Thank you so much Jenjoremy for the fab beta job and Gredelina1 for all your help and support. Love you ladies. Thank you all for the reviews and support for the last chapter. It means more to me than I can say.

Chapter Nineteen

"Or if you prefer, we have a selection of all natural caskets. They are environmentally friendly and fully—"

Sam shook his head curtly, cutting the man off. He couldn't think about the environmentally friendly nature of the box that would hold his father for all eternity. He could barely think of any of it. It was all so wrong.

He should not be doing this. He should be at the lake, studying for the LSAT with Jessica, or fishing, or playing in the boat. He shouldn't be deciding which coffin James would have preferred, which type of wood, which shade, which lining was right for him.

There were so many to choose from: ironwood, mahogany, oak, cherry, pine. And then the 'natural' woven baskets and decorated wood and cardboard even—beautiful scenes of sunsets and spring meadows. He had even seen one with a soccer pitch on it. They would be perfect for some people, but not James.

"Of course, sir. Something traditional then?"

"Yeah," Sam said quietly.

They were led over to a different section of the showroom and the assistant started waxing lyrical about the quality of the wood they used and the American craftsmanship.

"This one," Sam said, pointing at a random casket.

"The cherry," the man said. "Wonderful choice, sir. It speaks of your deep respect for the deceased."

"Are you sure, baby?" Jessica asked gently. "There's no rush. We can look some more."

Sam looked properly at the casket he'd chosen. It was as nice as these things could be. Rich red wood and gold fittings. It was fine. What did it matter anyway? James wouldn't care what he was put in. He was beyond caring. He was… Sam didn't know where he was. He knew where the body was, in the funeral home, but his spirit, where was that?

"I'm sure," Sam said, turning away and walking out of the showroom. Once he started walking, it was impossible to stop. He walked right out of the lobby and into the fresh air then carried on right across the street, making two cars screech to a stop and the drivers lean on their horns. He carried right on though.

"Sam!" He heard Jessica's scared voice behind him and he stopped on the sidewalk to wait for her. She weaved through the stalled cars and rushed to his side. She grabbed his arm and squeezed it hard, fear still in her eyes. "You nearly got hit!"

"Sorry," Sam said dully.

She closed her eyes for a moment and when she spoke her voice was soft. "You have to be more careful."

"I will be," Sam said, no conviction in his voice. He was trying, he really was, but he couldn't seem to find the will to care about anything much. He knew Jessica deserved better. She had been amazing throughout all of this and he owed her more then to be this shadow of a man, but he felt so lost; he had ever since he had woken to see his father's body peppered with bullet wounds.

Jessica had taken control then. She had appeared out of nowhere, and enveloped Sam in her arms. She had held him, shushing him as if he was crying. He hadn't been though. Other than one tear shed at the sight of James' body, his eyes had been dry. He thought maybe it was easier this way, as if he started to cry, he wouldn't stop.

She had been the one to come up with the cover story, too. She had sent Dean and John away and called the cops, and when they'd come, she'd told the story of how they'd heard gunshots and found James outside. When the cops had asked for theories of why James had been out alone at night, Jessica wove a story about his insomnia and the calming nature of the lake for him. They'd accepted it all, and after Sam and Jessica had given formal statements, they'd left them alone.

"Come with me," Jessica said, tugging on his arm and leading him through a gate into a small park. She led him to a bench and sat down, waiting for him to do the same before speaking. "I know you're hurting, baby, but you have to take care of yourself. I understand you not being hungry right now, and the sleep thing, but you can't just walk out in front of traffic and expect to not get hurt." She bit her lip. "They won't be there to save you all the time."

Sam stiffened. She hadn't mentioned Dean and John even vaguely since they'd left that night, though Sam was sure she was in contact with them. He heard her on the phone sometimes, and it didn't sound like she was talking to her family or any of their friends. Sam didn't blame John and Dean. To their eyes they had killed a monster, the monster that they had hunted for years. But they had also killed Sam's father.

He saw now, upon reflection of his life and relationship with his father, that James and the Shtriga hadn't been the same person. The Shtriga was the creature inside that James had beaten down for eighteen years, denying. James himself was the man that had loved Sam. Sam had loved him, too. He wished he had been able to hold his anger that night, when James had revealed his other self. He should have handled it better. Perhaps there could have been some other way for it to end but in tragedy.

