John shook his hair out.

"Well, holy water beats a bullet!" he said ruefully, remembering the last meeting between him and Bobby.

"That can still happen!" Bobby warned him gruffly. "Why are you here?"

"I got a call from Missouri about two months ago telling me to come see you. She didn't say why."

"Two months ago? Wow, you're a prompt one, ain't yah!" Bobby said sarcastically. "You really are an autocratic bastard! Wonder how you made it as a marine with that bighead of yours!" Bobby stood aside and let him get inside.

"I had things going on!" John growled as he went past Bobby and immediately his eyebrows shot up as he heard Emily sing.

"Anyone I know?" he asked with a smirk.

"Not yet, but if you answered your damn phone once in a while or called back, you would. That's Emily."

"Way to go Bobby!" John cheered.

"No wonder Dean's mind lives in the gutter!" Bobby groused. "It's not what you think. If you had paid more attention to her location than to her voice, you'd notice that she is using the guest bathroom. She's just a kid, John and here's the kicker…"

"She's working her way through college?" John smirked.

"She's your kid!"

"Christo!"

"I'm not possessed!"

"High?" John laughed.

"Not high either. Remember those four months you completely lost? Well, turns out you were down in the aptly named town, Eros, indulging your inner Eros with a broad. Emily is the result of that time."

John threw his head back and laughed. He and Bobby didn't see eye to eye on many things, but he absolutely enjoyed Bobby's humour. Indulging his inner Eros in a town called Eros! Gosh the man had a gift with words when he deigned to use them.

"Not joking either, Chuckles!" Bobby said gruffly.

John chortled appreciatively for a moment more, until the rest of Bobby's sentence hit him and he went quiet as he thought and remembered. Those four months were indeed a blank. For a while, he had made an effort to find out what had transpired but he'd finally given up and returned to his sons and Pastor Jim.

He'd told Jim about his experience and together they researched every possible scenario from possession to sleepwalking! Of course none fit, and they had quit on the research as other matters and hunts presented themselves. Both men however agreed that whatever had happened in those four months would definitely come back and bite John in the ass someday. Looked like someday was today.

"Wait! Bobby, is Eros by any chance in Indiana?"

"No, it's in Louisiana. Why?"

"I remember this pregnant woman in Gentryville who attacked me."

"That would be Celeste. Emily's mother."

"Why was she in Indiana then?"

"Looking for you, only she knew you as Gale Cursor."

"Jesus, Bobby, you think I left my kids for four months to have an affair with a woman who I lied to about my identity and then left when she got pregnant? Damn, I didn't think your opinion of me was so low." John sobered.

"No, you've got serious faults, but you're not callous."

"And yet you're so sure that kid up there is mine!"

"Because I had a DNA test done."

"Really? I don't remember giving you a sample!"

"I got samples from Sam and Dean."

"What?" John's voice was dangerous. "You dragged my sons into this?"

"I was actually trying to clear your fool name while helping out a lost kid at the same time. Unfortunately, it turned out the kid really is yours."

"She can't be. Whatever happened those four months, was not me!" he protested. "And whatever it was, it was clever and had covered its tracks!" he thought. It had jacked his body in Georgia, perversely used him in Louisiana, and then dumped him in Virginia. In his short quest for answers to those four months, he had not factored in a third state. He had only investigated Jesup and its immediate surrounding towns in Georgia, and Bland County in Virginia. Damn, whatever had taken him was intelligent. That ruled out a great number of supernatural beings, many of which were not known for their brilliance, only their blood thirst.

"I'm aware something was riding you, but the kid's yours, John. Doesn't matter whether you were in the driver's seat or not," Bobby said.

"You by any chance find out what it was? The thing that did this I mean."

God the man had a one track mind! He'd probably hadn't spared the kid a thought. Sometimes Bobby wanted to shake John for being an insensitive bastard. "No. Haven't gotten round to that yet. I was more concerned with keeping her alive!"

"Alive?"

"Something tried to kill her. Damn near succeeded too. Slit her arms. She almost bled out."

"Something supernatural?"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Thought saying something and not someone was cue enough! I highly doubt a regular animal would slit a person's wrist, but what do I know?"

"Is she okay?" Finally, a personal question.

"Yeah. A neighbour found her, called an ambulance. She, the neighbour is probably still shelling out her money to a couch doctor! The hospital called me. I called you and the boys. Since then, I've tried to call you a couple of times, left you messages. Jim too. I'm sure your boys tried as well."

John was quiet remembering all the calls and messages he had ignored.

"So this is the situation Dean was talking about, huh?"

"Most likely."

