After his shower, John sought out Bobby and Missouri. He was surprised to find Sam in the kitchen and made a mental note to order pizza or something. He'd take extra calories over food poisoning any day. He wondered what had possessed Dean to leave the breakfast preparations to Sam. And he wondered why Missouri, the kitchen Mussolini was not holding court in her domain.

He found her and Bobby in the study, sitting in silence, the atmosphere solemn. Bobby was taking sips from his flask.

"Isn't it too early for that?" John spoke disapprovingly.

"The pot asked the kettle!" Bobby retorted.

It was a subtle 'fuck you, you functioning alcoholic hypocrite' and John read it as such, bobbing his head apologetically at Bobby before turning to Missouri. He had never seen the woman look so grave and worn, and after getting past the fact that Bobby was having a drink so early in the morning, John noticed the man was looking tired too.

"What's with you two? Did you have a late night or something?" he asked carefully, not ready to be told off again.

"The wolfsbane had to be added at exactly 3 a.m. and the potion had to be watched for instability." Missouri answered.

Any concerns John might have had on hearing the word instability were outweighed by the possibility of the cure being ready. "So it's finished then?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes, it's ready if that's what you're asking," she answered rather testily.

"So she can take it now?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake John, let the child enjoy a lie-in."

"She's awake. Been up more than an hour already," John replied.

"You woke her up didn't you?" Missouri said accusingly. "How many times do I have to tell you, teenagers need their sleep almost as much as babies do!" she admonished him.

"I didn't wake her up!" John protested. Missouri's eyes narrowed in disbelief, making him repeat himself more defensively. "I swear I did not wake her up!" What was it about the woman that made him feel like a wayward kid brother?

"Well then, if she's up and ready!" Missouri said in an uppity voice.

She is … she will be, after breakfast. Uggh, which reminds me, Sam's messing about in the kitchen. I gotta put an end to that."

"Why?" Bobby asked, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

John looked at Bobby in disbelief. "Senility can't have already set in! Have you forgotten just how much of a disaster the boy is in the kitchen?"

"Shows how in touch you are with those kids," Bobby said, unable to keep a note of scorn from his voice. "Sam's alright in the kitchen, let him be."

John wanted to argue, but Bobby was right. His children were almost strangers to him now. He'd dropped the ball too often, and they'd taken it and stopped passing it to him anymore. Sam had probably picked up some cooking skills at college. Neither John, who wasn't much of a cook himself, nor Dean had ever bothered teaching Sam how to cook. It was so much easier and faster for Dean to do it, so that meal preparation didn't eat into the time allocated for training. With a pang, John realised he hadn't contributed much to his sons' lives outside of hunting. He'd been too busy, too impatient, too focused on his quest to impart other skills.

By the time Dean came downstairs, Sam was almost finished with the breakfast preparations and didn't need any help. He also refused to get baited by his brother, instead sending Dean off to get clothes for Emily.

"You're no fun this morning!" Dean grumbled as he slunk off. He hoped Emily wasn't in a similar mood.

Emily yelped and tightened the bed sheet around herself when a knock sounded at the door. She cracked it open to find Dean. He laughed heartily at her makeshift outfit before handing her the clothes he'd brought. Closing the door, she dressed hurriedly, smiling at the fact that with all the different variety of under garments she had, Dean had chosen to bring her a sports bra and boyshorts. For such a womaniser, he was quite the prude.

"You can come in now!" she bellowed and he popped in, unbelievably energetic for a non-morning person. "Where's breakfast? I'm dying here! I could even risk wearing the ring and going up there!"

Dean laughed, "Samantha Stewart the Hun is on it, give him a few minutes. So how did you like rooming with dad? Did he wake you up and make you do crunches and pushups?"

"He didn't wake me up, but we did have a sparring match."

"Yep, that's dad for you! Won't let a room this size stop him! So how did you do?" Dean grabbed a book, flipped through it and tossed it back on the table. He picked up another and treated it the same way.

"Not bad," Emily smiled, "his words!"

"Yeah? That's my girl!" Dean said with genuine pride. The two high-fived.

"So what're you doing today? Because from the look of things, I am going to have to live vicariously through you!"

"You know I don't make plans. Making plans just gives the universe something to mess up. Plans are up there with the statement nothing can possibly go wrong now! I go with the flow."

Even though he said it lightly, almost jokingly, Emily knew he was speaking fact. Heck, he didn't even set alarms.

