Author's Note: This is, as is suggested in the title, a sequel. If you have not read the first book, a fair amount of this will not make sense to you. It is not written as a stand alone story. Also, for those of you who may not recognize it, there is a minor crossover in this story. I have not called it a crossover because the second IP is not integral to the plot, it just fleshes out the world a bit and neither I nor my beta could resist the idea once we'd discussed it. However, before reading Chapter 2, if you are not familiar with the TV show Saving Grace with Holly Hunter, you might want to either watch a few episodes to familiarize yourself with it or just visit the Wikipedia page to get a feel for who is who.

Chapter 1

The RV rumbled along the road, and Dean watched the world go by the window, reveling in the awareness that the world still existed outside his long isolation. After two months in small rooms and an even smaller cage, the weeks in the hospital had felt freer, but nowhere near as free as sitting beside a window bigger than he was, watching cars and houses and people and cats and dogs and cows go by in the never ending panorama that was the U.S. highway system.

The longer he gazed out the window, the further away the memory of Azazel seemed. The longer he didn't try to move with any speed or strength, the more he could forget how bad off he was.

He picked up a carrot, dipped it into the dressing, and began to crunch it down. Admittedly, he'd normally have chosen something other than rabbit food with ranch dressing for a snack, but it beat IVs and long stints without anything at all. Sammy was just going to be fussy for a while, till he got some of the freaked out of his system.

Cars, motorcycles, motor homes like this one, buses, semi-trucks . . . people going places, doing things, not controlled by demons or even medical personnel. It reminded him that life continued apace for the rest of the world. He'd have to find out what movies were out. Maybe Sammy would take him to one.

At the moment, Sammy boy was in the back of the RV, in bed, after staying up all night in the hospital to keep an eye on him. Dean took a deep breath and quelled the maniacal paranoia that started to overtake him at the realization that his little brother was out of sight. It wasn't as if he could have left the RV while it was on the highway doing fifty.

Dean wanted to say he didn't need to be babysat like that, but the fact was, if Sammy left for more than five minutes at a time, he started flipping out. It had gotten better. For one thing, he could convince himself that Sam was safe in the back of the RV, but he was nowhere near normal, yet.

He decided not to think about that, not to think about any of what had happened since September, and focused on watching the world go by.

A few hours after Sam settled in the back and presumably fell asleep, Bobby heard Dean's voice. "Hey, Bobby, awesome as it is to be back on the road . . . and awesome doesn't begin to cover it . . . ." Bobby had to crane his mirrors around wildly to see Dean's face, but he managed it.

"Yeah, kid?"

"I don't suppose we could stop, though? I'd really like to hit a rest stop."

"There's a bathroom midway back, Dean," Bobby said.

"Yeah, but somehow I don't want to try and do my business while we're bouncing along the road."

"Okay. Should be a diner or something coming up along here soon."

"Whatever," Dean said. "I just want to get out and smell real air for five minutes."

Bobby could understand that. He kept his eyes peeled, and the next thing he saw was a sign for a real, honest-to-God rest stop five miles ahead. He signaled and glanced in the back mirror to see if John had gotten it. A brief right signal told him the answer, and he turned off his own signal till they got close enough for it to make sense. He looked ahead as he pulled off the freeway. The rest stop had RV parking, but it was a fair distance away from the restrooms.

He took a deep breath and raised his voice. "Sam!"

"Let him sleep, Bobby," Dean protested, but Sam came out of the back room within a few seconds.

"What's up?"

"I'm letting you and Dean off in front of the building. He wants to use the restroom."

"He can't use that restroom!" Sam exclaimed.

Bobby blinked, pulling up in front of the restroom building and putting the parking brake on. He turned around, shaking his head. "Right. I don't know what I was thinking."

"What are you two talking about?" Dean demanded, glaring back and forth between them.

"Dean, you have open wounds," Sam said. "And your body is putting most of its energy into healing, so you're really vulnerable to germs and bacterial infections. You can't use a toilet in a rest stop. God knows how often they clean those things."

"That's nuts! This is a rental. Did you guys go over it with a bucket of bleach?"

"Actually, yes," Bobby said. He eyed his young friend sympathetically as Dean's eyes widened. "Look, we're not bouncing now, get it over with, and then you can take a walk."

Dean glowered at them both, but he got up and made his slow way into the toilet. A loud thumping at the door made Bobby start, and Sam leaned down to peer out the window. After a second, he popped the door open and John came in. Sam went out, jerking his thumb towards the restrooms. Bobby nodded at him, but then John spoke in an irritated tone. "Why are you parked here?" he asked. "And why'd you stop anyway?"

"I was being goofy, thinking Dean could use the restroom out there," Bobby said. "But he really doesn't want to use the one in here while we're moving, so I think we'll be stopping periodically."