John buried his head in his hands. Poor Dean, he had sounded so tired and sad in that message. John knew what had put that sadness in his Dean's voice. He knew Dean had had to make a decision and that it had broken his heart. Knowing his sons, John immediately guessed what that decision had been; he knew Dean would have made a hunter's decision, and that Sam would have disapproved but still deferred to his brother. So John guessed that the boys had walked away from their sister to protect her.

But the selfless act had evidently not been enough to grant her immunity. Was this life a Winchester's curse? If so, then his decision to keep the truth of the supernatural from Adam was probably wrong.

He had found out about Adam three years ago. At first the boy had had a huge chip on his shoulder at what he perceived as abandonment by his father but had gradually warmed up to John. He was a good kid, tough and strong-willed but with a friendly, caring side to him. He would probably follow in his mother's medical steps and even further. He was fifteen now, well adjusted for a teenager, none of those bitchy, sullen moods Sam had perfected at that age. Adam was happy and completely oblivious to the other world out there, including his brothers and now, if Bobby was not pulling an elaborate joke, his sister. That really was the only thing that made John sad; that Adam would never know Sam and Dean and as the situation stood now, Emily.

Emily, that was a beautiful name, he certainly wouldn't have come up with that one. He wondered what she was like. Probably as stubborn as all get out. His sons no matter how different they were from each other were all stubborn and strong-willed. When they made a stand, they were unyielding. It infuriated him to no end but he acknowledged they got it from him. It was the one thing he'd gifted all his children so it was within reason that Emily would be stubborn. The real question was, would she be stubborn in the subtle, joke cracking way Dean was, or the loud, gesticulating, defiant method Sam used, or the diplomatic I'm listening to you and pretending to take your side so you can leave me alone ploy Adam had perfected?

He remembered the crazy waitress who had tried to skin him. God, he hoped Emily was nothing like her in temperament. On second thought, if she looked anything like her mother, then he hoped she had the knife skills to keep all those shady boys at bay. If not, John himself would teach her how to shoot and skin!

He probably would have to anyway, now that she had been marked. He hoped she had had a wonderful life before she had been dragged into this crazy shit one. He hoped she would be able to return to that life but he knew that was highly undoubtable. He had once thought he would return to his old life but it was now 21 years and counting.

Twenty-one years! God, Sam, had been raised on the road. In a way he was better off than Dean, who had had a normal life only to have it ripped away. Sam did not have a before and after like Dean. Still, there was so much Sam had missed out on, so much John could not give him.

He knew Dean had tried to give his brother as much normal as he could, and had protected him from their world as long as was possible. As a result Sam was big-hearted and kind, like his brother who pretended otherwise, but unlike Dean, Sam desperately wanted to find the good in everything, even monsters. His idealism and naivety scared John shitless and when Sam had decided to go off to college, John's fear had been expressed in the only way he knew how … through anger and aggression. And for the first time since he'd become a teenager, Sam had not reacted with anger and aggression like John had become used to. Instead the boy had gone quiet, looked at his father with hurt and betrayal, turned to Dean with a similar look only this one was softened with sadness and love, then he had walked out of the motel they were staying at. John hadn't spoken to his son since then.

At first he had raged and called Sam selfish for leaving him and Dean behind, for leaving the hunt. In retrospect he knew he had been an asshole about the whole affair though he would never admit it. Sam had left for two reasons, one of which was downright noble.

First, Sam left because he believed he was not needed, at least not in the hunting life. He wasn't being a drama queen like John had accused him. John was the leader, the commanding officer, Dean was his right-hand man, his dependable soldier. But what was Sam? He simply was the youngest, the one to be protected. So he figured they could do without him on hunts, and were probably better for it because they wouldn't be distracted by watching out for him. He hadn't been bitter about it. He had said it like the simple fact that it was. He hadn't expected John to see it as a ploy for attention or praise. Sam had figured he could go to college, while staying in touch with his father and brother, and maybe away from his enigmatic kin, he would finally find himself, and also figure out his place in the family dynamics. Instead John had called him selfish and written him off.

Second, he left for Dean. Sam was a hunter without a cause. John hunted for revenge, Dean hunted so others wouldn't know the loss he and his family had suffered. Sam on the other hand did not have a big grand motive for hunting. He didn't do it for the thrill, for the glory, for a mother he didn't remember, heck he didn't even do it because his father expected him to. No, he did it for Dean. Sam hunted just to back up his brother, to keep an eye on him and keep him safe. From the time Sam had became aware of what lurked out there, he hadn't really trusted John to keep Dean safe. John didn't blame him, he knew he had dropped the ball on being a father and deserved the doubt. Sam had however realised with a jolt that his presence during a hunt negated his role of being a backup for Dean when during one hunt, Dean had deliberately put himself in danger to protect Sam. It scared him to realise that his presence put Dean in more danger, as Dean would always put himself last. So Sam left the hunt for the same reason he had been in it, and that was to protect Dean. To no avail, he had tried to explain this to a raging father and a silent unsupportive brother.

