Chapter 2

Dean had been slightly relieved when his family had finally gone. He loved his father and brother, but there was only so much of their arguing that he could take. Sometimes he got tired of playing the peacekeeper.

Things hadn’t always been like they were now. But the last couple of months had suddenly begun to overshadow the years of happiness that they’d had. At least, he’d been happy. He was beginning to wonder if things had been the same for his little brother.

After their mom had died, there was a time when Dean was in a very dark place. He felt lost and scared, and his only remaining parent wasn’t much more than a shadow. For a long time he expected his mom to come back. Death wasn’t a concept that many five year-olds could grasp. It didn’t seem permanent. But death was very permanent.

Despite the hopelessness, Dean remembered what his family had once been like, what John had been like and it gave him something to hold on to. It wasn’t like he could grasp mental detailed, picture-like memories, but he still had the feelings. That was something.

Something more than Sammy had.

A sudden sense of claustrophobia had Dean needing to get out of their room. He grabbed his jacket and walkman and headed downstairs.

He had to admit that the old lodge was something as he made his way past the rough logs that comprised the walls and onto the loft-like opening that led to the spiral staircase.

The steps were like huge boulders artistically grafted together. It gave the illusion of hiking down a mountain side, and Dean had to admire the imagination and craftsmanship that had gone into it. Once at the bottom, the room opened up to a huge sitting area, with a fireplace as big as most of the motel rooms he’d grown up in.

Overstuffed couches in varying plaids and leathers were scattered around the room and the testosterone was almost made palpable by the guns and trophies adorning the dark paneled walls.

Dean chose a black leather recliner away from the roaring fire and by the biggest bay window he’d ever seen and sat down. The view of the surrounding forest was magnificent, if you were into the whole nature thing, and he imagined that in the peak of hunting season this old lodge would be bustling with enthusiasts.

He pushed back on the chair bringing the foot rest up and slipped his walkman on. Ah, Zeplin. The ‘soothing’ music quickly lulled him into a relaxed state, and he was so focused on watching a large bird, that he assumed was an eagle, in the distance, that he missed the fact that someone was watching him.

Amos Hayes had seen the other two men drive away earlier. John Winchester had stopped to talk with him for a moment, asking questions about a jewelers shop in the small town, not far from the lodge.

It wasn’t unusual for families to stop by in the off season, but Amos had yet to see the men do very much, except venture out into the forest with strange equipment.

Perhaps they were poaching, though he’d yet to see any game brought in. There had been some reporters show up after the last boy was found on the ridge, but they didn’t stay at the lodge, choosing the hotel in town instead; and besides, the two boys were too young to be with any newspaper.

No, something was strange about the trio, but that didn’t really concern him. Whatever it was that brought the Winchester’s to the Piney Knob wasn’t important. What was important was that Jenny would be saved again. Amos would make sure of that, and John Winchester had delivered her salvation right to him.

Sam rubbed at his eyes and looked down at his watch. He still had twenty minutes, and if he really needed to he could squeeze in an extra five. Pissing his dad off was a fringe benefit these days. It didn’t matter what he did, John was never satisfied, so he figured he might as well give him something to really be disappointed in.

He refused to be like his older brother and do everything possible to please the man, no way. John had brought this on himself. It was time the man was taken down a notch or two and Sam was going to be the one to do it.

There was no way that a werewolf had killed those men. For one, there was a pattern to the slayings. Every picture that Sam had turned up of the victims was similar. Males, all ranging in ages from 18 to 25. They were all nice looking and athletic. All of them were Caucasian. The last time he’d checked werewolves didn’t differentiate between light and dark meat, and they could give a damn about what their meals looked like. Vampires were more selective about things like that, but this didn’t seem anything like the undead either.

He flipped through another slide and sighed. If he were honest with himself, poltergeists and vengeful spirits weren’t usually this specific either. But in his own defense they would target certain groups sometimes, almost like a serial killer, and they would haunt a certain area. Maybe that was it. He had missed something about the surrounding forest.

Unfortunately, he’d researched the whole vicinity around the Piney Knob, but nothing out of the ordinary had seemed to happen there. No massacres, no disturbed burial grounds, and no scenes of horrible accidents or mishaps. It had been virgin and untouched for centuries. The only inhabitants that had a reason to be pissed at anyone were the animals, and Sam wasn’t about to propose to his father that Bambi was behind the killings. Dean would definitely get a kick out of that.

No, it wasn’t the land around the Piney Knob, but maybe it had something to do with Keller’s Bluff. He went back to the computer archive and reentered his query.

