Title: Nothing and Everything

Chapter 8

~~~~~~~~~~

What the freakin’ hell?

The words circled in Dean’s mind as he stared at Gwen’s back. There was nothing there, yet there most certainly was something there, like a vampire ghost attached to her. “Sam.” He gestured towards the room. “Go in there, see if you can touch it.”

He got up from his chair. “You’re the one standing in the doorway.”

“Yeah, but you’re her boyfriend. She’d expect you to be feeling her back.”

Sam joined him at the door, opening it further, voice low. “You think it understands us?”

“The monsters usually do.” He took Sam’s place at the monitors, watching the picture on one screen. He didn’t think the creature would strike at Sam since it hadn’t thus far. Sam approached the bed and carefully knelt, a hand stretching out. It was oddly fascinating to Dean that Sam’s hand went right through the creature. A million comparisons to other things ran through his mind.

“Nothing. I feel nothing here but her back.”

He racked his brain trying to come up with a creature that fit this and finally just shook his head. “Wake her up. Let’s show her the video and see what she makes of it.” As Gwen roused, the creature withdrew it’s tongue, released it’s grip on her, and faded from view entirely. “Son of a bitch, that’s freaky,” Dean whispered.

It took awhile to get her to wake up, as though she was stuck half in a dream state. Sam walked her around the living room, arms supporting her until she could move without stumbling. Her response to the video was one of horror, her eyes widening and chin trembling a moment before she swallowed hard and composed herself.

“Any ideas,” Dean asked gently. She was paler than usual and until he knew what that creature had been doing to her, he wasn’t going to push her too hard. Pushing might do damage they couldn’t undo.

Gwen shook her head. “None. Nothing I’ve read covered wizened humanoid creatures that have the consistency of vapor.”

“Let’s wake some people up,” Sam said, reaching for his phone.

Nearly four hours later, a call to Sophie brought a possible result, Sam sending the video to her and opening the laptop on the coffee table before carrying it to the kitchen table. She’d requested a face to face call. Twenty-five minutes later, Sam, Gwen, and Dean were confronted with a wide awake Sophie, sitting beside an older man.

She grinned at them. “This, guys, is my dad, Chris. Dad, meet Sam, Gwen, and Dean.”

He recalled she’d said something when he and Sam had met her and Mick about her dad having been a hunter once. Was he still?

After proper greetings had been exchanged, Chris cleared his throat, his gaze studying each of them, lingering a moment on Gwen. “I gotta know…what witch did you piss off to pick up an Alp?” He ran a hand through his shaggy dark blond hair. “Those things are super rare these days.”

“What do you mean ‘witch’?” Sam put an arm around Gwen, keeping her close to his side. Her chair was snug against his, so close that Dean wondered why he hadn’t just had her sit on his lap.

Sophie got up and disappeared from the screen.

“An Alp isn’t a naturally occurring creature.” Chris raised his brows. “They’re created freaks, cooked up in a witch’s cauldron.” A hand appeared. He took a long drag off a cigarette and blew out the smoke in rings.

Dean tapped his fingertips on the table. “What exactly is it?”

Chris gestured with his hands as he spoke, cigarette between the index and middle finger of one hand, his expressions changing as excitement sparked in his eyes. He looked delighted to be sharing information with them. If only all older hunters were as friendly and generous with information “An Alp is a being created by a powerful witch that can be sent out to torment enemies. They’re rare because a lot of witches don’t seem to be powerful enough to make them anymore. They take a lot of will to control and bring horrible nightmares. It’s ingenious really. Everyone has nightmares, right? And it can be blamed on other things, like Moras and Må rts. The lore gets them all mixed up.” He took another drag from the cigarette, the ash line growing.

Sitting back, Dean spread his arms and smacked Sam on the arm. “What’d I say? Huh? Called it. Mixed up lore.”

Sam shot a quick, exasperated glance his way, like he thought Dean wasn’t taking this seriously enough. “How do they create them?” He was running a hand along Gwen’s arm, slowly chafing it. She had goose bumps.

“Snips and snails and puppy dog tails,” Dean suggested, only half joking.

Chris grinned. His hand extended off to the side and when he brought it back the cigarette was gone. “Right you are, Dean, in the sense that all Alps are created male. Head for the ladies every time and only take one victim at a time. They’re persistent little leeches, too.”