"Well, I'm not a superstitious moron like you, and besides, my life isn't a bed of roses right now, so the universe can go ahead and do its worst! This is what I've got planned today, I'm going to try and do some coding, if I can remember how, because it's been ages since I last tried. Then I'll read some, play my guitar, and who knows maybe I'll write some music, then kill myself from boredom!"

Dean laughed, "You know what, some time between the guitar and the suicide, I'll come down and keep you company, and maybe I can convince Bobby to let me, and persuade Sam to help bring the TV down here! And we can watch and laugh at bad horror movies."

"Well, now that sounds like a plan!" Emily laughed.

"Oh sweet Lord, don't say that!" Dean squawked in a pretty impressive imitation of Missouri. Emily cracked up.

"Guys? Open up!" Sam called out from beyond the steel door.

"Breakfast!" Emily was up like a shot.

Sam hadn't made anything fancy, just scrambled eggs, sausages, and bacon, but everything was well prepared and plentiful, and there was coffee.

The siblings ate enthusiastically all the while having a lively but zany debate that started with Emily remarking, "Imagine if a theme song played every time you did something?"

"That would be awesome!" Dean enthused.

"That would be annoying!" Sam said at the same time.

Both Emily and Dean had rolled their eyes at him. "Captain Killjoy!" Dean grumbled.

"Forgive me for not being an idiot!" Sam had retorted.

"What would your waking up theme song be?" Emily chose to ignore Sam's jibe and turned to Dean.

Dean thought about it for a split second then grinned, "Depends on who I wake up with!"

"What?" Emily frowned confused by the statement.

"Well, if I had a hot overnight date, it would be AC/DC's You shook me all night long!"

"Gross over-sharing!" Emily shuddered theatrically.

Sam smiled despite himself.

"Yeah well, you asked!" Dean's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Yeah, I did, regrettably!" Emily sighed. "Okay, what about under normal circumstances? No, let me rephrase that before you get more ridiculous! What about when you wake up alone?"

The grin was replaced by a small thoughtful frown, as he tried to sift through all the songs he knew. "Mmm, I don't know if you know the song, Face the day by Great White," he finally answered.

"Yeah, I know it." Emily said playing air guitar and singing the chorus.

Sam had never heard the song before, but when Emily sang the chorus, he laughed. "Figures you'd choose that one Dean, considering how much you hate mornings!"

Emily laughed too, but she knew the song quite well and her smile wavered as she thought about the verses. She wondered whether Dean was saying more with that choice of song than just not being a morning person. The lyrics, 'Give me the night, it's more forgiving, Hold back the light from my eyes, Please stay, invisible darkness, Can't see the tears I cry' came to mind and made her appraise him differently. She realised he was walking wounded, only he was really good at hiding it.

"What would yours be?" Dean asked her hurriedly, having seen her eyes darken in thoughtful sadness. After the curse, the electrocution and the reaper, Dean had on a few occasions caught Emily looking at him like that. Like she had learnt just how flimsy the stitches holding him together were. She never did more than look, never tried to get him talking, but he was sure her restraint wasn't going to last long.

Emily saw the 'deer in headlights' look Dean gave her and knew he was worried she would start psychoanalysing him and trying to get him to talk. The last hunts had seriously compromised his faith in himself and made him question his ability to watch over her and Sam. She wanted to tell him he was wrong; she and Sam had been worried for him, but they had never stopped believing in him, or trusting him. But he was currently skittish about any topic he didn't feel in control of, and he was not ready to talk about the helplessness and vulnerability he'd felt during those last hunts. Instead he preferred to focus on his siblings, and their wellbeing. She knew it was his coping mechanism. She knew that she and Sam were his distractions, his reasons for going on, his main or probably only source of stability and security. So she knew better than to make him centre stage. The best way to help him was to let him reprise and relish the role he knew best; that of the protective big brother.

So she smiled cheekily at his question and once again burst into song this time rather loudly, startling both him and Sam. "Are you ready for this!" she sang.

"Yes we are, you didn't have to be so dramatic about it!" Dean rolled his eyes.

"No, that's my morning theme song, Are you ready for this by Jock Jams, well, technically it's by 2 Unlimited."

There was a stunned silence then Dean chuckled. "I suppose it fits … you've got the energy of Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck put together!" He then proceeded to try and sing the beats of the song.