The one good thing of it was that the children were saved: the ones that had survived that long in the hospital and the ones that hadn't yet been taken. The other doctors believed James' last course of treatment had been successful and that was what had saved them.

Sam knew the truth though. When James had died, their life forces had been returned to them. Dean and John had saved them, and while Sam knew James' death was a fair price for their lives, he wished it wasn't tearing him apart inside to know that.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "It's just I'm scared. I nearly lost you twice now. Don't let there be a third time."

"I won't," he assured, touching her cheek and staring into her eyes. "I'll be okay."

"Promise?"

"I promise." He drew a deep breath, looked back at the funeral home and said, "I can't go back in there, Jess. Can you sort out the details for me?"

"Of course, but there are other things we need to do. They'll want to talk to you about the service arrangement."

"I can't," he said again. "I'm sorry, Jess. Not today. I'll come back tomorrow. I need to get away now."

She nodded. "Okay, baby. I'll fix it." She squeezed his hand. "Stay here, okay?"

Sam nodded and, as she stood and walked away, he fixed his attention on the children playing in the park in front of him—children that Dean and John had protected, children they'd killed someone to save.

When they got back to the house, there was a new car in the drive beside James' Lexus. It was an SUV and Sam knew who it belonged to. He turned panicked eyes on Jessica and said, "They're early!"

Becky, Zach and Brady had wanted to come to the funeral, and Sam hadn't had a good enough argument to stop them, but they weren't supposed to arrive for a couple days. Sam wasn't sure he could deal with them yet.

"It's okay," Jessica soothed. "I'll talk to them. They can get a place in town to stay. You don't have to see them till you're ready."

"No," Sam said. "That's dumb, and rude. There are plenty of rooms here for them. I just need a minute to get my head together is all."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Sam said even though his mind screamed no.

"Give me a few minutes. I'll go get them set up in rooms and you can sit out back a while if you like."

"Thank you," Sam said with obvious sincerity.

"Anything you need, Sam, always" she said.

She got out of the car and Sam sank lower in his seat. He knew he would have to face them soon, but he needed just a little longer before that happened. He needed to get his head on straight, or at least as much as he could.

He waited five minutes and then climbed out of the car and walked around the side of the house to the backyard. The seats were pushed back from the table which made him think that was where his friends had waited for his and Jessica's return.

He took one of the chairs and turned it toward the lake and sat down, staring out at the light glinting off the rippling water. It was strange, he thought, that the lake brought him comfort and something resembling peace now, when it was the setting of the worst moment of his life.

He could remember other things about the place though. He remembered drinks shared with his father out here, he remembered fishing with him off the jetty, he remembered kayaking and taking out the small motorboat together. His father lived out here for Sam.

The door slid open behind him, and he didn't bother to look as he was sure it would be Jessica, but then a beer was held out to him, and he saw it was Brady. "Hey, man," he said.

Sam took the proffered beer and nodded. "Hey."

Brady pulled a seat around beside him and said, "Jess thinks we should leave you alone. She thinks that'll be best for you, but I know better."

"I really think..." Sam started, but Brady spoke over him.

"I know what a brain like yours can do to you, Sam. I know you can't switch it off, which means you're out here over-thinking and suffering."

"You know a lot," Sam said.

"I do. I also know Jess has been tying herself in knots trying to make this right for you, and I also know there is no making it right. And," he said heavily, "I also know you haven't cried yet."

Sam frowned at him." Did Jess tell you that?"

"No, I just know you and how you operate."

Sam sighed. "I really don't want to talk about this, Brady."

"Yeah, but I think you need to. Your whole world just got turned on its head. You're a talker, Sam, so talk."

Sam huffed a laugh. It was true his world had been turned upside down. In fact, that had happened three times in as many days. He had found out he was adopted, that was enough to deal with, especially as his blood family was there and desperate to build something with him. Then he'd found out the monster that had stolen him as a child was actually the father he loved, too. And then... the monster had been killed, and his father with it, in the process of it trying to kill Sam. That was just too much to deal with.

"I just found out I was adopted," he said. "My dad took me in when I was four, and I didn't know."

"Whoa!" Brady said. "That's some pretty heavy shit."

"Yeah. I met my birth father for the first time a few days ago. I'd already met my brother; he was the one that saved me when I was snatched."