“That’d explain why the rest of us haven’t been affected,” Sam mused.

Now Chris snapped the fingers of both hands and pointed at them. “Bingo. They aren’t corporeal beings as such, only visible under certain light, as you obviously discovered. They nest during the day in cool, dark places, like basements or cellars. But at night….” He paused for effect. “They creep up onto their victim’s back, grab hold of her, and ride her down into her dreams, influencing as they go.”

Sam shifted his arm around Gwen, lowering his hand to her hip. “We had a night where it didn’t attack after it had been attacking. Why would it give her a pass?”

“You want my best guess?” At Sam, Dean, and Gwen’s nods, he shrugged. “Whatever he takes from the victim in the process, maybe he’d gotten enough during the last attack.” His attention went entirely to Gwen. “Was the last nightmare the worst one you’d had?”

A shadow seemed to cross her face before she slowly nodded. “It woke me up screaming. That was the first time I’d screamed and it was the most realistic to that date.”

Dean cleared his throat. Chris’s gaze returned to him. “What if the victim goes away for awhile? Takes a vacation. Will the Alp follow her?”

“No. Well…yes and no. I’ve seen a victim almost recover, yet still have a level of fear and anxiety, then go home and die after an attack. This leads me to believe two things. The first is that it keeps a tendril of itself in the victim somehow all the time, maybe like a tether so it can find her again if she doesn’t come back after a period of time. The second, that it’ll hibernate in the place it’s spent the most time with her until she returns to that place, then attack even more viciously.” He licked his lips. “I think leaving makes it mad. It retaliates the only way it can -- on the dreamscape.” His head bobbed in a few nods. “They’re interesting creatures really. Have a lot in common with Djinns and certain types of vampires and ghosts.”

“How do you know so much about them?” Gwen scooted closer to Sam. She really was practically on his lap now.

He was quiet a moment. Dean could see the decision on his face to tell them about his dance with the creatures. “About thirty years ago, I had a case that puzzled the hell out of me. Victim suffered nightmares, like Gwen here, and went downhill so fast neither she, nor her family, knew what hit her. It took two more victims before I got a lead, same process as the first victim and it was by fluke I discovered how to see it. My first Alp. Thing was nasty and old I found out later, like the pet of a centuries-old witch. Took down four more victims before I lost it and the witch. I kept an eye out after that.”

This, his entire career of studying the creatures, was personal. Dean could see it in the man’s eyes, in his posture, and hear it in his voice. Maybe it hadn’t been his catalyst into hunting, but it had egged him on deeper into it. “Sister,” he asked.

Chris stared at him, then nodded. “Close enough. Half-sister. We were close.”

“You catch the witch who created it?”

His eyes were suddenly flat and cold and he looked like a different man completely. “Vengeance was served.”

With a slow nod, Dean indicated he understood and Chris blinked, expression changing once more. He has a face like rubber, Dean thought.

A pack of cigarettes appeared, Chris shaking one out and lighting it. “Interrogated a demon and a couple witches about them over the years. Did some trial and error when I did find one and put it all together. Took me damn near the whole thirty years to figure out how to kill them successfully.”

Dean whistled long and low. “We’re glad for your expertise.”

“Sophie’s friends are my friends.” He sat back in his chair, puffing away. “Now, like I said, they’re rare. The usual attack is through the nose or mouth, but in the rarest of cases, the attack is sexual, if you get my meaning, leaving the victim certain she’s suffered through repeated violent and sadistic rapes, barely escaping with her life every time. I came upon two cases of that and both committed suicide not six months after the Alp left them. Counseling didn’t do any good. The images were too ingrained in their minds. They couldn’t distinguish reality from the dream images. Drove them nuts.”

“Do they kill or just torment?” Sam was intent on the screen, soaking up all of the information Chris was giving them.

“Depends on the witch. They can create it for either I was told, make the nightmare process gradual or instantaneous with latch on. Gwen, Sophie said you’ve had it for a couple months?”

“Yeah.” She nodded.

“Then it was probably created to drive a person mad.”