Emily began to protest the Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck crack, but Dean's singing enthusiasm made her join him. Sam smiled at them. Except in a few instances, Emily was a morning person unlike Dean so it wasn't surprising she'd chosen such an upbeat song. He was a little surprised it wasn't a blues or rock song, but on further consideration, he decided he shouldn't be astonished at all; Emily had an eclectic taste in music after all.

"What about you, Sam?" Emily asked after she and Dean were all sang out.

"I know it's going to be some emo song!" Dean groaned.

"Nothing's wrong with emo songs!" Emily retorted. "You're such a song snob!"

"Do you two want to know or not?" Sam asked them with a mock glare. Emily nodded eagerly, Dean waved him on lazily.

"I'm Alive …"

"By Celine Dion?" Dean snickered in amused disbelief.

"By Don Fardon!" Emily guessed at the same time.

"Screw you, Dean!" Sam gave his brother an evil side-eye that made him crack up.

"Well, you're such a girl, I really thought you were talking about Celine Dion!" Dean defended himself, but the smirk on his face was not endearing him to Sam.

"You know it was originally by Tommy James and the Shondells? I like their version too, but Don's one is more fun. That's a brilliant choice Sam! Seriously, I love that song!" Emily enthused, "Except of course I sing girl instead of man! Because obviously I'm not a man! Oh my Pythagoras, I haven't listened to it in ages!"

Sam stopped glaring at Dean to smile at Emily. She jumped up, undocked the iPod and located the song, then docked it again. The song began playing.

When she returned to the bed, she punched Dean. "How many times do I have to tell you, don't use girl like an insult!"

"Ow, sorry, my bad!" Dean rubbed his arm. "Jesus, why can't you hit like a g …" he trailed off with a sheepish smile.

"There's hope for him yet!" Sam grinned at Emily.

"I like this song. Okay, I have to admit you're not such a dork!" Dean commented as he replayed the tune.

Sam gave his brother one last evil look and returned to his breakfast.

"What would your training theme be?" Dean asked with his mouth full.

"You're disgusting!" both Sam and Emily protested.

When John and Missouri came in an hour later, the three siblings had long finished their breakfast, gone through themes for every activity they could think of, discussed TV show themes and were currently debating whether pirates were cooler than ninjas.

"It's really amazing how you three never run out of things to say to each other." Missouri smiled wistfully. Not for the first time, she wondered what having siblings would have been like. John had often wondered the same too.

"Is that the potion?" Emily asked.

"Yes it is. Are you ready?"

Emily nodded. "Yeah, might as well. Just … eh, tell me, on a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?"

"Never tasted it." She'd never even made it before today.

"Oh … 'kay. Bring it on."

Missouri carefully measured out half a cup of the potion and handed it to Emily, who sniffed it before taking a cautious sip.

"Bleurghhh, this is foul!" she said punctuating each word for emphasis.

"You have to finish it." John said.

Emily rolled her eyes but resisted the urge to tell him 'I know!' and finished the potion. "If I never have to drink that thing again, it will be so soon!" she complained.

"Twice a day for seven days." Missouri informed her without missing a beat.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not. Exactly half a cup, anything less won't be effective, and anything more will kill you."

There was a dead stunned silence as the information was assimilated. From the look in Missouri's eyes, it was obvious she was telling the truth, without even a hint of exaggeration.

She grabbed the tray Sam had brought down. "Right, I'll take this with me, but one of you is doing the washing up!" she said wagging a finger at Dean and Sam, and making a hasty exit.

"Well, that brought the mood down!" Emily deadpanned, trying to lighten the mood.

It didn't work.

"Dean, outside." John said hooking a finger in the direction of the door.

Emily and Sam watched them go with suspicious looks on their faces.

"Bobby and Missouri are driving to Blue Earth to get supplies from Pastor Jim. I've decided to head out with them. I trust you'll hold down the fort?" John began without preamble as soon as they were outside.

"Yeah." Dean answered simply. "I've been holding the front since I was four, it's nothing new!" he added silently in his head.

"Good." was John's answer.

"You're welcome, dad!" Dean thought sarcastically then turned and returned to the room.

"What did he want?" Sam demanded.

"One guess," Dean said bitterly.

"He's leaving, isn't he?" Sam guessed just as bitterly as his brother. Dean nodded. "Figures!" Sam spat in disappointed frustration.

"But he's coming back, right?" Emily asked.

"He didn't say," Dean answered. The last time John had said he was heading out, he'd actually meant a longer break than Dean had thought, and had been unreachable in that whole time. So Dean had learnt to lower his expectations of his father's sticking around ability. He'd hoped Emily's experience with John would be different, but apparently not.

