Disclaimer: Seriously? All I can say is that I borrow. I don't steal.

Note: Wrote this in a couple hours because I really wanted to see some old fashion monsters. Why? Desperation. Most definitely desperation.

Nesting Tendencies

The bastard wasn't what they thought. Turned out the oh-so-perfect villain lair in the middle of the fucking woods wasn't just home to a lone vampire, but a whole host of nasties. Dean counted five decapitated heads in the corner and didn't even wanna consider what they had been when they were alive. Let alone what took off their heads. Probably untold body parts around the place they'd never even know about. Sam rang him up and claimed he'd found an Arachnae nest on the second floor south corner of the building.

Dean wasn't sure he believed him. Arachnae were pretty rare, and yet the sheer…potpourri of supernatural critters in this place was enough to lend legitimacy to his brother's statement. And besides, Arachnae were easy to kill since they fell in with the 'Beheading Group' along with vampires and various other nasties.

WIDD. When in doubt, decapitate.

A course of action Dean could get on board with, and words to literally survive by in his line of work. His phone rang again, making him gasp. This place was giving out some serious vibes. "Yeah?" he snapped.

"Dude, are you seeing this place?" Sam whispered in excitement. Excitement over a hunt.

Dean pondered that a moment. Never a sentiment he thought to hear from his brother. "I'm seeing it, Sam." he answered calmly, having caught his breath. His eyes drifted upward to the web of metal rafters along the ceiling. He was on the third floor, having worked his way up opposite Sam in the north wing of the building.

"I'm not sure if we should be here when night falls."

Dean frowned at that. "If something was gonna attack us I think it'dda done it by now."

"Speaking of which…" He sighed. "No vamp."

"No vamp." Dean agreed.

"You think he bailed?"

"Dunno, man. He was alone. Maybe he saw us coming and skipped?" All manner of creeps could still be holed up in the old warehouse though. "Maybe we should just burn the place down?"

"Don't have enough gas." Sam sounded distracted.

Dean rolled his eyes. "We could go get the gas we need." Something skittered by in a shadow. Probably a rat. "Come back tomorrow ?"

"It's gonna take more than gas to bring this place down."

"Yeah," Suddenly it was Dean who was distracted. "I'm thinking we leave no matter what."

"Definitely. Meet up on ground level?"

"Yup." He paused. "Hey that Arachnae nest was deserted right?"

"You think I'd be talking to you right now if it wasn't?"

Dean shrugged with a distinct wince. "Good point." He headed for the broad stairwell at the end of the massive room. Sam was one floor beneath him, probably on the other side of the building. Dean hopped down the concrete steps, not particularly worried about a collapse, but stopped when a noise reached him. "Sam?" He packed the phone away and gripped the shotgun with both hands. Couldn't be his brother. He knew it, and desperately hoped it wasn't something he'd have to shoot.

The wind. The wind would be nice.

Consecrated iron rounds filled his shotgun, just to maximize the harm it might inflict on any possible baddie. Not many creatures could keep walking after a load of iron in their side. And if they somehow did, he'd just aim for the neck and pray for rain.

"Sammy?"

It was a recent return, this, addressing his brother by his old nickname. Sam didn't seem to mind either, which made Dean embarrassingly fuzzy every time he did it. "You here?"

No answer.

Dean exhaled deeply through his nose and proceeded into the large hall. The hall he thought he'd cleared twenty minutes ago. "Course the monsters come out just when we think we're done." he muttered under his breath. He slowly inched his way into the room, crouching between sheeted furniture, machines (old printing presses if he was any judge) and a rogue tree stem here and there.

Certain places a tree (maybe more like a branch, but still massively overkill) had forced in through the wide windows. Probably during storms, Dean rationalized. A couple was strewn across the floor like a giant had been using them for rattles.

He straightened when he reached the back wall, sighed and looked around, now even more annoyed than before. "Well this isn't a waste of time at all." he muttered and turned to leave.

Just then the same noise as before echoed. It was barely as loud as his breathing, but high pitched. Like a whimper mostly. "Oh c'mon." He scanned the room and pulled out his phone.

His brother picked up immediately. "Yeah."