Which sounded to Dean like something Mia might have done for a giggle on a boring Saturday afternoon. He was beginning to suspect the fallout from having tangled with Mia, despite her death, would continue for awhile. He had no doubt in his mind that Mia had created the Alp sometime in her life. It easily could have latched on to Jo or Lisa instead of Gwen. She’d just been the unlucky one it had attached itself to.

“In that case, once the mind breaks, like in the case of the two sexual attacks, it’ll detach and move on to the next victim, which could be the nearest woman in proximity to the first. There another woman in the house?”

“My wife,” Dean said. Come hell or high water, they wouldn’t let that thing jump from Gwen to Jo. It’s existence ended with Gwen and it’s hours were firmly numbered. If he couldn’t kill it, Sam most definitely would. Dean crossed his arms on the table top. “What about when the witch who created it dies?”

“Then it’d no longer have someone holding it’s leash. It could find it’s own victims, go wherever it wants.”

“Great,” Gwen muttered. “It picked me. Wonderful. Have I developed a target on my back for these things now?”

Her frustrated words were a stark reminder to Dean that Gwen did have a target on her back, as did Jo and Jack, simply by association to him and Sam. The pain of that was swimming in Sam’s eyes and Dean knew exactly what Sam was feeling right now. The full truth of it however, and one he didn’t think Sam had worked through yet, was that Gwen had had a target on her back from before she’d even been born, a target placed there by her own mother. This was the life she’d grown up in and chosen to continue in. She’d always have a target. Even if they’d never met, she would’ve had a big red bull’s eye on her back.

Chris didn’t answer that question. He gaze slid back and forth, studying them. “There is some good news, guys. You can kill it and it’s fairly easy to do.”

“Lay it on us,” Dean told him.

“Simple. Stab it with an iron knife. That’ll force it to appear under natural light and make it’s body real to touch instead of the mist stuff it is naturally. It’ll dig in, scream and all that, but you’ll be able to pry it off Gwen.” He gestured again with his hands, the tip of his lit cigarette like a red firefly flitting about the air. “Once she’s free of it, grab it’s tongue, extend it all the way out and coat it with salt. The tongue will shrivel like a big ass slug and once that’s done, an iron nail through the forehead will finish it off. It should turn to dust and you can sweep it up and throw it out in the trash.” His attention returned to Gwen. “Gwen, your initial reaction to it detaching will be panic. I’ve yet to see anyone not panic when they finally see what was attached to them, even if they were prepared ahead of time. Don’t count on being able to help Sam and Dean with this. You’ll go into shock pretty fast after the panic wears off, like major shock, so be prepared for that. You might have some lingering fear of sleeping and dreaming for a few days, but trust me, that’ll pass. You’ll be back to normal within a couple weeks.” His features relaxed into a comforting grin, a fatherly grin even. “From what Sophie tells me, I gather you’re in very good hands with those two young men beside you.”

Relief crossed Sam’s face. “Thank you, Chris.”

“You’re welcome. Just glad my trials and tribulations can be of good use.”

An arm slung about Chris’s shoulders, Sophie’s grinning face reappearing. “Is my dad awesome or what?”

“He’s a ton of awesome, Sophie, thank you.” Dean saluted her. “We owe you both.”

“Pish.” She waved a hand. “Not necessary. I should be owing you. You’re keeping Mick busy. He’s a bear when he’s not working and besides, he hates Alaska anyway.”

“How long are you going to be in the wilds?”

She snorted. “Wilds? I’m hardly in the wilds, Dean. I’m in Anchorage and I’ll be back in January. Sorting out my stepsister’s estate is turning out to be harder than we thought it’d be.”

When the call was concluded, Dean turned his head. “What’s say we go nail this bastard?”

Sam hugged Gwen to him. “You up to trying to sleep again?”

She embraced him in return. “I don’t know. Knowing…. I can’t get the video out of my head.”

Dean nodded. “I get that, but this’ll be the last time you have to go through it. We’ll get it off you, kill it, and then you can breathe easy.”

She pulled back from Sam. “It may take me awhile to fall asleep.”

“All we ask is you try.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen tossed and turned for over an hour before she finally drifted off. Sam wanted to rip the Alp apart with his bare hands. They waited, watching until the creature appeared on the screen, then they slowly crept into the bedroom. The plan was for Dean to wield the knife and Sam to extricate Gwen before grabbing the tongue and salting it.

Of course, as usual, their plan didn’t go…exactly according to schedule.

