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Kicking in the door, Ron “Gibby” Gibson shone his flashlight around the smoke filled room. He’d started to leave when the beam hit the large cage in the corner. “What the…” His voice trailed off as he made his way deeper into the large bedroom. The closer he got to the cage, the higher his eyebrows became. At first, he thought there was a large dog laying at the bottom. That was until he crouched next to it and saw the unkempt mop of dark blonde hair and bare back. “Holy shit!” Tilting his head to the side, he reached for the mic of his radio. “This is Gibson. I have one in the upstairs bedroom.”

Standing to his feet, he used the blunt end of his breaching axe to break the lock. Dropping the axe, Gibby reached his gloved hands into the cage putting them under the man's armpits and slowly backing until he had him out of the cage and laid out on the floor.

“Gibson....what’s your status.”

“Damn it.” Reaching for his mic, he pushed the talk button. “Chief...yer not gonna believe this. Get the medics. On my way out with one.” Moving to the man's hip, Gibby put one arm under his shoulders and the other behind his knees and turned toward the door. “Hang on buddy, I’m gonna get you outta here. I gotcha.” Making his way down the hall, he walked sideways so he wouldn’t bump the man’s head on the wall. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Gibby speed walked to the door, his knees slightly bent against the man’s weight. Ducking his head as he heard the house starting to fall apart around him.

“MEDICS!” Panting from the strain, Gibby didn’t slow down until he was next to the gurney the paramedics pushed toward him. “Cover him with a blanket.” Ripping his helmet and mask from his head and letting them fall to the ground, Gibby took the blanket from the paramedic who wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking. Not only was the man naked as the day he was born but he was wearing thick leather cuffs on his wrists and ankles as well as a leather collar. Stepping back to give the paramedics room, he followed them to the ambulance. “He breathing?”

“Barely but, yeah. We’ll get him to the hospital.” Looking over his shoulder as he pushed the gurney into the back of the ambulance, the paramedic nodded to Gibby. “You saved his life. From the looks of him...in more ways than one.”

He watched the ambulance pull away shaking his head. Turning, he walked over to where he’d left his helmet and mask. Dusting it off, he made his way to the truck. He slowed when he saw the Chief walking toward him. “Hey, Chief.”

“Was he alive?”

Looking toward the road, Gibby nodded. “Yeah. Barely but...yeah. I uhh...I found him in a cage, Chief. Someone had locked him in this...dog cage. He had a collar on and these...thick leather cuffs on his wrists and ankles.”

The Chief shrugged. “Probably some kind of bondage thing gone wrong. Don’t worry about it. Good job.” Clapping Gibby on the shoulder, Chief walked back to the front of truck.

Dean was beside himself, he’d cried every last tear he had in his body each night that had went by while they’d been unable to find Naythin. He and Tag had looked everywhere. Followed leads to dead ends, state to state and road to road. Hell, they’d nearly crossed the continent four times over. There was no way he was ever going to give up, no way in hell, a human being just didn’t disappear. Not even in the world he lived in. If something supernatural had Naythin, he’d find it, figure it out. He wasn’t just gone. In his desperation, he noticed a name in his Dad’s journal that he hadn’t before, which was surprising, he’d thought he’d memorized the thing forward and back. “Ives, Bobby. All it says is Ives… “Going to see Ives today.” And there’s a phone number.” That had been the conversation that he and Bobby’d had a month ago, before he’d sent for this Ives woman. She was apparently a strong psychic, different from all the others. Dean wasn’t sure what that meant, but Bobby had nodded his agreement that if anyone knew where to find Naythin, on this plain of existence or the other it was indeed Vanessa Ives.

The knock on Bobby’s front door had him and Tag reaching for their guns even as Bobby went to the door to answer it, waving both he and Tag back. Maybe he’d become trigger happy or paranoid, but who could blame him? A man entered Bobby’s house first, young, early thirties maybe, with dark hair and eyes that were slightly slanted. Slanted the way Sam’s had been as a kid when he hadn’t yet lost all of his baby fat. The woman who he drew in next to him, hugging her to his side like a frightened kitten had dark hair and deep blue eyes that sparkled, even from across the room. She barely glanced up at him as she made her way over, leaning heavily into the man with her.

