"If he weren't already dead, I'd go find your Daddy and shoot him myself," Bobby declared from the door.

Dean paused in his work loading weapons into the duffel. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Who spilled?" Dean asked knowingly.

"Both of'em sang like damned canaries," Bobby said with a sad smile as he approached. "But, after hearin' all that, I guess I can understand your paranoia now."

Dean grunted his agreement.

Bobby shook his head and thought through everything he had been told. Knowing Dean as well as he did, he knew full well how much he was hurting.

Beneath all that rage and distrust, a tender heart was broken. Iron-clad loyalty had been sliced to the bone by the blades of his father's betrayal. A little boy who desperately missed having a normal, happy, and complete family had been handed the possibility to have it all back...only to now face losing it again. A new father was dealing with the fear of failing his son. Fear that - as Dean himself once had as a child - Gunner would look up at his father and wonder, 'Why couldn't you save her? Why didn't you try just a little harder? Didn't you love her enough?'

"Jesus, I'm sorry, kid," Bobby offered sincerely and, since no one else was in the room, decided 'to hell with the rules.' Gripping Dean by the shoulder, he pulled him into a tight hug.

As with any time Bobby broke the code, Dean seemed shocked by the gesture. He stood rigidly for several seconds before gradually relaxing and accepting the comfort, even going so far as to return the embrace.

"You know we're gonna do everything..." Bobby began, tightening his hold as he stressed, "...everything we can to get her better. You two didn't deserve the hand you were dealt. And since ya both seem to have fallen all over one another in the process, it's only fair ya should get the chance to have a family together. We'll figure it out, Dean."

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean choked out hoarsely.

After another long moment, he pulled away and wiped his face, hoping to hide any evidence of the tears that had managed to fall. He lifted the duffles and put them in the back seat of the Impala before following Bobby back to where the others waited.

Once they were back in the room where Sam and Frank stood (avoiding Dean's accusatory glares at all costs), Bobby spoke up.

"Now, I know you just armed yourself to the teeth, but do we got any idea what can actually bring this thing down?" Bobby asked with an arched brow.

Dean shrugged. Loading the bags had really just been an excuse to walk away from them.

"Was planning on using a little bit of everything," he admitted with a cocky smile that failed to reach his eyes.

"Not sure if it'll take the bastard out, but it did not like consecrated iron rounds in its ass, I can tell you that much," Frank offered.

"Did you notice anything else when you fought it? Anything that might help us?" Sam asked hopefully.

Frank thought about it for a moment, replaying the memory in his mind. "Seemed repelled by a flower Fiona had in her room. The vase was knocked over onto the floor next to the bed and the big bastard wouldn't step over it to reach her. Screamed when it touched it. Probably the only reason Fiona and Gunner are still alive, now that I think about it. If it had used its claws instead of its tail..." He shuddered at the thought. "But shit, I ain't got a clue what kind of flower it was."

"Can you describe it?" Sam pressed.

Frank gave him an incredulous look. "Yeah. A flower."

"Anything else, smart-ass?" Bobby asked gruffly.

"A white flower?" Frank offered in frustration. "Look, I don't pay attention to that shit, dude. Home décor is really more of Fiona's thing."

"'Décor', huh?" Bobby repeated skeptically. He gave a disapproving grunt before declaring out of the side of his mouth, "From the sounds of it, whatever your sister had in there was chosen for function rather than style."

He sighed as his gaze fell on Fiona's prone form. They would not be getting any answers from her on the subject.

"Looks like you boys are going on a field trip," Bobby informed Dean and Sam. " 's the only way we're gonna find out what hurt this thing."

- SPN -

The brothers entered the house cautiously, guns drawn and readied on the off-chance the chimera had come back.

Dean tried not to be distracted by the place itself - by the warm colors of the walls and comfortable-looking furnishings, the way everything had been set up and decorated with such obvious care. It was just such a...home. Inviting and warm with photos on the walls and books on the shelves.

His son had spent nearly the entirety of his life in this place, only to be driven out when a monster came calling. It hit Dean hard in the heart that his son had suffered such a similar fate to his own. And now? Gunner was on the verge of losing his Mother, too.

They made quick work of securing the ground floor and basement before moving up the stairs. It was even harder for Dean to stay focused when they reached the bedrooms.

