Revelations

by everfaithful

Preseries: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned... as John and the boys find out the hard way. Again...still playing with other peoples toys...

10. Chapter 10

Three years later...

John took another swig of the tequila, wincing as Dean stitched up a knife wound on his back. Damn spirit started throwing knives. He was doing good until the final one. But at least that was done, burned and salted. One more laid to rest.

And he was no closer to the yellow eyed demon than he had been before. Didn't stop him from searching, from researching. At dragging his boys across the country back and forth.

He supposed it was harder on Sammy, having to uproot all the time. Dean, he flourished. Half the time he couldn't wait to leave, but usually by that time his mouth had gotten him in trouble or he had hit on the wrong girl.

And neither remembered, thank god.

Dean, when he'd finally awoken, couldn't remember even being taken. His head had been hit hard enough to wipe it clean away. Sam, he and Bobby...well...they'd given him drugs and basically hypnotized him into believing it was all a very bad dream. He'd been young enough that it had worked.

John was fine. He looked over his shoulder for Maggie a lot. But less now. And sometimes he couldn't help but see his youngest in perfect strangers. But if Maggie couldn't find Ben, he knew he didn't stand a chance. And it was safer for Jack anyway.

Twelve wasn't such a bad age to be. He could go and do things on his own now. Usually that meant heading to the library, he wasn't as quick to make friends as Dean. So when he did, it hurt more to leave them behind. He would lie and make up stories and write letters to some of them. Stories about how his dad was working at a great job, how he was in the band that year or was thinking about playing foot ball or soccer or something else normal and mundane. Dean had his own life going now, girls, doing odd jobs to make money to support Girls… and he was getting his driver's license that weekend. Sam knew about the surprise their father had for him if he passed the test, and he was excited about it, so he was glad that Dean had things to do to keep him busy other wise Sam could never have kept it a secret.

Sam delivered papers in the mornings before going to school. It was something he could ditch easily if they had to move again. But that kept Sammy in his own habits. Movies and books. Although he didn't buy much in the way of books. They took up too much space in the Impala when they had to move. There was a small library in the shopping mall across the street from the pay by week hotel they were living in. It was right next door to the pet store too, so he would spend his free time there. Go to see the occasional movie (comedy was his favorite but action was good too), check out a few books, then stop by the pet store to play with the puppies in the window. All of which he did on his own. Careful to be home by 6 when his father came home, Both boys were there when John got off work, and working on dinner. It was the routine and Sam didn't mind.

"There you go." Dean said, handing his father his shirt. Caleb had taught him how to suture, and it was something he was doing a lot of, he had to say. Saved visits to the ER where questions would be asked. "Still don't see why I need to take a road test, I've been driving since I was ten."

"Because I said so." John said. Because it was the one rite of passage he could give his boys. He had no fear of Dean failing the test, he was a good driver. And an even better defensive/offensive driver. All he needed to do was drive in a straight line and parallel park, it would be a breeze.

Sam came in the door at 5 minutes to 6. "Dad, you're back!" He said as he set aside his school books, library books, and took off his coat that was now covered in dog and cat hair. He looked his father over quickly with a practiced eye. One wound. Okay, all was well with the world still, no signs of packing, no signs of gearing up to go out again. "Got it I see."

"That I did." John said and sat back as the boys worked on throwing dinner together. And proceeded to tell them all about the hunt. Sounded like story time to a casual listener, a 'what I did today' type of thing. But it was training. They had to be trained for what they were facing, because they knew what was out there. Just like he did. And it was something he could pass onto both his sons, since Sam showed no interest in cars, much to John's dismay.

Dean on the other hand, could put together a carburetor nearly as well as he could. So whenever John got a temp job in a garage, Dean usually got a job as well. Both his boys had a good work ethic, in spite of the lifestyle they were leading.

Sam asked questions, he knew it was training, but at the same time it was cool. It was absolutely cool what his father did. He was a hero. Sam didn't want to be that sort of hero, but it was amazingly cool that his father was, and that his brother was going to be one day. "So we have this school dance coming up next week and they want me to help with stuff. It's on Friday and I wouldn't be home until after 9 that day…" he said looking between his father and his brother, wondering which one would say no first. It was frustrating but he had to try.

Dean cast a look at his father. "I'm working that night." He said. Which meant he wouldn't be able to keep an eye on Sam anyway. John sighed.

"Fine. Nine thirty at the latest you get to the garage." John said. "If he's not there, Dean, you go haul him out of wherever he is." Because even when he compromised, John's word was law.

"Really?" Sam asked, very much excited. "Thanks!" He said and hurried from the kitchen to the living room where he picked up the phone and started to dial. "Hello, Sir, can I speak with Carrie please?" He said into the phone.

John raised an eyebrow. " Carrie?" He asked Dean with an almost smile. So that was why he was so head up to go to a junior high dance.

"Yup. Carrie." Dean said with a grin himself, and a nod. It was good his brother was taking interest in girls, it was normal. Finally, something normal instead of all that reading and studying he always did. Which, granted, was why Sam got better grades than Dean did. Dean didn't see the point, he knew what he was going to do, and it didn't even require a high school diploma.

"Hmm." John said in a pleasantly surprised tone. Things were looking up for his middle son. He was starting to worry that Sam was being stunted socially. He guessed he could relax on that point. "You know anything about her? Are they… you know…boyfriend and girlfriend? Is this a first date situation here?" He really was interested in his sons' lives, and it was hard to have to sit here and ask Dean about Sam's life but there was so little time when he was home it seemed.

"You want me to spy on Sammy?" Dean asked with a chuckle as he handed John his plate. "Okay. She's the youngest of two children, blonde, I know they've gone to the arcade before. Think this might be a real date-date. Boyfriend-girlfriend? Dad, they're twelve. Sammy! Dinner." Not that it was an order to get off the phone, just a reminder to get it while it was warm or don't complain later.

John chuckled. "I don't know you had your first girlfriend at 13." He pointed out. "Not so different, 12 and 13. " He said, and let the subject drop as Sam came back into the room.

Dinner passed much as the preparation had, talking about their days, school, poltergeists, and the plans for the next week. Afterwards, John let the boys clean up while he started researching the next case

"So… is this one of those things I need to give her flowers for?" Sam asked his older brother. Dean was good with girls. He should know these things.

"Oh yeah." Dean said. "At twelve, well, it's more to make a good impression on the father." Later, it was to make a good impression on the girl, so other things were more likely to happen. But even twelve was too young to consciously plan that! "I don't know, the florist at the grocery store's a good one to ask, that's what I do when I need to do stuff like that. So Sammy's got a date, huh?"

Sam blushed but he was grinning from ear to ear. "Yeah. I have a date. I'm glad Dad didn't freak about me wanting to be out late. " Sometimes he thought his father thought that he was still 6. Although he had gotten a fair amount of training in the past three years. He could shoot almost as well as Dean, and was really good at sneaking into places now. Research was still what he was best at, because he looked at that as helping his father and brother do their hero thing. He never saw himself as the hero type at all. And that was fine with him.

"Well look at that. Sammy's growing up." Dean said with a chuckle as they did the dishes. He was in his pudgy phase right now, but it was good to see him branching out. Dean had never been pudgy. He had been scrawny. And shorter than everyone else. He'd broadened out, and though he'd never be a giant, had caught up to everyone else in his grade, finally. "Nah, I kinda knew he wouldn't." Because he knew John had been worried about Sam being a recluse or something. Like John, come to think of it. "Don't forget to stop by the garage so I can tease you mercilessly in front of the other guys."

"I won't forget. I gotta walk Carrie home after the dance but she only lives like 5 blocks from the school so that won't take me long. " He said. He had been surprised that she had said yes, to be honest. He wasn't the best looking guy in his class no matter how much he wished he was. Definitely wasn't popular. But she was kind of like him in a way. Sort of the outsider at school, although Sam had no idea why. She was absolutely beautiful as far as he was concerned. When she smiled it made everything seem a little brighter. And hey, you couldn't complain about a girl who liked to play video games.

"Just a warning, if you're going to kiss her, don't do it on the porch. Her father will most likely be on the other side of the door, and our father's not the only one who likes to keep his shotgun handy." Dean said with a laugh as he dried the last of the dishes and put them away.

"Dean!" He exclaimed and blushed deeply. "I'm not going to kiss her… at least not where anyone else would know." He added the last under his voice. He knew that you didn't kiss and tell and kissing where anyone else could see was the same thing as telling.

"Good man." Dean said with a laugh. "Come on, let's go see what Dad'll let us do tonight." Sometimes he took them on reconnaissance, other times it was weapons training. Either way, Dean thought it was a great time.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I have homework but I can put it off a little while longer." He preferred the research, but he liked the weapons training. Better still the unarmed combat training. He had blown off his homework at the mall that day because Carrie had been there, and he wanted to have fun instead. Now he was going to have to pay for it. Somehow work in training, homework AND enough sleep before 5 when he had to get up to go get his papers to deliver for that morning.