"I'm on the second floor, northwest. Something's here, but I'm not seeing it."

"Hang up, I'm coming." The line went dead and Dean tucked the phone back in his pants.

Something was definitely there. And not just rats if the tiny hairs on his neck had anything to say. "Hello?" His voice echoed in the dusty space, but nothing else. He was about to let loose another curse when the same whimper as before reached him. "Hey!" He straightened in all his machismo glory and called out, putting as much anger into his voice as possible. "If anyone can hear me, call out."

The same whimper.

So definitely not rats. He gripped the shotgun and edged closer to the wall. The bare plaster looked solid enough, but the sound was definitely coming from behind it. They hadn't noticed any added buildings on their round, but maybe a panic room? He padded the walls and felt for cracks or breezes. To his surprise the wall began to give way with just a light push, but instead of falling it opened inward. It opened up to a rather large room. Small, compared to the main room, but still pretty big. It looked like an office. Possibly the old director's office.

Three rows of desks and ratty chairs framed a smallish glass walled office in the far end of the room. The office was elevated which allowed for a view of the entire hall with hidden door now open, but that wasn't what drew his attention.

"Dammit."

"Hey! Hey, buddy!" A group of kids were tied up to those same busted chairs right in front of the fractured glass façade, on the incline.

"Shit." he hissed and made for the hostages. "Who the hell are you?"

"Look, buddy, right now it doesn't matter. All you need to do is just cut me loose and get the hell outta here." one of the kids ordered. "I'll take care of the rest."

Dean arched a brow and considered leaving them there, just for a second. "Why you tied up?"

Then they seemed to notice the gun. "Why you carryin', grandpa?" a young black guy mouthed off instead.

Dean sighed and moved to free the first who'd spoken. He pulled out a silver knife, fully intending to check for any unnatural signs. "None of your business that's why." He took out the knife and muttered a quick 'christo'. No one flinched. A couple of them looked at him funny. Cutting the bonds on the first guy he pretended to knick the hand, eliciting a yelp of pain from the guy.

"What the hell?"

"Sorry," He shrugged. "Butterfingers." He freed the first hand completely. "What're you doing here?"

The guy sighed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He sounded exasperated. Not quite despondent, but still on his way there.

Dean knew that feeling. He knew the line too. Knew it after years of using it himself, and so froze. "Ah hell…" Feeling increasingly irritated.

The guy looked up, wondering why Dean had stopped his ministrations. "What?"

Dean drew back and felt the annoyance bubbling further. "You're hunters." They were barely out of their teens. Well, maybe in their twenties, if Dean was being honest and tried to disregard the grumpy-old-man routine he'd picked up from Bobby.

"Sorta'." the leader admitted. "But not the kind you're thinking." He smirked. The same smirk Dean had once mastered without even trying. These days it took a little more effort.

The guy wiggled his remaining wrist, signaling for him to continue.

Dean spared them all another round of glares, releasing yet another world-weary sigh, before he moved to cut the last restraint. Then suddenly something unexpected happened.

"Who's this?" a male voice called out. Dean flinched, bringing the shotgun up and sidestepping in one move.

"Who the hell are you?" That rat problem was looking like the least of his worries right now. He would'a taken it over the Stranger. Rats beat unidentified hostiles any day. Except when they were rummaging around sewers, which – let's face it – wasn't that uncommon.

The Stranger sauntered in, smiling. "I'm the warden," He gestured to the young hunters. "guarding his flock."

"Bullshit. That's the guy who trapped us here." the leader of the small group spat.

Dean tried not to think too hard about all the crap that could be hiding in this building. He closed his mouth before he sighed…heavily.

"No need for the weaponry," Stranger stopped with his hands up.

"Christo!"

The guy frowned, but seemed oblivious as to who Dean was.

"Figures," Dean muttered and relaxed his shoulders. "So what are you?"

Stranger grinned, in something akin to fond patience. "I'm Bill."

"Bill." This was getting less funny by the second.

"Look dude, you gotta run. Trust me. Just get the hell outta here!" the black guy said, definite bravado in his voice.

