When the Cradle Falls


Chapter Twenty-Eight: In the Dark of the Night


Everyone had a breaking point. Some people's points were as shallow as a dried up lake, while others had ones as bottomless as a canyon.

And through all the shit Dean had seen in his life, he wondered when he would reach his final straw. Every time something worse than he had ever faced forced him to question his stability. With every close call and horrifying moment, he wondered, this is it; anymore and I'll break.

But he never did, each time wondering when his luck would run out.

Again, he wondered if this would be it.

"What do you mean they have dad?" Dean asked his newly appeared brother, who had shoved his way into the house, standing in the foyer like he had no intention to make himself comfortable. Dean couldn't seem to comprehend what was going on. From finding out the yellow-eyed demon was back, to Meg targeting his kids, to the three Winchester men going their own way, everything had felt like the most elaborate, cruelest joke ever.

"Meg has Dad. The deal went south. It was a trap like you said," Sam explained, focusing intently on Dean, not aware of the two women off to the side, watching the intense exchange.

"Wait...but what about the demon?" Dean queried, trying to make sense of it all.

Sam paused for a second, extremely upset. "I missed."

Dean looked even more confused, as if the comment didn't register with him. He had been so wrapped up in keeping the kids and Alice safe, it hadn't even occurred to him that it was a possibility for that demonic bastard to still be alive.

Sam ground his teeth in frustration, watching Dean trying to process what he had said. Sam was wondering if he should've gone after the bastard, and hoped Monica and her family would get themselves out of the house. This had been his fight. He was the one who'd lost a mother and the love of his life. He'd arguably been the most invested in killing the damn thing. But because he couldn't pull the trigger fast enough, everything that had been building up to the moment shattered in an anticlimactic display. And now, because of that, there was one less bullet in the Colt, their Dad was gone, and the demon was still alive, even more pissed off than ever, and coming after the most vulnerable people in his family.

"You missed?" Dean said, unaware of how accusing he sounded.

"It disappeared before I could see it again-Dean that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting Dad back. And we have to go. Now."

Sam yelled Dean's name when he didn't respond fast enough. "Dean! Are you hearing me, man? They have Dad!" Sam snapped impatient fingers in front of Dean's face, shaking him.

Maybe his breaking point was as expansive as the cosmos, because Dean felt like he was free falling through the atmosphere, burning up, and crashing to earth, but mind blank, like he was still disillusioned that he could do this, and hang in there. There was the muffled sound of someone yelling his name in the background.

"Snap out of it! I need you focused here!" Sam demanded, beginning to lose his semblance of strength. It was hard enough to try-and fail-to take down the demon by himself, but he didn't know how much more he could take by himself. He needed his big brother by his side.

Seeing how desperate the situation was, and how Sam was growing more and more frantic to Dean's lack of response, Alice instinctively acted. Pushing Sam to the side, she gripped Dean tightly on either side of his face, turning his head so he looked at her with a void gaze.

Not saying anything, she urgently leaned forward, placing her lips against his. For a few seconds, he was unresponsive, but then, the air was sucked out of her lungs as Dean gasped to reality, lips animating and moving against hers. Coming back to life, one of his arms wound around her waist, suturing her to him, while the other hand tangled itself in her hair, anchoring their lips together.

Alice's heart began to go crazy. The last person she kissed had been a drunk, grieving man in a bar, one whose death was inevitably her fault. And the kiss had been bitter, fueled by anger and resentment on her end.

She couldn't even think about the last time she'd even kissed Dean, let alone like this.

It was the allegorical kind of kiss in which the setting around them fell away into darkness, where sounds were suspended and the motion of the world ceased. This this was the kind of kiss that could erase months of doubt and pain and separation with the sheer desperateness and magnitude of emotions that powered the intimate interaction.

And when it ended, it was like coming down from the perfect high, blood still buzzing with electricity.

When they finally separated, the two stared at each other for a few seconds, letting the ambient noise of the old house return them to the present.

Just as she initiated the kiss, Alice removed her hands from his face and let them grab his hands. "You do what you need to do and I'll be here when you get back," she said lowly, with steadiness she didn't know she possessed.