“Dean, this is Vanessa Ives and the gentleman with her is her beau Ethan Chandler,” Bobby introduced.

Dean gave a curt nod and offered his hand first to Ethan to shake, gripping his hand firmly before releasing it. He reached that same had out to Vanessa only to see her cower back against Ethan as she stared at his hand like it was something to fear.

“Maybe it’d be best not to do that,” Ethan offered gently, giving Dean a curt nod and a slight smile.

Dean looked from Vanessa, the frail and frightened woman, to Ethan and nodded as he let his hand fall to his side. “Sorry. I uh, I need to find my husband,” he began as he turned and lead the way back into Bobby’s study.

“We know why we’re here,” Ethan supplied with another soft smile and curt nod of his head.

Bobby stayed next to the door as Ethan and Vanessa walked in. The hair on the back of his neck stood up straight as the woman walked past him. Every Hunter instinct in him was screaming to get her out of the house NOW. Closing the door, he eased past the pair, his hand going to Dean’s shoulder, squeezing gently as he made his way into his office. “Let ‘em in, son.” He knew Dean was desperate. If this Ives woman couldn’t help, Bobby was worried he’d lose Dean too.

Turning to Ethan, Bobby nodded as he pointed to the small table he had set up with five chairs surrounding it. “Either of you want anything to drink? I know it was a long drive so…” He had no idea where this Ives woman lived, only that Ethan had told him it would take them a while to get there.

Tag stepped forward from the side to shake Ethan’s hand and quietly introduce himself before stepping back out of Ethan and Vanessa’s way as they headed for the table. His eyes went to Dean and not for the first time he wondered how sane a discussion this was, bringing this strange woman here in the hopes that she would know what all the other psychics Bobby had tried had not known.

Ethan dipped his head a little and peered around Vanessa’s profile in an attempt to see her face as he lifted his brows in question, silently asking her if she wanted anything to drink despite the fact that down deep he knew she would decline.

Vanessa gave a barely there shake of her head as she lifted a hand and laid the back of it against Ethan’s shoulder, her arm against his. Her eyes were focused on Dean and Dean alone as a smile slowly curved her lips upward at the corners.

Ethan looked up at Bobby and gave his head a curt shake. “But I’d take a brandy if you have it, or a whisky I’m not much picky about it.” He smiled outright, the corners of his eyes crinkling softly.

Nodding, Bobby headed for the kitchen. “Whisky I’ve got.” He didn’t have to ask Dean or Tag if they wanted any. Opening the cabinet, Bobby pulled out a new bottle of whisky along with four glasses. Taking them back to the table, he poured a good amount in each glass. Setting the bottle on his desk, Bobby waved the group over. Picking up one of the glasses, he handed it to Ethan, his eyes darting to Vanessa as she stared at Dean. The alarm bells and whistles going off all over again. There was something...odd about that woman. Bobby just couldn’t put his finger on it. “Okay. How does this work...exactly.” Picking up his glass, he downed half of the amber liquid in one quick motion before lowering the glass back to the table.

Ethan pulled out one of the chairs for Vanessa and pushed it closer to the table once she was seated. Looking up, his smile widened a bit more as he took the offered glass from Bobby. He dipped his head as he raised the glass in a gesture of thanks before tipping the glass to his lips and knocking back most of its contents. Lowering the glass, he then took a seat next to Vanessa and set the glass on the table top, lifting one hand and laying it dutifully on her shoulder.

Vanessa smiled a bit more widely as she reached up and removed her black bonnet, setting the hat on the table to her side. “Why don’t we all have a seat?” She suggested, her voice thick with an English accent. Her eyes returned to Dean and she watched him, watched every movement that he made and her eyes lowered with him as he took a seat in one of the chairs across from her.