Kids. Dean would've growled if not for the inner voice warning him he really was becoming an old man. "Hey, Bill." Bill smiled. "Why don't you do me a favor and tell me why you've got a handful of teenagers trussed up like Christmas turkeys?"

Bill smirked. "I wasn't going to hurt them. They attacked me."

Dean spared another glare at them. The team leader came to their defense. "He's some kind of freak!" He looked wild-eyed at Dean like he was afraid the older man might actually leave them there. "We've been tracking him for six months. The guy can't die!"

Dean arched a brow at Bill, who gave a quick bow. "Seriously?"

Bill smirked.

Something quirked Dean's memory. "You're not from CA by any chance?" He frowned.

Bill smiled. "Is it that obvious?"

Well honestly, the guy did look like he was a helluva long way from home. The too big windbreaker told him that much. "What're you doing in Nebraska?"

Bill shrugged. "Seemed ideal."

"For what?" Dean was very quickly becoming aware that his gun might not kill this guy. Maybe if he took the knees out though?

"Hiding." Bill glanced at the kids. The hunters. Dean almost growled again. "Taking a little vacay." Bill smirked.

"And the lineup?" Dean gestured loosely at the kids with the gun.

"They came after me. I wasn't gonna hurt 'em."

Dean nodded, "Naw, just leave 'em here." He decided he didn't like this guy.

Bill shrugged with a little smile.

"You knew this is an active site, you asshole!" one of the chicks hissed at him.

Bill didn't seem perturbed as he took a step closer to the center of the little "stage". Closer to Dean. He shrugged, just about to speak when Dean had enough. Releasing the shotgun with one hand he aimed for the guy's head and fired.

A couple of the kids screamed. Buckshot ballooned out in the room in front of them. The blast boomed through the walls, taking forever to die out. Dean stayed rooted to the spot until it did.

Bill staggered, headless, and fell to the floor with a wet smack. Already before his head stopped smoking did it start to reassemble itself.

"Holy shit!" a kid hooted.

Dean was definitely getting old.

"How'd you know it wouldn't kill him?" the leader asked in fear. Surprise too, maybe.

Dean shrugged and whipped out his knife. "Didn't."

It took the guy a second to catch up, but when he did something wary filled his expression. Dean was fine with them not making new friends. Even though these kids had something dark about them despite their age. He figured they weren't complete amateurs.

Something sucked as it glued itself back together in Bill's skull. Dean glanced down from his work, but stopped when a new sound interrupted the shocked silence and Bill's comical reassembly.

A shriek. Whoosh of wings. Large wings.

Dean looked up into the gloomy office and noticed for the first time a network of narrow footpaths right under the ceiling, running along with water and gas mains. Probably for maintenance when the place was up and running. The larger room had the same pipes and metal rafters, but no footpath. Less wiring. A hesitant cackle had Dean once again stopping his ministrations.

"What the hell are you doing?" the leader demanded.

Dean was really getting tired of this guy.

Little clicks like talons, tapping against metal pipes. Dean swallowed. He and Sam had never really figured out exactly how many different sightings there had been over the years. They had been so varied and crazy that his genius kid brother figured it was a ghost with imagination. Now Dean wasn't so sure.

Something squawked. "What the hell is that?" one of the chicks asked.

Dean instinctively crouched, fixing his eyes on the veritable maze of pipes above him. He could still hear soft slushing from Bill's reassembly. "What the hell is this place?"

Another squawk. Where the hell was Sam?

"Dude, you should really think about freeing us right now." Team Leader said.

"Yeah, grandpa, you've got no idea what's out there."

Blood pressure, Dean chastised himself and exhaled through his nose. He was getting increasingly annoyed with these self-proclaimed professionals, throwing around their fancy terms about 'active sites' and not having enough sense to realize that Dean knew exactly what he was doing.

Another cackle and something large moved in the shadows above them. A hint of a wing. At least ten ft. long, and suddenly Dean knew what it was. "Shit."

"What?" Team Leader demanded.

Dean grabbed his phone just as Bill's last slab of skin stitched itself, ignoring TL. The massive bird-like creature hopped from one footpath to another. A 6 ft. wide jump was cleared barely without stretching its wings. Sam wasn't answering which just notched Dean from nervous to full out worried in two seconds flat. It crooned from somewhere in the shadows, and disappeared just as Bill opened his eyes and sat up.

