A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry for the break. Over THIRTY reviews on this fic now! Yay! *Throws confetti* MaraDixon413: Yeah. Crowley. :D He was introduced back in chapter nineteen! (And yes, I do have Mark Sheppard playing him. I gave origion story on the vessel.) CarverEdlundtheLast: Thank you! I'm glad you liked it. At this point, I think most of the conflict between John and Sam arises not so much from difference of opinion and Sam not liking John (As it is later), as it does from the fact that John isn't really around much, and Sammy isn't exactly a well-socialized baby. He has his person that he likes, and he really isn't sure how he feels about some stranger coming and messing with him. Yes! Thank you so much for the flashback. It has been placed in the timeline, and I promise I will include it.

I do not own Supernatural or it's characters.

Chapter 21

John sighed as he entered the Roadhouse. It was strange, seeing it almost empty. The last time he had been here had been for the vamp hunt, when it had been filled with hunters. Now the only party was perhaps three or four, sitting at a table in the corner, cleaning guns, drinking, and obviously discussing some upcoming hunt. He walked up to sit at the bar. "Hey, Ellen."

She looked up from where she had been polishing the counter. He spoke again, "I'm John. I don't know if you remember me. We, uh, we met on that vamp hunt. You know that thing of Daniel Elkins', 'bout four months ago." Recognition dawned on her face, "Oh yeah, John. Sorry. You know, I see a lot of faces. What you doing here? Want a beer?"

"Uh yeah, that would be great. Anyway, I was in the area, and I, uh, I figured I'd drop in, see how you guys are doing."

She gave him a look, "Huh. The idiots that hang around here selling weapons don't generally show up until later." She slid a beer down the bar. John caught it, opening it on the bar and taking a swig, "Not here for that. So, uh, where's Bill?"

"Out on a hunt." She returned to furiously wiping the bar. Her tense movements made him think she possibly wasn't too happy about her husband's activities.

"What's he hunting?"

"He's helping someone out. I didn't ask. Idiot wants to get himself killed, I'm sure as hell not gonna stop him." Then she muttered, "Could've picked a better time for it." She turned around and he suddenly noticed her swollen belly hidden under her blousy shirt, "Congratulations." She smiled slightly, putting a hand to her belly, "Thanks. Only about three months left."

He nodded, "I remember when my wife was pregnant." He laughed slightly, "I think I was more scared then she was."

She leaned on the bar, "Where's she?"

He was silent.

"I'm sorry. You got a kid?"

"Two. Boys."

"Bill's certain this one's gonna be a boy."

He chuckled, "Well, they're a handful, I'll tell you that."

"Whatever. Personally, I think he's wrong. Don't tell him I said that though."

"Sure."

The phone rang and Ellen went to answer it, "Hello, The Roadhouse. Ellen speaking." She straightened, "Bill? What's wrong?... Yes... What?... What the hell were you thinking?... Bill… Stay safe out there… Yeah, love you to." She hung up the phone, an almost devastated look on her face.

John spoke, "What's wrong?"

"It was Bill. He and that friend of his… monster has them cornered. He managed to get to a pay phone, that's how he called me. The other hunter… he's gone, John. God, he was just a kid. And if it gets Bill…" A determined expression came over her face and she started toward the back, "I'm going out there. There's nothing else for it."

John turned his stool to continue to face her, "Wait, wait, wait… What?"

"If that idiot thinks he can get out of helping out around here by getting his stupid ass eaten, he's got another thing coming. I gotta get out there and save him."

"You sure you should be doing that? In your condition?"

She was putting on her coat, "Don't got much of a choice, do I?"

John stood, moving toward her as she gathered her things to leave, "I can't let you do this."

"You don't really get a vote."

"Let me go after them. I'll bring your husband back, I promise." She ignored him, "Come on, you can't go on a hunt like this, you're not up to it."

She turned to him, "Why should I trust you?"

"Cause you don't have a lot of other options."

She stared at him for a second, before walking back behind the bar and taking out a folder.

"Okay. Here's the case they're working on." He reached for it and she held it out of reach, "Be careful with this. I don't have another copy. You screw up, I'm going out there."

"I'll be careful." She gave him the folder. He opened it and began to look through the information. It was fairly standard, missing persons reports, maps, profiles on the missing persons. He looked up, impressed, "Who put this together?"

"Kid. He brought it with him." John nodded. Looking through it, it was obvious the people had all disappeared in the same area, a small forest outside of the town. There was an account by a local boy who went on a camping trip with friends, only to find them gone the next day. All in all, it didn't look good.

"This is a lot. What exactly were they researching? It all seems to be here."

"Well, uh, they weren't. Straight clean-up. Kid's inexperienced and wanted some back-up."

He looked at another few papers, "Looks like they thought it was a Windigo." It made sense. There was something off though, something he couldn't quite put his finger on…

Dean sat at the table, staring at the door. A book sat on the table in front of him, forgotten. Daddy should have been back by now. He had said that morning he would only be gone a few hours, and now it was dark. Not that it would be the first time the man had disappeared without warning, he was just worried. He was always worried when Daddy left. Daddy hunted monsters, and sometimes he came back really hurt. What if one day he got… too badly hurt… and didn't come back? Dean hated the thought, but it kept creeping to the front of his mind. Forcing his thoughts away from such morbid topics, he considered their supplies. They were pretty much alright on groceries, but if Daddy didn't come back within a few days the diaper supply would start to get dangerously low.