Knocking back the remaining whisky in his glass, Bobby pulled a chair out putting himself between Dean and Tag. His knee bumping lightly against the pistol holster he had rigged to the underside of the table. All he had to do was reach under the table and wrap his fingers around the grip. He didn’t even need to take it out of the holster to shoot the person sitting across from him. The clip of the handgun contained consecrated iron rounds as well as silver. Can’t be too careful nowadays.

Vanessa’s wide eyes moved to each individual around the table, except for Ethan, one of her hands reaching for his at her shoulder instead. “There is no exact way to do this, Mister Singer,” Vanessa responded to Bobby’s earlier question as her eyes went to Dean, staring at him intently.

“So Dean, tell me about your husband. Tell me about the man with the blue eyes,” Vanessa invited with a smile curving her lips as she narrowed her eyes slightly.

Dean hadn’t taken his eyes off the woman since after shaking Ethan’s hand. There was something strange about her, but then in his opinion most psychics were freaks, this Vanessa woman just seemed like a bigger freak than most. The second she spoke of Naythin, his eyes widened marginally before he was able to hide his surprise that she knew the color of his eyes when nothing had been said regarding such.

“What do you want to know? I love him...he’s been gone for...for three years,” Dean responded, swallowing hard with the last of his words.

Vanessa’s free hand reached across the table for Dean’s and she laid her palm against the back of Dean’s hand as she gazed at him for a long moment before speaking. “Yes, I know. Three years, two months, three days and four hours…” An almost crazed smile flashed across her features before disappearing just as fast as it had appeared. In its place was a very kind, friendly, and perhaps even sympathetic smile, “To be exact.”

Dean’s hand pulled immediately from beneath Vanessa’s out of reflex and every muscle in his body tensed as he sat up straighter in his chair. His eyes darted briefly from Vanessa to Ethan and back. “Yeah...yeah…” he agreed. What the hell do you say to something like that? Sonofabitch!

Bobby tensed, his hand going under the table stopping just short of the pistol as he looked over at Tag. No one had said anything to Ethan that day on the phone. Tag and Dean had been standing in the kitchen with Bobby when he’d made the call. Hell, he didn’t even give him Naythin’s name much less what color his eyes were.

“Vanessa’s very powerful,” Ethan murmured softly, almost too softly to be heard, “If anyone can find your husband, she can,” he assured with a nod to Dean. He reached for his whisky with his free hand and knocked what remained in the glass back, grimacing slightly at the burn as he set the glass back down on the table top.

Vanessa’s smile flashed back to the almost crazed one and her head rolled on her shoulders as a low groan sounded from deep in her throat. When her head stopped rolling on her shoulders her eyes, eyes that had darkened in color from blue to nearly midnight blue, locked on Dean. “Tell me, tell me about your sweet, sweet boy. Little boy blue come blow your horn? Oh, it seems he's been blowing a lot of horns lately. Such a tight ass, such a lovely little tight ass. Tell me, Dean, do you like it in his ass? Do you like his tight ass?” She chuckled, the sound knowing and dirty as she stared unflinchingly at Dean. “The others did, oh how they liked that tight little ass.”

Dean was up out of his chair and halfway across the table, reaching for the bitch’s neck before he knew what was happening. “You fuckin’ little bitch!” he growled.

Ethan was up from his chair so fast it tipped over backward and he placed himself between Dean and Vanessa, pushing against Dean’s chest as he blocked Vanessa from arm. “Easy! Easy! Sit down! She...she doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. Please.”