Glaring at Dean. "Well that wasn't very nice."

"Shut up." he hissed back, still crouched, gun out. Just then an answering squawk sounded from the shadowy perch the first had just abandoned. "Shitshitshit."

Bill froze and looked up just as Sam picked up. "Dean!" He sounded winded.

"Where the hell are you?" he hissed.

"Looking for you."

He was running, Dean realized.

"This place is huge." Breathing like he'd sprinted.

"I'm in the main northbound hall with two big-ass harpies circling me." He was very close to yelling.

"Please tell me you just said herpes?"

"Funny, Sam!" he hissed. This was really pissing him off.

"Hang on," More huffing. "I'm there. I don't see you."

But as the second one reared its ugly face Dean forgot his brother's tardiness. "Shit I think I woke it with my shot."

"I heard- wait I see you!" The shout came in surround, but Dean didn't take his eyes off the harpy.

"What the hell is that?" Bill muttered.

"One of the things you were gonna feed 'em to." Dean whispered as he crouched lower. "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah," the answer came next to them. Sam hopped up the steps, crouching low next to his brother as he hid the phone.

"Harpies are scavengers, right?"

Sam was breathing heavily. "Yeah." Looking in the same direction as his brother. The harpy was partially visible behind the pipes.

Dean pointed at it in the off-chance Sam hadn't immediately spotted it, then turned and pointed to where the other had disappeared to. "Two. They're crawling around on those bridges."

"No aggression right?" Sam had his back to Dean. Completely ignoring Bill and the hun- kids.

"No. I think they were sleeping. What did dad say?" Dean's mind was spinning to every tidbit of information his dad had ever collected about the birds. "They're nocturnal." He had hunted one once about twenty years ago. Written an odd remark about it in his journal, but never really talked about it.

"Scavengers. Live in pairs mostly. One male one female."

"Shit, so this might be a nest?"

"Let's hope not."

"A nest?" Bill shrieked.

Everyone shushed him instantly. Dean felt very compelled to blow his brains out again. Made for a great stress-release. "Who's he?" Sam asked, glancing at him briefly, noticing the blood and brain matter that plastered his duvet-jacket and the floor. That and the fact that the guy's hair was quickly growing back to its previous length.

"Remember that guy in Sacramento I told you about a few years back?" Dean whispered. He wasn't really up for having this conversation right now. Especially when the harpy in his sights squawked and spread out its wings. Stretching.

"A hunt?"

"No that job in Lawrence came up."

Sam swallowed, but pushed the ugly memories back. "No, don't remember the mention."

"Guy in Cali blew his brains out three times and made the paper. Officials thought it was a trick."

Bill chuckled. "That was right when I found out. Scary as hell," his smile grew, completely oblivious to the very present danger around him. "You should'a seen my neighbor's face when he crashed through the door and I pulled the trigger again." He laughed. "Funny as hell."

"Would you shut up." Dean snarled. "Oh and by the way, harpies like to rip their victims apart before they drag them back to eat. Might not kill ya', but it'll sure as hell hurt."

Bill's smile vanished.

The harpy on Sam's side shrieked.

Bill hopped to his feet. "Well that's my cue, I think."

Team Leader bucked in his chair and hissed, "You gotta be fuckin' kidding me!" while Bill hastily backed away and sprinted out of the room.

Sam hadn't taken his eyes off his mark. It had peeked its head out and was leering at him from its high perch. "Nice guy."

"Yeah," Dean grumbled. "Hope he falls on a bear trap."

The harpy on Dean's side shrieked like its mate. "Which one you think's the female?" he whispered. Both birds had now noticed the intruders.

"Mine." Sam muttered.

Dean huffed. "Course you do."

"No," Sam pointed and Dean looked around at it. "It's got girl parts."

"Who the hell are you guys?" Team Leader hissed, seemingly preferring the ill-tempered tone over outright yelling.

"We're the professionals." Dean said in his darkest voice, the really grim one he reserved for amateurs and angels, sparing him an equally grim look.