Dean didn't have those kind of choices. Technically he did, but he just chose to not do the homework instead. Freed up more time for other things. Like Girls. The Hunt. Cars. Yeah, his life was quickly starting to circle in on three fixations, but he didn't see that as a bad thing.

But they went to the living room area where their father was modifying a couple of weapons. It was amazing what he could do with a simple rifle, really.

Sam sat down on the floor and watched his father work. Their relationship was so hit and miss. Sometimes they were close, and others it seemed like it was a race to see who would want to kill the other first. Lately they had been good. Sam liked where they were. It was comfortable, clean, and secure. He liked his school, had a friend that looked to be turning into a girlfriend, and his father was letting him have a little more freedom. Which was good since Dean wasn't always around to be his best friend anymore.

He saw the way Dean looked at his father. It was scary. Not in that something bad kind of way, but scary in that it was so powerful. The bond between Dean and their father was powerful. John was Dean's hero. Not his role model (he was that too) but his Hero. Superman didn't hold a candle to his father in Dean's eyes, and it was obvious. John was comfortable with Dean, and anyone who knew John Winchester knew how impressive that was. John wasn't comfortable with himself much less anyone else. Sam felt small in the face of that bond. Felt like he existed outside it all. He felt loved. He felt wanted and needed. But he felt small. When things weren't going well between them, Sam felt like an outsider looking in.

But things were good now, and he sat on the floor cross legged in front of his father. "Is there another hunt you are researching?" He asked taking out his book bag and opting to do his homework while talking to his father.

"I hope to hit it in two weeks. When the moon is right." John said and explained the phases of the moon and their effects on different aspects of the supernatural. How some things had to be timed right. How preparation was so important when your life was on the line, and those you were trying to protect. He didn't see much difference between what he did now, and what he did as a Marine. Of course, the USMC paid, and this didn't.

Dean watched his father, and listened, absorbing and committing to memory everything he heard. Unlike Sam, school never grabbed him. Whether or not he could calculate the area of an isosoles triangle was so small in the face of the rest of his life, when his father would take them on the hunt. Dean was more involved than Sam was, being older. But that grabbed him. The research, the weapons, the fight, the fact that at the end of the day, the world was a little bit safer because his father stood a post.

Sam listened as he did his homework. He was able to commit things to memory, what he figured he might forget he scribbled onto paper and tucked into the back of his notebook to put in his journal later. Two weeks was good. It meant he could still go to the dance, the hunt wasn't going to interfere with that. He asked questions about where his father had found the information and how he had put it all together. It wasn't that he was second guessing, he just wanted to know.

Sam had always wanted to know. Didn't matter what it was. Secrets, thought processes, feelings, nothing was safe from his curiosity.

At 9 he excused himself to call it a night. 5am came early. That was why he showered in the mornings. To get himself awake as much as clean.

Dean scrimped on sleep as much as he did homework, and slept through his classes anyway to catch up. So it was no surprise when he got lectured by a teacher after his last class on how science class wasn't for nap time. He figured though, unless they were discussing the chemical properties of salt and why it repels evil, he didn't really need to know. He already knew about combustibles from his father anyway. Covalent bonds held no interest.

So he headed to the garage and put on his coveralls. At least here he could lose himself for a bit before explaining to his dad why he had Saturday detention now. It was hard sometimes, with Sam being such a stellar student and Dean being such a screw up.

The van pulled into the garage parking lot and honked. They were supposed to make this as obvious a hit as possible. Make it look as though they were sending a message. They supposed they were. Just not one that was ever meant to be understood. So they drew as much attention to themselves as possible. It was a small town, there wouldn't be a cop around to interfere, they would be out of town before the cops ever had a chance to ask the first question. They honked once more, knowing that low man on the totem pole would be the one to come out to see what was needed.

"Yeah, yeah, hold your horses." Dean said, coming out, wiping his hands on a rag which he shoved into his back pocket. "What can I do for you?" He asked the man in the driver's seat as a couple of others got out of the sliding door on the other side. He waved off his boss, he had this, and his boss nodded and ducked back into the office.

"It's making a funny sound."

"Funnier than blaring your horn in the garage?" Dean asked.

The man made a face at him as the others grabbed him. Things got knocked over, bringing attention to them as his boss and a few other mechanics came out to see what was going on. But they didn't have a chance to help Dean as he was dragged kicking and punching into the plateless van, which peeled out of the garage.

The boss went to the phone and immediately called the police. John was on a parts run to another garage...they'd draw straws later to see who would tell him.

They drove the van out of town, all the while struggling to keep a thrashing Dean under control enough not to cause them to crash. They forced him to change clothes, completely, dressing in what they had brought for him, then bound his hands behind him. They didn't acknowledge his commentary, didn't even offer to shut his mouth for him. They didn't care what he had to say, didn't care how much he yelled or struggled. They just kept walking through the field toward the back road, and the waiting car. He was shoved into the floor boards of the back seat, and one of his abductors sat in the seat watching him.

They were ignoring his carefully crafted pithy one liners. They were basically ignoring him. And that bothered him. After all, kidnapping was supposed to be a highly personal thing, right? He'd been kidnapped before, just not like this. Well, maybe a little like this, but he was a lot younger then, younger than Sam actually. And they wouldn't let him see anything but the floor boards or the roof, and the man in the backseat with him was also ignoring him.

This sucked.

John returned with the parts from the warehouse and the mood was...off. Right behind him were the police. Which set off his antlers right away.

"Hey, where's Dean?" He asked jovially, ignoring the cops, ready to get his son out of there.

Marvin, his boss, stepped forward, basically being stuck with the duty by virtue of being in charge. "Now, John… there has been some trouble. Dean has…" he sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets uncomfortably as he shifted positions, "Dean has been kidnapped. Right here, right in front of the shop. We called the police right away but it happened so fast we didn't have a chance to get out here to him before they were in the van driving off."

Johns blood ran cold. "Did you see what they looked like?" He asked, god not again, please not again. Not Maggie again. Why won't she just leave my boys alone. He took out the cell phone, a new investment, since they were no longer clunky beasts and called the library. "Yes, I'm looking for my son." He said and gave a description. "Sam is there every day, is he there now?" He asked as he started to pace and his knees nearly gave way beneath him in relief hearing that his son was still there. "Tha- thank you… no." He said interrupting the woman's praise of his younger son. "No just tell him to stay put till I get there. It might be a while but stay put. Don't let him leave with anyone but me… Oh you'll know it's me. " He said and hung up.

He swore and lashed out at the nearest inanimate object, then leaned against it, running a hand down his face trying to sort out who could have done this if it weren't Maggie. This wasn't her style. She would have called him herself, shown up in the truck beside him with a lock of Dean's hair. He thought he was going to be sick… this was a human type attack, but there was no reason for a human to want his son.

John brushed off any words of possible comfort from his coworkers and stared through the police when they came to question him. His son had been taken. He had no idea where Dean was, or who would have taken him. Or why. No, Dean wouldn't run away. No, Dean wasn't mixed up in a bad crowd. And Dean absolutely did not do any drugs. He repeated the answers over and over, his voice becoming increasingly numb.

"Excuse me." He said at one point. "I have to get my other son." Before someone made off with him.

"Just a few more questions." The officer said, sizing John up. "Do you have any enemies yourself, Mr. Winchester?"

"No one that would want to take my boy." John lied. At least none of the human ones and those were the only ones the law would believe existed. "Hit on the wrong guy's wife sort of thing, not the sort of bastard that would take it out on a 16 year old boy." Not that John made a habit of hitting on married women but he had to throw them a bone. "Now my 12 year old is waiting for me at the library. I need to get him home… " He couldn't hide his emotions this time. Couldn't bring up the mask completely. It was this that made the officer decide to let the questioning go for now.

He double checked the address and phone number, then let John go on his way. He couldn't blame the man for wanting to protect the son he had left.

John wasted no time pulling up in front of the library, and stalking inside. Sam was standing at the counter with a pretty blonde girl, who smiled sweetly, at first, seeing John.

"Dad?" Sam asked. He couldn't remember ever seeing that expression on his fathers face before. He looked angry, but he also looked shaken. "What's wrong?"

"We'll talk in the car." John said curtly, and his younger son quickly told his girlfriend good bye and followed his father out the library doors

"Are we moving again?" Sam asked, thinking it was something to do with the last hunt. It always seemed to work that way. Just when he was starting to fit in, this would happen. "Did something follow you home?"

