You Asked Me For My Sacrifice

Update half finished. On it's way soon!

And I'm ready for it!

I like it!

Cant wait to see where this goes!

more soon!

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UPDATE:


The sky was just beginning to shade into hews of pink and orange when Michael pulled up to Jo’s riverfront bar. Asher had called ahead, waking up a very irritable Jo after an apparent long night in the bar. Michael couldn’t help but grin as he heard Jo’s grumbling and griping through the phone as soon as she answered. Realizing it was Asher, however, she quickly calmed down.

Still, Michael thought it was funny as hell.

Turning the car off, both boys unfolded themselves from it, shutting the doors and looking around. The building stood strong on its dockside home, made dingy and worn on the outside by the moisture soaked and misty air that the waterfront blew in. The “Tavern” sign was unlit, as was the large, towering “Dark Hills” sign at the dock entrance.

The Sandpiper once belonged to, as Jo once put it to the boys “A crusty old bastard whose gut made you think he drank all the bar’s assets instead of selling them.” But that was years ago when Jo had first arrived here. She never explained to Michael or Asher how she had gotten there, just telling them that bad blood with her mother and one bad moment between two old friends landed her here. The two never pushed. It wouldn’t have done any good to. Not with Jo, anyway.

Just a few years after her arrival, the “crusty” owner decided to retire. Jo jumped at the chance, and he sold, both the bar and his house behind it. She still managed the hunt, but not as much as had before taking over the bar full time. Whenever a she got wind of a job that she couldn’t tackle, she’d pass the info on to Michael and Asher. They found their work on their own, but Jo’s Intel didn’t exactly hurt. She kept her hands in the cookie jar that way as well while keeping her bar hunter-free. No “shop talk” in her place. She had sworn a long time ago that she wouldn’t run a roadhouse like her mother had.

Again, another question on details that the two of them just wouldn’t ask her for.

Michael moved to the trunk, unlocking it and lifting the lid. He lifted out the gear bag that they had thrown in, gently sitting it on the ground beside him, as well as a bad that contained some of their clean clothes. Depressing a button on what appeared to be the key-car alarm for the vehicle on the key chain, a soft been sounded from it. Seconds later, the bottom of the trunk began to slide back slightly, and then slowly lifted. A much deeper trunk resided underneath this lid, special foam-rubbing padding lining it. Snuggled deep in specially cut out pockets in the rubber lay a mass array of weapons and devices; various guns, knives, cleaning kits and buffers, plastic bags full of various herbs and bottles of oils. The underside of the lid held the same padding, inside of locked areas resting crucifixes, rosaries, flasks, etc. Michael removed the cleaning kit for the guns from the bottom of the trunk and depressed the button on the key chain again. The lid quickly slid shut, and once it had, he shut the trunk lid, stuffing the kit into the gear bag.

“Think fast,” he said, tossing the clothing bag to Asher, who caught it. Grabbing the gear bag, he walked with his brother up the dock to the circular windowed door. Pushing it open, they walked inside, footsteps echoing quietly on the hardwood floor.

The Sandpiper looked about like any other beer joint you’d find across the country. Hardwood floors and walls, jukebox in the corner that STILL played old 45’s- which shocked the hell out of Michael as he didn’t think they even still existed. Large round tables scattered the building, the bar in the far back as you passed around the corner of the doorway, barstools lining underneath it. From the windows you could see the horizon, houses in the distance. Jo’s house rested just to the side of it. The bright neons that normally displayed the various beers and liqueurs were turned off at the moment, only a couple of lights on in the establishment, apparently left on by Jo.

Who had just wound her way from the backroom, shaking her head when she saw the dirty and disheveled sight that the two Deaton boys made.

Jo Harvelle was a woman of small stature, but strong backbone and stern personality. Her blonde hair straight as arrow, her eyes always bright and shining, she held a smile in them even when she wasn’t smiling herself. She was in her early forties, but barely looked a day over Michaels’ age. Her build strong yet feminine, no one would think that she could wipe the floor with most of the men that walked through the bar room door.

Hell, there were times that Michael was scared of her.