The male hissed and was joined by the female who shrieked. "Shit, she's moving." Sam whispered, as he shifted around Dean's back. But before either bird could attack, something deep and diaphragm-rumbling dark shocked the room into silence.

Both brothers froze, succinctly turning their heads towards the new noise. "What the…hell?" Dean drawled out. His eyes flickered up left when the male hissed at the new sound and shrunk back. "…Sam?" The ground tremored slightly.

"I dunno." he stuttered out.

One of the tarps moved. A massive tarp Dean thought covered one of the rusted machines. A tarp both he and Sam had walked past not moments before. A massive tarp that now began to move. Began to stand up. "Sam?" A little more demanding.

"Seriously. I have no idea." Sam sounded breathless again. Scared shitless was probably more accurate. Even uncurling the thing looked huge.

"What the hell is that thing?" It was standing up, straightening – whatever – under its tarp, until it stood about 20 ft. tall. "Hoooly shit."

It growled. Not like a dog or wolf, not like Dean, but like something incredibly stupid. Something Dean thought he should know. Almost like a snort. He frowned.

"I thought it was part of the machinery," Sam whispered. A shiver ran through him. It was really big.

Dean swallowed and tilted his head in utter disbelief when the tarp slid off and revealed the ugliest back he had ever seen. One of the harpies shrieked, the male, right before it backed out of sight. The female was long gone.

The thing, whatever it was, scratched its rear end – what Dean assumed to be its ass – and hacked something up from the back of its throat. Dean gagged and closed his eyes briefly.

"Is that a…" Sam sounded simultaneously awed and completely up shit creek. "…a troll?"

Dean swallowed, gagged a little more, and looked back up. "I think so." He couldn't remember where or when, but he was sure he had once heard a growl just like that. Possibly something on TV when he was a kid? Three Billy Goats Bluff or something. Stupid cartoon. "What now?" He was afraid to move. The thing was massive and honestly the only thing they had going for them right now was the fact that it hadn't turned yet.

"Gunshot woke it." Sam mumbled.

"Psst!" Team Leader hissed.

Dean leaned back, whispering. "Yeah. Sam," he grabbed his brother, trying to coax him back. "Let's go." He hoped it was too deaf and stupid to notice them, hoped there was a secret access out that didn't lead directly past the troll's ass. It took a monumental effort to tear his eyes from the monster and cut the kid free. "Get your friends," he whispered.

To his everlasting joy the kid did as told without attitude. Two were quickly freed. A third followed. Dean didn't know how many to go – not many – when everything suddenly went straight to hell.

The goddamn harpy decided it didn't like being ignored – or cheated out of a meal – and let out an indignant squeal. Dean actually shouted at it. "Oh come on!"

Sam cringed and muttered as the troll turned its massive body towards the noise. "Nooo…nonononono."

It spotted them, roared so loud the air actually shivered, and began moving. Steamrolling through the rusted machines like they were leaves on the ground. Five of the kids were still tethered to their chairs when Sam lunged up and bodily pushed them back. Chairs and all. Dean and Team Leader followed his example and got the last ones to the opposite side just as the troll pounded through the old office and leveled whatever had been left of it.

The troll was directly in the center of the room now, having successfully divided the brothers, not to mention the kids. A chick next to Dean screamed when a glob of drool slapped onto the floor right in front of them, and Dean couldn't really blame her. He yanked her and the rest of them back as the troll made to grab them.

A gunshot deterred it.

From behind Sam had fired a round of buckshot into its ass, and Dean couldn't be prouder….until his idiot brother started shouting. "Hey!" Grabbing a piece of plywood Sam began slamming the walls with it. "Hey, hey! Here!"

The troll loosed an unfathomably stupid sound as it turned – an actual 'huh?' exclamation – and Dean cursed. The stupid buckshot hadn't even broken its skin. It approached Sam stupidly, probably wondering why its snack was causing so much trouble, and started thumping after him when he moved away from the kids on his side.

The "No, Sam!" from Dean however made it turn, and suddenly he was the duck. With his brother in a perfect position to lead the troll away from the group, Dean cornered like a Mexican rooster during a cock-fight, he suddenly realized his mistake and almost facepalmed. Would have if not for the duress of the situation.