John said nothing as he got behind the wheel of the Impala. The car he was going to give over to Dean when he took his driving test… and closed his eyes and sighed, he didn't need a fight with Sam. Not now. "Dean's been kidnapped." He said bluntly as he started the car. When Sam started asking questions with that tone of voice there was no point in trying to ease into something, no point in beating around the bush he wouldn't hear anything you had to say.

Sam paled. "When? Who?" He asked swallowing hard. "Is… is she back?" He asked in an almost whisper.

"I don't know." Was all John could say as he pulled out of the parking lot.

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The car pulled onto a dirt road, it was easy to tell by the sound the tires made on the gravel. They traveled a little further and pulled into a building. Something Dean could only assume was a barn somewhere. This suspicion was confirmed as he was pulled from the back seat and taken up to the hay loft.

There were others standing there looking at him, as though he were some sort of zoo exhibit. "He'll do nicely." One of them said

"That's good to hear." Dean said, trying to rub his head. He was going to have a nice knot there, but he'd had worse. Hell, girls had given him worse. Punks. He looked around, he felt like he was in the middle of a circus, and everyone was waiting for him to do some sort of special act.

A man stepped forward. "You can call me Joshua." He said looking Dean over with a strange sort of contempt. As though he knew him from somewhere. "How comfortable or difficult your life becomes, is all based on my wishes. I suggest you cultivate my good opinion. " He said and motioned for them to bring Dean closer to the edge of the hay loft.

He opened the door of a wooden cage. A cube of wooden slats on all 6 sides. It was the sort of thing that looked as though with the right effort Dean could kick it apart. "The first thing you need to do, is get into the cage. "

Dean looked at Joshua for a long moment, god he seemed familiar somehow...but Dean couldn't place him. Then he looked at the rickety cage. And backed up. "Uh, yeah. What's option number two? Hoping that includes a beach, some lounge chairs...really cute girls..."

"You aren't earning my good opinion, Dean. Get into the cage, or you can spend the duration dangling by your wrists." Joshua said in an unnaturally calm tone. He wasn't going to tolerate the boys disobedience. He anticipated it but he wasn't going to tolerate it.

Okay, dangling by his wrists could be problematic, Dean realized. Would deprive him of two very important appendages he might have to use to get out of this mess. But that cage was the last place he wanted to go. It didn't look very steady and it was a long drop to the pounded dirt floor of the barn. A very hard pounded dirt floor.

But, with obvious trepidation, he got into the cage. Which they then shut and locked, and raised higher.

This was not good at all.

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Sam followed his father into the little suite of rooms they rented at the hotel. "What do we do first?" Sam asked, certain that his father would have all the answers. John always knew what to do. Always knew where to go. Sam was finding himself hoping that it really was Maggie again. She was nuts, and a demon, but at least she wouldn't kill him. She never seemed to want to kill them which was weird in and of itself but it was … well… some kinds of weird were easy to deal with compared to the sort of weird that would just take someone to hurt them.

"I don't know." John said and sank into a chair, staring at the floor, even though he wasn't seeing it. Who ever had taken Dean had wanted it known. They had wanted it to be obvious. They would call or they would deliver a message. If they were keeping him alive. Silence didn't bode well, and so far things had been very quiet.

Sam stood there staring at his stricken father. It was an image that Sam didn't remember seeing. But Dean would have known that look. It was the one that had been on his father's face for weeks after their mother had been killed. "Dad… we have to start looking. Any where… do something, please.."

John was out of the chair and across the room when the knock came at the door. He had it open mid second knock, face hopeful and defeated at the same time. This wasn't supernatural. This wasn't something he knew how to fight.

"Mr. Winchester, what was your son wearing today when he left the house?" The police officer standing there asked him, and John scowled. He had answered that question before. But he answered it again, sure that the man was just doing his job, which was trying to find his son, and apparently if he was standing here asking about apparel he had no more clue how to do it than John did. "Is this your son's shirt?" He asked holding out a plastic bag with the familiar well worn shirt within.

John nodded. "His favorite." He looked at it in horrified confusion, why was he looking at his son's shirt? Then he blanched. They had taken Dean's clothing from him, and the best case scenario he could think of was that they wanted to limit how easily he was identified as they traveled. Other things that crossed his mind… well… John knew how to hide the bodies.

The policeman nodded. "We found it off the road." He said. "Now, I just need to go over your son's schedule. You say he keeps a regular schedule?"

John nodded, having to sit down. "School. Work. Home." He said numbly. "Sometimes he goes and hangs out with some friends of his, things like that. He's supposed to take his road test this weekend." Again, the policeman nodded.

"Are you married?" The policeman asked.

"Widowed." John said. It still hurt to say that. "Their mother died when Dean was four." He rubbed his face, his wedding ring glinting in the light before he clasped his hands in his mouth.

"You and your son here need to stay where we can get a hold of you." The policeman said, taking into the account that they were living in an efficiency motel. But the place was clean and stocked with food, and the remaining boy looked healthy. "And if anyone calls you, let us know."

John nodded. "Will do." He said as the policeman left.

Sam watched his father with wide eyes from his chair. He'd never seen his father so...lost. Or a single moment when John wasn't in control, and didn't know what to do. Until now. He went into the small kitchen and started making dinner. He had to do something or he was going to go insane. This was not something he was prepared to deal with. Dean was always the strong one when something was wrong. He was the one that held everyone together while Dad formulated the plan. But his dad wasn't formulating any plans. He was falling apart. He was being a normal father, not the man that Sam had known his whole life.

He wanted to know what they were going to do, wanted to know how to find his brother or what sort of monster had taken him, but the thing was, Sam was starting to think it was the human kind that had taken him, and it was hard to track people. He wanted to reassure his Dad that everything would be okay, like Dean would do, but he couldn't. Because he wasn't sure it would be.

The two remaining Winchesters picked at their food in silence. No one spoke, no one turned on the TV or the radio. Neither was hungry. Their food settled like rocks and all they could do was wonder if Dean were hungry… if he were alive to be hungry. If he were hurting and waiting for them to come for him and save him. Sam looked up at his father, still very much spooked by the despairing man that sat in his fathers chair. "So when are we going out looking for clues?" Sam asked as he cleared away the dishes before they could feel guilty for what little they did eat.

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They started cleaning the floor of the barn, laughing and talking as though preparing for a party rather than something serious. Still ignoring their guest dangling above. They discussed the upcoming ritual and the importance of it all.

Dean laid down on the floor of the cage. It wasn't a very large cage, so he was curled up on his side. But his ear was pressed in one of the spaces between the slats. Listening. Grabbing onto any piece of information he could. They were talking about rituals and ceremonies. He didn't get where he fit into it. But he was listening. And he was hungry. He had to pee also. This was turning out into one bad, bad day.

"Hey!" He called down, and was ignored. "Hey!" He said again and one spared him a glance before turning away. "I gotta piss. Either you give me something to piss in or I'm pissing on you." He was hoping they continued to ignore him. That could actually be a form of payback actually.

The rest of the group looked at Joshua. None of them actually wanted to be urinated on. They didn't need urine from him.

Joshua sighed. "No threats from you, Dean. You lose control of your bladder, I will be forced to punish you. You can hold it until its convenient. You don't have long to wait." He said and continued about his business. He didn't know if Dean would follow his orders or not. Didn't particularly care. But he would pay if he didn't. No one disobeyed Joshua.

"Yeah, fine. Thanks for acknowledging that I'm hanging out with you all." Dean said. "But seriously, I haven't pissed since fifth period. I'm going to blow. I've have seven pepsis and three coffees. You really want to challenge my bladder to a pissing contest?" He did have to go, and he wasn't above pissing on them either.

"Don't be vulgar." Joshua said as they began to set up the ritual. Far enough away from Dean so that if he showed poor self control it wouldn't defile anything. He nodded and two of his people went up to the loft and began to lower the cage to the loft level and pulled it over onto the floor. "Put your arm through the slats."

Dean smirked at Joshua. "Give me something to piss in first. I don't see a bottle in your hand, and I'm telling you, bro, I really really gotta go. I'm trying to be all respectful here of your little demonic ritual, but it's so hard with all that...pressure. You know? You hear what I'm saying? Quid pro quo's the phrase of the day."

Joshua stepped closer to the cage and kicked out at it, which sent the rickety wooden cage off the loft, and swinging wildly, bouncing a little on its tether, giving the teenager a literal bird's eye view of the hard packed floor, as it creaked and rattled under the strain.

Dean nearly pissed his pants. It was great testament to his bladder control that he didn't, but held onto the slats as tight as he could as it swayed and swung over the floor, the cage shaking as it reached its apex on both sides. Nearly hyperventilating as it finally swung slowly to a precarious stop. "You're insane." He breathed out, eyes wide and definitely paler than he had been ten minutes before.

The cage was pulled back over to the edge of the loft floor. "Put your arm through the slats." Joshua said once more, locking gazes with the boy, still as calm as he had ever been. The boy was going to learn obedience one way or another.