"That Dean guy? He's your brother?"

"You know him?"

"I met him at the hospital when you were brought in," he said. "He seemed… interesting."

"He's a good man," Sam said. "They both are."

"Ahh," Brady sighed. "And that makes this whole situation a whole lot more complicated, doesn't it? You meet them and now your dad is dead and you feel like you betrayed him."

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, man, I can't say I know how you're feeling, because I've never been in your situation. I know one thing, though. Your dad loved you. He wouldn't want you to feel guilty now."

If only that were true, Sam thought. James might not mind him seeing his birth family. He might understand that. But the hunters that killed him? No, he surely couldn't forgive that, even though they hadn't been killing the man but the monster.

"You don't think so?" Brady asked.

"He loved me," Sam said. "But I don't know whether he would want me to see them again."

Brady took a draw on his bottle of beer and said, "Then don't. Give yourself a break for a while. They're not going anywhere, are they? Let yourself grieve your dad, and maybe then see about expanding your family again. There's no rush, Sam."

"It'll hurt them," Sam said.

"Yeah, but, harsh as it may sound, that's not your problem. They have to take care of themselves and you have to take care of you. Do what you've got to do, Sam, for yourself and your dad."

Sam swallowed hard against the pain. It was the loss of both his families that was hurting him now. He couldn't be true to James and grieve if he was true to Dean and John, too. He had to be no man's son for a while to grieve his father before he could move on and try to rebuild anything new.

"We shouldn't be here," Dean whispered, not for the first time.

"It was your idea," John reminded him.

"And it was a bad one. You should have talked me out of it."

"Don't you want to see him?"

Dean just glared at his father. Obviously he wanted to see Sam. It had been days and other than Jessica's reassurances that she was taking care of him, they'd not heard news of nor seen Sam. They were both worried, and when Dean had floated the idea that they try to check up on him at the funeral, John had agreed readily.

But now that they were there, he realized it was some kind of sick joke that they were attending the funeral of the man they'd killed. Except, he wasn't a man. Dean kept reminding himself of that. He was a Shtriga, the creature that had killed countless children over the years; the creature that had torn Sam from their side and their lives apart. It was easier to remember that when they were alone in their motel, but across the street from the crowd of people surrounding the church entrance, it was impossible to forget that to these people, James Hydeker was a good doctor and man. There were more people than Dean had ever seen at a funeral in his life. The church was packed and there was a man at the door turning people away from trying to enter. It looked like most of the town had turned out. There were even speakers set up outside the church, ready to transmit the service for those that couldn't get in.

"What the…?" John sucked in a breath, and Dean followed his gaze to the front of the church.

"Aw, man, that's just sick," he said quietly.

There were two women guiding a group of children to the church and lining them up each side of the entrance in an honor guard. It was among the most messed up things Dean had ever seen. The man had killed these children's classmates, friends maybe, perhaps some of them had even been among the victims that survived, and they were honoring his life.

"Sammy," John said then, pulling Dean from his disgusted thoughts as the chatter across the street died down. There was a black hearse driving slowly up the street, followed by a black sedan. The hearse pulled up in front of the church, and the sedan stopped behind it.

The door opened and Jessica climbed out, looking beautiful but sad in her modest black dress. She stepped away from the car and Sam climbed out. He looked terrible. Dean groaned at the sight of him. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. Had he not been upright and conscious, Dean would have believed his life force had been stolen from him after all. His pallor was obvious even at the distance, and the way he held himself was wrong. He was hunched over, slumped, as if he was carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders. Dean was instantly scared for him.

Sam looked up and down the street and his eyes fell on Dean and John. His mouth dropped open for a moment, and then Jessica slipped her hand into his and said something. He turned his attention away from them and nodded.

"We shouldn't have come," John said regretfully.

Dean nodded his agreement, not reminding his father he had been saying that a while now. Neither of them walked away though. They were trapped by Sam's appearance.

They watched silently as the coffin was unloaded from the hearse and lifted onto the shoulders of six waiting men. The whole crowd fell respectfully silent at the sight of it. The coffin was carried through the young honor guard into the church. Dean noticed Sam looked shocked when they passed the children, and he guessed whoever had arranged it, it wasn't him or Jessica.