Walking closer, Jo whistled at the sight before her. “Damn,” she said. “You boys obviously had a busy night. Do I wanna know?” Ash sighed, tossing down the clothing bag and grabbing walking toward the bar, pulling out a bar stool.

”Well, where do you want us to start?” He collapsed into it, sighing in exhaustion. “Do we start with the dead psycho step-father?”

“No, I prefer the blind cords wrapped around Nikki’s throat,” Michael said sarcastically, sitting the other duffel on a nearby table and leaning up against a pole, folding his arms across his chest. Asher rubbed a hand across the gash on his forehead, now crusted with the blood that had dripped down his cheek as well.

“No, actually I think I’m a fan of the toaster that repeatedly tried to bash my skull in. That was fun.” Michael shrugged innocently.

“Could always shoot you in the foot so your head doesn’t hurt anymore.”

”Hilarious.”

”Hell, I thought it was funny.”

“Okay, I get the message,” Jo interrupted. Shaking her head, she went behind the bar and kneeled down under it, lifting up a first aid kit onto it and a lighter. Moving back around to the other side, she pulled up a stool beside Asher. Opening the kit, she fished inside for a needle, sticking the lighter and holding it under the needle for a moment, letting the flame heat it to sanitize it. “That needs stitches, son,” she said to Asher. “ Gonna patch that up.”

”I’m fine, Jo,” Ash argued. “I just need sleep.”

“And you’ll get it in about thirty minutes when I’m done.” Blowing on the needle, she put it and the now unlit lighter down, fishing out an alcohol pad. Opening its packet, she motioned for Asher to lean in, who rolled his eyes and obeyed. Michael couldn’t help but grin at the sight. Jo had taken it upon herself to be the surrogate mother for Michael and Asher. They got more lectures from her than they passed back and forth to each other, and she refused to ever let them leave her place without a full stomach. But honestly, they wouldn’t have it any other way. She meant the world to them. But they couldn’t let her know that.

She just wasn’t into “mushy” these days.

“Bagged and tagged?” Jo asked, referring to the spirit.

”Yep,” Michael agreed. “He was a bit of a pain, but nothing we’re not used to.” Asher hissed a bit at the alcohol, to which Michael chuckled. “Wuss.”

“Who whined last week when I had get a splinter out of their finger?” Asher countered. Michael quickly shut up.

“Michael, go on up to the house,” Jo said, putting down the alcohol and threading the needle. “Shower up and get some sleep. Asher’ll follow up when I’m done. You boys can get some food when you wake up. Steak and eggs suit?” The boys grinned at each other.

“Hell yes,” the said in unison. Michael grabbed both bags, moving outside to move the car around back to the Jo’s house. A warm shower and soft bed that had nothing to do with a dingy hotel room was a rare occasion and heaven on earth. Especially for two kids that grew up cleaning the rooms of the family hotel for their mother and lived then lived in them daily since they got out of high school.






“Michael, I want you to turn on the No Vacancy sign while I’m gone. I’ve got Denise covering room service, so don’t bother with any of the rooms.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Not now, Micahel!”
“But I gotta see Asher!”
“Hey Michael. Hey, I now how you feel, okay? I’m a big brother too. But you gotta go easy on your mom right now, okay?’


“Just stay under the covers.”
“And if it shows up?”
“Well we’ll be right in the next room. We’re gonna come in with guns. So as soon as we do you roll off this bed and you roll under it.”

“Have you heard a gunshot before?”
“Like in the movies?”
“It’s gonna be a lot louder than in the movies. So I want you to stay under the bed, cover your ears, and do not come out until we say so. You understand?”

“We’re not gonna let anything happen to you. I promise…”



This was one of the rare occasions that the dream shot Michael upright out of bed, an audible gasp escaping him. It took a moment to adjust, a brief second passing where he could have sworn that he was back in his childhood bedroom, that familiar face as the side of his bed. He even looked for him for a moment, but the man wasn’t there.

Sad that he and Asher knew them for only two days, but he could remember them from his dreams easily.