Dean! With that John's thoughts had come back full circle.

Dean had not said a thing that evening. He had not tried to stop his brother from leaving. At first John had not understood why. Dean always mediated between John and Sam. He was their very own personal negotiator, their saving grace. Without him, John did not think he and Sam would have kept from killing each other. Dean, the world's worst communicator when it came to his own feelings, always knew what to say to get Sam or John to back down or back off. John had always taken the boy's ability for granted till that night when without his guidance, John had crashed and burnt and completely destroyed the bridge between him and Sam.

With time John had come to understand why Dean had been quiet. Dean had been torn. For once in his life, in their life, he had been put in a position where he could not choose.

He had always wanted what was best for his brother. The big brother, protector part of him agreed with Sam, this part of him wanted his brother to leave this life, to go have an apple pie life and be safe away from the monsters and nightmares, but another part, that vulnerable, lost boy part that had no friends aside from his brother, did not want Sam to go. Of course he would not have gone about it like John did.

No, Dean knew his brother. Despite being volatile and loud when he was fighting with his father, Sam was sensitive. Anything said to him hit him hard and burrowed deep, never to be forgotten. So no, Dean would not have said the things John had said. He would simply have asked Sam to stay, and Sam would have stayed simply because Dean had asked. But both boys would have had a bad case of what ifs. What if I had gone? What if I had not kept him from going? Neither would have been able to bear the resentment that would have cropped up. Besides, Dean could live with anything as long as it didn't cause Sam pain, even letting him go.

So Dean had stayed silent, unable to choose. Unfortunately Sam had taken Dean's silence as a betrayal. He'd thought Dean's silence meant he agreed with their father. Yet Dean's silence had been a gift to his brother. It had given Sam a choice. A choice untainted by Dean's heartfelt petition for his brother to stay.

When Sam had walked out that door, Dean's heart had broken. He had not said anything to his father, but John knew his son had never looked at him the same again. He had really lost both his sons that night.

He was a crap father.

"Whoa! Where did you go?" Bobby exclaimed.

John shrugged. "Sorry. So what's she like?" he asked.

"Interesting!" Bobby said with a smile. "You'll find out soon enough."

John took in the words and the smile on Bobby's face and was immediately wary. How had this Emily girl managed to affect the gruff hunter in so short a time? What had she done to the man? He knew it couldn't be natural.

"You did carry out tests right?"

"What?" Bobby was startled. When had the conversation shifted back to this?

"Bobby, she could be anything!" John admonished, "And I know my sons have been here, I do keep tabs on them you know!"

"What do you think I am? An idjit? That I'd knowingly expose the boys to danger? You know me better than that, John! I've made her drink holy water, I've accidentally on purpose spilled salt and gopher dust on her. I even brought out Karen's special flatware because it's pure silver! I've searched her things for hex bags, just in case. And guess what, she walks clear across a devil's trap every time she enters my study, John! Not to mention the fact that she can recite the Rituale Romanum which would be quite a feat for a demon. Trust me, I have tested her with everything I know!"

They turned at the gasp.

Emily stood in the doorway, straight and rigid, her mouth open in shock.

Shit, how had they not heard the singing stop? How long had she been standing there?

"Emi …" Bobby began.

She seemed to straighten even further which as far as John was concerned was damn near impossible since she was already pin straight before. "Bobby … don't!" she said quietly.

Bobby was shocked because as far as he was concerned, Emily exploded when she was mad. Like when Rumsfeld had dug up her garden, or when Bobby had unintentionally dissed her and her mum that first day he met her, or when Dean had objected to training her in hunting, or when Sam had changed things around on her computer hard drive, those times and other times she had stormed and raged. This was new, this quiet icy anger was new and very disconcerting.

"Damn!" John thought. The girl's voice carried such cold fury, that it could freeze a man in his tracks, as it had now stopped Bobby who was looking at her in shock. However, it was the eyes; eyes that were remarkably similar to his and Sam's that showed the true emotion she was feeling and that was pain and betrayal. The rigid body language and the cold anger were a mask.

If ever there was a test for being a Winchester, this was it! For a Winchester, hiding or camouflaging emotion was as easy and inherent as breathing.

Joy was acceptable, most likely the only emotion a Winchester wouldn't hide, probably because it came along so rarely for them. Everything else was game. Fear was masked with defiance or sarcasm, layered with cockiness or witticism, pain and grief were effectively covered with kinetic rage and worry was hidden behind studied indifference or name calling and sometimes anger. When it suited them, even anger was covered, usually by nonchalance and sometimes by dry humour only for it to erupt furiously on an unsuspecting victim.

