"Coming to the house, was like walking in a dream. Everything was just as I remembered it, but infinitely changed. It wasn't a home any more, gutted of everything that had made it comfortable, safe.

Instead it was a tomb, the place Mary had been hidden away.

Missouri walked through the house and drew back the curtains."

John Winchester

The Fire Rages: Part 2

Missouri walked through the house, starting on the bottom floor, where the living room and kitchen sat. She walked on, touching the counters, cabinets, what remained of the couch. But it wasn't long until she headed up the stairs.

John held his breath, bitting his tongue. Missouri had insisted that he not saying, give her no more details, so that her impressions could be solely her own. Her dark hands ran up the banister as she took each step deliberately. Several times, she paused and closed her eyes, taking deep even breaths.

A few paces behind, John followed. His heart in his throat the whole time, his skin tingling with anticipation, and the stench of ash twitching at his nose. He hated being here, everything inside of him, all that old Marine stuff, told him that there was an enemy that had singled him out. And now...well, now it was war.

And he wasn't going to be taken unawares again. No where was safe and the battle lines were drawn in every home and in every shadow.

Missouri gasped, her hand reflexively pulling away from the banister as she reached the top.

"What?" he asked, coming up the steps at a double pace. "What is it?"

"It started here," she whispered breathless. "It..." she trailed off, shivering. "Evil. I've never felt anything like it. This isn't a poltergeist or a restless spirit. This is evil, unmitigated. And it was here with a purpose."

"Purpose?" John asked, on a hiccough of air.

But Missouri continued her search of the house and is drawn to Sammy's old nursery. John hesitated before following her. This room, with Mary pinned to the ceiling and Sammy crying, limbs flailing uselessly, had plagued his dreams for days and weeks. To walk in would be to acknowledge the nightmare as reality.

When Missouri walked into the charred remains of Sam's nursery, John was a step behind her. He knew that there was no turning back. He had a oath to up hold. He was going to find Mary's killer and make the damn...thing...pay.

Missouri's trembling morphed into out right uncontrollable spasms. Tears filled her dark brown eyes and she turned from side to side as though she were deflecting unseen attacks. John rushed to her side, wanting to get her out of her as though she too would burst into flames and be devoured as Mary had.

The psychic stopped him with an unsteady hand. "Don't touch me," she reminded him in that light voice that had dwindled to the sound of a summer's breeze.

John brought his hands to his sides and waited, his breath coming in agitated gasps, heart bounding unyielding in his chest. Everything feels magnified. His skin tingled, the smell of ash and smoke were so overpowering, that it churned his stomach, the crunch of each step sounded like the echo of thunder in his ear.

"It came here to kill Mary," Missouri whispered.

John gave a sob. Just one because any more then that and he wouldn't be able to stop. "Why?"

"I'm not sure," she answered sadly.

"What is it?" he all but growled.

She shook her head. "I wish I knew John."

"Then how do I find it?"

She sighed and lead him out of Sammy's old room. "John. Finding this evil, will take a lot of years. Years that will take sifting out a pattern and identifying it. You can't live like that if your going to protect your boys?"

"My boys?"

"It came for Mary," she said gravely. "But it killed her in your baby's room."

"But...but."

Suddenly, nothing else mattered but seeing his boys, holding them in his arms and making sure that they never became a part of his living nightmare. He started down the stairs at a run, tossing a quick murmured, "I've gotta go," over his shoulder and then running to his car.

It didn't matter that he had abandoned Missouri to the Winchester house, didn't matter that she'd have to call a cab or take the bus back to her house, all that did was that he had to see his boys.

He tore through the streets of Lawrence, ignoring tiny things like traffic lights and signs until he came to Mike and Kate's. He barreled through the door, dismissing Mike's call from the living room and took the stairs two at a time as he ran for the room that Dean and Sammy shared. He pushed the door open and came to a stuttered stop before the bed.

Dean slept curled up around Sammy, giving the baby warmth and protection unconsciously. And Sammy slept quietly, knowing his brother was there.

John slumped to the floor, his muscles becoming liquified in the intensity of his relief. He laid his head against the mattress and simply listened to the dual sounds of breathing.

The door creaked and Mike Guenther walked in, his stocky build just a shadow against the hall light. "John."

"Yea, Mike."

"I'm worried about you," his partner admitted. "You're talking to psychics now. You've never been a religious man, John. This just ain't normal." Mike paused, hoping for a defense. None came. "You haven't been to work since the accident," he continued.

"It wasn't an accident," John stated fiercely, rising to his feet. "Something killed her, Mike."

His old friend shook his head with an air of despair. "What, John? The bogeyman? This kind of talk isn't going to help your boys."

"I'm protecting the boys," he argued.

"Come back to work, John. The garage needs you," Mike pleaded.

"It's yours now, Mike. I don't need it any more."

He couldn't see Mike's face, but he was pretty sure that man's eyes bugged out of his head. "You're just going to leave it. Everything that you've worked for."

"That ain't my life any more," John admitted.

"John, if you don't stop this nonsense, I'm gonna have to call social services. Dean and Sammy, they don't have their momma any more, don't make they loose their daddy too."

The door creaked closed, leaving John alone with his boys in the dark.

In the wee hours of the morning, John set to pack the few things he had recovered from the house. Toys for both Dean and Sammy. Bottles, Dean's sip-cup, a duffle of clothes. His .45. It wasn't much, but they wouldn't need much on the road. He took all the money that Mike had in his wallet and Kate had kept in her purse, raided the safe, and signed over the garage to Mike's name.

He called Missouri and apologized for abandoning her. Then he questioned her on how to find the thing that killed his wife. She answered them all and gave him a name. Bobby Singer.

He didn't ask how she got it. It didn't matter.

Missouri asked him to keep in touch and he promised he would.

Somewhere around four in the morning, he nudged Dean awake and explained that they had to be extra quiet. Dean nodded and picked up baby Sammy, holding his brother with the clear intention of never letting him go.

They tip toed down the stairs, Dean watching John's every movement and doing his best to emulate him. Reaching the car, Dean refused to let go of Sammy, so John belted them in the front seat next to him, flinging the duffle into the baby seat. Dean didn't ask questions, just instinctually trusted his daddy.

John took heart in this.

They stopped once before heading out of Lawrence, picking up maps of South Dakota, donuts and Coke for breakfast, and formula for Sammy at a convenient store, before heading out to the road.

John switched on the radio and music filled the Impala.

Ring Of Fire

Love is a burning thing
and it makes a firery ring
bound by wild desire
I fell in to a ring of fire...

I fell in to a burning ring of fire
I went down, down, down
and the flames went higher.
And it burns, burns, burns
the ring of fire
the ring of fire.

The taste of love is sweet
when hearts like our's meetI fell for you like a child
oh, but the fire went wild..

I fell in to a burning ring of fire