“Dammit to hell,” he mumbled, tossing the sheets off and throwing his legs over the bed. He sat there for a moment, running his hand through his typically tousled hair, trying to wake up, and shake the dreams. Seemed as if he almost always flashed back to that night after he and Asher finished a job. It was just a pattern for him, his brain’s apparent way of releasing grief and guilt apparently.

Yeah right…as if he’d ever completely release any of it.

Standing, Michael moved to the bedside window, pushing back the curtains. Bright and sunny day. Not a cloud in sight, making the sheen on the distant water even more pristine across the far side of the dockside homes, boats and fishing trawlers rocking in the easy waves. Michael wondered what time it was as he turned, moving to the dresser where he had thrown his clothes that he had dug from the clothing duffle. Grabbing them, he moved opened the bedroom door and left, moving down the hall to the room that Asher always took when they stopped by Jo’s.

Opening the door quietly, he found his brother had found his way to bed after Jo’s patch job. His brother lay in the bed on his back, leg hanging off the bed, head half off of it, mouth agape and snoring. God, if only Michael had a camera; he had to fight a chuckle at the sight right then and there. Shutting the door behind him, he moved on down the hall to the bathroom, intent on enjoying a shower in a full and real bathroom with some serious and long hot water… a luxury you didn’t often find for long in run down fleabag motels.

Five minutes into the hot shower, Michael was convinced that he would never leave. Propping an arm against the shower wall as the hot water ran down him, he couldn’t help but smile. Thank God for small luxuries. God, but people took things like this for granted. He missed it. For at least awhile he had had this regularly. But he couldn’t sit back and pretend that life was normal, do nothing about it. Now could he? But Asher…he had had a choice. He could have stayed back and enjoyed hot showers. Full breakfasts. A family and white picket fences. If only Michael had just stayed back another year…

But even Asher had told him that he knew better. He remembered that night too. Just as clear as Michael remembered what had happened to him with Sam and Dean. And that killed him more than anything, that a five year old had to carry a memory that like.

Damn life. Damn it all.

Finally turning off the shower, Michael dried off and dressed, going downstairs to the smell of steak and eggs filling the kitchen. Groaning in delight, he walked in to find Jo putting the food on the table, smiling as Micahel moved to give her a motherly hug. “I swear you are a sainted woman,” he said, taking the plate that she had in her hands before she could sit it down. She laughed, going back to the counter to scoop up another.

“You haven’t seen my bad days, Michael.”

“And I’m scared at the thought.”

“Brother coming down?”

”If he wakes up any time soon. What time is it?”

“About noon.”

“That works.” Digging in to a bite, Michael groaned at the gorgeous taste. Good God, this woman was a genius! “Jo, you’re unbelievable with food!” He mumbled through a mouthful of steak, to which she smacked him on the head with a dishtowel. “Ow!”

“You don’t talk with a full mouth, you ape!” Michael chewed, swallowed, and then chuckled.

“Sorry. I’ll behave.”

“Better.” Moving back to the counter, Jo grabbed a glass of orange juice and began drinking as Asher walked in, a towel running through his short hair, dressed in fresh clothes. “Morning, son. How’s that head?”

“Better. Thanks, by the way.” Grabbing his plate from the table, he sat down with it and the glass of juice that was there, smiling. “God, you are wonderful, Jo.” She smiled in response as the boys dug in, going back to a folder full of papers that she was pouring over as she drank. Swallowing a bite of eggs-which were beyond heaven- Michael looked up, raising a curious eyebrow.

“Whatcha got there, Jo?”

“Something I’ve been working on. You two might be interested in.”

“Case?” Asher asked, through his mouthful of egg, to which Michael tapped him on the side of his head. The sore side. “Ow, Jesus, Mike!”

“Mouth is full, you ass.”

“Okay, I get it. Damn…”

“Not sure what the pattern is,” Jo said, ignoring the boys. “But it’s been eating at me.” Moving with the folder to the table, she sat down with it and her orange juice, pouring out several news clippings. Michael pulled up one, examining the young man about his age, and the news heading, Up and coming hypnotist missing. Foul play suspected.

