just say so? Why the act?” He went on, answering his own question. “Paranoid bitch doesn’t trust anyone to do the job she gave them.”

“You blame her? Heavy stakes.”

He snorted. “No kidding.” They were best buddies apparently now, Calvin leaning forward. “She tell you about the Campbells, too?”

“Just the basics.”

“Wild, right? Persecuting her family like they did? Following them all over the world?”

Dean nodded again. Persecuting her family? A family of witches? There was something about that in the archives. The Campbell family tracking a couple of families of witches for centuries, following them about the world. “Definitely. Wild.”

“Guess it’s understandable she’s like she is ‘cause of that. You can tell her I’ve got everything covered here, though. Ain’t no one coming in to stop her party.”

“Good, good.” He gestured at the cuffs. “How about you unlock me so I can get out there?” Where, he wondered. Where was the sacrifice going to be? The mansion maybe? Ben had mentioned it. And how long could he keep this dumb lug talking before he got suspicious? “She’ll be mighty pissed if I’m not there to help when she needs me. Don’t want that to happen.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen what she can do.” He got up and came around the desk. “If you’d been a little earlier at the Braeden house, you could’ve helped me cart those three out there. Cate was certainly no help. Uppity bitch. Thinks she’s so special just ‘cause she might be picked.” His repertoire of insults appeared to be limited to ‘bitch’. Crouching down, Calvin reached for the cuffs and fitted the key in the lock. “I didn’t see you at the barn earlier.”

“I wasn’t at the barn.” Barn? Was there a barn at the mansion?

“Yeah? Why’d she give you a free pass at initial prep? Cate, Millicent, and I had to be there.”

“Hadn’t gotten to town yet.”

The lock clicked, but Calvin didn’t open the cuff, glance raising to Dean, suspicion beginning to swim there. “That’s not true, is it? Saw that car you were in parked outside the Braeden place yesterday.”

Dean pulled his wrist free and snapped a punch forward as Calvin grasped that Dean wasn’t what he’d been making out. Calvin staggered backwards, blood dripping from his nose, hands catching himself before he could topple over completely. Dean shoved the chair back. This was going to be hard and messy.

He was right on both counts. Calvin wasn’t letting him go without a fight. They went down the length of the room, demolishing various pieces of office furniture in their wake. Dean was thrown against the wall. No sooner had he fallen to the floor then Calvin was picking him up and slamming him down on the top of one messy desk. Something dug into his back right under his left shoulder blade. Stapler maybe? The man’s fist raised, his lips parting, teeth baring.

Calvin began to shudder, his body shaking as though a live current was going through him. The hand clenched in Dean’s shirt opened. Blood trickled from his nose, eyes, mouth, and ears. He screamed, dropping to the floor, bucking, a chain around his neck sliding free. His hands went to his shirt collar, tugging at it, eyes bulging in their sockets until, with an agonized shriek, they burst.

Getting up from the desktop, Dean crouched down beside the body.

Officer Calvin had what looked rather like a hex bag around his neck -- which indicated to Dean that he’d been ‘hired help’ and not one of the actual witches. They’d promised him something, maybe given him the bag and claimed it was a gift, something that’d bring him luck. Poor bastard had been stupid enough to believe whatever they’d told him.

The bag split suddenly, a puddle of what looked like black pudding welling from it. It pulsed a moment and popped, a hazy mist rising into the air that smelled strongly of sulfur. The mist dissipated.

What the hell? It was something demonic. Had to be. But what?

A quick search of the rest of the building found five more officers, all with their throats cut.

Time was running out, Dean could feel it. He left the building, borrowed the police car and drove to pick up the Impala.

There was a message from Jo in his voicemail. “Dean, Ben and I are headed out to the Lisa’s, then the Hotchkiss place. Where are you? Call me when you get this, okay?”

Jo didn’t pick up her phone.

Dread settled in his gut.

“Damn it, Jo, answer,” he growled. It didn’t work. The calls kept going to voicemail. He tried them all: Jo, Gwen, Sam, and even Ben. They all went to voicemail.

Calvin had said he’d taken three from Lisa’s house, likely Sam, Gwen, and Lisa. He’d mentioned a barn. Didn’t some mansions have barns on the property, for when people had used horses to get around? He’d try there first and if that wasn’t the place…. No. It had to be. That invitation Ben had told them about had mentioned it and Jo and Ben were on their way there. By now, they would have had time to check out Lisa’s and discover she wasn’t there, nor were Sam and Gwen. They’d be going to the mansion or already there.

Dean headed towards the Hotchkiss mansion.

In the sky above, lightning flashed in constant tiny bursts, like the lights on a Christmas tree, and thunder rumbled, low and ominous.