Don’t worry, Sammy, you’re really not my type. Mainly, Dean conceded--though only to himself--because of two things. One, despite all appearances Sam was still his brother. The other? The truth was Dean didn’t really have a type. Blonde, brunette, or red-head? They were all good. Short, tall, average? It didn’t really matter. As long as they were at least somewhat adventurous and were into him, he was pretty amendable. Especially since it was unlikely, as Cassie had proven, that he’d be able to really settle down with anyone until he retired from the hunt. If and when that time came, he’d probably be a lot more discriminatory. Until then, though, pretty much anything went. The first reason, of course, made the second one moot. If it weren’t for that, and Dean was truly objective about it, though, he could understand why Sam was attracting quite a bit of unwanted attention.

While Sam wasn’t one of the most gorgeous girls that Dean had seen, he definitely stood out. Quite literally considering his height. Beyond that, though, he had a very attractive face. His high cheekbones had become more prominent as his normally rugged features had softened dramatically, giving him a strikingly exotic look. It also didn’t help that he embodied the term ‘body that wouldn’t quit,’ especially since said body was accentuated by a dress with a rather low neckline and a too short skirt. With a decent haircut and perhaps a bit more refinement? Sam would probably fall into the gorgeous category. But Sam was still his brother, and that was all that mattered.

That didn’t make him any less distracting.

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his chair, unusually conscious of the way his brother was leaning over his shoulder while he typed. Rather he was conscious of the way his brother’s recently acquired breasts kept brushing against his back and shoulder. It seemed like every time he realized it happened, Sam would momentarily back away, but then a few seconds later he’d be back, peering over Dean’s shoulder again, watching the screen for anything that looked like it could potentially be connected to Prairieville or the missing girls.

It disturbed Dean greatly that he was even aware of it; had Sam been born female, he was certain that there wouldn’t be an issue here at all. It wasn’t that he was actually attracted to his brother; it was just the foreignness of Sam’s temporary body that threw everything completely out of whack. Being on the road and on the hunt for most of his life, he really wasn’t used to spending much time in such close proximity to a feminine body without there being something of the sexual nature about it. It was wrong on so many levels that Sam was affecting him, though, and it made him feel slightly ill that he was suddenly hyperaware of his brother’s body. It took most of his concentration to not think about it, or to not snap at his brother to just back off so he could think clearly. Sam would never let Dean hear the end of it if he figured out the effect he was having on his brother. He really should have thought this prank out a bit more before executing it.

So far their internet search was coming up practically empty. Not even Annabeth Rochester’s disappearance warranted more than a paragraph-long article in the daily police blotter. It appeared that her disappearance was reported, but that it had been ruled as being voluntary. According to police belief, she’d packed up her things, and hit the road. There was nothing to indicate that she hadn’t just had cold feet and decided to disappear rather than face her wedding day.

“Wait. Back up a second. How about that one?” Sam suggested, pointing out a police report that he’d just skimmed past. A girl named Cindy Weston was reported possibly missing by her college roommate two days after the semester began.

Dean frowned. How could someone be ‘possibly missing’. Either they were or they weren’t. He clicked the link for what turned out to be the only slightly larger story. According to the report, Cindy was an incoming freshman from Lyle, Idaho, a town that was twenty-seven miles away from Prairieville, if Sam’s estimation was correct. It seemed that Cindy had been emailing her roommate-to-be all summer and had been excited about going to college. But then she’d never shown up.

Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any sort of follow up report that the brothers could find. The initial report had been filed, but apparently there hadn’t been anything deemed important enough to investigate further. Perhaps it was because she was reported missing only by a virtual stranger.

“Maybe she just decided college wasn’t for her,” Dean suggested.

“Maybe,” Sam agreed, “but we should still check that one out. See if she’s ever been found.” He jotted down the name. “It’s the closest we’ve come to a lead in the past half hour. You keep looking and I’ll go see if I can find anything in the regional newspapers that might have more information about Cindy.” He bit back the comment that Ben had found six such cases so there should be at least four more that shouldn’t be too hard to find. He really wasn’t in the mood to be ridiculed further about the other man’s attraction to him, though. He just wished he’d thought to ask Ben at least for the names of the other girls so they weren’t searching blindly.

Dean felt slightly relieved as Sam left him alone to continue the web searching. It was much easier to concentrate without the distraction. He scanned the next couple pages of police reports and spotted a third possible victim.