Asher grabbed another, reading it aloud. “Suspected fraud on the run, fake psychic skips town.” Asher and Michael exchanged curious glances. How did this tie in?

“The woman was considered a medium,” Jo said. “She seemed legit, but bible beaters started preaching typical witch hunt. She and hypnotists both disappeared from the same town within days of each other.”

“Sounds more like bible beaters not liking the thought if anything they can’t understand,” Asher said. But when he put the clipping back in the folder, he looked at Michael. “But then, that’s how it usually starts when it turns out to be a case for us.”

“True that.”

“So?” Jo said. The boys sighed, looking at their eggs and steak.

“So I think we need to finish our food, clean our guns, and hit the road.”

“Finish eating,” Jo said. “I’ll wash your clothes and bag them.” Asher smiled.

“You’re a saint.”

“Like I told your brother…you haven’t seen me on my bad days.

These boys are great! Of course, not as great as Dean and Sam though. Loved the sarcasm in the beginning when they were telling Jo how their last job went. Had to laugh at this:

and this...

Really loving it, Chris. No one could write it better!

Dude, you know how to make me blush! *smiles* Least it makes me want to keep writing this when people respond in the positive. Thanks a million!

You better keep writing! Or else i'll hunt you down. ...after we get Dean out of hell of course.

You better keep writing! Or else i'll hunt you down. ...after we get Dean out of hell of course.

Hell, NATURALLY!

update soon, guys. Doing research.

You had me worried there for a sec. Thought you forgot about Michael and Asher, hehe.

But no, I know you're busy. I've just been chillin' here, twisting my thumbs and waiting patiently for an update.

“Small town.”

As Asher drove slowly through the street, he nodded silently in agreement with Michael. But it wasn’t as if they didn’t see their share of small towns. It made their job easier that way, honestly. Less ground to cover. But this one… just the look of it had a familiar feel that ran all through Asher. That close-knit community kind of feeling.

Kind of like Fitchburg.

The small, two lane road ran through the center of town. On either side the streets were lined with brick buildings that were at least fifty years old, full of shopes ranging from barbers to diners to hardware stores. Some shops were modern, from chain stores of the current day. Some were obvious long time family owned stores, signs outside that were faded with decades of wear that bore the store name with their friendly welcome. People went about their business on the streets, walking and laughing and smiling. Some moved in and out of shopes, some walked down the streets talking on their phones. An occasional mother pushing a stroller moved past their eyes as well.

And average, everyday town that was oblivious to Asher and Michael, and why they were there. Then again, at this point they the brothers weren’t sure if they even had a point in being there either. But they were going to find out.

“Where’s a motel around this place?” Asher muttered, keeping a slow speed down the small town road.

“God invented asking directions for a reason, Ash,” Michael said.

“Yeah, and God invented “Map Quest” for a reason too, Mike” Asher countered. He sighed quietly, keeping his eyes glued to the road. “I just don’t want to mix and mingle in this town until we get settled. Until we have to. That’s all.”

”You?” Asher saw his brother looking over at him from the corner of his eye, his town confused and wary. “Okay…this coming from the social butterfly who’s always been able to charm information from a mute?”

”What?” Asher said defensively. “So I just want to tread softly?”

”Tread softly? Geez, now you sound like a bad fortune cookie.” Michael rolled his eyes.

“No,” Asher said. “This is a bad fortune cookie: Confucius say, Man who live with brother will one day snap ad shoot him out of canon into whole other country.”

“Thanks,” Michael replied, “But I’ve already been to Texas.” It took every ounce of willpower and some grinding of teeth for Asher to avoid blowing up at Mike right then and there. He had no problem getting comfy in any town that they were in. Truth be told, it was usually Asher that was pulling Mike away from the computer or books to get out in the town, even to relax and socialize outside of “work.” He just seemed to have that knack, having a way with people didn’t hurt. It even got him the occasional date for an evening, so he wasn’t about to complain. But this town just stirred up memories; it was too much like what they had left behind. How Michael couldn’t see that was beyond him.

