A/N: Shorter than the last few chapters, but... I think it get's the point across.

Chapter 10

Parking his car around the corner from his destination, John started walking to the dark house. His sharp eyes surveyed the building, not noticing anything out of the ordinary; car was in the driveway, lights were out of the night. He had finally decided to pay these English hunters a visit, having gotten the address from Bobby, and to try and figure out why they were sitting on their assess when there was something obviously wrong basically in their own backyard. So, here he was. Bobby had also confirmed over the phone that the Claire girl his boys had seemed so fond of, the same one he had met in the street one night, was indeed the hunter's only daughter.

Well then, this would make for an interesting conversation.

Climbing up the steps to the porch, he paused at the front door. Looking at the calm scene around him made John feel as though he were surrounded by a ghost of the past. Once long ago normality had been his, and security was for his sons, much like what the Shanahan's had now. That however had been in the past, and in his heart he knew that even if he got revenge for Mary's death, he couldn't go back to normalcy; not after all he had learned was out there in the world. Not like the Shanahan's had, even if Bobby had said it was so the girl could finish her schooling. So, with a sigh John knocked on the front door then took a step back. After a minute with no response, he tried knocking on the door once again. However, just like before, he got no response.

"Mr. Shanahan? Mrs. Shanahan?" John called out impatiently, shuffling his weight as he stood there. "Name's John Winchester. I'm a friend of Bobby Singer's. I wanna talk to you." Concentrating as hard as he could, he tried listening for any movement on the other side of the door, but heard nothing. "Claire? You home? It's Dean's father." John tried a new approach.

Still not a sound.

Pulling his gun from the back of his jeans, John gently tested the doorknob, which to his surprise opened the unlocked door. That wasn't good. Slowly inching his way into the dark house with his gun at the ready, for as soon as he was inside the overwhelming putrid and metallic stink filled his senses, almost making him retch in response. Covering his nose with his sleeve and holding his gun level in from of him, the bad feeling that had been growing in his stomach proved to be correct when he saw the masked corpse lying in the entrance of the kitchen, a stab wound deep in its chest. Shaking his head as he stepped over the body and the gun that lay discarded on the floor, John wandered further into the kitchen and found two withered and bloodied corpses of who he could only guess were Mr. and Mrs. Shanahan, lying on the bloodstained hardwood floor. Slowly surveying the dark and bloodied scene, his gaze landed on the large bloodstain on the floor in the far corner of the room; the walls splattered with blood and the bullet hole decorated drywall. The peculiar thing was that there was no body there and dried footsteps leading away from the spatter, almost as though the dead had simply gotten up and walked away from the crime scene.

Counting the bodies once more, John realized the final member of the Shanahan family was missing. Quickly he rushed through the rest of the house, looking for the final body and coming across nothing. With a feeling of dread and fright as he came to realization, he rushed out of the house, leaving it as he found it, Dean and Sam's safety the number one priority on his mind.

Slowly emerging from her foggy mind, Claire sighed contentedly as she took in the warmth that was wrapped around her. Somewhere above her head there was a soft, calming, and familiar humming that soothed her, making her slowly open her eyes. It took her a moment to focus, but she was able to see she was in one of the beds in the Winchester's motel room. Sam sat on the sofa watching TV, while the one she seeked was not in her line of sight. Smiling slightly, Claire turned her head to her left to gaze up at Dean's peaceful face; his eyes closed as he held her against her chest and continued to hum.

"What are you humming?" Claire asked quietly.

At the sound of her voice, Dean opened his eyes to gaze down at her with a smile. "Ramble On, Led Zeppelin." He answered. "It's one of my favorite songs."

She nodded. "I like it. What's your other favorite song?"

"Travelling Riverside Blues." It was silent between them before Dean spoke again. "How are you feeling?"

Claire thought about it for a moment. "To be quite honest, a lot better than I have in a long time."

This made Dean's brow wrinkle in confusion and worry as he frowned. "Really?"

"Yeah…" Claire frowned too.

"I mean, you took a dip in a freezing lake, you should feel like crap." He argued.

"You don't have to tell me that." She laughed without any humor. "And yet I feel almost perfect."

"Do you think it had anything to do with you touching that light?" Dean finally asked the question that had been weighing down on both of their minds.

"Maybe." Claire shrugged, the images she had been seared into her mind flashing by her eyes, leaving her feeling sick at the thought of that happening. "What do you think it was?"

"I honestly don't know." Dean answered truthfully, thinking back on what little his father knew about the thing had shared with him on this latest hunt. Tucking her head back under his chin, he sighed as he felt her warm breath against his neck. "The main thing is that you're safe." He whispered.

"I can't think of anywhere else safer." Claire murmured in response as she wiggled closer to him, worming her way deeper into his embrace, making a point of what she meant as he hugged her even tighter.

Together they lay there, wrapped up in each other's warmth and their individual thoughts as Claire began to once again drift off. However, the rumbling of an engine pulling into the motel parking lot captured the three teens attention. Sam and Dean looked at each other worriedly, recognizing the sound of the Impala, while Claire tiredly stirred in Dean's arms.

"What's wrong?" She mumbled, looking at him worriedly, a sleepy haze filling her eyes.

Looking down at her, Dean attempted a smile. "Don't worry about it." He reassured her before kissing her forehead and unwillingly let go of her as he got out of bed to cross the room and look out the window. Pulling the curtains back an inch, he saw his father park the car, get out and grabbing a gun, hurried up the stairs and to the room. Quickly Dean ran to unlock the door, just in time for John to burst into the room.

"Sam! Dean!" He shouted as he ran in, his rifle tight in his hands.