The troll drooled a little, hobbled a little closer, completely ignoring Sam who was now screaming his lungs out – both at it and Dean – firing a couple more shells into its ass.

But no way was Dean letting his brother run a gauntlet with a troll. And in a stroke of complete ingenuity, brilliance and heroic bravery Dean saw his opening. He spent a second in doubt, shrugged, and then dove straight through its legs just as the troll reached down for him. Slid across the floor on his belly, arms and legs out, hopped to his feet, barked at Sam to get the hell outta the way, and started running. All the while hooting and shouting his head off, hoping the troll would follow him away from the others.

He realized with a brief smile that his plan had worked, then realized his plan had worked. A troll the size of a house was pounding after him and he had absolutely no way of stopping it. Joy turned to panic and he quickly found himself, not retreating honorably as imagined, but fleeing in utter bed-whetting panic.

All the while Sam kept shouting at his retreating brother and the troll. Trying to make himself heard over the screams from the so-called hunters and hungry harpies, which was incidentally when the fugly birds made their first move.

Sam was in the open, hurling insults at his brother's and the troll's ass, watching as each heavy step cracked the concrete underneath it, when a scream instinctively made him duck and roll. A shriek and the surprisingly hard edge of a wing later, and he rolled back up. Cussing up a storm. "a stubborn ass, pigheaded, motherf-" BAM! A gunshot aimed at the opportunistic harpy. "shithead, melonbrained, moron of a brother- HEY!" he shouted after his brother, who was being chased into another large room south of the delivery elevators, ignoring the screeching harpies and the screaming hunters. Fleeing from the troll.

Neither his brother nor the troll had the decency to turn, instead stupidly chasing each other. Apparently Dean looked tasty.

"Look out!" The very feminine scream was the only warning he had before a set of black wings descended upon him again. He threw himself sideways, barely missing the crushing lunge, but felt the whoosh of air from a massive wing, push his hair back. For a split second he thought he'd escaped a painful clawing when a sharp pain in his left leg made him cry out. The sting transformed to a massive pressure when the bird pushed into the air with his leg, clenched in its talons.

He was lifted off the ground and flew almost ten ft. before it dipped under his weight and dropped him. The concrete rushed up to give him a merry kiss. The impact forced an oomf out of him and he rolled to a stop.

In the few seconds' respite, harpies circling for an attack and hunters screaming at him, he managed to register the throbbing pain in his leg, the somewhat differently throbbing pain in his head and nose, the taste of blood in his mouth, the sudden tenderness in his ribs and the inability to draw in breath. That was about the time Sam got really pissed. With a groan he pushed to his feet and grabbed his shotgun with only two shells left.

"Piece of shit bird," he spat under his breath, fired at the male, eliciting a scream that made him sneer in delight. Somewhere in another room a loud boom sounded, but he didn't turn. Birds first, troll second. He lined up the shot and fired again, aiming for the male's wing.

It worked and the bird swerved drunkenly in the air, its mate grabbing onto one of the pipes under the ceiling. The male circled, wing hardly bleeding though looking more and more useless, coming around for a third attack. Sam hurled the empty shotgun away and ripped out the machete. The one he usually kept on his right leg, now his good leg. It sang through the air while the harpy screamed in pain – anger as well probably.

"What the hell are you doing!" one of the kids screamed, running to pull him back, being held back themselves by friends.

Sam didn't even care at that moment. Blood and snot had run into his mouth, tendrils of warm blood were running down his leg. Every breath was utter agony, his back was killing him and his hearing was acting strange. Morphing sounds, muting some and distorting others. Booms from the other room, no doubt thanks to the troll, and occasional gunshots. But for some reason – some blessed reason – his eyesight was fine.

The harpy dove, surprisingly graceful despite a lame wing, skating the ground. It completely ignored the kids who were pressed against the sides of the room. It was possibly the strangest thing Sam had ever seen, almost including the troll. It reminded him of a pterodactyl the way he remembered them from Jurassic Park. The charge felt oddly drawn out, but suddenly it was a hair's breadth away from slamming into him, and he rolled. Just wide enough to miss the head and swing the machete down. The blow was sloppy at best, and only managed to partially decapitate the harpy. Not to mention its wing slamming into his already sore back and pushing several yards forward, sliding across the ground.