All Winchesters did it, even Sam, whose greatest mask was the pretend openness he exuded. Many fell for it, but John knew Sam was just as closed off as him and Dean, and was simply better at hiding it. The trick to reading a Winchester was in the eyes.

By the looks of things, Emily was most assuredly his daughter.

She looked at them a moment longer then turned and left the room. She went upstairs, snagged her car keys and slipped out.

"Fancy a car ride Rumsfeld?"

The dog jumped in through the driver's side and she followed him in, started the car and drove off.

"Crap, where is she going?" John jumped up in alarm when he heard the car start.

"Let her go. She'll be fine." Bobby spoke calmly even though his heart was beating faster than it had before, but he had lectured the boys about loosening the apron strings so he had to walk the talk.

"Fine? Bobby, you said something tried to kill her not so long ago, something you have not yet figured out. So how can you sit there all calm and sure she'll be fine?" John was beginning to sound angry and accusatory.

Bobby knew it was because he was worried. Good, it meant the man was thinking like a father and not a hunter.

"Don't worry, She's got the ring."

"What? Ring? What the hell, Bobby?"

"She's got this protection ring. Got it from her adoptive mother who got it from her birth mother who got it from her own mother. It keeps her safe. You wouldn't know that from looking at the thing by the way, and I don't know how it works myself, but it does."

John wanted to ask about the numerous mothers in Bobby's explanation but he was still concerned about the safety of his prospective daughter. "Then it doesn't work very well, does it? She still got attacked!" he exclaimed loudly, completely unconvinced.

"Only because she had taken the damn thing off then. You know what? As we wait, why don't I tell you the story, from the top?"

John reluctantly sat back down and Bobby told him what he had learnt from the boys about Cece Deco, what little he knew about Celeste from the letter Emily had given him and the details she had found out at the beginning of her journey. He talked about the box and then relayed the attack on Emily.

"Let me get this straight. Under the influence of God knows what, I had a child with the daughter of a woman who seems to have supernatural powers? And now this child, who is very likely my daughter, is a target of something which by all accounts sounds like it is responsible for her mother's death and that of her adoptive parents? God, does this ever end? How the hell am I going to get to the bottom of this when I am still trying to figure out what happened 21 years ago in my own house!"

There was silence as John tried to think about a game plan, and Bobby tried to figure John out.

"I have to go check out this Cece woman myself. Ask a few questions of my own," John pushed his chair back.

Bobby could not believe the man. "You want to go now?"

"Should I wait for a gun start or something?"

"What about Emily?"

"What about her?"

Bobby looked at John like he was seeing him for the first time. And maybe he was. "John you just found out you have a daughter and you're going to leave without even talking to her?"

"She's not here right now, is she? Besides, I'll serve her better finding out what is after her, neutralising it and keeping her safe."

Bobby had had enough. "Keeping her safe, that is always your excuse, ain't it? Probably how you justified running off and leaving Dean, despite the boy's steadfast loyalty to you. Is that how you justify not answering his and Sam's calls? Well that's bullshit and it ain't gonna wash with me this time. I don't expect you to spend months here, heck I don't want you to, because I just might make good on that threat and shoot your stubborn ass with buckshot, but the least you can do is wait for your daughter and talk to her, see if she's okay. There's more to life than just staying alive and being safe. Be a damn father for god's sake!" he exploded.

The normal John Winchester reaction to such a statement would have been pure vitriol, reminding Bobby that the boys were not his sons and Emily not his daughter, but instead he said, "I haven't been a father in 21 years, Bobby. I've been a hunter, and to my sons a rigid drill sergeant and an uncaring dictator depending on which son you ask and I wouldn't know what to say to Emily. I'm aware I'm losing my sons, if I haven't lost them already and I might never have a relationship with my daughter but, it's a chance I'm willing to take. I can live with them hating and despising me, but I can't, I won't watch them die. The only thing I can offer them is a life free from monsters."

This was the saddest and most honest Bobby had ever seen John. The tough layer had been stripped away to show the raw man underneath.

"Even you cannot conquer all the monsters out there, John." Bobby's voice was soft.

"I can conquer the ones after my children or die trying!" John said past the lump in his throat.

In the silence the two men looked at each other in a new light.

"Well, since you're feeling so gung-ho about unravelling Emily's mystery, why don't you have a go at the box. Start at envelope thirteen then skip to sixteen if you want the relevant stuff. So how do you feel about my chilli? I keep forgetting whether it's you who hates it!" Bobby broke the silence in the only way he knew John would appreciate, by changing the subject.