Chapter 3

"Tim?" the dead man asked, and he managed a nod. "I'm Dean—"

"—Winchester," Tim finished and Dean's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "But you…you're supposed to be…"

"Dead?" A voice behind Tim responded and he turned…and looked up at the smiling face of Sam Winchester. "Afraid that rumor's been greatly exaggerated."

Tim stared at Sam before glancing back at Dean. "How…?"

"Long story," Dean replied. "But I suspect you have one of those yourself. Have a seat," he indicated to the bench across from him and Tim slowly moved to slide into the booth. Sam joined his brother and they both looked at Tim expectantly as he struggled to regain his mental footing. Dean slid a glass of water closer to Tim which he picked up and took a drink from it with a nod of thanks. Both men visibly relaxed when he set the glass back on the table.

"You said you needed John's help," Sam began, pulling Tim from his daze.

"Yeah. I, uh, that is…our case. It's—"

"Case? You're cop?" Dean's incredulous expression caused Tim to bristle.

"Federal agent. NCIS. That's—"

"Navy Criminal Investigative Service," Sam finished and Tim nodded.

"I'm part of the Major Case Response Team, and I, well…"

"How did you know John?" Dean demanded, earning an annoyed look from his brother. "You obviously know what he did, so…"

"Long story," Tim replied, wanting to give the man a taste of his own medicine.

Dean grinned, but the humor didn't quite reach his eyes. "Aren't they all?" He turned and signaled the waitress, who brought a cup of coffee for Tim.

"Anything else?"

"Pecan pie, all around. Thanks, sweetheart." He gave her a dazzling smile and she blushed before hurrying off to get their order. Sam gave him another dirty look and he shrugged. "Story time's always better with pie."

Tim bit back a nervous snort of laughter and Dean turned his attention to the agent.

"What?"

"Nothing, sorry." The waitress returned with their orders and Dean enthusiastically dug in to his piece of pie while Tim and Sam left theirs untouched.

"So," Sam began, "Dean asked a good question. How did you meet our father?"

Tim sighed as he pulled up the memories of their first meeting. "I was in college at the time…"

April 27, 1997; Cambridge, Massachusetts

Tim checked his watch and groaned. It was almost midnight and even though he had been studying for his exam for nearly four hours he still felt like he wasn't anywhere near prepared enough. Unfortunately he couldn't stay at the library much longer, especially since the college had instituted a curfew and he barely had enough time to get back to his dorm before it went into effect. Of course, he could spend the night in the library, but he knew he needed better sleep than he would get curled up in one of the carrels, and there was always the chance he'd oversleep and miss his exam.

After checking to make sure he had all of his notes, Tim swung his backpack over his shoulder and headed for the exit. There was only one other student still studying in the area, a rather strange young man Tim recognized as a fellow computer science major from his dorm. The student glanced up as Tim approached and checked his own watch.

"Are you ready to leave?" Tim asked. The campus security had sent out a notice, recommending that students not travel alone at night, and while Tim had heard rumors of why that notice had been issued, he was fine with walking back to the dorm by himself. He was only asking to be polite.

"Not going out there this time of night, man. Haven't you heard about the murders?"

"What murders?" Tim asked as he felt a chill down his spine.

"They've been keeping everything hush-hush, but I've got my own network in place. They're bad, man. People getting ripped to shreds on the nights of the full moon."

Tim almost laughed. "Full moon? Right. Next thing you'll tell me is that it's a werewolf."

"What makes you think it's not? Evidence, man. It's there, but the cops don't want to believe it."

"Because there's no such thing as werewolves. I think you've seen too many movies."

The other student just shook his head. "I'm telling you, it's not safe. Better off staying here."

"Sorry, but I'm more afraid of failing my test due to lack of sleep…or of what our RA will do if we don't get back to the dorm before midnight."

The young man gave Tim a pitying look. "Your funeral, man."

Tim just shook his head and turned to leave. By the time he reached the elevator the other student had joined him.

"Change your mind?"

"Safety in numbers. Figure when it grabs your dumb ass I can make my escape."

"Thanks a lot."

They rode down to the ground floor in silence and walked towards the main doors. The librarian gave them a worried look and warned them to get back to their dorms as quickly as possible. Tim thanked her and followed the other student as he headed for their dorm.

The night was fairly quiet, and the city sounds around them seemed muted as the two boys made their way across campus. The full moon was high over head, bathing the area in an eerie silver light, and Tim couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive. It was certainly spooky, but soon his scientific mind scoffed at the notion. He had let the other young man get to him. He should know better to listen to someone who was rumored to have an unhealthy interest in all things occult.