Dean stared back. Yup, this man was definitely insane. "And why would I do that? So you could break it? Maybe tap into me for some weird ass blood ritual? Exactly how stupid do I look?" He said. "Wait, don't answer that. Seriously, I have to go to the bathroom Mr. Nice Person."

Joshua stepped closer. "Put your arm through the slats or you will go for another ride. Your own little version of Russian Roulette. How many times can you go for a ride without it falling to pieces and sending you to the floor below?" He wasn't going to bargain with the boy. He would do as he was told or face the consequences. Once done he would see that he could relieve himself. But that wasn't going to enter his end of the conversation. Dean was too demanding about it, therefore giving in before getting what he wanted would be a sign of weakness.

Dean looked at Joshua for a long minute. Yeah, something about him definitely reminded Dean of someone. Someone he didn't like much in fact, but damned if he could pick it out of his mind. And reluctantly stuck out his arm, because he didn't want to die falling to his death. Well, he didn't want to die period, but definitely not that way.

One of the men grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm taut as another sliced him, just deep enough to bleed freely, not to carve into muscle. They caught the blood in an ornate bowl, but held the arm tight while Joshua poured antiseptic over the wound then butterflied it, all the while ignoring any protests from Dean. Only when he nodded did they release his arm.

Joshua walked over to a shelf and returned with a #10 can, with a lid and sent it into the cage with Dean. "That will be emptied once a day. You will receive food and water for the day, once a day. You will be respectful at all times or those things will go away. You will do as you are told or you will be punished. You are not in a position to make demands. You are not in a position to negotiate. You will accept things as they are, or you will wish that you had. Do you understand me?"

Dean held his arm close to him as he glared at Joshua. "I so believe in karma, you know that? And I can't WAIT for you to get yours." He said. But he'd have to play along with the program as he tried to figure a way out of this. He could pick the lock easily enough. It was where to go from there that things were getting sticky.

"Is that what passes as respectful from you?" Joshua asked as he stepped closer to the cage and placed his hands on the outer slats, in a motion that implied he was about to shove it off once more. "Let me ask that question again, and you answer it appropriately. Do you understand me?" He asked slowly, locking gazes with Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yes, I understand you." He said. "Doesn't change the fact that you're an asshole." Or the fact that shit was going to get torn up as soon as John tracked him down. No one was a better tracker than his father.

"You will only speak to answer questions. No commentary. You will say Yes, sir and No sir, I understand, sir. You will say please and thank you. There will be no profanity. No vulgarity. Now, before I lose my patients and drop kick your crate, let me ask you one more time. Do. You. Understand. "

" And. I. Said. Yes." Dean said, because some of that attitude was hormone based, and couldn't be stifled. Another part was hardwired by life with John, and that was automatic. But he leaned against the opposite side of the crate and stared back, mouth quiet.

"Yes, what?" He asked prompting him one last time. Dean knew what he was supposed to say, it was automatic to say it to his father. He would learn. It would take time to beat him into submission but it would happen.

"I said yes. You're not my father." Dean said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to relieve myself." He said grabbing the can before Joshua could think better of it and take it away.

"Your father… is no longer a part of your life. " He said as he removed his belt and folded it in two. He did however wait for the boy to take care of business, before motioning for the others to bring him out.

Sam put his coat on and stood by the door, Staring at his father pointedly. "Dad…" he ventured again.

"Sam." John said. "Sit down." He shook his head. "This isn't a normal hunt. I don't know who to go after...yet." Because he refused to think his oldest was lost forever. "There are no signs to follow. No sulfur to track." He didn't know what to do. He hated feeling this...helpless. He hadn't felt this helpless since that night in Sam's nursery.

And that had turned out so well, hadn't it?

"How do we know that Dad?" Sam asked as he came to sit down, although sitting down was enough to make him crazy. He couldn't handle not doing anything. Not helping, not trying. It was the not trying that was making him insane. "Why would … why would people take Dean? We don't have any money… or anything else that people would want to trade him for. I don't understand."

"Because the world is a dark place, even in the normal world." John said hollowly. Just imagining why someone would take his son. On the other hand, he knew for fact that Dean wasn't making it easy on them. If he was still alive. There was a knock at the door and John flew out of his seat. But when he opened the door, it was just a cop. Not a cop with Dean.

"We need you to come down to the hospital." The policeman said solemnly.

"Is it Dean?" John asked.

"We don't know." The cop said. A body fitting Dean's general description had been found.

"Sammy come on." He said, not about to leave his younger son home alone, and there was no one else he trusted in town to watch him and keep him safe.

Sam nodded. "Yes, sir." He said and moved to stand with his father, waiting for the cop to move out of the way. He was terrified that they were going to go and look at Dean's body.

John was silent during the drive to the hospital. His knuckles were white as they gripped the steering wheel. Horrific images passing through his mind of what could have happened to his boy. Things that he hadn't prepared them for because he had been too busy trying to keep them safe from the darkness men didn't see until it was too late. He forgot that humanity wasn't much better than the demons and monsters he hunted. They were probably worse in some ways.

"Mr. Winchester… perhaps your son should stay here." The officer suggested as he had started to take Sam with him into the heart of the building.

John looked at his youngest son for a moment. "Only if you stay with him." He said in return, the officer nodded. "Alright. You stay here, Sammy, no wandering off, I mean it."

"Yes, sir."

He left Sam with the police officers at the reception desk and strode into the morgue, feeling very small and lost in spite of his massive frame. He expected the worst. He expected to see his son's lifeless form laying there looking up at him with some silent accusation. He expected to see horrible things done to his flesh and blood…things he should have been there to prevent. John's world didn't allow for optimism.

He looked at the wall of stainless steel drawers, gleaming coldly, sterile, unfeeling. Is that where he would find his son? Tucked away in one of these drawers like linens or socks ?

When they drew the drawer from the wall and revealed the boy's face, John leaned, nearly slumping against the wall of drawers. "Oh thank god." He breathed out, then felt strangely guilty as he looked at the boy who was alone and as yet unnamed, unclaimed. "Poor kid, who did this to you?" He asked, and are they doing this to my son as I speak, was the silent half of that question.

"We think he died trying to escape his captors." The coroner provided, as she started to close the drawer. But John's quick eyes took in all that there was to see. The slash marks on both forearms, The bruising that looked to be about the width of a man's belt. Old wounds, old bruises, alongside the new. The boy was gaunt. Not starved, but not healthy either. And he was broken. His body was broken as though he had fallen a good distance to his death.

"His hands were swollen… is that normal?" John asked, knowing that it wasn't. Not without reason.

"Splinters, poor kid. His hands are full of them. "

John left the morgue with a quicker step. His son wasn't dead. (he hoped) and as much as he hated the thought of who ever had tortured that boy having his son, at the same time they had kept the kid alive for quite some time. That would mean that they would likely keep Dean alive as well.

Sam looked up from the cookie the receptionist had finally coaxed him into taking, as his father came through the double doors, he studied his father's face, and stepped closer waiting for an answer to the obvious silent question.

"It's not Dean." John said as he pulled his younger son to him. "It's not your brother… he's still out there somewhere. " And strangely enough, those words were comforting.

Sam nearly cried. It wasn't Dean. That was good news. Now they just had to find him.

"Thank you officer." John said with a nod as the officer nodded back and kept talking on the phone.

"Uh huh. Uh huh. Okay. All right." He said into the phone then turned to John. "We just need you to fill out forms, bureaucratic bullshit, that this wasn't your son and all." He said.

He was waiting for the social worker. They'd searched the rooms while the Winchesters were at the morgue. Turned up all sorts of things that shouldn't be around a kid. Loaded weapons, modified guns, knifes, machetes, and things they couldn't even identify. Add that into what Winchester 's co workers had told them.

Sure, Dean and John seemed to have a great relationship. But Dean had an awful lot of injuries that couldn't be explained away with his job or a schoolyard fight.

John scowled. He didn't want to fill out bullshit paper work. He wanted to go home and start researching things. Cults, cult activity. Those injuries weren't normal. That kid had been bled repeatedly. He needed to find Dean before it happened to him.

Sam frowned as he looked out the glass doors at even more official cars showing up. "Dad." He said. "I think I am gonna be sick, can we go home now?" He asked, making an excuse for them getting out of there as soon as possible, but the moment they realized they were there, it was too late.

"Actually," the officer said, "we need to speak with your father down town, but the lady coming in would like to get to know you, ask you a few questions, if that's alright."

"It's not." John answered for his son, and Sam stepped behind his father. "What's going on here?"

"Mr. Winchester, we have some things that need to be cleared up and we think that your son is better of in the care of the state until these things are cleared up or resolved as necessary.

"I'm not leaving my dad." Sam said firmly.