Finding an empty parallel parking spot on the right, Asher maneuvered slowly into it. Putting the car in park, he flipped the ignition to turn off the car and pulled out the keys, stuffing the ring in his jacket pocket. Both boys unfolded themselves from the Charger, shutting the doors behind them as they looked around for a moment, scanning the bustling small town.

“That looks like a little General Store over there,” Michael said, pointing just across the street. One of the joined brick buildings that lined the streets held a large window full of regular dry goods and groceries a sign above the door reading “Botts General.”

“Alright,” Asher sighed, conceding defeat. “Let’s get going.” Asher began crossing the street, Michael followed behind him, the two making their way for Botts. Reaching the sidewalk, Asher opened the door, a bell going off with a small “DING!” as it was opened, a few stray people looking up in curiosity as the boys walked in.

The store was small, about two or three aisles in the narrow building stacked with groceries, dry goods, and one back area with about three coolers lined with sodas, dairy products, and frozen goods. The front counter was to the right, the modern marble countertop and computer cash register a contraction to the wooden, western style of the shop. An older man of about fifty five Asher would guess, stood behind it, smiling brightly at the boys as they walked in. He gave a light wave as they walked up to the counter.

“Welcome!” he said cheerfully. “What can I do for you fellas?”

“We’re actually looking for any motels here in town?” Michael said. “We just came into town today and we’re not really familiar with the place.”

”Oh that’s easy,” the man said. “Hotel’s on the far end of town. The Piedmont Bed and Breakfast. Only place in town. We’re a small little place. It’s a cozy little inn; you’ll like it. There’s quite a bit of vacancy since things died down after the ruckus recently.”

”Ruckus?” Asher asked.

“Everything with that Wickerson girl,” the man said. “The “I see dead people” lady. People were coming from everywhere to talk to her, but after she disappeared, it all stopped. Thank goodness for it.” Michael and Asher looked at each other. That was the name of the supposed medium that they were looking for. Penelope Wickerson.

“Maybe that’s your opinion.”

The voice of a young female from a nearby aisle got their attention, and the three men turned. The woman was about the boys age, tall, with long brown hair that hung in a thin braid. Attractive, her eyes shown with bright intelligence behind their gray/green color. The owner rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Now Angel, we’ll have no more of your blunt comments in here,” he said.

“Well you can push it back all you want, Mr. Botts,” Angel said. “But since that Wickerson girl vanished and then that Hypnotist…what was his name…Bingham?…suddenly left right before a gig, things haven’t exactly been the same around town, now have they?”

”That’s all in your head, youngun.”

”So is a lot of journalistic knack, but no one gives that much credit either.” She pushed past the boys, bumping into Asher with an “Excuse me.” He turned, following her retreating figure out of the store.

Looks like they had someone to talk to about the happenings in this town. Maybe they DID have a case here after all….

It's about time you updated, missy!! But man...Why so short??

Just kidding! I know you're busy and have a lot on your plate. Just glad to see that you were able to take time away from your busy schedule and get an update up. Still excited about what's to come. Looking forward to it! And i'm still lovin' the boys...but not more than I love the other boys of course!

I had another small edition for it but didn't add it. Thought I'd add it to the next bit.

Next update coming soon.


First page updated with this: The music video for "Winterborn" by The Cruxshadows...the theme song for "You Asked Me For My Sacrifice."


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVNjx4k8mWk

Update:

The Piedmont Bed and Breakfast. Even as the boys pulled into the small circular driveway of the building, they found themselves wondering just whether it was a B&B or something more expensive. And for such a small town, expensive just didn’t make much sense. But damn…to look at the place…

The large, two story brick building stood on the far end of town, just on the edge of its own property, so close to the main street that you could stand on the borderline of it at the end of the drive and spit into town. The well manicured law was decorated with a lovely variety of flowers, as was the circle of lawn that sat in the center of the drive and lining the steps that led up to the porch of the building. Many windows lined the two stories of the Tudor style building, tan colored shutters gracing each of them with a dark red roof that lightly matched the brick in its tone.

Both Asher and Michael had to sit a moment in the car, looking at the building, both whistling in amazed awe.