Backpedaling, Dean's hands released from Alice's as he went to retrieve his jacket hung over the railing of the stairs. For a moment, he looked up them the steps, aching to say goodbye to Cara and Noah.

"There's no need to say goodbye. Hurry up before they realize you're gone," Jan commanded, noticing his gaze up the stairs.

Now all business, focused and level-headed, Dean turned to the older woman and nodded. "Take care of them."

She nodded once. "You know I will."

Dean turned to Sam, jingling the keys. "Let's make these bastards regret ever deciding to mess with the Winchesters."


Noah had been the one to hear the rumble of the Impala. Just as it was about to drive away, he had peeked out the window, catching a glimpse of Dad and Uncle Sam-when had he gotten there?-shooting off down the street like a bullet.

That final sight hadn't sat right with him. He'd been on edge from the lack of sleep he'd been getting, that was coupled with a general sense of unease. And ever since Dad had picked them up from school and dumped them in Chicago, that only raised the half masted red flags Noah already had.

Going across the hall to the room that used to be Cara's when they still lived there, Noah knocked once, before opening the door, to find his sister, laid flat on the bed, a book in her extended arms, although it was pretty obvious from her glazed over expression she wasn't actually reading anything.

"Dad left again," Noah said.

"What a shock," Cara intoned monotonously. She was getting really tired of her dad leaving all the time with no explanation. Because each time, it didn't get any easier.

Noticing the lack of empathy in his sister's voice, Noah came further into the room. "Something's wrong. I've had a weird feeling for awhile-"

Cara rolled up to a sitting position, carelessly tossing the book to the side. "Of course there's something wrong. They're all acting off."

Noah was shaking his head. "No. You don't understand. I've had a really bad feeling for a while now that-"

"Yeah, so have I," Cara said dismissively, not listening to what he was really trying to say. "But it doesn't matter, because they're not gonna tell us anything anyways," she said, bitterly.

"Something bad is gonna happen," Noah tried again, perhaps a little more direct this time.

Still blinded by her own anger, Cara gave her little brother a patronizing look. "Yeah, eventually, probably."

"No, like, soon," Noah insisted.

Perhaps if Cara was a little more clear minded, she would have been more perceptive to Noah's statement, but she was too upset by the whole situation. "You know he left without saying goodbye."

"What?"

"Dad. He didn't say anything. Just took off."

"Because there's something wrong-"

"The last time there was something wrong, he wasn't gonna come back. Don't you get that Noah? Don't you remember what happened the last time Dad left without saying bye to you?"

"Dad's coming back," Noah argued, finally catching onto what she was saying.

She scoffed. "You know, at some point, he's not gonna come back. For good." She didn't know whether or not that would be on his own volition or if he would be prevented to stay away by some outside force. Before they had gotten yelled at by him, all Dad had said was that someone from work had threatened their family. She knew there was so much more to the story, and she was fed up with being kept in the dark.

"Don't say that," Noah said.

"Why not? Huh? We're gonna get to a point where we're never gonna see our dad again!"

"DON'T SAY THAT!" Noah screamed, veins in his neck bulging. "He's not gonna die. Stop acting like he's already dead!"

"You're the one who said you had a bad feeling about this," Cara countered.

"That doesn't mean he's gonna die," Noah snapped back, voice hoarse.

Starting to bite her nail, Cara scooted back towards the head of the bed, so her back was resting against the pillows. "I can't do this anymore. Every time he leaves...it just takes a part of me with him. I hate not knowing when he's gonna come back, or if he even is at all." It was some heavy stuff for a ten year old to be admitting, and even though neither of them knew the entirety of the entire situation, they still felt the weight of it all on their shoulders. All her frustrations and anger had boiled over, into the first tangible explanation of how she had always felt, but had never been able to put into words.

Diffusing a bit, Noah sat on the edge of the bed. "He's gotta come back. Dad's like Batman." Usually, Noah was the one to comfort Cara that their father would come back, but this time, it felt like he was trying convince himself more.


"He'll be back."

Removing her hand, causing the curtain to fall back to it's original position, Alice turned to look at her aunt. The younger woman had been dazing by the front window, staring out it for nearly an hour. Sighing, Alice shifted herself so she was facing Jan, who had taken a seat across the room. "I know...but this time feels different."