Sam disappeared inside, Jessica walking at his side, and then the speakers crackled. A hymn played and then a voice Dean didn't know started came to scratchy life. "We are here today to say goodbye to James Hydeker, doctor, preserver of life, and above all, devoted father."

John shook his head angrily, turning away and walking along the street. Dean followed him, knowing his father needed him more in that moment than Sam did. They reached the spot they'd parked the Impala, and they both climbed in.

"Father!" John spat.

Dean didn't say anything. He knew John needed his silence to vent into.

"That thing wasn't a father. He was a kidnapper and murderer. He stole Sam from us and then lied to him every day of his life. I hate him," he said passionately. "He killed children, and there they have them lining the damn path for his coffin. And Sam! Did you see him? He's a wreck, and it's all because of that monster."

"I saw," Dean said quietly. "And I'm with you, Hydeker was a monster, but he was a monster Sam loved."

"God damn him to hell," John spat. "If he's ruined my son, I'll…"

Dean knew there was no threat left. They had killed him already. He was beyond their reach of revenge. The only thing they could do now was hope Sam would come back to them.

They'd been back at their motel a few hours when there was a knock at the door. Dean stood and made to open it, expecting housekeeping, as Caleb had left days ago. He was stunned therefore to see Sam and Jessica standing on the threshold.

"Sam!" he said, and John lurched to his feet from the table he had been sitting at.

"Hey," Sam said dully. "Can we come in?"

"Of course," Dean said, practically falling over backwards to allow him access.

"Sit down," John said, pulling back a chair for Sam.

"Thanks," Sam said taking the seat.

Jessica refused the chair Dean offered and stood beside Sam, her hand on his shoulder.

"What can we do for you?" John asked, sitting opposite and leaning forward slightly.

"I saw you today," Sam said, "at the funeral."

"We weren't meaning to be disrespectful," Dean said hurriedly. "We just wanted to see you."

Sam nodded slowly. "I get that. And I understand, which is why I feel like such an asshole saying this."

"Say it," John encouraged. "Whatever you need, Sam."

Sam closed his eyes a moment, and Jessica squeezed his shoulder. "I need you to go," he said.

John couldn't keep the quick indrawn breath from Sam's notice. It made both Dean and Sam wince.

"I'm sorry," Sam said mournfully. "I know it's unfair, after everything you did for me, but I can't..."

"It hurts," Jessica supplied.

"Yes," Sam said, seizing on the words. "I feel like I'm being burned all the time. I feel raw, and I can't think of anything but him. And when I see you... I see..."

The people that murdered my father. The words were unspoken but they were clear for the room to hear regardless.

For a moment, Dean felt anger surge. They had murdered a monster. But then the reminder he had spoken to John mere hours ago came to him: he was a monster Sam had loved. The anger seeped out of him. It galled him that Sam felt that way, but it made a sick kind of sense. Sam had eighteen years to love his father, and less than an hour to see what he really was before he was killed.

"Okay, Sam," he said gently. "We'll go."

John's gaze snapped to him and Dean narrowed his eyes in warning.

"Just for a little while," Sam said. "I just need a little time."

"Of course," Dean said. "Whatever you need."

"It won't be forever, will it?" John asked, seemingly in spite of himself.

"No," Sam said. "Just a little time.

"Thank you," John said quietly.

Sam turned and looked up at Jessica. She seemed to communicate something with him without words, and Sam said. "I do still want to try."

Dean smiled. "Good. Whenever you're ready, we'll be waiting."

Sam looked into his eyes, and Dean saw Sam's were wet.

"Thank you," Sam said, standing. "I should go." His voice was choked. Jessica took his hand and they walked to the door. Dean remained still, watching him leave.

As the door closed behind them, John stood quickly and made for the window. Dean followed him and looked out through the thin net curtain. Sam and Jessica were standing a few feet from Sam's car, enclosed in each other's arms. Sam was shaking against Jessica. When Dean listened carefully, he heard the sobs through the thin glass barrier between them.

"Oh, Sammy," he said.

"It's not forever," John reminded him.

"No," Dean agreed. But however long it was, it would hurt, knowing Sam was suffering, too, and he couldn't help him, because being close to them hurt him.

So… Don't hate me okay. It's not forever, and it's what Sam needs. I promise to get them together again very soon.

Until next time...

Clowns or Midgets xxx