Frank's room was amusing, at least. There were the obligatory posters on the walls of kick ass bands, motorcycles, and hot chicks in string bikinis. Dirty laundry was piled up on the floor in the corner next to the hamper (which Fiona had likely put in there and begged him to use). The shelves and desk were covered in manuals for classic automobiles, as well as a collection of every gun and blade magazine money could buy. A partially reassembled carburetor was sitting on the nightstand as if it were Frank's equivalent of bedtime reading.

It was the quintessential man cave. Dean smiled that, even though he hadn't been here, Gunner hadn't been lacking a strong male role model in his life to counter the soft femininity of Fiona.

Gunner's room was tough to face. It was painfully perfect - everything a little boy's nursery should be. The crib was handmade and beautifully carved; likely a labor of love from Mitch or Frank. The walls were a soft, sky blue - making Dean smile lightly that it was the exact shade of the bra and panties Fiona had worn when Gunner was conceived.

Every toy and book and linen was neatly put away in its rightful place...except for in the path of destruction running right down the room's center.

Sam came into the room behind him and stilled upon seeing the evidence of the attack.

Dean's stomach tied itself in knots as he followed the trail and read the story it told.

He could see the precise spot the chimera had sprung from when Fiona grabbed their son and ran. The claw marks where it had shoved off with its hind legs and pulled forward with its massive front paws went clear through the carpeting and padding. The floorboards beneath had been splintered and pulled up, telling him very clearly just how much sheer power and muscle mass this beast possessed, as well as how sharp its claws were.

The doorway through the adjoining bathroom was broken apart on each side, giving Dean a vivid mental image of the chimera's girth. Tiles from the bathroom floor were torn up every few feet, pulled free and shattered by racing claws and showing him the length of the beast's gait.

The door into Fiona's room was decimated - apparently slammed shut by Fiona in an effort to gain additional time to flee. It hadn't been enough. Judging by the fractured wood of the doorframe and the way the hinges were bent outward, the beast had barely slowed its pursuit.

Fiona's room was the hardest to see. The colors were light and cool, the entire feel of the room bringing to mind foolishly hopeful visions of lazy Sunday mornings together in bed, kissing and tumbling beneath the covers with morning sunlight filtering in through the blinds. Dean recalled the sight of her face hovering just a few inches above his own, her hair hanging down around him like a curtain as she gazed lovingly into his eyes. He could feel her sweet kisses, hear her soft laughter.

Dean swallowed with considerable difficulty past the lump in his throat.

Somehow, despite the rest of the room showing evidence of the chimera's attack, a photo of Dean remained upright on the night table. It was faded and wrinkled inside its frame. He knew that it had been given to Fiona by his father. He glared at the image of himself, standing there, smiling and leaning against the side of the Impala like he was having the time of his life. Smiling out from that frame while Fiona and his son were nearly torn to shreds just a few feet away...

With a furious growl, he grabbed the frame and threw it against the far wall, shattering the glass on impact.

Sam watched sympathetically. A million words of comfort died on his tongue as his brother gripped the back of his head and fought to keep it together. Sam knew nothing he could say would make this right. Nothing short of killing this creature and saving Fiona was going to help Dean.

So, that's exactly what Sam focused on, instead of useless reassurances. Taking a deep, determined breath, he walked to the side of the bed where the vase had fallen. He crouched down to inspect the flowers, frowning thoughtfully as he tried to identify them.

Dean approached slowly and stood behind him, watching as Sam took a few pictures of the flower and its leaves. He held his breath, hoping that his brother's giant, book-wormy brain would produce an answer.

"It looks like Hawthorn," Sam announced as he stood.

Dean's shoulders slouched slightly as he exhaled in relief. It took all of his strength not to hug his overgrown geek of a baby brother. Yet again, he marveled at the vast wealth of random trivia swirling around inside Sammy's skull.

Oblivious to the fact that Dean was having an internal 'bro-ment', Sam went on.

"I think it's also called...Crataegus...something..." he said, frowning deeply as he scanned his memories. "I remember reading somewhere that it was used for protection against evil spirits. I wonder..." he trailed off as he tried to think of the best places to look for information. "There's a computer down in the living room. I'm gonna go see if I can get on the internet while we're here. If we can confirm what this flower is, maybe we can find more of it before we head back to the building."

Dean nodded and turned his attention back to the nursery. "Sounds like a plan. I'll go grab the stuff for Gunner."