“Good thing mom’s assets and money from her will are a back up for us against our hustling,” Asher said. “Otherwise we couldn’t afford a place like this.”

“It’s probably reasonable,” Michael said. “It’s a B&B in a hick town, man. Just looks expensive.” Turning the car off, Asher opened the door as did Michael, both men getting out. They men shut the doors and moved to the building, Michael noting the still glum and surly mood that Asher was holding. He wasn’t normally one to brood like this. Asher was always lively, bubbly, and pasted with a permanent smile. And considering their job, that was bizarre. It was easy to tell when something was bothering Asher; the shine in his eyes just seem to go away. “Guess I couldn’t get you to talk to me right now, could I,” Michael said as they made their way up the stairs.

“Nothing to talk about.”

“You’ve been pissy since we got here, Ash. So what bug crawled up your ass exactly?” Asher sighed, opening the door to the Piedmont and turning to look at his brother.

“If I wanted a therapist, I’d go call one and lay on a couch. You want to check into this place or should we stand out here all day and look like idiots?” Asher didn’t wait for an answer. Turning, he walked inside, leaving Michael to stand and stare after him for a moment. Yeah… this was going to be a big talk to have later, whether Asher liked it or not. It just unsettled Michael to see the normally peppy- to a sickening degree- little brother ever get run down and sullen, distant. This was gonna have to be fixed.

Walking on inside, the boys were greeted with a small yet spacious front room. Hardwood floors, a large crystal chandelier hanging overhead. The large oak stairs were on the left in the back of the room, leading the upstairs area. To the right a long hallway that led to the back of the building. Small night tables, plants, with a small lamp sitting on one table just under a large mirror by the entrance, spreading the light by its reflection all across the room. And to the left sat the large oak desk, a young man no older than eighteen behind the desk, occupied with a Nintendo DS.

“Um, excuse me?” Michael moved over to the desk, but the boy still didn’t hear a thing. Asher, noticing a bell on the table, leaned over and began banging the bell repeatedly. The boy jumped out of his skin, nearly dropping the game. But he looked up in shock, putting the game on the counter.

“He-hello,” he said. “Sorry I uh…I was…”

”It’s alright,” Asher said, smiling warmly. “We just want to check in.”

“Oh, alright. Two singles or a double?

“Double,” Michael said. The young man passed the register over to Michael, who began to sign their names in. “Cash or charge?” Asher looked at Michael, who nodded in response. They went for cash when they could to avoid possible paper trails; having such a hefty amount of cash in Swiss bank accounts under fake names through their mom’s assets and will was handy. But in this case, considering that they really could see from the looks of this place that it wasn’t exactly their typical flea bag, one of their credit cards would be the better option. So Asher pulled out his wallet, looking at the register to see which names that Michael signed. Ah geez…

“Here you go.” Asher pulled out the card, passing it to the young man who began to scan it as he punched in the numbers on a credit card machine. Passing it back, he smiled, reaching for a room key from under the desk.

“Room twelve. Up the stairs, fourth door on the left. Have a good evening Mr. Pennington. And you too Mr. Ross.”

“Thanks.” Michael smiled in response as he took the key, the two men going back out to the car to get their bags. “Here,” he said, giving Asher the key. “Go on up and open the room. I’ll get the bags.” Asher passed him the car keys, but while Michael was opening the trunk, Asher just stood there, unmoving. Michael looked up after opening the trunk, seeing the look on his brother’s face. “What?”

“You maybe want to throw the magic word at me there?”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. Open the room, Asher…NOW. There. Better?” Asher rolled his eyes, turning on his heels and going back into the building. “You love me and you know it” Michael shouted as Asher opened the front door.

“Still thinking about that right now,” Asher snapped. “Don’t push me.”