Diana Farley of Bateman, Idaho, might have been moving out to California to seek fame and fortune. She’d only been reported missing when she’d failed to fill out a change of address form and the mail carrier noted that she hadn’t been retrieving her mail in almost two weeks. The apartment, though, had been emptied, as if she’d packed up. And the friends they’d checked with mentioned that it was Diana’s dream to be on television. Perhaps she decided it was time to make that dream come true. Or perhaps she was victim number three.

After another hour and a half of searching, potential victim number four turned up as Ellie Lincoln from Palo, who was last known to be moving away to pursue a young man who turned out to be married. Number five, Yancy Granger of Fort Dayne, may have decided to go AWOL rather than report to army boot camp. And finally number six, Helena Ortiz, an apparent drifter who was reported missing after she dropped her dog off at a vet and failed to return for it.

None of them were necessarily victims of anything, yet they’d all seemingly vanished without a trace. It could be that they’d purposely disappeared. Or there could be something out there that was taking them. The fact that they’d all apparently stopped through Prairieville, if Ben was right anyway, did make it awfully suspicious.

Armed with the four new names, Dean went to join Sam in the archives. He wasn’t terribly surprised to find that Sam wasn’t alone. Nor that Sam didn’t look too happy about that fact.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to put that back up there for you?” the young man holding the ladder asked. Sam looked back down over his shoulder, and Dean could see how irritated he looked.

“Dude, I’m taller than you are,” Sam reminded the guy, sounding highly annoyed. Why was it that because of a few changes to his anatomy he was suddenly being seen as somehow frail or weak or something? And damn it, he was only a couple steps up from the ground; he didn’t really need someone holding the ladder. He most definitely did not need someone holding the ladder by standing directly behind him, one hand on either side of his hips, just barely not touching him. Better that than actually touching him, he supposed, but not by much. He really didn’t appreciate the extra attention he was receiving from the archivist. Most libraries he’d visited they pointed him the right direction and left him alone. Oh, how he missed that.

“While you’re up there, we’ve got a few more places to check out,” Dean announced. He smirked as the archive attendant quickly moved away from Sam, startled by Dean’s presence. Waiting to be sure he had Sam’s attention, Dean rattled off the dates and towns of the newspapers they needed.

“I found a couple things that dated back farther than Annabeth, too,” Sam announced as he handed the latest box of newspapers from Palo down to Dean. “I’m not sure if any of the ones I’ve found are anything, though. It’s like these women disappeared, but there are perfectly logical reasons for it, and there’s nobody they’ve left behind that could or would really press the investigation. Either they had no attachments, or there were reasons that they would have left on their own without notifying anyone. They could just be people out seeking a new life. I’ve got a woman just out of a bad marriage, a woman who was about to be sent to jail for vehicular manslaughter, a girl who disappeared from a foster home, a contortionist missing from a traveling carnival…it goes on. There’s no way to tell which ones are actually missing, or which ones just simply wanted to disappear.”

Dean frowned. “Mine are like that, too,” he admitted, looking at the list of names on his list. “I hate to say it, but there might not be anything for us to be investigating here.”

“We should at least do some checking, see if any of these women also came through Prairieville.”

Dean nodded his agreement. There was a reason that they’d been sent to Prairieville, he was sure. And at least ten missing women in the surrounding area seemed pretty compelling, even if they were explainable disappearances. His gut told him that they weren’t just coincidental.

He was sure of it an hour later while he and Sam compared notes as they drove back into Prairieville. Every single one of the missing girls was either estranged from their parents or orphaned. Most were reported missing by people who didn’t really even know them well enough to pursue the matter beyond the initial report. Except for Ben, the brother of Ellie Lincoln, and the US Army it seemed that nobody even really missed the girls.

“We should still check out Annabeth’s records,” Dean determined as they turned onto Main Street. “We need to know if she had a car and walked out of here, or if she was on foot. And if she did have a car, we need to find out what happened to it.”

“And if she didn’t, maybe tomorrow we should head up to Palo and see if we can track down Ellie’s brother,” Sam added. “He might be able to give us a bit better a timeline on her disappearance.”

Dean nodded his agreement as he pulled into one of the parking spaces in front of City Hall.

“Why don’t you go check for records, I’m going to see if I can find Ben and see if he recognizes any of these girls,” Sam said, gathering the pages they’d Xeroxed. “And wipe the smirk off your face,” he added, not even looking in Dean’s direction. “He is *not* my boyfriend.”

