Thanks so much to everyone who takes time to review. I think sometimes we get so caught up in reading as much fanfic as we can (and I am so guilty!) that we forget that writers desperately wait for reviews and feedback to know if their baby is being received, if people are getting what you're trying to put out there. Long, thought out reviews are just fantastic but even a short line or two to say you liked it, what you liked, and that you're comin' back are super. And if you have any critique, by all means, lay it on me.

As always, thanks to Mai - the shizz of betas -- and Kate who always lets me know if what's in my head is coming out in the story. MWAH!

On with the show.....

Firefly 'Verse – Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

Chapter 4

By: Suz Mc

Dean's stone face baffled his brother. All Sam wanted to do was get into that room and make this all stop. Emily's fury was exploding around her as she screeched out words so angry that they no longer made sense. It was big and loud and too much for her little body.

But Dean was the father here. He called the shots. If it had been Dean out in that junkyard facing Emily's questions and heartbreak, maybe she wouldn't be caught up in the tantrum. If this had been bottled up inside her, no wonder her dreams where terrifying. It had been fighting its way out and here it was.

She was crying now, long streaks of tears flooding down her bright red cheeks. Her foot came down hard on one of the chunks of color and it rolled beneath one pink sneaker to send her feet flying out from under her. The thud rumbled under their feet when her backside hit the floor and the light bulb in her lamp exploded in a brilliant flash of angry light.

The sudden realization struck Sam as the fragments of glass piled up on the nightstand. Emily's fury had done that. It wasn't because she was threatened or frightened. She was angry and that anger had been enough to make the light so bright and hot that it broke glass.

Good God.

There was a slight breeze as Dean moved past Sam's shoulder and rushed into the room to kneel in front of Emily. She was sobbing and gasping for air, shaking against the violent emotions.

"Talk to me, Emily." He didn't move to hold her, just let her live in the moment so she could let it out.

"That thing. Black smoke monster. Burned mama up. Hurt me!" Choppy bursts of words punched out of her mouth like she had to spit them out fast.

"I know."

"That Lindsey. Hate her guts! Said--she said—"

Her words broke into the rapid fire hiccups you get when you're a kid and you cry so hard there's no room for air.

"Tell me. What did she say?" Dean's voice was calm and still, soaking up all of Emily's rage. He seemed to steady the entire room with the anchor of his body on the floor in front of one furious broken child. Dean knew what to do. Always did know what to do for other people.

Dean had been that child and Sam couldn't help but wonder if a four year old Dean had raged this same way against the cruelty that broke his world apart all those years ago. Maybe he had. Maybe Dean had stomped and yelled in front of John Winchester on the carpet of some ratty motel room while baby brother had lain on the bed without a clue as to what had happened. Maybe that Dean was here now, comforting himself in some small way.

Emily grasped the spot on her left arm that was mangled by the fire before her weirdo heavenly grandpa had healed it. "Squeezed me—hurt me—said don't talk—burn eyes out—want her to cry--hate her!"

"You have every right to be mad as hell. Be mad, Emily."

"HATE THEM! MAKE THEM HURT AND BURN AND DIE!!!!"

The words faded off into a wild guttural scream up into the air.

Burn. It made a cold spot leak into Sam's chest to hear her say it with such a furious punch behind it.

Emily's body was trembling with the force of furious screaming and Dean's hand reached out to grab her and yank her close to his chest. Sam watched as the little girl briefly fought against the embrace and Dean held her with a fierce grip. She gave into the touch in seconds, latching onto Dean with arms and legs in a panicked attempt to hold onto him. It was like a drowning person clinging so hard to her rescuer that they could easily be dragged under together.

"It's okay, baby. Let it out." He was rocking her now, slowly back and forth in time with the sounds of her sobbing.

"Kill--them!"

"They're gone. I swear."

"Want—my—mama!"

"I know."

"Want—to—go—home!"

"I'm so sorry. I love you."

Sam didn't want to be watching this, but it felt like a betrayal, an abandonment to leave them. They were his family. They needed him to guard the door from any threat while they were vulnerable. It wasn't a rational motivation but it was his job at the moment. He kept his place there, watching Emily grieve and beg and Dean fight to stay calm and soothe Emily's rage. Dean's voice could do it but his eyes couldn't hold in the tear that ran down his face when the little girl's hand slid under his sleeve, grabbing for the fiery handprint on his flesh.

"Don't—leave me—please—don't." She was running out of air and energy and her body went limp, no fight or anger left to move her.

One arm closed tightly around Emily's back and Dean flattened his own hand over hers, pressing it harder against the mark. He got to his feet, kicking broken crayons out of the way so he could move around the room and rock her back to calm.

"I'm not leaving you, ever. You don't have to be afraid. I'm here."

As the storm passed, Sam quietly reached in and pulled the door shut. They'd be okay for now.

***

"Did you see that? Can't you see how much pain she's in?"

John Winchester knew one thing. He'd always had a weak spot for a blonde. The first time he laid eyes on Mary, all golden and brilliant, he knew he'd packed his balls away in favor of her wishes. She'd asked him to take her away and he'd tried, just because she'd asked. Shouldn't have stopped under that bridge, though. Should have kept going and driven them off into the sunset and maybe it would have all been Disney and apple pie.