His heart was hammering, the female was screaming for its mate somewhere above him, his back and chest hurt and his hearing was making him loopy. But still he pushed up took three steps over to the barely moving harpy's head and brought the blade down. Severing head from body completely with two blows.

The blood smelled terrible, prompting his next course of action. He leaned on the twitching shoulder of the harpy and vomited, not even caring what he was standing in. The shoes are ruined anyway. He would've stayed there too if not for the invasive hands that suddenly grabbed him. Strange sounds around him, though he couldn't accurately identify any of them.

He recognized the kids though. Looking back, he recognized the harpy's mate that was setting off from its perch and swooping after them. They barely cleared the stairwell-"tunnel", as Sam thought of it, that connected the south and north wing, before the harpy reached them. He only saw a quick flash of how it misjudged the clearance of the lower stairwell and slammed headfirst into the concrete wall. Letting a surprised and pissed of shriek rip in the process.

Sam snorted even as he was being pushed forwards into another room. The one he'd cleared. The one his brother and the troll had vanished into. The room with a lot of nooks and crannies that had annoyed the living daylights out of Sam on his first sweep. Now he thanked God for clutter.

The troll looked frustrated. It was moving around the smaller machines, making an awful racket of which Sam couldn't hear much. He looked back and saw the harpy climb the walls from its room into theirs. He didn't know if any of the kids saw it.

Then, with an earsplitting ping that reminded him too much of the time his left eardrum burst, the sounds returned. And wouldn't you know it: the exact moment the harpy decided to scream like banshee.

"Sam!"

The shout was a heartwarming sound in the middle of all the chaos. "Dean!" He wasn't sure, but suspected his voice cracked a little. When his brother a second later darted out from hiding, past the troll, and headed straight for him, he knew it had. Only the sound of his brother in distress could make Dean sprint like that. Sam smirked even as Dean physically slammed into him and began pushing him back.

"We gotta get outside!"

Then, in a stroke a sheer, dumb luck, the harpy and troll attacked simultaneously. The harpy smacked into the troll's face just as the behemoth made a dive for the not-so-small group. Dean glanced back and was reminded of a show on Discovery Channel years before. "In a death-match between and giant squid and a sperm whale, who will win?" He looked up as the troll moved trecherously quick and snagged the harpy before it could clear its reach.

The harpy flapped its wings desperately in its frenzied attempt to escape, and almost managed. The troll's arms were jerked up a couple times until it finally pulled down and tucked the strong wings into its massive hands. With terrified screams the harpy was squeezed in the lethal grip. The bones broke as it screamed its head off.

Then with a distinct crunch the wailing stopped and was followed by more sounds of chewing and pleased grumbling. Looking back only once before they left the floor, a mob of amateur-kid-hunters around him, Dean saw the troll sitting with both legs out, eating the harpy like a massive hotdog. Snapping its wings off and chewing them. They sounded like the crispy skin on chicken.

They cleared the second floor, cleared the first floor and finally made it outside, but didn't stop. They kept running for almost ten minutes, Dean subtly guiding the group towards the car and the campsite that lay behind it. His grip on Sam never loosened. Good thing too or the younger man would have hit the ground fifty times.

The sun was setting and Dean didn't want to be anywhere near the abandoned factory come nightfall. "You got a ride?" he asked the kids as Baby's black hide finally showed through the dark green forest. He smiled when he saw her and drew a relieved sigh.

The Team Leader that had been helping him with Sam nodded. "Will he be alright?"

Dean glanced at him and smirked. "This is nothing." He hiked up his brother who on cue raised his head slightly and attempted to smile. "He'll be fine."

The kid nodded uneasily, hanging back though most of his friends passed ahead of him on the darkening forest road. "I'm Ted, by the way."

Dean nodded, trying to keep his brother standing. Whishing the kid would just leave already. "Dean." He pushed Sam against the side of the car and padded his torso for his keys, forgetting which pocket he'd left them in.