"Bobby, we need to get to your place lickety-split. Stopping every five minutes isn't going to work."

"Don't exaggerate, John, besides, it was Dean's request."

"Dean –" John shook his head. "Bobby, we need to keep moving for Dean."

"Dean wants to get out of the RV, John," Bobby said persuasively. "He deserves that, don't you think?"

"It's not safe."

"There's three of us here to keep an eye on him, John," Bobby said. "And the RV's as protected as I can make it."

"You know, I can hear you in here," Dean called from inside the toilet. John closed his eyes, and Bobby could see he was barely controlling his emotions. The door opened and Dean emerged. Bobby could tell that he was concealing how shaky he felt, undoubtedly for his father's benefit. "And I want to feel grass under my feet and wind on my face, corny as that sounds."

"It don't sound corny to me," Bobby said.

"Where's Sammy?" Dean asked suddenly. "Did he go back and lie down or –"

"I think he went to the restroom in there," Bobby nodded towards the rest stop. "Look, John, why don't you and Dean get down, and I'll go park this thing where it belongs before someone comes and has a conniption fit."

"Not unless there's at least two of us to look after him," John said.

"That's it!" Dean announced. He slipped past them, avoiding John's reaching hands easily because John was clearly afraid to grab his son anywhere. Dean started down the steps and opened the door. Bobby had pulled right up to the curb, close as he could, so all Dean had to do was step forward. It wasn't more than an inch drop. John hurried after him, giving Bobby a death glare, and the door slammed shut behind them. Bobby got back into the driver's seat and drove over to park in the RV parking, selecting a spot where it would be easy to turn around and come back to pick them up. Sighing, Bobby shook his head. Dean was already starting to get tired of them cosseting him, but he was going to have to put up with it for a while.

Bobby made sure both doors were locked and trotted over towards the grassy area. John and Dean were over by the trees, and as Bobby crossed the parking lot, he saw Sam come out of the restroom. He started to walk towards the motor home, but then he stopped in his tracks and took a sharp left. He approached some guy with his back to Bobby and started talking, looking more than a little pissed.

Bobby picked up the pace a little, not sure what was going on, but figuring that the last thing they needed was for Sam to get into some kind of fight on the way. It seemed a little odd, though. Sam had a temper, but it usually didn't get directed at strangers. Sam was in the middle of a diatribe when Bobby came into hearing.

". . . be excused for wondering what the hell is going on with this, don't you think?" He looked up. "Bobby, hey, look who seems to be following us."

As Bobby took the final steps to join Sam and the stranger, the man turned and Bobby realized who he was. Thus far, he hadn't seen Special Agent Denson in anything but a suit and tie with a trench coat over the top. He hadn't recognized the man's rear view in jeans and a parka. "Kind of informal for official business, don't you think?" Bobby said, knitting his brows. Why the heck would the FBI be following them? It made no sense.

"I'm not on official business at the second," Denson said. "I'm on my way to –"

"South Dakota?" Sam demanded, glaring.

"Oklahoma City," Denson finished, giving Sam a benign look.

Bobby ran the maps over in his head, and he could see Sam doing the same. This was the most sensible route out of Birmingham to get to Oklahoma. "You on a different case?" Bobby asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Nope," Denson replied. "But I can't really go into detail with you, you've got to understand that."

Sam nodded. "Sure. We understand." He didn't sound like he meant it, though, and Bobby sighed. John and his younger son were more alike than either of them wanted to admit. "Come on, Bobby," Sam said, turning away.

"Your brother and your father are on the other side," Bobby said. "I'll meet you in a minute." Sam nodded again and walked away, his back stiff and angry. Bobby turned towards Denson. "What are you really doing here?" he demanded.

"Just what I told young Mr. Winchester. I'm heading in the same direction, and we happened to make the same –"

"Horseshit," Bobby interjected. "I don't believe in coincidence, and even if I did, this would be a whopper. Gimme something I can buy, or I might just call and complain of harassment. You can probably beat it, no trouble, but it won't look good at your next review."

Denson's brows went up. "I am heading to Oklahoma City," he said. "And I . . ." He trailed off. "Just a minute," he said, looking at something beyond Bobby's shoulder.

"What?" Bobby turned and saw John headed towards them at a fast walk. Neither Dean nor Sam was in sight.

"I figure I might as well tell you both at once and avoid confusion," Denson said.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, following us?" John demanded when he was still a good ten feet away. "And don't even –"

"He'd started to give me a straight answer, John," Bobby said quickly, heading off whatever John might be about to burst out with. "But he didn't want to tell it twice."

"Fine," John said. "Go ahead."

Denson smiled at them both, the practiced smile of a man who tries to keep people calm so his job stays as easy as possible. "I'm heading to Oklahoma City to continue my investigation into your son's situation," he said. "Knowing that you folks would be headed out today, I delayed my departure to coincide with yours, so I could sort of keep an eye on things."