With the sound of his brother's retreating footsteps behind him, Dean pulled from his pocket the scribbled list that Frank had provided. It contained descriptions of a few of Gunner's favorite items - things that Frank hoped might bring the boy a measure of comfort.

Thinking back to when he had lost his own Mother, Dean recalled that he had not found an ounce of solace in familiar objects (at least, not in any of the very few that survived the fire). But Sammy had been younger than Dean - just a little younger than Gunner was now - and he had calmed considerably after Dean found his stuffed stegosaurus in the Impala.

Deciding that it was more than worth the effort if there was any possibility of comforting his son, Dean located each item. With great care, he placed them into his bag. There was something equal parts fundamentally wrong and achingly familiar about placing teddy bears and pacifiers alongside shotguns and knives.

Once he was finished, he shouldered his bag and made his way downstairs.

"There are more of those flowers in Gunner's nursery," he announced as he entered the living room. "They're still in the vase, though. Guess the chimera just can't handle coming in direct contact with the stuff."

"Or crossing it once it's been laid down. I mean, it didn't even try to go around it," Sam offered. He was seated at the computer desk, busily typing and clicking away.

"Find anything useful?" Dean asked hopefully. He set his duffle down on the couch and turned his attention to the photos on the walls in an attempt to busy himself. He smiled at the images he found. Most contained Gunner at various stages of his first year - playing, eating, standing, taking his first step... Just generally being the most awesome thing that Dean had ever laid eyes upon.

"It's definitely Hawthorn," Sam answered. "The Romans used it to ward off evil spirits. They put the leaves in their babies' cribs to protect them."

"And we're betting that little trick is just one more thing the Romans got from the Greeks?" Dean asked over his shoulder.

Sam's brows rose in unison that his brother was unintentionally admitting to knowledge of ancient cultures. He shook his head and smirked. Dean was definitely a deep well.

"Um, yeah," Sam answered, struggling to keep his smile from his voice. "Considering the fact that it worked against a monster straight out of Greek mythology, I'd say it's a safe bet."

"Any idea where we can find the stuff locally?" Dean asked.

"Working on that...right...now..." Sam answered distractedly, his tone conveying that he was in the middle of reading something.

Dean glanced back at his brother before a photo at the far end of the wall drew his eye. He moved to get a better look at it.

In the picture, Fiona was sitting on an expanse of well-landscaped grass, bathed in sunlight and looking positively gorgeous. Her hair was blowing in a light breeze and a joyful smile was lighting up her face. She'd been caught mid-laugh and her cheeks had just a hint of Dean's favorite blush. Gunner was sitting in her lap, wrapped up in her arms, giggling and smiling just as beautifully as his mother.

Without hesitation, Dean lifted the frame from the wall and opened the back. He pulled the photo free and set the empty frame aside. Tracing his fingertip lightly over the image, he smiled down at it for a moment before carefully folding and tucking it into his wallet. He tried not to think about the fact that Fiona was currently at death's door. Or the fact that he was placing the photo of her and Gunner alongside the photo of himself with his own Mother, alongside the photo of his Dad. He fought back the sensation of his wallet becoming a graveyard, of Fiona's photo being just another private headstone for him to visit.

He turned around just in time to see Sam quickly avert his eyes. He chuckled quietly and nodded in appreciation. It seemed Sammy was going to let this one slide, was just going to pretend he had not seen his big brother having a sentimental moment.

"I'm not seeing any local florists that carry Hawthorn," Sam announced once his eyes were firmly locked on the computer screen again. "Well, at least not any that have it listed on their websites."

"Guess we're doing some legwork then," Dean sighed and walked over to the window, pushing aside the curtains to get a look at the backyard.

"I've got a list of places we can check. Just let me print it out and we'll get-" Sam answered, but frowned when Dean started laughing. "What's funny?" He asked as he climbed to his feet.

Dean motioned outside the window and held the curtains back for his brother.

"Good thing we checked here first," Dean said.

Sam's eyes widened when he spotted the numerous hawthorn shrubs in the garden.

"Well...that'll save us some time," Sam declared.

A.N.: Sorry for the delay on this one! Real life demanded my undivided attention for a while, but I am so glad you're still following along :D What do you think so far? Love? Hate? Still looking forward to reading more? Let me know! Feedback = writing fuel!