Jan sighed. "Everything's gonna be fine."

Alice nodded, getting really tired of hearing that, even though she had said it several times as well. "Right of course. But...I just wish that he'd stay." Jan definitely caught the heavy implications on the word. She knew what it meant. She knew how much Alice hated it when Dean left.

And because of that, Alice wanted to Dean stay long-term. Forever. She always had.

Shrugging, the older woman leaned forward. "Does he know that?"

Fumbling for her words, Alice quickly wished she hadn't said what she had, seeing Jan caught what she meant. "I can't make him choose between me and his brother and father."

"It's not choosing between you and them. It's choosing between family and hunting."

Alice frowned. "Fine. I can't make him choose between those two things. But especially because the two are already so embedded. I'm not gonna make him leave his life for me," Alice said.

Jan crossed her arms. "Why not?"

The answer seemed so obvious to Jan, until she opened her mouth to explain it. "Because...his family needs him."

Leaning back, Jan shook her head at the blue-tinted lenses Alice was looking through. "You're his family too, Allie. You two have children together."

Alice nodded, but stared at her blankly.

Shaking her head, Jan decided to change tactics. "How about this? When it's all said and done, and John is safe and the demon is dead, what if you told Dean how you really felt?"

Turning her head, Alice scoffed, finding her gaze drifting towards the front window again. "No. I wouldn't do that do him."

"And why not?"

Growing exasperated, Alice threw her hands out in front of her. "Because it's selfish of me!" Alice watched her aunt for a moment. "Stop shaking your head!"

"Alice, you gave up your childhood to my witch of a sister-"

"Aunt Jan."

"-and your teenage years and twenties to your kids."

Alice sighed. "What are you trying to say?"

"You've given up everything. Your entire life has been filled with decisions made for you by others and things outside of your control. Your life has been whatever the universe dictated it would be. And you went along with it. Don't get me wrong-it's not because you're passive or weak, Alice, it's because you care so deeply about the others around you. But, because of that, you think it's selfish to take care of yourself.

"It's not a crime to have wants and needs, Alice."

Alice watched her aunt quietly. "But the kids…"

"You're an amazing mother, Alice. And kids are tougher than you think."

Alice chewed on her tongue in hesitant contemplation.

"You need to tell him how you really feel," Jan said. "Because, things aren't gonna stay like this forever. You've got one life, Alice, and if you don't tell him, you're gonna regret it the rest of your days."

There had been a bit of resistance when Jan initially started talking, but now, Alice watched her aunt. She knew the older woman was speaking from experience.

"Take control of your life, Alice. Stop waiting and and hoping for the pieces to fall in the right places. Make them fall in the right places, because if you don't, someone else or something else will put 'em wherever the hell they want.

"I don't know how much more I can tell you without feeling like I'm talking in circles to a wall. There's only so much I can say. You've gotta do the rest, girl. And I know you can."

Standing up, Jan winced as her joints protested from the change in position. "I'm gonna go check the wardings."

And with that, Jan left Alice alone with her thoughts.


When the brothers finally admitted they needed help finding their Dad, they had driven to Bobby's, even though they knew they were already racing against the clock. And as if knowing exactly where they were gonna be, Meg showed up at Bobby's, only a couple minutes behind them.

But like a Christmas present, Meg had walked right into their trap, their devil's trap to be more accurate.

Making one final knot on her ankle, to the chair she was tied to, Dean stepped out of the trap so he was in line with Sam and Bobby, all three men glaring at the demon in hatred.

Smirking dangerously, Meg wriggled a bit in the bonds nodding towards Dean. "Mmm. Nice and tight. I bet that's the way Alice likes it. The quiet, mousy church girls are always the biggest freaks."

"Shut up," Dean growled dangerously, grabbing a bottle of holy water from the table around him.

She shrugged. "I'm just saying, if you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask."

"Where's our father, Meg?" Dean asked again, holding up the bottle.

She scoffed a the bottle. "You didn't ask very nice," she cooed in a baby voice.

"Where's our father, bitch?"

"You kiss Alice with that mouth? Probably not for much longer…"

Feeling a protective streak of anger run through him, Dean lunged forward and placed hands on either arm of the chair, getting up in the demon's face. "You think this is a game?! Where is he?! What did you do to him?!"