The room was by far, larger than they were used to. It actually had it’s own living room, although the furniture was outdated in more seventies to eighties style in its old brown leather and art-deco styling. Small bathroom on the back end of the living room, and further back, a small two foot long hallway that led to the bedroom. Understated in its cream colored walls, paintings of ducks flying across the marshlands lining the walls, with just the two beds, nightstand in the middle, and on the far side of the room the six drawer dresser, a lamp on both of them. Michael couldn’t remember the last time that they had stayed in a place this big. Thank God for their fake credit cards; he was sure this place would put a dent that he didn’t want to lose in their money. They needed that for gas, supplies, and ammo before anything.

The boys had already put the clothes away and shut all the blinds and curtains, locking the door behind them. And then afterwards, they quickly began to go about their regular routine. As Michael grabbed the salt tin from the duffle bag, Asher grabbed the phone book, memorizing the first hotel that was listed in the book and its phone number. Jo had taught them that, something that she said she picked up from a couple of hunters years back. She never said who, and Michael didn’t ask. But it still came in handy. If he and his brother were ever separated, that hotel was their rendevour point. And Michael and just salted the windows and grabbed a chair to stand up and put a salt line across the frame of the door when Asher shut the book, tossing it on the couch.

“Done?” Michael asked.

“Yep,” Asher said. “Your turn. Give me the salt.” Michael jumped down from the chair after finishing the door and passed the tin to Asher, who disappeared to take care of the bedroom window lining while Michael memorized the hotel in the book. Yeah, he had to admit. The two of them were a well oiled machine. They had been doing this for so many years that they never even thought about it anymore. They just did it. It was clockwork, and so were they. He had to love that. But at the same time, he wished that they could just be clockwork at sports or fixing a car, something that simple.

But life was never simple, was it.

Asher emerged, shutting the tin just as Michael had put the phonebook away. Pushing the table back, Michael opened up the duffle bag and began taking out all of their weapons and the cleaning kit, opening it up. Putting the solvent on the table, he cracked open the sawed off as Asher grabbed the folder that Jo had given them, going over all the files and clippings as he eased himself into a nearby chair.

“Think we need to look for that Angel girl,” Asher said, news clipping in his hand. “She seemed really hard up on the issues going on around town that apparently surrounded these two.”

“Seems to help that she’s apparently in journalism according to that clerk,” Michael said, running the brush one of the gun barrels. “Might have a source to help us poke around if she’s cooperative. The shmoosing and winning over people is more your department, Mr. Suave.” Asher sighed, putting down the folder and shutting it, gnawing absentmindedly on a thumbnail as he looked off.

“Yeah. Guess so.” Michael looked up, again seeing that distracted and brooding look in his brother’s face. Here we go again….

“Okay…you can sit there like that all evening, or we can talk about this and then get to work.” Michael put the gun down and stood up, wiping the solvent from his hands on his jeans. “So talk.”

”Not into this right now, Mike. Let’s just go over this stuff and piece together a few-“

“You want to talk to Angel, so we can try that first off,” Michael said. “You go talk to her, and I’ll go look into the places that these two were last seen. We can split it that way. What is it about you and not wanting to get out there and…” But as Asher turned his face away, Michael stopped short. It suddenly clicked while talking about it, what the problem was. Asher did have a problem with getting out and about in this town. And Michael knew why. It had been on Michael’s mind since they arrived. Driving through it, he couldn’t ignore the similarities. The old courthouse, the small playground in the middle of town, the long streets of old family markets and the community feeling.

It was too much like home.

“It’s this town, isn’t it?” he asked. “It’s just too damn much like home.” Asher didn’t respond. That told Michael all that he needed to know. Sighing, Michael shook his head, walking over to the table. “Ash, listen, man. It’s not as if I’m happy about walking around a place that’s this much like home, but that’s not something we can dwell on. We haven’t been there in over ten years. It’s the past and it’s gone. You’ve got to put it out of your head.”

Without a word, Asher stood, grabbing his gun and shoving it in the waistband of his jeans, throwing his shirt over it. He went to the door and opened it, but turned back to look at Michael. “I’m going to talk to Angel,” he said. “But for the record, Mike, if it’s so much the past and if not having a home is such an issue, than why did you know exactly what the damn problem was?”

Before Michael could answer, Asher slammed the door shut in his face, leaving Michael to stand there and grimace. Damn that kid…