Chapter 2
John

John didn't remember anything between leaving Illinois and arriving back at the Motel 6 in Rolla, Missouri. It'd taken him three hours too long to get here. He had tried calling Sam and Dean about every fifteen minutes and never got an answer. He had never felt more terrified in his life. His head was spinning; his heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. If he had any food in his system to throw up, he'd surely have done it by now.

As soon as the Impala was put in park, John jumped out of the car. An eerie feeling settled over him right away. Everything was quiet; it was like no one was even here. The only sound John could hear was the motel sign lights flickering on and off. He didn't see any signs of Sam or Dean in the parking lot. Chills crept up and down in his spine, but it wasn't necessary from the brisk fall morning wind.

When John got to the door of his room, his stomach once again did a one-eighty twist. On the cement to the right of John's feet was a small patch of blood. It wasn't a lot, but it was nearly fresh, and it was dark, definitely human. For a moment, John could only stare, wondering which son the blood belonged to. It was more than likely Dean's, John thought sadly, though it would break John's heart just as much if it were Sam's. His hands started shaking as he fumbled with the keys, struggling to get the door unlocked. Part of John didn't want to find what was through the door. But he had to, so when he opened the door he kept his hand tight around his pistol, just in case something besides his boys were in there.

The smell of sulfur hit John instantly as he panned the room with his gun. Once the room was cleared, he lowered it slightly, looking around the room for any signs of his boys. John remembered Bill Harvelle telling him about the possible existence of demons and how sulfur the only key indicator. Of course, the talk of demons was far-fetched, but John couldn't deny the strong smell of sulfur. What if it really was a demon? What would a demon want with his boys, and more in particular, what would it want with Sam? Was a demon connected to Mary's death? The thoughts had John's head in a frenzy.

As John was looking around, he noticed more blood spots on the old moldy carpet that definitely weren't there before. The heaviest amount of blood was near the bathroom door. It looked like someone had been picked up and set down and then picked up again. John walked towards the bathroom, feeling his heart pounding on his chest. He was either going to find Dean hurt, Sam hurt, both of them hurt, Dean hurt and Sam possessed, or no trace at all of them. None of the outcomes were good.

The sight before him when John opened the door made his heart stop. Dean was sprawled out in the tub, unconscious. Blood caked the right side of his temple, some having trickled down to his ear. Along with that he had a bruised jaw and a bloody nose, like he'd been dropped a couple times. His face was towards John and John didn't think he'd ever get that horrible image out of his head. He looked so pale, so lifeless. John was shell shocked.

"Dean!" John yelled and rushed to his son's side, putting his pistol away as he did so. He knelt down beside Dean and felt for a pulse right away. Thank God there was one.

John took a moment to compose himself before he lightly began shaking Dean's shoulders. Dean was alive, but that didn't mean he was out of the woods yet. He was more than likely severely concussed and falling asleep during a concussion was a bad combination. "Dean, wake up." No answer, so John shook a little harder. "Come on, Dean. I need you to wake up for me." Still no answer. "DEAN!" John screamed this time out of frustration and worry. He felt so helpless.

This time, Dean stirred and let out a small moan. John held Dean's shoulders steady so he didn't move too quickly and startle himself. John couldn't describe the overwhelming relief in his heart. At least he was awake.

"Easy, Dean," John said in a comforting tone he hadn't used in a long time. "Take your time."

Finally, Dean's emerald green eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times and looked around. John could tell he was obviously confused and was trying to figure out where he was and why he was there. John could see the pain in his eyes and that was something Dean rarely showed.

"Dad?...what happened…where…" and then his eyes went more alert. "Sam, where's Sam? Dad, where's Sam?" He asked in a panic.

"Calm down, Dean," John told him in his stern, drill sergeant voice. He sadly knew Dean would respond to that voice instantly. John caught glimpse of Dean's gash out of the corner of his eye. It looked deep. "Let's get you stitched up first and then we can talk about what happened."

"But, Dad. Sam…Sam did this to me. We have to go find him; we have to get him. He's in troub—"

"Dean!" John yelled, stopping him as he tried to stand up. Dean stopped and looked helplessly at his father. "You're no good to Sam if you keep passing out on me. Let me stitch you up and you can tell me what happened. Then, as soon as you're good, we'll go after Sam, okay?"

With a sigh of defeat, Dean finally nodded. "Yes sir," he said, like he had a choice anyways. John nodded and then slowly hoisted Dean out of the tub, slinging one of Dean's arms around his shoulder and wrapping his arm around Dean's waist. John grunted as he lifted him; the boy was getting heavy.

"I can walk, Dad," Dean told him as soon as his feet hit the bathroom tile.

"You sure?" John asked him. Dean could be one stubborn S.O.B. sometimes. The apple didn't fall far from the tree.

"Yeah, Dad, I'm not a baby," Dean said, irritated. He shoved John off of him, took one step, and swayed. Luckily, John was there to catch him.

"How'd that walk go?" John asked as Dean slumped into him.

"Shut up," Dean responded and John began walking forward.

John helped Dean into the main room and sat Dean down at the edge of one of the beds. He instantly grabbed his first aid kit he kept hidden under the bed. He always had two: one to go with him and one to stay wherever Sam and Dean were. Just in case.

John unzipped the bag in front of him and quickly grabbed a sewing needle, bandages, disinfectant, cotton thread, and a small bowl to sterilize his tools, which he began to do right away. Stitching had become as easy as learning how to ride a bike for John. It was second nature to him. He'd done it enough, he knew exactly where everything was placed in the bag. Still though, stitching up one of his boys was never an easy thing for him.

First thing was first. Disinfectant.