John blanched. Care of the state? Like hell. The state didn't have the first clue on what was better care for Sammy of all kids. "There's nothing to clear up. That's not my son in there."

"Hello." The social worker said, a matronly middle aged lady, as she went over to Sam. "Samuel, I know you're scared, but you need to come with me." She said. "My name is Mrs. Washington . I promise, we won't let anything happen to you again."

John moved Sam away from the social worker. "Nothing has happened to him." He said. "What is this? You think I'm abusing my kids?" He said as it started to make sense in a 'real-world' way.

"Mr. Winchester, we've just some questions. Please don't make us arrest you in front of your son, unless that's what you want?" The police officer said. "You're not under arrest, but if you do decide to not come with us, and do not turn your son over to Mrs. Washington , that could change. Fast."

"You think my dad hurt me?" Sam asked. "Are you nuts?" He shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere until we find my brother, and I'm not scared. I don't have anything to be scared of."

"I know you feel loyalty to your father, but –"

"Damned straight I do." Sam said harshly.

"Sammy." John said in a stern tone, but hand on his shoulder was gentle, reassuring.

"Sorry." He said, to his father but if the social worker wanted to take it as an apology to her he wasn't going to disillusion her.

"Regardless, your father is going to the police station, either under arrest or not. Which leaves you alone, and that we cannot allow." Mrs. Washington said. "Your father will have a chance to explain his side of things, and even if it isn't resolved shortly, we do everything in our power to keep families together when possible. Don't look at this as taking you away from your family, Samuel, look at it as giving your father a chance to get some things taken care of."

"That's a bunch of bull." Sam said. "You think my dad hurt me and my brother, and you don't want to believe that your are wrong. Nothing anyone says is going to convince you that you are wrong. You don't want to keep my family together you want to help them destroy what's left of it."

John's jaw was clenched and his whole body was tense. The officers saw that, and kept their hands near their night sticks, just in case the man went crazy on them. But he looked at Sam. "Sam. You gotta go." he said. Because there was no way around it. He couldn't go on the run with Sam and look for Dean at the same time. He just needed a little more time to work on Dean. Then he'd grab Sam if he had to and hit the road.

"Dad..." Sam said, shocked at that. But John nodded.

"It'll be all right." John assured him. "Just give me a little time."

"You didn't do anything wrong…and I want to help find Dean."

"I know… and we'll get this all sorted out the right way, and you will be home before you know it. I promise, we'll work this out. Now go on…" Go on before I can't stand this anymore and lose it. Go on before I realize this really is the last of my world burning down around my ears.

Sam hugged his father tightly before letting go and reluctantly going with the social worker. He wouldn't stay. He would give his father a little time, but he wouldn't stay in foster care. Those places were dangerous. He was glad for the salt he always carried with him. He might at least be able to salt the windows to his room.

John watched the social worker bring Sam into a non descript black car and followed the police to the police station. Working on his story. Of course he didn't abuse his kids, but he couldn't tell the truth, now could he? So when he was led into the interrogation room, the first thing he said was: "I want a lawyer."

"Mr. Winchester, don't you think you're jumping the gun?"

"No. Because anything I say you're going to use against me. You're the ones who insist on this instead of looking for my oldest son. Now I want a lawyer." He grabbed a piece of paper and scrawled the name and number of a lawyer he knew two towns over. "And I'm not talking until he's called." He said, handing them the paper.

The paper was handed over to another officer that went out to make the phone call. It was going to take a while for the man to get there. So until then the officers indulged in friendly chat with John, or rather they attempted to. John wasn't in the mood to be friendly. They had taken his son away from him and accused him of being a monster.

Sam was in no more talkative a mood than his father. While the foster parents were readying their home for the arrival of Sam, the social worker took him back to her office to talk to him. But so far all Sam had done was glare at her, and say "My dad has never hurt either of us. Can I just go home now?"

Mrs. Washington was trying to be patient. This was most likely a very damaged boy here in front of her. "You're going to be spending the night at the Taylor's ." She said. "They're very nice people, they'll keep you safe until you want to talk about what happened in your family."

She knew there was a chance that Sam hadn't been abused at all. That it had all been reserved for Dean, who was by all accounts mouthy and barely passing school. The exam on Sam certainly hadn't turned up anything that couldn't be easily explained away by other reasons.

"I know this is a scary time for you." She tried again. "With your brother missing and all. But my job is to protect children whose parents forget to."

"It's not my dad's fault that Dean was taken. He takes care of us. He doesn't hurt us. So don't talk about my dad like he is some lowlife jerk that hurts his family. My dad's a man. Men don't hit women or children and they don't break their promises. Dad promised he would always take care of us and he does."

"It has to be very stressful." Mrs. Washington tried another track. "With your mom being gone so long, since you were a baby, right?" And was rewarded with a short, curt nod. "And he's raising you the best he can. I'm sure he's doing his best, but sometimes...I understand your brother doesn't make it any easier on him." At least not if he was at home like he was at school.

Sam's brow furrowed. "Are you kidding? They get along great. Dad and I argue a lot more than Dad and Dean do. Why are you trying to make Dean out to be the bad guy now? There isn't a bad guy in my family. Why is that so hard for you to understand?" He could really learn to hate this woman. "Is your world so full of hateful people that you think everyone is?"

"Sam," Mrs. Washington admonished. "I know that you're upset right now, and want to blame me for it. And that's all right. Your feelings are important, you know. This is a confusing time for you, and it's all right to be a little scared." She got up and offered her hand to Sam. "Come along now, let's go meet the Taylor's. I'm sure you'll like them." They were quite experienced with taking care of shell shocked abused kids.

Sam looked at her hand but didn't take it. "you're doing your job. I get that." He said "But you're wrong about my Dad. I'm not scared of him, or this situation. I'm scared for my brother, that no one really seems to be looking for. I am scared that your taking me away from my Dad when he needs me. Until someone gets up off their ass and finds Dean, we're all each other has… and you took that away for no reason. You say my feelings are important. But what you really mean is the ones you want to hear are important. I don't have what you want to hear. " He told her in a tone much more adult than the average 12 year old " I'm never going to lie about my family, not for you, not for the cops and not for a judge. So don't bother trying to make me anymore." He said as he got out of his chair and waited for the woman to lead the way.

"Sweetie, we don't want you to lie." She said as she handed Sam a bag she had packed of his stuff. "And if you're telling the truth, this will all blow over. And they are looking for your brother." If they weren't, they wouldn't have stumbled across the body. She led him to the car where they drove in silence to the Taylor's, a middle aged couple whose children were grown and gone and had become foster parents to fill the nest. "Mrs. Taylor, Mr. Taylor, thank you for taking my call. This is Samuel Winchester."

"Well, aren't you a handsome young man!" Mrs. Taylor said. "Let's get you settled in."

Sam blushed a little at the praise. He was always the awkward one with his long legs and unruly hair. Dean was the handsome one. "It's nice to meet you, Ma'am. Sir" He said. They weren't the bad guys here. He should be respectful and not give them a hard time. His father hadn't brought him up to be disrespectful until it was earned. Although Dean seemed to see it in the reverse, that respect had to be earned not lost. "I won't be here long, but thank you for letting me stay." He cast a look at the social worker, willing her to leave, not feeling at all friendly toward the woman he blamed for tearing what was left of his family apart.

"Well, you never know. You might like it here." Mr. Taylor said. They'd had their share of kids who said they wouldn't be staying, and ended up staying until they went to college. "My wife has some dinner still on the stove if you're hungry?" He offered.

Mrs. Washington smiled and nodded. "I'm sure he'd love that." She answered for Sam. "I'll call in the morning."

"No thank you, Sir." Sam said. "I'm not hungry." His stomach might think it was hungry now but the moment food hit it, that would be something else. He was so tied up in knots that he didn't think he would ever eat again. Not till Dean was back and the three of them were in the Impala and on the way out of this town. His dad and brother were heroes. He didn't want to be anywhere that they were made out to be something horrible.

He held his bag close, knowing that there wouldn't be any weapons in the bag. Nothing to protect himself with. He couldn't stay here. For the same reason he couldn't go to sleep overs. It was too dangerous, and these people seemed nice enough at the moment. They were just trying to help someone they thought was hurt. They didn't deserve to be hurt in the process.

He felt so lost. He was used to uncertainty, to having very few constants in his life. But now what few constants he had, were taken from him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Mr. Taylor nodded. "All right. Well, come inside and we'll get you settled in for the night." He said as Mrs. Taylor went in ahead to start turning on more lights. Some of the kids that came to them were afraid of the dark, especially the ones with abusive parents. Poor kid, no one deserved that.