They were only a few hundred yards from their dorm when Tim got the uneasy sensation of being followed. He quickened his pace but the feeling didn't dissipate, and suddenly his companion grabbed his arm.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Both boys held their breath for a few heartbeats before Tim heard what had startled the other boy: stealthy footsteps, coming from the darkened alley they had just passed. A deep growl reached his ears and every hair on the back of his neck stood straight up. He tried to call out, to ask who was there, but the words froze in his throat as a figure stepped into view.

"Holy…"

The figure looked mostly human, but the luminous, wolf-like eyes, large teeth and clawed fingers were straight out of a nightmare. Tim and the other boy started to back away as the creature approached, and Tim had one very clear thought as he gazed into those hungry eyes: he really should have stayed in the library…

"Hey!"

The creature turned as a large man stepped from the shadows and aimed a gun at its chest. In a flash it lunged at the man, just as he pulled the trigger and the sound of the gunshot shattered the night. The creature collapsed in mid-spring and as Tim watched in horror, it slowly transformed back into a person. It gazed up in horror as the man approached, gasping out its last breath as the man looked on, a frighteningly blank expression on his face.

When the creature—now completely human in appearance—finally stilled, the man turned his attention to the two witnesses.

"You alright?" he asked in a gruff voice.

"What…what was that?"

"I knew it!" the other boy exclaimed as he turned to Tim. "Didn't I tell you?" Tim just stared at the body and the other boy turned to the man who had saved him. "That was a werewolf, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was."

"But…" Tim still couldn't wrap his mind around what he was seeing. "It…it looked like a person…not a wolf, a person…with fangs."

The man chuckled. "Hollywood got it wrong. Sorry, kid." His expression darkened. "What the hell are you two doing out this time of night? There's a curfew, right?"

"We were heading back to our dorm," the other boy replied and pointed at Tim. "He didn't think we had to anything to worry about."

"Guess you learned differently." He paused to study Tim. "You OK, son?"

"No." He looked up at the man. "Are there any more of…those out here?"

"Here, no. There are others out there, though. There's always something out there."

"Like what?" the other boy asked, and the man gave him a sad smile.

"You probably don't want to know." The sound of sirens reached their ears. "Best continue this conversation somewhere else. Come on."

Tim took one last look at the body before following the other two to the man's truck parked a few blocks away. After they had climbed into the cab, the other boy turned to the man.

"You're a hunter, aren't you? I've heard stories about people like you. Man…"

"Hunter?" Tim asked. "You hunt…things like what we saw?"

"Yeah." He turned the key and the powerful engine rumbled to life. "There are things out there most people don't know about. I had my eyes opened and I've been taking them down ever since."

"I want to help," the other boy declared and much to his own consternation Tim nodded in agreement. The man turned to them with a sigh.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Ash. He's Tim." Tim's eyebrows rose in surprise. He didn't think the other boy even knew his name.

"John." He studied them for a moment and sighed. "Ash, Tim, this isn't a job for civilians." A pained look crossed his face. "You're better off staying out of the hunt."

"I don't think I can."

John snorted. "Got any weapons training? Tracking skills? Hell, first aid certification?"

"I have that," Tim declared.

"Probably not for the type of injuries a hunter gets." John's tone sent a shiver down Tim's spine.

"There must be something we can do…"

"Stay safe. Stay aware, and don't put yourselves in danger like that again." They nodded and John guided the truck away from the curb. "Where to?" Tim quickly gave him directions to the dorm and John made the drive in silence. When they reached the building, John pulled a couple of pieces of paper from his pocket and scribbled something on each before handing them to the boys. "If you ever notice anything strange going on, something that doesn't seem right, give me a call and I'll take care of it. Don't try to do anything on your own. Clear?"

Ash looked like he was going to argue but finally nodded in agreement. "Thanks for saving our asses, man."

"Don't make me have to save them again."

"Got it." Ash headed for the door of their dorm but Tim lingered, unable to let go of what he had witnessed.

"Tim? You OK?"

Tim shook his head. "No. How…how do you deal with it? Knowing what's out there?"

"I focus on taking the bastards down, one monster at a time."

"How do you find them?"

"I have my sources. Why?"

"I, uh…I'm pretty good with computers, tracking information, and…maybe that's how I could help."

John studied him thoughtfully. "Been doing it the old-fashioned way for years. It's worked so far."

"But it's something I could do. I…I really can't step aside, now that I know…I mean, I've been thinking about law enforcement—computer forensics, actually-because I want to help people, and this would be a way to help people, and…"

"I'd stick with your original plan, Tim." He took in Tim's expression and sighed. "But I can't say a little extra help with research would hurt. Just don't try to go after anything on your own, OK?"