"An eye on what things?" John growled.

"Your son's safety, for one," Denson said. "Figured I could watch for anyone suspicious following you, give you any help you might need."

"Don't see the point, really, unless you plan to follow us all the way to South Dakota," John said.

Denson shook his head. "Just as far as I can," he said. "Memphis, probably. But if you would like an escort the rest of the way, I can arrange for that."

Bobby blinked at him. "Are you serious?" he asked incredulously. Denson nodded. "Do you do this for all kidnap victims?" he asked sarcastically.

Denson shrugged ruefully. "No, but Dean isn't the typical kidnap victim, and this isn't a remotely usual case." He paused, looking irresolute. After a second during which Bobby could feel John beginning to seethe, Denson cleared his throat. "Dean isn't the only victim, he's just the only victim who's still alive," the FBI agent said, and Bobby's eyebrows went up. "This guy, this Azazel, he's clearly obsessed with Dean for whatever reason, but he's been killing . . . a lot of people."

"Son of a bitch," John growled. "Dean is going to shit kittens."

"Mr. Winchester, I know Dean hasn't indicated anything, but is there any chance he knew this man from before? That he's keeping something from you?"

John didn't respond, but there wasn't a whole lot he could say. Bobby figured he was still worrying about how Dean would react to this news. And it wasn't like they could keep it from him. It might even hit the media. Bobby shrugged. "God knows what happened," he said. "Dean could have caught this guy's attention anywhere."

"Yes, that's possible, Mr. Singer, but in my judgment, it's not likely. I don't believe in coincidences either, and the sheer number of murders that surround this kidnapping elevate it beyond the typical obsessed psychopath. There's something distinctly ritualistic about the deaths."

"How have you connected them to Dean?" Bobby asked.

"I can't really go into detail about an investigation in progress," Denson said. "Nevertheless, there are reasons why I continue to be concerned about Dean's well-being."

"Not the least of which is that he's your only lead," John said, his voice low and hard.

"I don't deny that's among the reasons," Denson said.

"How many deaths?" Bobby asked.

"I can't –"

"It's going to hit the news sooner or later, right?" Bobby pointed out. "So what's the harm?"

Denson pursed his lips, then shrugged. "We're releasing a statement to the press tomorrow," he said. "Largely pre-emptive. If we release it, we get to determine what details get out there."

"Will you be including Dean's name?" John asked.

"At this time, no, but the press will get hold of it before long," Denson said. "We'll shield him as long as we can, but it will get out."

"Damn it!" John growled. "You have no idea –" He cut himself off sharply, but Bobby knew what he was thinking. When details about the cutting and the deaths hit the media, other hunters would put two and two together. It could, especially if anything about the ritual crap and the demon name got out, put Dean in danger from other hunters. They couldn't exactly explain that to Denson, though.

"Believe me, if I could avoid it, I would," Denson said. "The minute the public hears about a serial case, we get hit by tips and pleas and offers of help. Plowing through those wastes boatloads of time."

John shook his head. "We've got to get back on the road," he said gruffly. "I assume we'll see you from time to time till we reach Memphis."

"Quite probably," Denson said. "Do you want me to arrange for further escort?"

"We'll be making at least one stop before our final destination," John said. "So I don't think that makes a lot of sense. Thanks anyway."

"Okay," Denson said. "Let me know if you change your mind."

John didn't say anything, he just glanced behind him, then strode off. Bobby looked at where he was going and saw Dean standing next to Sam and Agent Haynes. He was visibly sagging. It was time to fetch the RV. "Catch you later," Bobby said to Denson, whose gaze refocused from Dean back to Bobby. "And let me know if you decide to arrange protection even though John said no. If he catches someone following us that he doesn't know, he might overreact."

"I'll keep that in mind," Denson said, and Bobby shrugged, turning to walk swiftly back to the camper. He pulled it around again to the sidewalk and went back to unlock the door. John and Sam got Dean back inside and then John left.

"She is pretty," Dean said, peering out the window as Denson and his partner walked by.

"Time for you to lie down for a while, Dean," Sam said.

"I can stay up here," Dean protested. "If I fall asleep, so what? I want to be able to see stuff, Sammy."

"There are windows in the back, Dean," Sam said.

"I'm fine right here," Dean said, planting himself firmly on the sofa. He tilted sideways, trying to lie down. Sam had to help him straighten himself out, and then he spread the blanket out over him again.

"Want another smoothie?" Sam asked.

"I'm good. Go away, Sammy. Get some sleep."

Sam deposited a water bottle in the drink holder before going back to the back. Bobby shook his head and got moving again. Ritualized murders. John was right. Dean would have a cow.