Sam nodded and stepped inside following them through the house. His eyes made note of where all the windows were as he was taken toward his room. He checked for religious symbols, anything that might look out of place. His jaw clenched tightly as he went. This was not going to become his home. Home wasn't a place to him, it was people. Dean, his father, and he didn't have either any more. He thought he was going to cry like a baby, but held it in. He could do it. He could suck it up and hold on. He had to. "Am I the only one here ?" He asked.

"Right now." Mrs. Taylor said as she led him up to where he'd be sleeping for the night. "Usually we have a full house, but they didn't need us until tonight. But we're more than happy to have you here."

Sam had never had his own room. He doubted he would sleep a wink in there with no other sounds. Not that he thought he could sleep anyway. Not with Dean out there in trouble, and his father at the police station. The cops were wanting to arrest him. They had said as much, just wanted Sam out of the way so that they could do it.

All he could do was nod. He was alone. He set his things down beside the bed and found himself wondering what had ever happened to his old dinosaur. He sank onto the bed, staring at his hands. If his dad was in jail that meant he was the only one that could find Dean, and he didn't even know where to begin.

Mrs. Taylor checked on him once before bidding him good night. The next morning they could see if this poor child needed healing. Right now, he just looked plum worn out.

John was waiting impatiently until Jacob Beckett turned up. "Jake." He said as the cops excused themselves.

"What you get yourself into this time, John?" Jake asked, setting down his brief case and sitting across from him.

"Not this time." John said, shaking his head as he laid out the situation for Jake. From Dean's abduction to the child abuse suspicions. The last one made Jake's eyebrows about hit his hairline. John Winchester, child abuser? Not in this lifetime. "Course, I can't tell them why we're always moving, or where Dean's getting these injuries, now can I?"

Jake ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, then we have to come up with something plausible, but you know they will speak to Sam about some of this so it has to be something he will jump on the band wagon with without coaching." He said in hushed tones, even though he knew it was illegal to listen in to an attorney and his client. "What about that cult you rousted out a few years back, the one with that demon passing himself off as some sort of miracle worker with healing the soul?" The thing had gotten troubled kids in line, freed Junkies of their addictions, healed hurts and put souls at peace, although there was a price involved. Virtual slavery for life, with that thing leeching off of your soul. "Could spin that out nicely."

"That could work." John said. "If I'm on the run from them, explains the moves, and my reluctance to speak about it. Could explain Dean's injuries too." He was still worried about what could be happening to Dean, especially after he saw the body. And now Sam... "Okay, that will work. Then I need Sam out of foster care."

"And you haven't wanted to talk about it because if they have Dean they will kill him if it gets out. You have to play it up with reluctance to the police as well. And given the details it will check out." He told the hunter. "We'll have Sam home tomorrow at the latest. He's a resourceful boy. He'll protect himself in the mean time." Jake got up and went to the door to tell the officers that they were ready to talk to them now.

The police came in, and drug the story out of John, with careful prodding from his lawyer. And one was running in and out of the room checking it.

"And we can't even release any of this to the press, if they find out, they'll kill him." John finished quietly.

"You're sure he's alive?" One of the cops asked.

"I have to be." John said. And for the first time in a better part of four hours, he was honest. "Because if I don't I'll lose it. He's my son."

"Speaking of which, we need Sam released from foster care. They have both been through enough without being separated right now." Jake said.

"We'd have to wake a judge up to do anything, so right now let's just let the boy sleep through the night-"

"If you think my son is asleep you are wrong. You're the ones that took him from me, you can suck it up and talk to the judge to get him back." John said firmly.

"John." Jake said with a mild tone, and John Winchester folded his arms across his chest, and simply stared expectantly at the officer in question.

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They had finally put Dean back into his crate and hoisted it up again. The back half of his body was covered in welts from the belt, a few of them had broken the skin, others were deep bruises. He had been sent to bed without supper as additional punishment and informed that if he wanted to eat in the morning he would be more respectful. Then they had gone off to lick their own wounds. Wounds they had not expected to receive from the 16 year old boy. None of the others had put up that much of a fight.

It was some time later when they gathered together again on the floor below and began their ritual.

Dean watched from his crate as they started their freaky ass ritual. His back stung like fire, but damn if he'd admit it. He'd been hunting for a few years now, and it was definite on the job training. Wounds weren't anything new to him. He knew how to channel pain.

Actually, it just made him even more of mouthy young man than he already was. And had him plotting in his head.

But it was Joshua who had his thoughts right now. Not a bruise on the man, and there should have been from when Dean had been able to fight back. But there wasn't. And Dean knew it wasn't love taps he was giving the man, he knew how to hit and how to hit hard.

He just needed to get out of here. Soon.

Sam lay in the bed waiting for the house to go silent. When the door would push open a little, he would close his eyes and wait for them to move on. When things went quiet he slipped out of bed, and pulled on his clothes. He layered several of the things in the bags on, then pulled on his coat. It wasn't comfortable but he couldn't carry all of that back to the hotel. Things could be replaced. He had learned that over the years. Things didn't matter.

Quietly he made his way to the window, pushing it open slowly so as not to make any noise. It wasn't a comfortable squeeze to get out, but he managed, closing the window behind him. He stayed off of the main streets as he ran toward what was passing for home these days.

Sam made it back to the motel and noticed that the Impala wasn't in the parking lot. Which meant his father was still at the police station. He picked the lock to the room and sighed as he closed the door behind him.

All the weapons were gone. The place was a mess.

As he gathered his thoughts on how to find Dean, he re-laid the salt and brick dust. They'd taken the actual dust, so he had to crush a brick himself, harder than it sounded. But he had enough, he hoped, as he laid the dust down. Then he sat down on his bed and just wanted to cry. He needed his father, and he needed his brother. And neither were here.

One of the officers had left the room very quickly when John had given him the steely glare. The judge was pissed to say the least. He didn't know whether or not he wanted to strangle John for the unreasonable demand, or the officers and social services for putting them in this situation before getting all the facts. If they were lucky this Winchester fellow wouldn't sue the city.

But being a fair and impartial judge he took great pleasure in sharing the joys of being waken from a deep sleep and called the social worker himself, not taking no for an answer he got her motivated to go and retrieve the child so that every one would get out of his hair.

The other officer however was stuck in the room with a glaring John and his lawyer, who looked rather pleased with himself.

"I assume John will be able to retrieve his belongings when we leave this room." He had no doubt the weapons were all confiscated as well as some of the research materials. He just hoped no one had found the time to go through them yet.

The officer sighed. None of them were illegal, as far as he could tell. And sure, it might be foolish to have such weapons in such close proximity of children, but...that wasn't illegal either..."Yes." He said. "They're all in boxes, we'll be glad to get them off our hands." He paused when the other officer came back in and whispered something in his ear. And he paled. Knowing he'd have to tell the man in front of him, the very unhappy, very pissed off man in front of him what he now knew. He cleared his throat, which immediately got John's attention and got the gaze turned on him.

"Mr. Winchester, there's going to be a delay on getting Samuel back." He said carefully, noticing the way the other man's large hands balled into white knuckled fists.

"Delay?" John said through clenched teeth as he felt his heart drop out of him again.

"Seems he's taken off from his foster home."

The officer didn't even have time to register John was moving before he found himself slammed into the wall of the interrogation room. "Taken off from? Or taken from?" John growled. "You people put my boy in danger, and you can't even show me one bit of evidence that you are even looking for Dean. Hell, you couldn't even find the other boy before he turned up dead, and you want me let you do your jobs. To hell with you. "

"John, back off." Jake said as two other officers rushed into the room to separate John from their coworker. But he shrugged them off as though they were nothing, backing away from them.

"I want my things, now. I have to go find both of my sons now, thanks to you."

"Mr. Winchester, we understand you're upset." An officer said appeasingly. "And we're canvassing the streets for Samuel right now. And we are looking for Dean." He signaled for the boxes of things to be brought in so they could get John Winchester out of there before they had to charge him with battery. They were willing to let the first one go. The second, they wouldn't. They couldn't.

"Upset?" John said. "This is upset? You don't know the meaning of the word if you call this upset." He said as he grabbed his things and stalked out. Jake picked up the rest of the boxes and followed him out, helping to load the Impala. "Dean was taken and they've lost Sam." John said to Jake. "The only people I have left in the world and they're gone."

"They're not gone." Jake said. "They're missing. There is a difference. I'll get feelers out for Dean, and I'll tell you if I hear anything." He said.

John started the drive back to the motel. He'd cried four times in his life. When he broke his arm when he was three. That had introduced him to a pain he hadn't known existed. During boot camp, when they'd done their best to reform him from a teenaged boy into a man, and he liked to think they succeeded, even if it was torture during it. When Dean was born, something about seeing your first child born made you feel so small and so grateful for everything. When Mary was killed, his heart had been ripped out of him and burst into flames just as surely as she had.

He was now working on the fifth time. When he felt so damn powerless, and had let down the two people counting on him the most. The only ones that had mattered.