The killings had begun roughly five years earlier and had grown in intensity through out the time sense. This past year, three men had gone missing, and had later been discovered beaten and slashed beyond recognition. The weapon used had been similar to a knife, but not distinguishable enough for the police to get a lock on it’s exact type.

That’s where John had picked up on the werewolf thread. Claws could mimic a knife wound, and the severe beating that the bodies took were also reminiscent of the Lupine.

Each victim had been missing his heart. The organs hadn’t been found. His dad had pointed out on several occasions that spirits and poltergeists had no taste for human flesh, nor did they usually collect trophies, like serial killers did.

Something about the word struck a chord with Sam. Twice that very thought had popped into his head. Everything about this case was beginning to point to something more sociopathic than supernatural. He was just about to call it quits, when his screen was filled with an article he hadn’t come across before.

Local Teen Girl Goes Missing

Sam scanned the story, almost dismissing it when he found reference to another article where the girl had been found alive, living with her boyfriend in the neighboring state of California. But something snagged his attention. The girl’s name. He’d seen it before.

Jenny Hayes.

He went back to the local newspaper on microfiche and searched. Sure enough, Jenny Hayes had died almost a year to the date of the article about her going missing. Her boyfriend had murdered her in a domestic violence situation. Sam had seen it earlier, but had dismissed it when he saw that she was killed over a thousand miles away.

Hayes.

He squeezed his eyes shut trying to will his thought process to speed up. Why did that sound familiar?

Then it hit him. He backtracked to the original article. Jenny was the daughter of local business owner, Amos Hayes.

Amos owned the Piney Knob.

“Oh God.”

“You should have thought about calling on him, before you made me walk all the way over here to get you.” John Winchester stood in the doorway of the small research area of the Keller’s Bluff library, arms folded over his muscular chest and a look of pure anger in his dark eyes. “I doubt if even he can help you now, son.”

The stricken gaze on his youngest son’s pale face had him forgetting about his frustration and crossing the room in two large strides. He knelt in front of the kid. “Sammy, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“It’s not a poltergeist or spirit, Dad.”

Well, John could have told him that. “Sam…”

“It’s not a werewolf either.” Sam pointed to the article. “It’s not something supernatural at all. It’s a serial killer.”

“What?” John looked from his son to the screen. The name practically leaped from the text. “Amos?”

“His daughter was murdered by her boyfriend. How much you want to bet that he was a dead ringer for the victims, and Dean matches the profile?”

John swallowed hard, trying to process what his son was saying and what he was reading. He could understand a parent’s rage and grief at losing their child, but would it be enough to drive one to murder. To murder over and over again.

“Son, you don’t know that it’s Amos. He…”

Sam shook his head in frustration. His father refused to let him be right about anything, even when the evidence was glaring him in the face. At the moment, though, he didn’t give a shit about what his father thought. His brother was his only motivation. “All I know is that he’s alone with Dean. Are you willing to risk him because of your disappointment in me.”

Disappointment? That needed to be a conversation sometime in the future, but right now, something was telling him that Sam was exactly right about one thing. “Let’s go get your brother.”

Dean had almost drifted off to sleep when a hand on his shoulder practically had him jumping out of the chair.

“Didn’t mean to startle you.”

The young hunter hit the power button on his Walkman and slid the earphones from his head. The owner of the lodge was standing next to his chair. The man reminded him of Paul Bunyan in both size and in the way he dressed. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

He’d spoken briefly with Amos Hayes on the day that they had checked in, and again when he and Sam had asked about renting a couple of all-terrain vehicles. He seemed nice enough, if not a bit long winded, but Dean didn’t mind having some company. Especially, if said company wasn’t pissed off or bratty.

Amos smiled and pointed to Dean‘s Walkman. “It’s a wonder you kids don’t go deaf before you all turn thirty wearing those finagled things around all the time.”

Dean looked up at the man and shrugged. “A risk I’m willing to take.” He noticed the man was holding two beers and a look of puzzlement crossed his features.

Amos‘ smile widened at the questioning look. “Your kid brother told me you had a birthday yesterday. I know it wasn’t the big one, but back in my day if you were old enough to vote and fight in the war, you were old enough to drink.”

Dean liked this man. “Thanks.” He took the offered bottle and glanced around quickly, just to be sure that John Winchester wasn’t lurking about. “My old man is a stickler for rules.”

Hayes took the seat across from his. “I can understand that. I was an Army man myself. Your daddy told me he was in the Corp.”

Dean took a drink of the cold beer and nodded. “Yeah. He’s a Jar Head, through and through.”