Tim managed a smile. "I can do that."

xxx

Tim looked up at the two men seat across from them and felt a twinge of apprehension when he saw their expressions. Dean seemed to be fighting back anger, while Sam was watching his brother with worry. Tim realized there was much more to the family history than he had been able to glean from his encounters with John.

"What happened to John?" Tim finally asked after the two brothers remained silent.

"Demon," Dean growled and Tim felt his heart sink.

"The yellow-eyed demon? Azazel?"

"What do you know about that?" Dean asked sharply and Sam put a hand on his arm, which Dean quickly shook off.

"I, uh…I was helping him track it. He never told me why he was interested, but I got the impression it was…personal."

"It was," Sam replied with a quick glance at his brother. "It killed our mother."

"I'm so sorry…John never told me."

"Did he tell you about us?" Dean snapped.

"Yeah, he did. I…When I heard that you had been killed, in St. Louis, I called him. I figured he would be upset." Tim shook his head. "He told me about shapeshifters. When I heard that, well, both of you had been killed in an explosion in Colorado, I tried to call again…but I didn't get an answer. Shapeshifters again?"

"Demons. And an FBI agent who learned the truth and was willing to give us a second chance." Sam grimaced. "He didn't make it."

"Henricksen? I saw his reports on the two of you, and…I figured you were doing the same job John had done. He told me he had to walk on the wrong side of the law from time to time, so…"

"You knew we weren't the bad guys," Dean finished. "Would have been nice to know we had a fed on our side back then."

"Sorry. No one would have believed me, and I was just a junior agent at the time."

"Which I guess brings us back to your current problem. What happened to make you think it was our kind of thing?"

"We found a body on the Barry…a ship used as a museum at the Navy Yard. It looked like an animal attack, but…there was no evidence of any animal. At first I thought it was a werewolf, but—"

"Moon wasn't full."

"No. And when I found the security video of the victim he was being chased by something, but the video cut out when whatever it was crossed the view of the camera."

"Tell us about the victim."

"Gary Hamilton, retired from the Navy. Uh, no criminal record, but had a lot of money, some of which he won in a lottery and the rest from investments of his winnings." Tim noticed their expressions. "What?"

"Let me guess: guy hit the jackpot exactly ten years ago."

"Yeah. How did you know?" He watched the silent communication between the brothers for a few moments. "What?"

"Well, the good news is, you won't have to worry about any more random attacks."

"Random?"

"The bad news is sometimes these things come in groups. Have any other attacks been reported?" Sam asked.

"No, not that I could find… So what was it?"

Dean sighed. "Hellhound."

"A Hellhound? What would…oh." Tim felt like head-slapping himself. "Crap. He made a crossroads deal?"

"Yeah, and sometimes when these things are called up, they stick around, making more deals."

"So how do we stop it?"

Dean let out a humorless chuckle. "Probably can't."

"Why not?"

"Because only demon that made the deal can break it, and only if their boss allows. Trust me, he's not likely to step in."

"You…you know the head crossroads demon?"

"Unfortunately. As I said, he not gonna break a deal."

"But if more people are going to wind up like that, we need to do something."

"You've have to find out who they are first, and to do that you'd have to find out where Hamilton made his deal."

"I can do that. Then what? Warn them so they can go somewhere safe?"

"Trust me, there is nowhere for them to hide from this. They can either be protected, which is generally temporary, or you can get the demon to let them out of their contract, which is highly unlikely." Dean shook his head. "As much as I hate to admit it, sometimes they get what's coming to them. This Hamilton guy sold his soul for money, after all."

"To pay his daughter's medical bills and to provide for his family."

Dean sighed. "Fine. But you don't know what the rest did. You probably won't have time to get to them anyway."

"So what do I do? I can't exactly tell my boss what happened."

"Definitely not." Dean nudged his brother, who slid out of the booth to let Dean out as well. Dean tossed a few bills on the table. "Sorry we couldn't help you, Tim." Dean turned to leave as Sam gave him an apologetic look and followed.

"John wouldn't have given up," Tim called out before he could stop himself.

Dean froze for a few seconds before slowing turning to face Tim, his expression cold.

"You don't know anything about John," Dean growled. "Now go back to your job, and figure out something to tell your boss that won't get you tossed in the nut house." He spun on one heel and stormed out. Sam glanced at Tim before following his brother, and Tim collapsed back against his seat.

That didn't go like I planned…

He then leaned forward and let his face rest in his hands, wondering just how he was going to deal with what he had learned. After a few minutes, he heard someone approach and looked up, expecting Sam at least to have returned to offer an explanation. Instead he looked up at the last person on Earth he expected, or wanted, to see staring down at him.

"Something you want to tell me, McGee?"

TBC…