Sam heard the Impala as it pulled into the parking lot. That characteristic growl to the engine that always sounded to him like a big bear. His father and brother could call it a cat all they wanted to. Sam knew a bear when he heard it and that bear was angry right now. Angry and something else… like a sad echo after the growl. Strange how the engine always seemed to echo his fathers mood.

He didn't know if his father was alone however, so he hid. He was too big to hide under the bed. At 12 he was already 5'8" . He ducked into the front closet and pulled the door closed behind him just as the key turned in the lock. please let him be alone, please let him be alone, please let him be alone.

John came in and slammed the door behind him. And sat down heavily in one of the chairs, then poured himself a cup of coffee. The cops had taken all his stuff, but didn't see fit to turn off the damn coffee maker. Then he grabbed a notepad and a pen and started making lists of places Dean could be holed up.

"Sam, where are you?" He asked himself as he started on Sam's list. Sam was harder. The library was closed, and he had swung by there anyway. And it was different. Dean had been TAKEN. Sam WENT somewhere.

Sam eased out of the closet slowly. "I'm here Dad." He said, glad that he was there but regretting the torment he must have put his father through when he saw the way he looked as he sat there. He wasn't sure at first if the look on his father's face was rage, anguish or relief. He figured it was a little of all the above and simply strode over to his father and hugged him tight. Afraid to let go. "Don't make me go back, please"

John hugged him tightly then released him, holding him by the shoulders and stooping a little to look straight in his eyes. "I told you to give me a little time. That's all I needed. I got you released." He said. "When they went to get you, that's when they found out you took off. I told you to give me a little time." He repeated. He'd been frantic. But at least one of his sons was safe.

"I didn't mean to scare you, Dad. Honest. I just couldn't stay there. I had no way to protect myself. And that social worker was being a real bitch and trying to make me say that you hurt us, or that Dean drove you to hurt him. I figured I would come back here and we'd leave and try to find Dean."

John tried to be mad. He was still worried, but he couldn't bring up the anger. Because he knew Dean would have done the same exact thing, so why expect less from Sammy? Besides, he didn't run off, he ran home. "Your brother drives a lot of people to do a lot of things, just not me hurting him." He said with a chuckle. "And we'll find him. I've got some feelers out." And he figured he'd start where Dean's shirt was found. "But first I have to call the police and tell them you're here."

"Alright." He said with a nod. "How did you convince them? " Sam asked. "I mean they were pretty much set on nailing you as some sort of monster when I was taken away." He said as he took a seat watching his father. There had to have been some con because they hadn't believed the truth, and they certainly wouldn't have believed the greater truth of the situation.

"Easy." John said. "Sold them on a story how we're on the run from a cult." He said with a shrug. Had been easy once Jake came up with it. He couldn't think straight in those moments, and he was still having some trouble, as confident as he seemed. "So we're going to start where they found Dean's shirt."

Sam nodded. He was anxious to be on his way. "Do you think the people that killed that other kid, have Dean too?" He asked. He knew they wouldn't have brought him out to look at a kid that died of natural causes. Not when he had been openly kidnapped like that.

"I think they might." John said honestly. "Which is why we have to find him." Couldn't trust the cops to that. He didn't trust cops anyway. He'd come under suspicion for killing his Mary when she had died. Now they thought he was some sort of child abuser. No, the cops couldn't take care of this. But he could. He didn't trust the justice system either, they were ill equipped to deal with what he dealt with on a daily basis. "Come on." He said, standing up and grabbing his list. "All the weapons are in the car, they gave them back." He said with a chuckle.

"I'm impressed." He said. "So… are we taking off right away after we find Dean or do I still get to go to the dance?" He asked with a smile, feeling better since they were actually doing something now. Besides he had to think of something other than all the horrible possibilities that were going through his mind. If he didn't he would go insane with it all.

"We'll be sticking around until Dean's recovered." If the body was any indication of what his oldest was going through. But why Dean? That's what he couldn't figure out. Why they had taken Dean, if he had been targeted at all. He could have been a random kid he supposed, but John didn't believe in random. Not any more. They got into the car and started off to where Dean's shirt had been found.

"I don't like it here anymore anyway." He said honestly, although he really did like Carrie. They would be scrutinized too much now, and he never wanted to be left in the foster system for real. He had never felt so alone in his life.

The van had been abandoned in a corn field just off the road. The shirt had been found close to the road but deeper into the field they were able to find where the van had been left, and the trail that was blazed through the field from there. Soon they found Dean's shoes half buried, a pair of jeans… the cover alls. They were scattered through out the field. Not just along the trail.

John looked at the clothing and everything surrounding it carefully. Examining every blade of grass with his flashlight, reminding Sam to be careful where he walked. There was no pattern, no rhyme or reason to the clothes. Which told him they weren't important. But he folded them carefully anyway and tucked them under his arm.

"They switched cars. It headed that way." He said pointing. He'd found the tracks, now he just had to follow them. Shoving down the anger he felt at the cops for not finding all this in the first place. They just had to look!

Sam was feeling much the same way. Things had seemed a little off to Sam from the beginning but he didn't say anything cause he was just a kid. What did he know about how the police functioned, except from what little TV he actually watched? "Dad…. How could they not find all of this out here. I mean, yeah the initial trail was kinda hidden but… it shouldn't have been that hard. "

"No, it shouldn't have." John said. Which meant the police were involved. At least one, steering the investigation away from the proper path. It was a small town, the police force was small, would actually only take one man. "Come on, before this trail gets too cold." He wanted his son back with him by sunrise.

Sam followed his father's lead. "Dad… how bad was that other kid hurt… I know he was dead obviously but you know… was it… " he couldn't help but wonder what was happening to his brother. How bad was he hurt? Was he even still alive. "Was it really bad?"

John nodded sharply. "I'm going to be honest with you. The boy that was there...he was beaten. Probably to docile him, control him at some point. Dean'll get it worse." He said. He had to be honest with Sam, because Sam always knew the difference. "Because your brother is not docile. Which is why we have to find him before he proves just how uncontrollable he is." He knew pain worked different on Dean than it did on other people. He'd seen Dean take hits that would lay most hunters out flat, but Dean kept going. Because Dean processed pain differently. It wasn't a deterrent. It egged him on.

He'd fostered that in Dean. In their normal life, it would keep him alive. Refusing to lay down and be quiet. Now? Now that decision might get his first born killed.

Sam felt his blood run cold. He knew his brother. Dean wouldn't have the sense to just play it cool until they got to him. He would push the envelope because that is what Dean did. He pushed until something gave. He fell silent, walking in step with his father. He could wrap his brain around the how. He could wrap his brain around the fact that it happened. After all they had been kidnapped before. But the why, that was something different. If they had done this before to another boy that looked a lot like Dean that meant that Dean wasn't the original target. He just fit a certain description. Which made no sense to Sam at all.

It didn't make any sense to John either. Of all the people to kidnap, why would someone center on sixteen year old blonde haired boys? The ME, when asked, had assured John that the body they'd found hadn't been sexually molested. So why the type? Demons went after types. They fixated. Humans, usually only sexually, and that thankfully didn't seem the case this time.

The whys could be answered after they figured out the who's.

The road continued on into the darkness, with little relief in sight. Sam was lost in the thoughts of who and why and the fears of the dreaded what. "Well we know they are still close if the … the body was found here in town. And it has to be someplace they could," he swallowed hard, "where they could hurt someone with out anyone else knowing, right… which means away from town in a building. Can't be too many buildings out this road."

"That's what we're looking for. Something with height too." John said, remembering how the body seemed to have injuries from a fall. A high fall. "So look for a tall building, maybe a barn. A barn would work."

Sam nodded again, and the paused. "Hey Dad, looks like there is a road over there… through the bushes. Or at least something that you could drive a car through anyway."

"Good catch." John said, clapping his son on the shoulder. "We'll head that way." He checked his weapons, and Sam, by example, checked his also. They walked carefully and slowly, as much as they wanted to run. But getting themselves caught would be counter productive, and might get all three of them killed.

Joshua stood on the edge of the loft and stared over at the crate, with loathing in his dark eyes. He sensed that this was about to come to a head. He had thought that the diversions would have

kept John busy a little while longer. But the moment the younger boy was released back into his custody, Joshua had known it was only a matter of time. A pity really. He was just starting to enjoy toying with this one. It just wasn't as satisfying for the climax of the adventure to come so soon. Oh well… there would be others.

"Are you awake boy?" He called out.

"Doesn't much matter. Any answer I give you're going to say is the wrong one." Dean said, sitting up and glaring right back. He still hadn't called Joshua 'sir,' and had no plans on it. He could beat Dean until the belt broke, wasn't happening.