The stabbing part went perfectly. Dean knelt behind Gwen and Sam in front of her. Dean stabbed the creature.

It let out a keening cry and appeared. It was even uglier in full view. It’s skin was grey and mottled and had a damp appearance. It’s eyes were bulging and large while the hands grasping Gwen were tipped with lethal skinny claws.

Gwen gasped, eyes opening and body jerking. She grabbed at Sam. Her head turned and when she caught sight of the withered, wrinkled, and clawed hand grasping at her, she began to panic just like Chris had said she would. Sam reached for the hand on her shoulder, but it lashed at him, fighting to keep it’s place. The claws slashed at him, Dean, and Gwen, the fabric of Gwen’s pajama top parting, blood welling from a wound that ran diagonally on her back. She twisted and was free, scrambling from the bed, falling with a thump, and crawling to the wall. She put her back flush to it and drew her knees up, arms going around her legs.

The Alp growled, it’s lips parting and revealing a mouth that was devoid of teeth. Malevolent eyes glared at them. The tongue flicked out. Sam barely saw it move, but certainly felt the sting of it hitting him.

They lost their grip.

The sheets and comforter were shredded into strips as the Alp eluded them, almost prancing along the bed. Feathers flew as it ripped open Gwen’s feather pillow.

This was easy?

Sam hated to see what Chris considered hard, hissing as talons that were unfortunately both corporeal and razor sharp sliced his forearm, drawing more blood. His anger grew from a slow burn to a hot rolling boil. A part of his mind timed how long it took between the mouth opening and the tongue whipping out. Three seconds. One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three…whip. He bared his teeth, only half aware that he’d begun growling at the creature in return.

“Grab it, Dean!”

Dean lunged, catching it from behind. There was a pop as he forced the Alp’s arms behind it’s back.

It’s mouth opened and at three, Sam moved, grasping that tongue and yanking it so hard that he pulled the Alp and Dean both off the bed. The tongue was like a snake in his grasp and Sam put his foot on the Alp’s face. “Salt time, you bastard.”

Gwen made a loud gasping noise and pushed off from the wall, grabbing the salt container and pouring salt all along the tongue. The Alp screamed, thrashing as it’s tongue crumbled into black dust. It began to choke and Sam reached for the hammer and nail, pounding the nail into the thing’s forehead.

It exploded, showering not only them, but the entire room in nasty black dust. Dean coughed and sat up, wiping his hands on his jeans. His fingers left black trails on the fabric. Gwen laid down on the floor and curled up in a fetal position. Sam waved a hand in the air, coughing himself, and reached for Gwen, grasping her and dragging her onto his lap.

She wasn’t against him long, pushing away and getting to her feet within a minute, staggering towards the kitchen. Her pajama top nearly slid off and she yanked it back into place as she went into the kitchen. A cupboard door slammed, then another one, and Sam heard the clink of glasses.

He exchanged a long glance with Dean and stood, brushing black Alp dust from his clothes before moving into the living room. Dean was right behind him. Gwen reappeared, carrying three shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

“Who wants some,” she asked, setting the bottle down with a hard thump and then the glasses. Her voice was less than steady and her hands were shaking. She wrested off the cap to the bottle and poured one shot. More whiskey got on the table than in the glass.

“Sounds good to me,” Dean replied, pushing past Sam to join Gwen at the table and take the bottle from her before she managed to spill the total contents of the bottle all over the table. “Come on over here and join us, Sam.” He poured, sliding the third glass towards Sam. Dean’s forearms were as scratched and bleeding as Sam’s, though he didn’t have the burn-like marks from the Alp tongue lashing at him. Sam had born the brunt of those.

Gwen practically fell into one straight chair. She held up the shot glass, “success,” and downed the shot without waiting for them to clink glasses. The glass was slammed on the table, Gwen tapping it with a forefinger. “Again.” After that one, she looked up at Sam. “My plan is to get soused, shower and have you clean up my back quickly, and go to bed.” Her glance slid to the bedroom. “Obviously not in there.” Her attention returned to Dean, finger tapping the glass. “Pour, Winchester.”

Dean flicked a finger towards the stairs. “You two can take mine and Jo’s room tonight. I’ll stay down here.”