“Parents have to be careful these days. I’m sure he’s only as tough as he has to be.”

Dean had a feeling that the man had been privy to several of his family’s ‘disagreements’ during their stay at Piney Knob. Maybe the walls weren‘t as thick as they seemed. “Yeah, kids are a pain.”

Amos tipped his beer towards Dean at that statement. “They’ll break your heart.”

“Do you have any?” Dean took another long swallow. The beer wasn’t his first, but it had been a far and few between delicacy, one he intended on enjoying.

“Kids?” Amos looked out the window at the slowly setting sun. “Yeah, I do. I have a daughter. Jenny.”

“Sometimes I think my dad wishes he’d have had girls. At least one.” Especially considering what a pain in the ass Sam had been lately.

Cloudy blue eyes turned back to stare at him. “No, he’s lucky. Girls grow up and get taken away from you.”

Dean turned the beer up again before nodding. “I never really thought about that.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Amos shifted in his seat and leaned forward slightly. “I bet you’ve broken a lot of father’s hearts. Haven‘t you?”

“You mean girls’ hearts?” Dean blinked, and rubbed at his eyes. Amos suddenly looked a little fuzzy around the edges.

“Yeah, a handsome kid like yourself. I’ve seen you swaggering about around here like a buck in mating season. I bet you’ve destroyed lots of families by bedding yourself quite a few innocent young things.”

Dean suddenly got the feeling that the conversation had shifted in a direction he wasn’t willing to go, cold beer or not. He sat the bottle down on a table beside him and forced a smile. “I don’t really have time for a lot of dating, so trust me, your daughter’s virtue is quite safe around me.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that, Joseph. I’m going to protect my girl.”

“My name’s Dean.” Dean picked up his jacket and started to stand when a sudden wave of dizziness rushed over him, causing him to falter.

“The names are all different, but your kind is all the same.” Amos stood and reached out a hand to steady the boy.

Dean pulled away from him and nearly stumbled into a tall floor lamp by the recliner. “I better go upstairs.” His stomach lurched and a wave of heat traveled up from his feet, causing beads of sweat to pop up on his forehead.

Dean couldn’t understand how just one beer could have effected him so quickly. It was true that he was never one to be a heavy drinker, even with the crowd he hang out with some in high school, but he could handle more than what he’d just consumed, unless….

His confused hazel eyes lifted to look at Amos, who smiled. “You drugged me.”

“It’s not deadly, but it is fast.” The man continued to smile. “An old man has to take any advantage he can get, boy. We fathers don’t stand a chance against the power you young ones wield, Joseph.”

The pieces were quickly falling into place in his mind, despite the fog trying to settle over his brain. This little twist blew the hell out of Sam’s theory about the poltergeist, and although Amos Hayes was a big man, with lots of teeth, he kind of doubted he could morph into anything except for a psychotic loon. “My family will be back anytime now.”

Amos laughed. “Fathers can’t always protect their children no matter how badly that they might want to.”

Great, John had warned him that one day some pretty girl’s daddy was going to take a severe disliking to him, but he had at least hoped that he would have done something fun enough to incur the wrath. Dean hadn’t even met Jenny, let a lone touched her.

“I can’t let you go on hurting my girl. She needs to be here with me.”

Dean felt his hand brush up against the lamp that he’d bumped into earlier and he decided in his condition his only chance was a surprise attack. He clasped the long pole base in his hand and swung it around with all the force his sluggish muscles could manage.

Unfortunately, Amos’ reflexes were finely tuned, and he blocked the move, receiving a glancing blow at best. Still, he cradled his arm and cursed as the lamp crashed to the floor and the bulb shattered. .

Dean used the opportunity to make a run for it, but was stunned when he was caught and taken down by a flying tackle. He felt something in his side give way as he impacted with the cold, hard floor and Hayes’ 250 pound plus frame crashed heavily on top of him. He now knew what those cute little baby seals that he and Sam had watched on the Discovery channel felt like when the big bad walruses got a hold of them.

Amos didn’t give him a chance to recover as he grabbed his head with both hands and slammed it against the floor once, twice, and then a third time for good measure. Dean felt as if his skull was going to explode and he fought to stay conscious. He had to stay conscious if he was going to make it out of this.

He tried to lift his useless arms to defend himself as the man delivered blow after blow to his face and body. “You will pay for what you’ve done to my daughter.” The man yelled, as one final fist glanced off the side of Dean’s skull, sending a multitude of bright lights scattering across his field of vision before everything went black. “Tonight, you’ll be the one to lose your heart.”