Sam had stopped relying on John a long time ago and was not surprised this time, but he still couldn't help feeling let down. He'd hoped Emily would never have to feel that way.

"Right, I'm out of here, dorks!" Dean said with forced gusto. "Gotta hit the dishes and clean the guns!"

Silence followed in his wake. "You don't think he's coming back do you?" Emily finally asked Sam.

Sam knew she was talking about John and not Dean. "No!"

"Why?" The question was ambiguous, but Sam knew she was asking him why he thought that of their father, not why John wasn't coming back.

"He's got a reputation for it." Sam said. "I'm sorry."

Emily looked at her brother with sad eyes. It was her who should be feeling sorry for him, and Dean. No wonder the two were fiercely attached to each other. John had obviously never been a reliable constant in their lives.

"I've got you and Dean." she said with feeling. She meant both connotations of the statement; that she was content to have just the two of them, and that they could lean on her too.

Sam seemed to understand what she meant, because he smiled and said, "Thanks."

Enveloped by the music playing from the docked iPod, both settled into their activities, Emily writing letters and Sam translating a latin tome.

The first sign of trouble was when Emily reduced the volume of the playing music. "It's messing with my concentration," she lied in answer to Sam's mildly curious glance. It was giving her a headache. The reduced volume helped only marginally, so five minutes later, she stopped the player. With the silence, the headache was bearable.

Then she began to feel cooler, and remarked nonchalantly about the change in temperature. Sam didn't think much about the comment, as he was wearing a flannel shirt over his t-shirt while she was just in a tee. He figured it was within reason that the room had gotten cooler, and he'd just not noticed it. He remedied the problem by going upstairs to her room and getting her a jumper.

Half an hour later, she made the remark again, this time making Sam pause in concern. He turned to look at her and was surprised to find that she was rubbing her arms. He was sure it wasn't that cold in the room. With his heart suddenly beating faster, he turned her swivel chair round to face him, ignoring her yelped protest. Her eyes were glassy, and her face was shiny with a light sheen of sweat. He put a hand to her forehead and she swiped it away with an impatient mutter, but the heat he'd felt for that short moment was shocking.

"Rae, you're burning up! You're sick!" he exclaimed. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed earlier. She couldn't have gotten a fever that high in so short a time.

"I feel fine!" she protested. It was a lie, she felt like death. She was so cold, it was like the cold was emanating from within her and spreading outward. She wasn't sure she would ever get warm again. She knew she was sick, knew it was a fever. A killer headache, feeling cold while burning hot, intolerance of sound, those were classic signs, her classic signs. She knew the next one would be drowsiness, followed by nausea, nothing serious, nothing to call home about.

Emily hated being sick. Being sick was an inconvenience, it kept you away from the important stuff. It made you weak and helpless. It was something that wasn't important in and of itself; you took some pills, rested, and drank plenty of fluids and you were all better. And yet despite its unimportance, being sick drew attention. She hated having attention for such a non-issue. Attention not for something she had achieved, but for something that had just happened to her. She hated being sick. But whether she hated it or not, there was no denying she was sick. Damn, if this was the effect of the potion, it sure worked fast.

"That's a lie and you know it!" Sam called her out.

"So sue me!" the belligerence that always accompanied her convalesce was already manifesting.

"Just get into your bed. You know you want to." Sam spoke gently but firmly.

Emily wanted to protest, but had she no energy and there was really no point, because she did indeed want to get into her bed. Being contrary would hurt her and no one else.

Sam was shocked when Emily picked herself off the chair and crawled into the bed without complaint. Any other day, she would have put up a fight just for the principle of it and he knew she had to be feeling really awful, not to have resisted. He also didn't miss the swallowed moan when her head hit the pillow.

She curled onto her side and pulled the covers over her head. Sam watched her for a beat then left the room to get his brother. Dean would definitely want to know what was going on. Besides, he was better qualified at nurturing than Sam was. He was the one who'd nursed Sam and sometimes their father through illnesses and injuries. Sam had tried through the years to reciprocate the care, but even when sick or injured, Dean never completely relied on Sam. Sam was Dean's little brother, his responsibility. He was to be taken care of and protected in every way possible, and Dean had taken that to mean their roles should never be reversed for anything. He never let himself be looked after. Even during the hunt in Greenville, when he had been incapacitated by a curse, and had given Emily and Sam a lot of leeway, he had refused all but the most basic assistance. Sam therefore did not feel equipped to look after Emily the way he knew Dean could.