Vanessa cackled maniacally with glee, her head tipping back on her shoulders before those wide midnight blue eyes found Dean’s again, her smile as wide and as crazed as a Jack O'Lanterns. “Oh yes, yes, yes! Such a bad little boy, little boy in the corner with the tears in his eyes. His big blue eyes. Your boy in the corner. Your boy with tears in his eyes…”

Bobby jumped out of his chair when Dean did. Wrapping his arms around his waist, he pulled Dean off the table. Dragging him a few feet away from it, he locked his hand around his other wrist to keep a solid hold on him. “Easy, Dean. Easy, son.” Looking over Dean’s shoulder, he glared at Ethan. “Sounds like she knows exactly what she’s sayin’ to me.” He didn’t need the mental image that went along with what the woman was saying.

Ethan shook his head. “No. She doesn’t.” He looked from Bobby to Vanessa and back. “It...when it takes hold of her,” he shook his head again, “She never remembers.”

Tag had jumped up from the table at the same time as Dean and Bobby and was now standing with his rifle in his hands, just waiting for Dean or Bobby to say the word and he’d blow this crazy bitch back to whatever mental ward she’d crawled out of.

“Home,” Vanessa mused, “Go home, Dean. Home is where you will find your boy. The boy in the corner with tears in his eyes and fire on his skin.”

Dean didn’t even try to hide the tears that sprang to his eyes at the things Vanessa was saying. “Shut up! Just shut up! Yer wrong! He…” Dean’s words trailed off as he shook his head and nearly collapsed against Bobby. “Yer wrong,” he whispered hoarsely. “He can’t...no...please, God, no…”

Vanessa’s head snapped up, her face tipped up toward the ceiling looking up at the devil’s trap above them. Lowering her head, she smiled a crazed smile and began to climb up and over the table toward Dean and Bobby, stomping her feet as she reached the table top. “The devil doesn’t live here. Here, with the mark to keep demons at bay. Do you think I’m a demon? Do you think you can trap me here? Legion can not be trapped, not by the likes of you. Run, Dean, run to your boy, run home to Kansas!” Each word grew in volume until she was yelling the last of it.

Ethan reached for Vanessa, pulling her back and into his arms. He fought her struggles, holding her fast as he whispered words of love in her ear. “Easy, Vanessa. Easy, baby. I know you’re in there. I know you’re in there, Vanessa. Easy,” he whispered so only she could hear.

Legion quieted, soothed somewhat by Ethan’s words. But Vanessa’s eyes remained locked on Dean, even as Ethan wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in against his side. “You have your answers, I think we should go...I’m...I’m sorry for the...frankness of her words,” Ethan murmured, “Like I said, she doesn’t know what she says. Later, I’m sure she’ll be scandalized by her behavior here tonight.”

Bobby’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Legion. Holy Mary Mother of God. Listen to your gut, Singer. Listen to your gut. Tightening his arms around Dean as he nearly collapsed, Bobby looked over at Tag. The only thing the rifle would do is piss it off. “Tag...stand down, boy.” Powerful psychic, my ass. Vanessa Ives was possessed by Legion. Lucifer himself was afraid of him...them. Shit. “I uh...yeah...I think you should…” He was cut off when the house phone, the real house phone started to ring.

Tag’s eyes darted between the two strangers, one stranger than the other, and Bobby. After a moment he gave a curt nod and did as Bobby said and lowered his rifle. If anyone knew what the crazy ass woman was going on about, whatever this Legion was it was Bobby.

Ethan nodded and quickly directed Vanessa toward the door where they’d entered. He turned his head and was about to apologize again when the ringing of a telephone cut him off. His mouth snapped closed and he returned his attention to getting Vanessa out the door, closing it softly behind them.

Detective Damon Rice was hammering away at his keyboard trying to get the last of his paperwork done so he could start his weekend early. He was planning on spending the weekend at his cabin fishing and forgetting about the rest of the world. That is, until his partner walked up and dropped a missing persons poster on top of his keyboard. Picking it up, Damon knew his weekend had just been ruined. “What’s this?” He asked as he scanned the photos and the information printed under them.

Detective Brian Lowe sat on the edge of Damon’s desk and poked at the poster. “He’s been found...alive, barely but still.”