Dean wasn’t smirking this time, though. “Sam, I think maybe you should stay with me.” Sam snorted as he rolled his eyes and opened the passenger side door. “I’m serious, Sam.”

“I think you can handle the records alone. And I can take care of myself. I’m not helpless, you know.”

Dean pursed his lips and watched in mild frustration as Sam got out and slammed the door shut behind him, ending the discussion. His brother could be so damn stubborn. As he got out of the car, though, he noticed that Sam hadn’t gone anywhere yet. His brow furrowed slightly, then raised again as he spotted the likely reason. The sleezeballs from the diner were hanging around in front of the inn where Sam had a room.

See, that was exactly why he didn’t want Sam to go off alone.

He made his way around the car to go protect his brother, making sure that while he didn’t give the appearance of being worried, he managed to get between them and Sam before they spotted him.

“I can handle them, Dean,” Sam hissed, moving from behind Dean’s protection.

“I know you can, Sammy,” Dean acknowledged, not wanting to argue, “but if there’s a problem here, I’ve got your back.”

Sam smiled weakly, a little embarrassed that he’d probably overreacted to Dean’s offer of assistance. He was also not sure that his brother wasn’t right about sticking together. While he had successfully fought them off before, he wasn’t exactly relishing another go-around with them. He just wasn’t sure how to say it now, after he’d just totally blown off Dean’s concern. He hated admitting when he might possibly be in over his head.

Fortunately, Dean let him off lightly. “Come on, I could use your help…there might be something on the top shelf.”

Sam let out a small amused snort, but gladly followed Dean into the building and down to the Records Office.

“Can I help you?” the cute red-headed girl at the desk asked, smiling appreciatively at Dean.

“Actually, yes.” He pulled his wallet and flashed a badge at her, closing it before she could get too close a look at it.  “I’m Dean and this is my partner Samantha,” he smirked as he heard Sam make a small huff of annoyance. The girl spared Sam only a small look of distaste before returning her gaze to Dean. “We need to take a look through your motor vehicle records dated 2002 through current.” When he saw the look of hesitation, he flashed his most charming smile and Sam rolled his eyes as Dean worked his self-professed ‘magic’. Within just a couple minutes he found himself pouring over the records alone as Dean continued to distract the smitten brunette with lord only knew what drivel.

Sam managed to find a title and registration for a pickup truck in the name of David Rochester, but by the time Dean finally joined him, he’d come up empty on Annabeth and was already up to the 2004 records. He was thankful that it was a small town so there were relatively few records to search through. He handed Dean half the remaining stack of folders.

“So, Lila there has asked me to the lodge for dinner,” Dean informed him. “I was thinking we should get your boyfriend and make it a double,” he smirked as Sam glared across the table at him.

“He is *not* my boyfriend,” Sam reiterated crossly, annoyed that Dean’s amusement had resurfaced. “And we can’t double.”

“Sure we can. Lila says there’s pretty decent food, some pool tables, poker game in the back, lots of drunken dancing. Should be a good time.”

“Yeah, for you,” Sam grumbled, fuming slightly as he saw Dean’s grin widening. “I’m only going tonight so that I can talk to Ben about the missing girls. I can’t exactly do that if Lila’s with us. And it’s not a date.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Sammy,” Dean teased as he started thumbing through the records. Unfortunately, he was quickly bored and his attention started wandering. He glanced over at Lila, who blushed and quickly looked away, embarrassed to have been caught watching him.  He smirked and momentarily looked back at his current folder.

Boring boring boring.

He glanced across the table at Sam, who was leaning over the desk, his dress hanging down and revealing far more of his cleavage than what would be considered decent. Dean swallowed hard as he got an eyeful. He looked away quickly, his face heating up slightly. “Uh…Sam?” He chanced a peek over at his brother, who sat up again, looking at him questioningly. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t come up with the right thing to say. So he just smiled and shook his head. “Never mind.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed, but after a moment he returned his attention back to the documents he was searching. And his dress hung down again. Dean’s mouth went dry. Christ. What the hell had he done?

He covered up his discomfort by falling back on a favorite past time. Needling his brother. “So…your date. You going to sleep with him?” He nearly bust a gut as Sam’s eyes popped and jaw dropped.

“What?!” When Dean only grinned wider and raised an eyebrow, he shook his head. “No. Jesus, Dean, I’m not gay!” Sam sputtered.