"This is going to hurt like hell, Dean, so get ready," John told him.

"Yeah, I know the drill," Dean responded. It made John's heart hurt a little to hear him say that. His boy was used to being stitched up by his own father in dirty motel rooms. What kind of a father did that make him?

John began to very carefully pour the disinfectant across Dean's wound. Dean flinched, but otherwise made no other indication he was pain. After that was done, John took the sewing needle and thread and weaved it together. Dean closed his eyes, ready for the pain. Dean grunted as John poked the needle through his skin. He had to be careful not to mess up this time. He'd stitched plenty of heads in Nam, but this was different. This was Dean's head he was messing with.

"So tell me what the hell happened," John said as he continued to thread the needle through Dean's head. Talking would keep John less nervous and Dean less focused on the pain. It was a win for the both of them.

"I don't remember a lot," Dean said. "But, I remember seeing Sam walking towards me outside. He had a gun in his hand. He just came up and hit me and then everything was gone. I woke up in the room. He was talking to someone, Dad. He'd cut his arm and had bled into a bowl. I don't know who he was talking to, but it was no one good."

That made John stop midway through a stitch. He felt his blood run cold. "Sam's possessed," he said, more to himself than anything.

"Possessed by what? A ghost? What kind of ghost does that?"

"Did Sam react when he cut his arm?" John asked, ignoring Dean's question. He began to stitch faster now. He needed to find Sam.

"I didn't see him actually cut himself, but he didn't seem to be hurt at all. It looked like a substantial amount of blood. Dad, what's going on? What's wrong with Sam?"

John thought back to his conversation with Bill and the little research he'd done on his own. "What color were his eyes?"

"His eyes? Dad, what's going on? What do you know that you're not telling me?"

"Just answer the question, Dean!" John yelled, nearly messing up the second to last stitch. His heart had been beating a mile out of his chest since he got the call from Dean last night, but it seemed to only be intensifying. He was absolutely terrified for Sam's life.

"I…I don't know, Dad. He wasn't facing me. He was talking about someone named Lilith. He was saying how she was the key."

"The key to what?" John asked, trying to keep from screaming. Dean was out of it, couldn't remember much. It was killing John, though he knew it wasn't his fault. He needed to know where Sam was, needed to know what was going on with him. He needed to know now.

"I don't know. All I remember is him saying "the end." I blacked out, Dad. I don't know. I'm sorry."

Lilith was the key to the end. John remembered Bill telling him Lilith was the first demon created by Lucifer. She was a white-eyed demon, the most powerful demon in Hell. She was said to be trapped in Hell still, but now John wasn't so sure. John's head kept screaming demon. Oh God, what if it was a demon? How could a demon have taken control over Sam? How was John supposed to save Sam? What did it want with Sam? Was this somehow connected to Mary's death? Why was Lilith involved? The end to what?

John had finished the stitching and wiped the excess blood off Dean's face. His wound looked good and clean now, but John would still have to keep an eye on Dean. He was concussed and would probably be pretty touch and go for a while. He also had to make sure Dean's wound didn't get infected. John felt like his head was going to explode. All this was too much. He just wanted his Sammy back.

"All done," John said. "Can you trace Sam's cell phone?"

Dean shrugged. "I can try. Sam downloaded some mumbo-jumbo on his computer a while ago to trace cell phones. He showed me how to do it a few times. I'll give it a shot."

John nodded and brought Sam's laptop sitting on the end table and brought it to Dean. It was worth a shot. "Get on it."

"Dad, what the hell is going on?" Dean asked as he opened the laptop and began to work. "You looked freak to hell and I know you know something," Dean stated. John looked over at him now and saw the fear in Dean's eyes. John didn't want to tell him; he wanted to protect Dean. Demons would be a whole new level for the both of them. Dean wasn't ready for that; John wasn't even ready himself.

"Just search for the phone, Dean," John barked. "As soon as we find out where Sam is, I'll explain everything okay?"

Dean huffed, but didn't say anything and began typing furiously away at the computer. John started pacing back and forth around the room nervously. He tried calling Sam multiple times and looked around the room for any sort of hints while he waited. Of course, no answer from Sam and no indication anywhere in the room of where he could be. The only indication that anything was here was the strong smell of sulfur. Whatever was in control of Sam didn't want to be found.

"Aha! Got it!I kicked this computer's ass!" Dean yelled out of nowhere.

"What? Where's Sam?" John asked, instantly moving to Dean's side.

Dean squinted at the screen a few times; John was sure his head must be pounding. "Looks like he placed a call twenty minutes ago in... Evansville, Wyoming? How in the hell would he have gotten there so fast?"

"Let's get going," John said, ignoring Dean's comment. He had already started gathering up their things. Luckily, they were pretty much always ready to go at a moment's notice. "I'll make some calls along the way, or worse case we'll just figure it out when we get there, but right now the most important thing is we get there."

Dean stood up and stared at his father. He was pissed. And terrified. John could see it in his eyes. "Dad, I need you to tell me what in the hell is going on with Sam, and I need you to tell me right now. What's happening with my little brother?!"

John's face softened. Maybe at least some honesty would be better at this point. "As soon as we get in the car, Dean, I'll tell you. I promise. But what's going on with Sam, I don't know if we can stop it. We have no time to waste, so I really need you to stop arguing with me and just cooperate."

Dean's face went a few shades paler and for a moment he just continued to stare at his father. John could see Dean's body physically trembling. He seemed more focused, more alert. The full weight of the situation was hitting him now. He was scared for his brother's life.

"As soon as we get in the car then," Dean said quietly and then the two of them hurried as fast as they could to do just that.