"I know you care about her. I know it!" Her voice was more agitated and less plaintive than the last time she'd followed him. "You wouldn't be watching if you didn't."

Watching. He'd avoided it since he'd gotten here. Even a newbie in paradise had sense enough to know peering down at what you left behind was a bad idea. They warned you when you arrived. Your time on that side of the veil was over, but they weren't cruel about it. The ones who'd been patiently waiting for you to show up just embraced you and tried to guide you into the other state of being.

But unlike his first shot at the afterlife of the damned, you had choices here. You couldn't go wandering down back to earth without being gifted with the celestial whammy, but you could look if you wanted. The delightfully invisible powers in charge of this joint were even kind enough to offer comfy viewing areas where you could perch in the perfect setting of your choosing to spy on the human beings you'd left behind. Nice of them.

Even if it was a bad, bad idea.

John shoved himself off the rough mountainside he'd selected as his own view master. He'd let her pester him into this bullshit. He walked past her, trying to use silence as his answer to her relentless nagging.

"How can you just walk away from this when you can do something to help her?"

She was following him now and he was kind of impressed with her ability to keep up. He moved a bit faster, taking care to watch his step as he fit his wide boots down the narrow trail. You certainly couldn't die from a fall here, but it would still hurt. The hurt in his chest was enough to handle at the moment. That was the bad part of this bad idea of watching.

Emily's violent tirade could have been a mirror of one he rode out with his own four year old son. Dean's fragile hold on his emotions had held until Christmas Eve. He'd been the brave big brother until his mind and body refused to hold it in anymore. The cool breeze biting against John's face felt the same as that night he'd chased Dean across a dismal hotel parking lot and dragged his son back to their room so he could kick and scream until he passed out from the effort. A smashed artificial Christmas tree took the place of shredded paper and snapped crayons. It went on for months and months. The fury suddenly exploding out of Dean's little body and the nightmares full of fire that jolted him awake.

John had avoided looking at the dark circles smeared underneath his little boy's eyes. They were a constant reminder of his own inability to fix anything, including himself. Maybe Dean understood things a little better now. Now that he was the dad trying to explain the unexplainable. Trying to heal wounds that couldn't be healed.

"Damn you, John! Answer me!"

Her grip was strong and when she grabbed at his sleeve it took all of his strength to keep them from tumbling down the mountainside. It put him face to face with her as they both grappled to stay upright. John had been able to avoid looking her in the eye until now which was the last line of defense. That was pretty much shot to hell after he steadied her and looked down into her face.

Damn blondes.

"I've used up my hall pass this time, so I'm not sure what you expect me to do, sweetheart."

He knew he should have kept this conversation one sided so she'd get over this notion that he could reach down and suddenly scoop out Emily's pain so she'd be free. The second he started talking, he knew he was a goner.

"You can do something. I know you can." She grabbed his hand and any hope he had of unpacking his nuts went out the window. "Just give her some peace. Just for tonight. Please?"

Pretty please with sugar on top. That's what she was really saying with that desperate look, clinging to his hand and pleading for one night of rest for a little girl. She knew the score. Knew that once that angel had given him the juice to walk around on the planet, the residuals were there to stay. No, he couldn't beam down to Singer Salvage and have a beer, but there were other options.

"One night isn't going to make a difference." John didn't pull his hand away, just held it still so she could hold on. She seemed to need it right now. "We need to stay out of this."

"She's just a baby and she's so scared. If I could do it, I would."

It was a huge lie that there wasn't crying in Heaven. Maybe not in baseball, but there was definitely crying here. She was weeping those mother's tears and pressed his hand against her cheek so he had to feel them, too. Then she was on her knees, holding his hand in her small ones like she was trying to kiss his ring or something equally subservient.

"Please, I'm begging you! She's your granddaughter and you held her in your arms. You took her wound away and I know you want to help. I'll do anything. I won't bother you again, I swear. Just this once." She clung to his hand, refusing to let go until she'd sucked all of his defenses dry.

"Get up." He kept his voice harsh and annoyed while he gently lifted her to her feet. "I'll do it. Once."

Her blonde hair spread out under his chin and she hugged him in relief. He let her stay there for a while, understanding that he should have just said yes hours ago and saved them both the drama.

"Thank you, John. I knew you'd do this for her." She gasped out a little hiccupping sob as he pulled her away and started them back down the path.

"Just once. I mean it."

And he did mean it. No amount of blonde power or tragic memory of his own failed fathering was going to get him to break that promise. One night then it was back to business as usual. The living were going to have to handle the living and the blonde would have to get with the program.

But Calley wasn't crying anymore and that made the trek down the mountain a great deal more pleasant than the hike upward as she'd trailed him begging and pleading the entire way.

"Now I want something from you in return, girl." He kept his eyes focused on the trail, knowing they didn't have to keep walking. He could just imagine them back in the corner he called home, but that would take away the precious time he needed to come up with a cover story.

"Anything." Calley's voice was hopeful now, like he'd taken a load of bricks off her back.

"Don't tell Mary."

TBC