Dean held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not saying you are! But you’re also not exactly a guy,” he motioned toward Sam’s chest. “But okay, you know girl-on-girl’s pretty hot, maybe I can get…”

Sam shoved his stack of documents at Dean, too furious to even speak to his brother as he got up to leave.

Dean frowned, realizing that once again he’d pushed too far. Sometimes his mouth moved before his brain thought better of it. He paled and rose to his feet.

“Don’t.” Sam held up his hands in a tense gesture. “Just leave me alone. I even *see* you tonight and I’ll…”

You’ll what, Sammy, Dean silently goaded his brother, wanting the younger man to alleviate some of his guilt by saying something mean. But it appeared that Sam was too angry to even finish the threat. Dean sighed, realizing that he was going to have to do some serious apologizing again. “Look, Sammy…”

But Sam only blasted past him and stormed out of the room.

Dean started to go after him, but Lila grabbed his arm and stopped him, looking at him with a mixture of exasperation and pity. “You should have told me you two were together,” she said with only a little bit of accusation in her voice. Dean was about to protest, but then realized that he’d have to come up with a pretty good reason for Sam to be that upset with a simple ‘partner’. So he let her believe it. “Trust me; she’s not going to listen to you until she calms down. And you’re going to have to do some major groveling and sucking up. Flowers wouldn’t hurt.” Dean looked where Sam had gone and sighed. Yeah, he should probably give his brother a couple minutes at least.

Sam was so angry he could barely even see straight. He just wanted to go back to the inn and sleep until he was back to normal, but he couldn’t even do that. He couldn’t abandon the investigation. Those missing women deserved to be found, though he doubted they were still alive, their lives should be given a proper closure. Plus, they had to make sure that this didn’t happen to any more women who had the misfortune to stop through Prairieville.

He was so intent on getting back to his room that he almost blew right past the Impala without even noticing it. It was the colored glass crunching under his boots that drew his attention. What the…?

He turned and looked at the car, bile rising in his throat as he took in the sorry site. He could barely breathe as he slowly rounded the car, surveying the damage. Someone had beaten the hell out of it. The tires were all slashed to shreds, the windows, mirrors, and tail lights broken, and there were dents on the hood and trunk. It looked as though someone had taken a baseball bat to it.

If he felt sick looking at it, all anger melting away as he took it all in. Dean was going to...well he’d be crushed. This was his baby. It looked like it was entirely surface damage, at least. Sam knelt down to pick up the broken side mirror, knowing he wouldn’t be able to do a lot of good, but maybe he could at least salvage some of it.

He was so intent on his task that he didn’t even hear them approach until it was too late. At the very last moment, he sensed rather than heard someone behind him. He started to look up, but before he could even turn his head, his world exploded in a flash of white light.

Dean listened to Lila’s unhelpful advice for only a couple minutes before he started getting the distinct feeling that he needed to go find Sam. His instincts were rarely wrong, and they were screaming at him that he should not let his brother out of his sight. “You know what, I think I really need to go make sure Sam’s all right,” he finally cut Lila off, leaving even as she protested.

“She’s not going to listen!” he heard her calling after him. And she was probably right. Sam had every right to be pissed off. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

He skipped two of every three of the steps as he climbed back to the main floor, and broke into a jog, ignoring the clerk’s warning that there was no running in the hallway.

He skidded to a stop just outside the door as he saw what had happened to his car.

He blinked, thinking just maybe when his eyes opened again he’d see her back in the near-pristine condition he kept her. But the damage was still there.

Son of a BITCH!

“Damn it, Sammy,” he fumed. He knew Sam was mad, and rightfully so, but this was unforgivable. He knew he deserved some sort of retribution, but this was too far.

He angrily kicked at the broken glass on the ground. Unbelievable! He shook his head, his jaw set as he walked around the car to see what all had been done to it. Damn, Sam, why would you…?

He frowned. This wasn’t like Sam. Sure, his brother had a temper, but he wasn’t destructive.

He walked around the car again, slower. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, exactly, but he knew it immediately when he saw it. Just a few drops, but it was there. Plain as day.

Blood.

“Sammy?” He called out, raising to his feet and turning, searching the area for any signs of his brother. His heart began beating faster as he saw no one.

Not even the Bumpkins.

Oh God.

He spun around again, hoping against hope that he’d missed something the first time, but no luck. He turned his attention back to the car, hoping to find any sort of clue. And there it was, sitting on the passenger seat. Bile rose in his throat as he saw the slash marks in the upholstery. Slash marks that crudely spelled out a word.

MINE