Damon’s eyebrows rose as he looked at the date the guy...Naythin Darrell Winchester...went missing. “Three years? Damn.” Shrugging, he tossed the poster on his desk next to his monitor and resumed typing. “So…?”

“So? He was found in an abandoned burning house by the fire department.” Leaning to the side, Brian pinned his partner with a hard look. “He was in a dog cage, naked with ankle and wrist cuffs AND wearing a dog collar. Doc said he’s at least thirty pounds underweight, dehydrated and been through hell. They had to sedate him when he came to keep him from hurting himself when he tried to get away. He kept saying…I’m sorry...I’ll be good.

Leaning back in his chair, Damon looked up at his partner. “I hate you right now. Ya know that, right?” Lifting his hand, Damon ran it down his face with a heavy sigh. “Has anyone contacted this…” Picking up the poster, he found the contact phone number. “Bobby Singer?”

“Nope. Prints just came back verifying his identity.” Brian stood to his full height and walked around to sit at his desk. “You want me to make the call?”

Damon stared at the photo of the smiling man leaning against the side of a black car. “No. No, I got it.” This was one part of his job he liked. Contacting the family and telling them their loved one has been found. Sighing again, he plucked the receiver from the cradle and started punching in the phone number. Leaning back in his seat, he kicked his feet up onto the corner of his desk.

Glancing at Tag, Bobby slowly walked Dean to the nearest chair. “Keep an eye on him.” After Dean was sitting, Bobby hurried into the kitchen. Picking up the receiver, he tucked it between his ear and shoulder as he walked back to the counter. “Singer Salvage.”

“Yeah, Hi. I’m looking for a...Bobby Singer.” Damon sat up in his chair reaching for the piece of paper Brian was handing him. Scanning it quickly, he saw it had the name of the hospital along with the doctor’s name that was assigned to Mr. Winchester.

“Who’s askin’?” Always cautious, Bobby turned and leaned against the counter.

“Right. My name is Detective Damon Rice. I’m with the Salina Kansas Police Department.”

Swallowing hard, Bobby stood to his full height. His heart dropped into his gut and his palms were sweaty. “Uh huh...this is Bobby Singer. What can I do for ya, Detective.”

“Mr. Singer. I’m calling about Naythin Darrell Winchester. Your name is on the missing persons poster?” Leaning forward, Damon pushed the keyboard out of his way as he leaned his forearm on his desk. “We found Naythin, Mr. Singer. He’s alive.”

“Come again?” Bobby wasn’t sure he heard the man right the first time. There had been many close calls over the past three years. It was surprising how many men out there looked like their Naythin.

“I said, we found Naythin, Mr. Singer. He’s alive. Right now, he’s at Salinas Regional Health Center.” Frowning slightly, Damon sat up in his chair. “I can give you the information if you want it.”

Bobby started to shake, he could feel the sting of tears in the corners of his eyes. Don’t get your hopes up, Singer. It’s not the first time you’ve had a call like this. “Detective, I’m gonna need some kind of...proof it’s really my son-in-law.” Turning, Bobby walked toward the back door, stretching the cord as far as it would go.

Lifting his free hand, Damon rubbed at the back of his neck. “We ran his prints. They came back to him along with a couple mug shots so, yeah. It’s him.”

Dean was shaking so bad he nearly shook himself right off the chair Bobby had put him in. Tag’s hand on his shoulder had been the other thing that kept him seated. When Bobby answered the phone, Dean hadn’t thought that much about it, his eyes and his mind still on the woman who had just walked out the door. When he heard Bobby say the words son-in-law, his shaking got three times as bad and tears pooled in his eyes, one slipping from his tight grasp to roll down the center of his cheek.

Tag’s hand tightened on Dean’s shoulder as he listened to the one sided phone conversation. If this was some kind of sick joke he was going to find the fuckers responsible and shoot them right between the eyes. His thumb brushed up and down along the back of Dean’s neck in an effort to calm him, even a little.