While Dean helped Gwen with the drinking part of her plan, Sam found clean clothes for both of them in the dryer and carried them to the bathroom, then set out everything he’d need to clean the wound on her back. He didn’t think it was more than a scratch and suspected he’d have to work fast to get her through the last part of her plan before she passed out. He returned to the living room.

Finally, Gwen closed her eyes a moment. She bowed her head. A long shudder worked through her and she reopened her eyes. “Okay, Sam. I’m ready.”

He helped her up and into the bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~

Staying overnight at her mom’s house was a far different experience than it had ever been. For one thing, Jo had had to sleep on the couch. For another, Ellen had done most of the caring for Jack, leaving Jo to veg on the couch watching mindless tv and wonder how the video experiment was going back at the house. She didn’t call though, on the off chance she’d interrupt a crucial moment in the experiment.

Just after seven, Dean called to let her know she could go home. Jo took a shower and dressed, let her mother talk her into leaving Jack with her until dinnertime, and swung through Dean’s favorite burger place to grab an early lunch for all of them. She carried several big bags into the house and put them on the counter, then crossed the living room to Sam and Gwen’s bedroom door, noting the whiskey bottle and shot glasses on the table as she passed it.

Jo looked around the room, taking in the shredded sheets and comforter and the mess of black dust all over that Dean was trying to clean up. They were going to need to shampoo the carpet, wash the walls, maybe paint them, and a dozen other tasks in order to use the room again. “So….” She quirked a brow at him. “Exciting night?”

He looked over at her. “Where’s Jack?”

“Mom had a lunch date with Jodie. Decided to take him to the station to brag. She’ll bring him back about dinnertime. I came to help and it looks like you need it.”

“You should go up and sit with Gwen, see if you can’t pry Sam away from her side. He’s been with her since she drank herself to sleep. A little whiskey goes a long way.”

“What happened?” Jo studied him. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all. There were shadows beneath his eyes and when he moved, he winced. Scratches crisscrossed his arms and he was still in the same clothes he’d been wearing when she’d left the day before.

“We’ll show you the video later.”

She went upstairs, fully intending on spelling Sam awhile, but paused in the bedroom doorway. They were both asleep. Sam had curled as much of his body as he could around Gwen as he slept. Jo smiled a little. Dean sometimes did the same thing with her, usually when he was having nightmares. She’d wake up and be unable to move until she could manage to wake him up.

Going to the bedside, she crouched down and touched Gwen’s shoulder. It looked like she was wearing one of Sam’s shirts. “Hey.”

Gwen opened her eyes. “You’re back.”

“A few minutes ago.”

“What time is it?”

“About eleven. I hear you had a rough night.”

“Rough doesn’t begin to cover it.” She tried to move, an impossibility with the way Sam had her wrapped up. “Geez…Sam….let go.” Gwen shoved her elbow back against him until he groaned and moved onto his back. She sat up. Her hair was tangled. She blinked and winced, touching the heel of her palm to her forehead. “I think I have a hangover.”

“That rotgut whiskey Dean buys’ll do that. I’m surprised you’re not blind from it.”

“I think I should sleep some more.”

“Probably a good idea.”

She left Gwen to try to go back to sleep and closed the door behind her. Jo grabbed the vacuum and went to help Dean. He told her all about the night as they worked to restore cleanliness and order to Sam and Gwen’s room.

“You ever meet Sophie’s dad, Jo?”

“No.” She shook her head. “According to Sophie, he rarely leaves Alaska these days.”

“He knew all about Alps. Spent thirty years studying them. That’s determination.”

She shrugged. “It’s no more than what John did with Azazel.”

He paused in bagging up the ripped bedding. “You’re right. Only Chris is still alive to talk about it to other hunters. Wonder what else he knows about?”

“Pump him for info.” It made sense to Jo to do that and if Dean had found Sophie’s dad to be a friendly guy, then why not see what he knew? “We should utilize whatever resources we have, right?”

He tied the bag closed and came to her, pulling her tight into his arms and pressing his cheek against her hair. She turned her face into his neck. There was still a faint scent of his aftershave clinging to his skin from the day before. “Right. But right now I’m ready to drop.”

“I brought lunch.”

“You’re a good woman, Jo.”