He felt a hand tug at his pants, and looked down to see Sam staring at him, eyes wide and pleading.

"What is it, Sam? What do you want?"

Sam pointed at the table, "Book!"

Dean sighed, "You wanna hear a book?" Sam smiled, pointing up at the book on the table. Dean picked him up and settled him in his lap, "Okay." He felt a little guilty about it. Technically it was Uncle Bobby's book from their room there. He shouldn't really have it, but he had wanted something different to do and he already started it when Daddy showed up. Now that he finally had time, he was looking forward to finding out the ending. Also, Sam liked books, and reading was a good way of getting to spend time with him.

Afterwards they curled up on the couch. Dean wanted to watch TV, for lack of anything else to do, and Sam curled up beside him, staring absently at the screen and trying to ignore the way his eyes kept trying to close. He couldn't let them. He couldn't fall asleep. If he did then the dreams would come. Finally his weariness got the better of him and he slowly fell asleep. Dean looked down, and smiled at the sight, pulling the toddler closer and getting better settled on the couch. There was no way he was going to get up and risk waking him. Happy and content, he looked back at the TV.

Sam found himself in a motel room. Dean stood on a chair near the stove, presumably heating something up for dinner. Unlike often was the case in these dreams, they both seemed to be approximately their current ages.

Dean climbed off the chair, moving it to get some dishes from elsewhere on the counter. He turned around slightly, "Hey, Sammy. You want some soup? I'm willing to share. Think you could handle not tossing it everywhere? You old enouph for that?" Sam stared at him, "Dean? What's going on?"

His brother grinned, then continued as if Sam hadn't spoken, "Soup it is!" He turned back around, pointing a finger at Sam, "But you make a mess, you clean it up this time." Sam was used to this, scenes in his dreams always continued the same regardless of what he did. Nevertheless, he often tried, begging Dean to tell him what was going on, why this was happening, why so often these dreams ended in death. Sometimes it was even himself or Dean that died. So far nothing he said or did had ever changed anything. Dean never answered, and neither did anyone else in his dreams. Oh well. At least this one was relatively pleasant, so far.

A strange fluttering noise attracted his attention. Sam stared in surprise at the boy that had just appeared in the middle of the room. Strange things happened all the time in these dreams, but something like this… the boy was not imposing, not frightening like many of the monsters he saw. He was perhaps eleven or twelve, dressed in a dark jacket over a tee-shirt and jeans with handsome features and messy dark hair. He was looking around the room curiously, like one visiting the zoo. But there was a power rolling off of him… Sam could feel it from across the room. Whatever this boy was, Sam was scared of him.

Dean turned around on the chair, "So, Sammy. How about-" He noticed the boy, "Who are you?"

The boy stopped looking about, suddenly gazing at Dean as though noticing him for the first time. Sam could have sworn he looked… guilty.

Dean climbed off the chair, walking towards the boy in a confrontational manner Sam was sure was supposed to be imposing, "I said, who are you?"

The boy said nothing, cocking his head and staring at Dean, large blue eyes unblinking.

"What's wrong with you? Can't you talk? What. Is. Your. Name."

The boy's eyes narrowed slightly, "I fail to understand how my name could have any importance."

Dean glared at him. Sam could tell he was trying to decode what had been said and figure out if it was an insult. Finally he gave up, "Fine, show-off. How did you get in here? The door's locked."

"That is also irrelevant. You must come with me at once."

Dean stepped away from him, "What? No, you creep!"

"It wasn't a request."

Sam could only watch from his place on the floor as a dangerous gleam came into Dean's eyes, "Oh, you're gonna force me. Well, let me tell you what happened to the last guy that tried to take Sammy and me somewhere. I picked up a gun and I shot him. So, you wanna die today, go ahead. Make my day."

The boy watched Dean for a moment, then simply stepped forward and put two fingers to Dean's forehead. Sam cried out in fear as Dean fell to the ground and the boy moved towards him.

"No! Don't touch me!"

"I'm sorry, Sam."

"What?"

The boy spoke, though clearly not in response to him, "I was foolish before, I didn't understand what was needed. But don't worry, you'll be safe. You and your brother. This is for your protection. I'm sorry, but it's necessary."

Sam tried to run as the boy reached for him, lifting him gently into his arms and walking back to Dean. The boy lifted the unconscious child into his other arm, and all three disappeared.

Sam jerked awake to gunfire. Oh, it was the TV. He was cradled in Dean's middle, one of Dean's arms wrapped around him. Dean was watching an action movie, completely engrossed in the parking garage gunfight currently playing itself out on the screen.

He must have made some sort of noise, because Dean looked down at him and smiled, "Hey, Sammy. Have a good sleep?" Sam reached a hand up to touch his face. After seeing him knocked unconscious by that boy, the tactile reassurance calmed him. Dean was here, they were in a completely different motel room from the dream, and no scary boys were going to kidnap them. Everything was going to be okay, just like Dean always said.