Slowly pulling to his feet, Dean crossed the distance between himself and Bobby like a zombie, he couldn’t even remember the walk across the room. In his mind he was just suddenly there. “Is...is it really him?” he choked out softly, his voice husky with unshed tears.

After writing down the name of the hospital as well as the Detective’s name. Bobby thanked him before turning and starting back across the kitchen to hang up the phone. He stopped mid stride when he saw Dean standing in the doorway. Glaring at Tag, Bobby crossed the remaining few feet and carefully hung up the phone. “It’s him. They found Naythin. He’s alive. He’s uh...he’s in a hospital in Salinas, Kansas.” Looking from Dean to Tag and back again, Bobby handed the paper to Tag. “He’s two hours from Lawrence.” ”Go home, Dean. Home is where you will find your boy.” She...it...they hadn’t been wrong.

Dean couldn’t hold back the tears as Bobby’s words slammed into his chest hard enough to have him stagger stepping backward into Tag. “He...he’s in...Kansas…” He swallowed hard. “Such a tight ass, such a lovely little tight ass. Tell me, Dean, do you like it in his ass? Do you like his tight ass? The others did, oh how they liked that tight little ass.” Oh God. Oh God, no. “Did...was he…?” He couldn’t even say the word. He couldn’t even force his lips to pucker into the shape of the first letter, R. If she was right about Kansas...Tears slipped unchecked from Dean’s eyes, rolling down his cheeks. The one thing he managed to hang onto, the one small bit of self control he managed to maintain was the fact that he wept silently.

Reaching out, Bobby gripped Dean’s shoulder. “I don’ know, son. The detective said he was alive. It’s all I really cared about at the moment.” Naythin was alive. After three years of non stop searching. Calling in every favor, turning over every rock, threatening and using every trick they knew to find him. Sonofabitch. There were more than a few times, Bobby was ready to give up, throw in the towel that they weren’t ever going to find Naythin. It was as if he’d fell off the face of the planet. They’d put up a reward which brought out every money hungry lunatic in the country and even a few outside of the country. The Hunter APB had gone out within the first couple of hours of Naythin’s disappearance.

Lifting his free hand, Bobby dragged it down his face, wiping away any evidence of the tears that had slipped from his eyes to roll down his cheeks. Stepping into Dean, Bobby wrapped his arms around him. “He’s alive. He’s alive.”

Dean wrapped his arms around Bobby in turn as tears streaked down his face. There’d been many nights that he’d yelled to the heaven’s for some help, to give him a sign that they should keep looking, and he’d received nothing at all. It was a little amazing that after all that, a skittish and timid woman possessed by Legion comes in and she’s the break they’d been searching for all this time. Everything she’d said had been coming true...which meant that his baby had been raped. He just hoped like hell that Legion was a bit of a drama queen and it hadn’t been happening to Naythin all this time. He closed his eyes and gave himself a mental shake, if he thought about that too hard, too much, it would likely drive him insane and he needed to be there for Naythin. That thought had him stepping back from Bobby’s embrace. “We have to leave, I need to see him...go to him,” Dean exclaimed, his eyes wide as if the thought had just occurred to him that he could, in fact, go see his husband. Before anyone had the chance to say anything, Dean was rushing toward the door at a near full out run. He yanked the door open and ran across the yard to the Impala. Salinas, Kansas. It was just outside Lawrence, home. Just like the woman, Vanessa had said. Possessed or not, had the woman still been around he could have kissed her full on the lips. Thank God. Thank God! Naythin was alive. His baby was alive! After fumbling with the keys, from how hard he was shaking, he managed to get the Impala’s door unlocked. “Tag! Bobby! Are you guys comin’ with me or takin’ yer own vehicles?” he yelled loud enough for Tag and Bobby to hear wherever they were, Dean really wasn’t concerned at the moment with where the two men had gotten off to, if they’d moved at all from where they’d been standing inside the house when he made a run for it. All he could think about, all he cared about, was going to see Naythin.