Pulling away, she took his hand and led him out of the bedroom and to the table. They ate, cleaned up from lunch, and returned to cleaning the bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days were a flurry of activity. Painting and shampooing the carpet on Dean and Sam’s part and buying new sheets, pillows, and a comforter on Gwen and Jo’s. They also rearranged the furniture until it didn’t look like the same room. Only when all of that was done would Gwen go in the room to sleep.

Sam stretched out on the couch with one of Neal’s journals, determined to make some headway. At least Neal’s journal was more interesting than others. He’d found the threads of the story of that branch of the Campbell family, pieces written in such a way that he’d begun to feel like he knew Neal and, by extension, Patricia. He thought Gwen would be pleased once she started reading these.

“Would you watch him for me while I shower, Sam?”

He looked up from Neal’s journal to find Jo standing over him, holding Jack and looking hopeful. “Huh?”

It was only the two of them in the house. Dean was checking out one of the properties on the list they’d found and Gwen and Ellen had gone to a different one. The only reason Jo hadn’t gone was because she’d taken Jack in early for a wellness check-up.

“Watch him? Give him a bottle, burp him, hold him so I can shower?”

“Didn’t you shower before you took him in?” He thought he remembered her showering earlier, but maybe he was wrong.

“I forgot,” she said, tone mildly defensive.

“Oh. But…I thought you were…well…you know…” He gestured at her chest. “Feeding him yourself.” Sam set the slim book aside and sat up.

“I’ve got a couple bottles made up. Dean likes to feed him sometimes, too.” She bit her lip and made pleading eyes at him. “Please? Pretty please?”

“Um….” He wasn’t sure he was ready to really hold Jack. He’d avoided it so far, which was amazing considering how Dean and Jo both liked to hand him to people. Even Bobby had been pressed to hold the boy. Actually, he’d known it was only a matter of time before Dean or Jo made this request. “I guess I can. You’ll be what?, ten minutes or so?”

“Sure,” she replied, though it sounded too bright and cheerful to be the truth. Jo tossed a cloth across his chest and leaned down, setting Jack in his arms. “I’ll get you the bottle.” She was back in seconds, handing him the bottle. Jo appeared to be overly excited about taking a shower, excitement sparking in her eyes. “Don’t forget to burp him when he’s done. He usually does two. If you don’t get a second one almost immediately, keep trying.” She practically ran up the stairs.

A few minutes later, the shower began to run.

Sam looked down at Jack and touched the nipple of the bottle to Jack’s mouth. “We can do this, right?”

The child stared back at him as he drank, like he was studying him. At one point a tiny hand raised and pressed to his jaw. The ounces were gone quickly and Sam carefully sat him up like he’d seen Dean do, massaging the baby’s back. That did nothing, so he gently lifted him to his shoulder like Jo did, patting. The first belch was hardly dainty and the second, right on the heels of the first, was even louder and longer. Jack’s eyes opened wide like it had surprised him and Sam slowly smiled. “You’re definitely Dean’s kid.”

Jack smacked his lips, laid his head down, sighed, and closed his eyes, going boneless in seconds.

Slowly, Sam decided that this was kind of nice. He let his cheek rest against Jack’s head, smelling the scent of baby shampoo and talcum powder. He relaxed, listening for the sound of the shower stopping. Fifteen minutes passed. Twenty-five. His arm was getting tired by the time Dean returned and came in the house. He’d been afraid to move for fear of waking Jack up. “Dean,” he called out. “A little help here?”

A pleased grin split Dean’s features as he stepped into the living room. “Sammy! Finally holding your nephew.”

“Yeah, well, my arm’s falling asleep. Jo asked me to give him a bottle while she took a shower and she never came back down. The shower is still running. You don’t think she fell asleep in the shower, do you? It’s been over half an hour.”

“You could have laid him down.”

A valid point he supposed, as the pack and play was set up in one corner. “I’m not good at this stuff,” he protested as Dean lifted Jack from him and put him in the portable crib. The baby didn’t wake up though Dean hadn’t been exceptionally careful.

“Uh-huh. Who was holding the sleeping baby and had obviously given him his mid-afternoon snack?”

“I was. I did.”

“A little practice, you’ll be great at this.” He gestured at the stairs. “I’ll go see what’s keeping her.”

Sam got up and stretched, wondering if Dean had discovered anything of note at the property. He hoped there was something to work on because this calm they were experiencing, with no jobs to be found, was eerily like the calm right before a large storm hit.