He found Dean spray painting the roof of the impala. He was surprised by the speed at which his brother had done the repair job. Dean could be surprisingly focused.

"Hey, I wanted to give you a heads up. Rae is sick. I think she's got a fever. She's shivering, but burning up, and she's in bed."

Dean startled, "Dammit!" he swore loudly, wiping his hands with jerky moves on his pants. "Just what we needed!" He took in the troubled, agitated look on his brother's face and tamped down on his fear fuelled anger with a sigh. "But … it's hardly surprising. I mean the wolf venom is like an infection, and her body is fighting it, so a fever is to be expected. This isn't necessarily a complication," he continued in a calmer voice trying to reassure his brother and himself.

"Right." Sam played along. "And just like any other fever, we cool and hydrate."

"Yeah, too bad we can't give her Tylenol. That would have helped." Dean groused. Missouri had expressly banned Emily from taking any medication, for fear it would nullify the potion.

They went to the kitchen to get the things they'd need; a basin of water, a terry towel and a glass of juice.

Emily was burrowed in the bed.

"Thermometer," Dean mouthed to Sam before sitting down next to their sister.

Sam left the room again.

"Hey, Rae," Dean called, gently pushing the blanket aside. Emily grabbed it back and covered up.

"Leave me alone!" she wailed, teeth chattering.

"I can't do that. As your brother, it's my job to be annoying and obnoxious. Now, can you sit up for me?" Dean spoke in a soft, gentle voice, as if to a child.

"No, I don't want to sit up. I want to sleep! I don't feel well." Emily whined just like a child. Under different circumstances, she would have baulked at being talked to like a child.

Dean fought the urge to laugh at her tone. "Okay, how about this, you sit up, and drink this juice, and let me take your temperature, then I'll leave you alone. I'll even get you another blanket so you're not so cold," he bargained. The tactic had always worked on Sam and Dean hoped it would work on Emily too.

It didn't. She didn't move, except for a shudder. Dean run a hand through his hair in exasperation, resisting the urge to grab her and force her up. Sam returned to the room clutching the thermometer, and he'd had the presence of mind to bring icepacks. He raised his eyebrow at seeing his siblings in virtually the same positions he'd left them in. Dean shook his head ruefully, and made a throttling gesture. Sam almost smiled. When he was sick, Dean was at his stubbornest, and it looked like he was getting a taste of his own medicine through Emily.

"Don't make me sing you a lullaby!" Dean threatened.

Emily grumbled incoherently, then sat up slowly.

"I can't believe that worked!" Dean was genuinely surprised. "Is my singing really that bad?" he added.

Emily smiled weakly. "No, but obviously you're not going to leave me alone until I do what you want."

"Damn straight I'm not. Now let's see just how hot you are."

"I'm smoking hot!" Emily quipped softly, accepting the thermometer from Sam and holding it under her tongue.

"Ha! Smoking hot my foot! Right now, Rumsfeld would win a beauty contest if you were the other competitor!" Dean retorted with a grin. If Emily was still quipping like an idiot, then she couldn't be that sick.

When the thermometer beeped, she took it out and frowned down at the reading. Knowing her, and her antics, Dean snatched away the instrument before she could think of resetting it. A 102 reading was concerning, but not too worrying.

"Well, don't think that's excuse enough to put any of those things on me!" Emily wrapped her arms around herself and glared at Sam, gesturing at the icepacks in his arms.

"They'll help. Tell her Dean." Sam answered.

"It won't be for long. Just to get your temperature down." Dean said handing her the juice. He didn't have to tell her to sip not gulp, she'd tear his head off if he did.

"But I'm already cold!" she complained.

"Well, you're feeling cold, but you're actually not." Sam explained as if she didn't know.

"I know that Doctor Obvious! I'm not an idiot. I've got a fever, and it hasn't scrambled my brain yet!" Emily snarked waspishly.

"Down girl!" Dean laughed.

In the end she acquiesced and the icepacks were placed in her armpits and behind her neck and a cool cloth was placed on her forehead. Her brothers held back the covers despite her complaints. She didn't think she would fall asleep with such hinderances, but in less than five minutes, she'd drifted off.

After half an hour, Sam removed the packs, and the cloth and covered her with just a bed sheet, noting with delight that her temperature had lowered. Dean turned to leave the room. "If anything happens …"

"Call you," Sam completed his brother's sentence, "yeah, I know!"