It had been on the tip of his tongue to try and tell Dean to wait until the next morning. To get a fresh start before driving down to Kansas. Bobby knew Dean had been awake for 24 hours. Trying to get the kid to wait would be useless. Turning to Tag, Bobby ran a hand over his face, wiping away the tears that had rolled down his cheeks. Sniffling softly, “Go tell that idjit to give us ten minutes to pack. I gotta make a couple calls. I have a feeling we’re gonna be down there for a while.” All the detective had said was that Naythin was alive. Nothing more. That had Bobby worrying. Alive could mean a lot of different things.

Tag nodded to Bobby and clapped a hand on his shoulder as he passed him, headed for the front door. He paused halfway to the door but didn’t turn around. “You know Dean’s gonna want revenge on whoever...or whatever took him,” he mused.

Walking to his desk, Bobby stopped when he heard Tag. “I know. We just gotta make sure he doesn’t take off before we get Naythin home.”

Tag gave a curt nod and continued to and out the door. “Dean, Bobby said to give him a few minutes so he can pack a bag,” he called as he walked down the front steps toward Dean and the Impala. “Not all of us live out of our vehicles these days.” He was referring of course to Bobby. He and Dean however had most everything they owned in their vehicles.

Dean huffed softly and blew out a breath as he hung his head forward, his chin nearly to his chest as he squeezed his eyes closed. He waited there a couple of minutes like that before picking up his head and opening his eyes, his head turning slightly to meet Tag’s gaze. “I don’t have time to wait. Naythin’s waited long enough for us to find him, I’m not gonna make him wait any longer than he has to.” He pulled open the driver’s side door open and looked back at Tag. “Tell Bobby we’ll meet up at the hospital. Tell him I had to go. And when he gets pissed, ask him what he’d do if it was Karen.” Dean slid in behind the wheel and reached for the door handle as he inserted the key into the ignition.

Shit. Tag looked from Dean to the house and back again. The last thing Dean needed to do was head to that hospital alone. The first person who looked cross eyed at him was liable to wind up in the hospital him or herself. No. No way. He had to go with him. He looked back toward the house and yelled loud enough for Bobby to hear. “Dean’s takin’ off, I’m gonna follow him!” He looked back at Dean and nodded. “Try an’ keep it under a hundred?”

Dean’s lips twitched slightly at the corners before he pulled the car door closed and revved the engine. “When Naythin’s home I’ll worry about what speed I’m goin’,” he responded. He shifted the car into gear and pulled past Tag who was quickly running across the yard to his truck. Dean chuckled and gave his head a shake. “Yer never gonna keep up with me in that thing.” Reaching the long driveway that lead out to the road, Dean floored it, the back tires kicking up dirt and gravel as the Impala took off like a bat out of hell.

The first call Bobby made was to Ellen telling her Naythin had been found and he was alive. Her first question…”Define alive, Bobby?” He couldn’t answer her. He didn’t know. Bobby gave her what little information he had, telling her Dean, Tag and himself were going to Kansas. The sound of the Impala roaring out of the yard had Bobby swearing under his breath.

“Lemme guess, Dean just took off.”

“Damn idjit. Can’t say I blame him.” Huffing, Bobby ended the call with Ellen promising to fill her in as soon as they knew anything else.

The second and final call he made was to the Salina Police Department to get a feel for the Detective that called. Not that Bobby didn’t trust him, okay, he didn’t. The supervisor wasn’t in so Bobby left a message asking him to call Special Agent in charge, Randall Rhodes of the FBI. It was a kidnapping case. The FBI got involved in those types so it sounded legit. Hanging up the phone, he hurried up the stairs to throw a bag together before running out of the house, keys at the ready for his Charger. Tossing the bag in the back seat, he slammed the car door, shoved the key in the ignition and started the engine. Without giving the car time to warm up, he slammed the gear stick in drive and smashed the gas peddle down to the floorboard leaving a rooster tail of dirt and dust in his wake as he flew down the driveway.