"Dad, what wrong?" Sam asked, getting off the couch while looking at his dad in confusion.

"That girl-" John began to explain until his eyes landed on Claire's small huddled form in Dean's bed, her hazel eyes peeking out from under the blankets watching him curiously. Immediately he swung his gun up to point it at her, anger and rage filling his expression. "You!" He bellowed, making his son's freak out and Claire slowly sit up.

"Dad!" Sam shouted in shock.

"What the hell, Dad!" Dean exclaimed, moving to stand in front of the gun, blocking a straight shot at Claire.

"What is she doing here?" John demanded to know.

Dean squared his shoulders. "She fell into the lake out back." He explained. "Almost drowned before I saved her."

"Really? And what was she doing here in the first place?" John challenged him.

"I have a right to go wherever I please." Claire piped up, watching John as well as he was watching her as she slowly got out of bed to go and stand next to Dean, who fought back a smirk at her sass.

Ignoring her, John spoke to his boys. "I thought I told you two to stay away from her."

"You what!?" She exclaimed, turning to look at the two brothers in disbelief.

"Why?" Dean asked his father, looking him straight in the eye while refusing to look at Claire.

"I told you why."

"No. No you didn't. You said not to get attached."

"Which you clearly did even though I told you not to!" John shouted, finally looking at Dean.

"Well then why?" Dean shouted back. Looking between the two in concern, Claire moved to grab Dean's hand. However as her fingertips grazed his, John moved his gun to be level with her chest, making his threat quite clear. Dean however ignored the warning and grabbed her hand, feeling calmer instantly.

"You know nothing about her and you'll never see her again after we leave, it doesn't matter." John said.

"How would you know?" Dean rebutted quickly. "I know Claire very well." He gripped her hand tighter.

"She ever tell you her and her parents were hunters?" John's words shocked his sons, their jaws dropping before looking to Claire who in turn looked at the floor. Dean felt a flash of hurt and betrayal before he processed what his father had said; for in a way, Claire had told him her parents were hunters.

We moved around a lot, much like you do.

This isn't the first time my parents have done this. Just a part of the job.

I've faced things far worse than them.

Her words echoed through his head, making him feel confident as he squared his shoulders. "Yeah, she did." Dean said defiantly, not willing to back down for once. From the corner of his eye, he could see Claire's lips quirk slightly up in a smile, as though she were happy he had finally figured it out.

John turned his glare on Dean. "I told you to stay away from her, Dean." He said again, clearly unhappy about the progress he was making with his son.

"Why? Why did I have to stay away from her, Dad?" Dean replied, his voice rising to match John's in volume. "She makes me happy; she's even make's Sam happy! Don't we deserve that after all the crap we've been through?"

"This isn't you," His father shook with anger. "I didn't raise my son to be some love sick puppy." He quickly turned his glare and anger on Claire who in turn was glaring at him herself now. "What did you do to my sons?"

"What do you mean were?" She retorted, her eyes narrowing, referring to his comment about her family. "We may have settled down, but we're still hunters."

"Leave it alone, Dad." Dean stepped forward, tightening his hold on Claire's hand even further.

"She's dead, Dean." John shouted as him, shocking all three teens.

Immediately Claire froze, going several shades paler than her naturally light skin. Her normally bright hazel eyes darkened as they welled up with tears. "What?" She whispered in disbelief.

John sighed in agitation. "I was told there were hunters in the area, and after not running into anyone on this job, I got the address from a friend to find out what was going on." He sighed, remaining on his guard. "When I got to the house the door was unlocked, and when I went in there were three bodies on the floor. Your parents in the kitchen, and a robber who had been stabbed was in the hall. My guess is that they've been there about three weeks."

"New year's." Dean mumbled in disbelief, remembering that Claire had said she's hadn't seen her parents since the beginning of the month.

The entire time, she remained silent, which egged John to continue on. "In the corner of the kitchen, there was a pool of blood on its own. No body, no nothing. But the blood was smeared across the floor, as though whoever was shot got up and walked away." John calmed slightly, almost reliving his discovery in his mind. He let it sink in for a moment before speaking again. "There's nothing else that it could be."

At his words, Claire remembered the gun shot in her ears from when she had touched the orb of light, followed by the scream before she flinched back into reality, shaking her head. "But my heart..." She said. "It's beating. I have a pulse!"

"You were shot and you bled out, Claire." John said. "You're dead, but you're somehow here. Think about it, when was the last time you ate something, or went to the washroom." At her silent realization he cocked his loaded gun. "What are you, and what are you doing with my boys." He demanded, pointing the gun at her.

At this Dean once again stepped forward, letting go of her hand and putting himself between Claire and the gun, its barrel touching his chest. "Lay off, Dad." He warned him.

John glared at him. "This isn't you Dean, now move."

"No." Dean flat out refused.

"Dean, move!" John ordered, going to push him out of the way with the gun barrel.

"No!" Claire exclaimed in panic, moving around Dean to uselessly grab the barrel. Immediately there was a gradual light which grew exponentially bright before John was thrown off his feet and back by some unseen force. The light then disappeared faster than it had appeared, Claire going unconscious as she began to collapse backwards, slumping into Dean's sturdy arms who kept her upright, watching her with worry.

Sam quickly rushed over to their father who lay in a heap on the floor. "Dad?" He put a hand on his father's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Sam." John said, struggling to sit up keeping an eye on the unconscious young woman in his eldest son's arms. "What the hell was that?"

On the opposite side of the room, Dean ignored his family, struggling to keep Claire up. "Claire? Clairey?" He shook her gently, his heart once again thumping a mile a minute.

A/N: Did you honestly think they were out of the woods yet? XD

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