"Well okay then…Dean." Ted smiled and waved a little awkwardly at Sammy before retreating. Dean turned and sighed, but just as he thought they were alone, "Hey, Dean?"

He sighed and paused his search for the keys. Didn't even turn to face the kid. Leaned his hands against the car in the most world-weary position any man could assume. "What?" He sounded like an asshole. He knew that. He just couldn't care less.

"You're hunters too aren't you?"

He sighed. "Yeah?" Don't ask for my number don'taskformynumberdon'taskformynumber.

"Well…alright."

He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed feverishly.

"Ok." A few steps. Leaves rattled. A nocturnal bird called out somewhere in the dusk. Night was returning to normal. "Well…if you're sure?"

"I'm am."

"Kay," was the last whispered reply before more footsteps ruffled up the leaves on the ground and Ted went on his way.

"D'n?" Sam asked a few minutes later. He looked up at Dean who was still searching for the keys.

"Hang on a sec."

"I th'n y' dropped 'm." he mumbled into the settling evening.

Dean stopped his search to stare, breathing deeply. "What?" This just wasn't happening.

"'N th' fact'ry," Sam looked bug-eyed and completely indifferent in the direction they had just come.

Dean felt a frustrated sob well up in his throat, but refused to let it out. Instead he puffed out a breath, waited a beat and slammed the roof of the car with open palms. "Dammit!" He paced and turned in the direction they'd just come, seriously considering going back.

"We're comin' back t'mrrow." Sam reminded him.

"Right to burn the place down." Didn't help one bit, knowing that. Dean was so far beyond tired and he was pretty sure Sam had a concussion. Night was falling and the temperature was dropping. The option to pick the lock was there, but he wasn't keen on it at all.

"D'n," Apparently that was what Sam was waiting for him to do.

Dean drew a deep breath. "Right." He put his jacket on the ground and pushed his brother down on it. "I'll be right back."

Sam frowned at him, not fully understanding what was happening, and confused whether to follow or not. "D'n?" he called, but his brother was already gone.

Dean returned half an hour later with no new bruises and a set of keys. He found them where he slid under the troll. Sam was still swimming in his own consciousness, trying to understand how much time had passed. Relieved to see his brother unharmed after what they'd just seen in the factory, he smiled as he was helped off the ground.

A day passed. A full day spent on rest. On the evening on their one day's rest Sam was already starting to look better. The brothers were in front of their room. The door open behind them, leaning on the wooden railing in front of Baby. Watching her as she watched over them.

"So what was in there?" Sam looked out over the parking lot, watching cars arriving and leaving. Mostly RV's and station wagons. A couple of pick-ups with fishing rods sticking out their backs. A lot of sports fishermen trolled the local lakes.

Dean shrugged and sipped his beer. "Nothin' much."

"The uh…the troll?"

"Still munching on the harpy when I returned." The sight had been grizzly and a part of him felt a deep-seated unrest over leaving something that massive and lethal alive for others to possibly find, but the plan to torch the place turned out to be next to impossible and would require more planning.

"Whatta ya think those kids were hunting?"

"Well the guy- the guy from…uh-"

"Sacramento."

"Sacramento, right. You remember?" He glanced over.

"Yeah." His face was serious even with the darling view in front of them. A busy family campsite with people and their pets bustling around in the evening sun. "Think he'll be a problem?"

Dean shrugged. "If he is we'll take care of it." He clanked his bottle against Sam's. Only when the two bottles clinked did the younger remember his was still there and picked it up, toasting with his brother again. "Saw a ghost when I got back there. A few actually." Dean added as an afterthought.

Sam frowned and turned to him. "Any problems?" They were gonna have to sanctify the ground.

The elder shook his head. "Naw they kept to themselves. Probably more that I just didn't see."

"Probably a couple poltergeists as well." Sam added in a moody tone. He was still healing. Another reason for the delay. No way was Dean going back without his brother.

"Whatta ya think happened there?" He sounded honestly curious.

Dean was still so tried from their excursion and his double-back for the keys that he simply shrugged. He didn't know and he didn't care. Looking out at his car he took another sip. For now they were alive. It was enough.