"I expect your father will be arriving eventually to stir up trouble. " He said. "Don't get too excited, you know what will happen when he does." He would kill the child in front of the father, It was convenient that Winchesters oldest boy fit the description so nicely of all the others, caught somewhere between boy and man.

"You're right. He's coming to stir up trouble." Dean said. "And I don't die easy. You couldn't even beat me without taking some losses on your side. Who the hell are you kidding?" This guy was obviously underestimating the Winchesters, and Dean was going to get a kick out of it. Then he was going to talk his dad into letting him wash some pain killers down with a beer. Worked for John after all.

Joshua's eyes flashed an eerie unnatural blue, and he smiled. Looking for all the world like a snake in spite of his completely human visage. "I don't have to touch you boy. " He said, as the crate began to swing on its chain. "Even you won't survive a fall like that ."

"Are you daring me?" Dean flared back. "Great, kidnapped by a freaking demon! How the hell is my luck so freaking bad." He said, seeing Joshua's eyes. "Just so happens my dad specializes in demons. You're going down."

John pushed Sam against the wall, seeing Dean way up high in a swinging crate. He had to think fast on how to get his son out of this, when he heard his son's words. It wasn't human, which meant he could throw caution to the wind and kill the damned thing that had taken his oldest. And that idea, it felt good.

Sam hazarded a look around the corner at his brother and felt his blood run cold, especially when the swinging grew more erratic and violent. He pulled his head back around and looked up at John with wide eyes. "I think I can get up there to let the crate down, if you can get the demon down to the ground level. " He knew he couldn't face a demon yet. He hadn't even really been on any major hunts yet. Just the occasional spirit. But he could get Dean if his dad could keep the demon busy.

John wanted nothing more than to send Sam back to the car. But Dammit, he couldn't do both. Battle a demon and get Dean to safety. Especially since Dean was on the verge of a full on freak out from the swinging crate. So he gave Sam a sharp nod and walked into the barn. In full sight.

"You've got someone that belongs to me." John called up.

"Dad!" Dean said, relief and anxiety clear in his voice as he clung to the slats as the crate swung back and forth.

"It's all right Dean. Just stay still and stay quiet. Dad's working now." John said.

Joshua once more gave that smug snakelike smile and leapt to the floor, landing gracefully and striding forward "John Winchester. Your reputation precedes you. Unfortunately for you, I know your weaknesses."

Sam managed to slip into the barn and hide behind a bail of hay, before the doors to the barn slammed closed, as well as the windows on the second floor. He used the momentary darkness to run to the stairs, but took his time going up, trying to stay as silent as possible. Even though he was sure his heart was beating as loudly as the slamming door, as far as he knew the demon didn't know of his presence yet and he wanted to keep it that way.

Dean saw Sam and squeezed his mouth shut to not call attention to him as the crate slowly stopped swinging. His whole body hurt now that he was done bantering and preparing for more punishment.

John grinned back at the man. "Yeah, yeah. You can occupy Dean with bad guy banter, on your whole evil plan to take over the world one teenage boy at a time. Me? Not interested." He said as he fired rock salt at the demon.

The salt stung like hell, but did little more than that, but the force of the shotgun blast sent Joshua flying backwards. "That is going to cost you." He said and once more set the crate in motion, and the wood could be heard creaking down below.

It was all Sam could do not to swear out loud as he saw it swinging wildly once more. "Hold on… just hold on." He whispered, cautiously making his way across the loft to the pulley that controlled the crate.

Dean gritted his teeth and carefully stood up in the rocking crate, and reached up through the top and grabbed onto the rope holding onto the crate. And held on with both hands for dear life, because the slats were creaking dangerously, like it was going to break apart.

John looked up and saw his son. And even from his vantage point, he could see the blood on his back, and could see just how deathly pale his son was.

"You're messing with the wrong family." John said and slammed the butt of his shot gun across Joshua's face and started throwing vials containing different things. Seemed random, but John was keeping track on which one affected the demon before him.

While the demon was distracted by several noxious concoctions, and an enraged John Winchester, Sam began to pull the crate back down to the level with the loft. He moved slowly because he didn't want to draw the demons attention to his brother. Another good blast of TK would send that thing flying apart, he was certain. Once he had it where he wanted it he moved quickly across the loft and waited for the crate to be swinging toward the loft in its arch and tried to grab for it.

John found one that hurt the demon in front of him, and acted on that by just pouring another vial of the same stuff right on him, not bothering with throwing them at the demon anymore. Then resorted to acting on out his rage by punching the demon until the demon looked at him. Eerie blue eyes he would never forget.

"Maggie." He roared. "I told you to stay the hell away from my boys!" He said.

The crate slowed and Sam grabbed it. "There's a latch on the outside I can't reach." Dean said to his brother. With a hint of a tremble in his voice. He swore off heights after this. At least heights when he was trapped in something that could crash.

Sam held onto the fragile crate with one hand, gasping sharply as he heard the wood creaking and give a little while he fumbled with the latch with his free hand, finally getting it undone. "Come on, before it looks up here again." He said reaching his hand in for his older brother.

Maggie laughed at John, sounding strange to his ears coming through Joshua. "Do you really think you command me, John? I honestly hadn't intended to target you with this but when you moved right into my territory how could I resist?" She looked up at the loft. "You boys stay right where you are. You don't want me to chase you down."

Dean took Sam's hand and got the hell out of the crate, groaning a bit at the movement. Damn, he needed a nice hot shower right now. "Too late." He said. But the last thing he wanted to do was move, because the last thing he wanted was to endanger Sammy.

"Yeah. I really think I can command you." John said. He'd done a lot of studying of the old rites. And began to chant ancient Latin, older than even the Church used as he kept dumping concoctions on her.

She howled in rage- her own voice merging with Joshua's in dual tones, calling him every name in the book and some in languages John didn't even know. Anything that wasn't nailed down began to fly around the pair, hunter and demon, almost obscuring them completely from the boys view. For every holy line uttered by John, she screamed out the profane, until the ground began to shudder beneath them all.

Sam pulled his brother away from the edge and toward the back wall to safety behind the stacks of hay. Anything flying their direction would be stopped by the barricade. He wanted to pull him down the stairs and toward the car, but if their father didn't win this fight, there would no where they could run that she wouldn't find them.

Dean wanted off the loft before the barn came down around them. Which it probably would, the way the ground was shaking. But John kept right on going. He wasn't stopping. He'd had enough of looking over his shoulder for Maggie all the time, wondering if she was coming after them.

Dean pulled Sam toward the stairs, keeping behind the bales of hay as cover. "We can't stay up here." He said to Sam.

"We gotta help Dad some how. " Sam wasn't liking how this was turning out. He had only been thinking about how to get to his brother, not thinking about how much danger it would put his Dad in. Apparently John had similar thought processes along the way because it looked for all the world like their father was starting to lose the fight.

The wind picked up and John was having a hard time standing against it. He leaned into the wind, squinting his eyes against the sharp cutting dust within. His outer shirt was torn to shreds by flying debris and he held one hand up to defend his face as he continued to cant the old ritual. With his free hand he pumped the shot gun and raised it, firing at the demon hoping to distract it a little from the tempest it was raising around them.

Maggie/Joshua stumbled back ward from the salt laden impact. And screamed so loudly and shrilly that the boys had to cover their ears, the final climax of that yell was a resounding BE SILENT focused at John, hitting him as though they were a physical force, sending him slamming back into the wall of the barn.

John hit the wall and slid to the floor, unconscious and bleeding. Dean wasn't even sure he was alive. And that was enough for him as he tackled Joshua, only to be thrown off.

"You son of a bitch!" He yelled, getting to his feet. His father was the only thing Sam and Dean had left, and he had no idea if John was okay. Which made Dean not okay. Bumps, bruises, cuts, marks, hunger, all that fell to the wayside.

Sam started to run toward their father only to be picked up and tossed toward Dean, hitting the ground with the air quite audibly leaving his lungs. He lay there gasping, frantically clutching at his side.

"Seems there is going to be a change in plans, boys." The demon said as it moved quickly toward them.

"Sammy!" Dean said, getting in between Joshua and Sam. "Leave my brother alone. You want to bleed me dry. Fine. Fine, do that."

"I'm going to require more of you than that." It said and Joshua's body arched backwards, the black cloud billowing out of him, and swirled around the boys. "Which one…. Which one…" it seemed to hiss in their minds as Joshua fell to the ground with an pain filled groan.

Dean screamed as the cloud enveloped them and they left the barn. Not under their own power or even by natural means. The man collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, clutching at his chest as he started to wail, remembering everything that was done.

John woke up a time later and gingerly felt the goose egg forming on his head and saw Joshua, and knew somehow that it wasn't the Joshua he had been fighting. Maybe because of what hit him next.

"Son of a bitch!" He said, dragging himself to his feet.

His boys were gone.