~~~~~~~~~~

While Dean had known Jo could be devious, he hadn’t realized just how devious. Returning from checking out one of the closest properties on the list, he discovered Sam sitting on the couch holding Jack.

Finally, he thought. It’s about time.

Sam had been avoiding anything to do with the baby and doing pretty well at disappearing whenever they tried to force him to hold him for a minute or something like that. He didn’t want to get attached. Dean knew that. But he also knew that Sam had to accept this. He had to learn how to hold Jack and take care of him in case Dean or Jo weren’t around to do it.

He headed up the stairs and to the bathroom. The room was empty. Jo had left the water running when she’d gotten out of the shower. He turned it off. Smiling just a little, he went back down the hall and opened the door of their room. She looked up, startled. She was sitting with her back against the headboard of their bed, flipping through one magazine in a stack of them beside her.

“Dean. You’re back.”

Stepping in the room, he closed the door. “I am. The old, uh, shower running trick. Nice.”

She closed the magazine and set it aside, then crawled to the end of the bed and stood on her knees. He grasped her hips to steady her as she slid her arms around his neck. She kissed him in greeting. “He needed to bond with the baby awhile. Not like he’d actually come up here and look to see if I was really in the shower or not.”

“True.”

“You find anything?”

“More boxes and a bunch of junk. Took a few pictures, but nothing odd enough to do video. I’ve been thinking about the lists. They’re roughly organized into sections of the U.S.. I think they kept units and buildings in centralized locations rather than drag things back to their compound.”

“Makes sense.”

He squeezed her hips. “Gwen and Ellen not back yet?”

“No.” Jo drew back. “You think he bonded enough?”

“For now.”

It was late when Ellen dropped Gwen off, with a promise that they’d talk over lunch the next day about what they’d found.