Meg leaned her head forward, mouth opening seductively, like she was about to tell him a dirty secret. "He died screaming. I killed him myself."

With a murderous look on his face, Dean reacted by slapping her harshly across the face.

Neck cracking at the force of the hit, Meg spit some blood out of her mouth. "That's kind of a turn on, you hitting a girl. I bet that gets Alice hot too. It's sure doing wonders for me."

In a flash, Dean grabbed the Colt that was on the table behind him, and cocked the gun, aiming it at Meg's head.

"Dean." Bobby shoved Dean's arm down and indicated him to follow into the next room.

Glaring at Meg for a moment, Dean then turned away from her self-satisfied face and followed Bobby and his brother.

"You okay?" Sam asked quietly, to his brother, once they were out of earshot by the demon.

Grinding his teeth together, Dean looked down at the ground. "She's lying. He's not dead."

"No one's gonna touch Alice or the kids," Sam assured, seeing what else was bothering Dean, besides their missing father. Demons knew exactly how to get under someone's skin, and for Dean, that was Alice and their kids.

"Dean, you gotta be careful with her. Don't hurt her," Bobby said.

Looking at the older man in disbelief, Dean asked why. After all, she was just a monster.

Bobby proceeded to explain that Meg wasn't just a demon, but a demon possessing some poor, innocent girl. Upon hearing that news, the trio decided an exorcism was the best course of action, to hopefully get the demon out and some news about where John was.

The tug of war was on, but as Sam began to perform the exorcism, Meg lost her superior, smug edge and slowly began to beg and plead, eventually giving away the information they needed. The demon revealed that John Winchester was still alive.

And just as Sam finished the exorcism, with Dean screaming for the location of their father, the black smoke erupted from the broken girl's mouth, and the empty vessel slumped forward, sweat beading and blood dripping down the girl's face.

Bobby quickly untied her, yelling for blankets and water, for the girl laboring to breathe, as he laid her down on the ground.

"A year," she wheezed.

"What?" Sam asked, leaning over her body.

"It's been a year."

"Shh, just take it easy," Sam encouraged, watching how much of a strain it was for her to even talk.

"Was it telling the truth about our Dad?" Dean cut in. He knew that now it was just a girl, but he still saw the demon that had threatened and hurt those he cared about the most.

"Dean," Sam chastised, turning his head at his brother's insensitivity.

"We need to know."

Turning her head, Meg's eyes were barely open, indicating she couldn't see much around her. "Yes. But it wants you...to know...that they want you to come for it," she managed hoarsely. It sounded like she was drowning in her own lungs.

"If Dad's still alive, none of that matters," Dean said resolutely, in stark contrast with the doubtful block of ice he'd been in Jan's living room.

"Where is the demon we're looking for?" Sam asked, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice. It was his fault the demon had gotten away in the first place, and he wasn't about to let it happen twice.

"Not here. Other ones. Awful ones," the girl mumbled, coherency starting to leave her body.

"Where are they keeping our dad?" Dean asked, with a little more force.

"By the river. Sunrise," the girl managed, voice barely above a whisper.

And just as Dean turned to ask her, he saw the flatness in her eyes and knew that she was dead.


The house was dark, and silent, save for the various creaks from the age of the place. Breathing quietly, Cara placed one toe, and then a whole foot on the first step, wincing as the entire staircase groaned like it was about to collapse into a pile of sawdust.

She tried to distribute her weight as lightly as she could, trying to step on the outer sides of the steps as carefully as possible. And the creaks only got worse at the bottom of the steps, including the floor that felt like it was about to cave in right at the base of the staircase.

Refraining from cursing under her breath, Cara quietly tiptoed across the foyer to the front window, where she pulled the curtain aside, trying to peek out.

"What are you doing up?"

Gasping in fear, Cara jumped, causing the entire floor to creak, as she spun, pressing herself against the wall, at the unexpected voice.

There was a click of the lamp, and Jan, who was sitting in the dark, leaned forward.

"You scared me," Cara whispered, breath still shaky.

"It's late. You should be sleeping," Jan repeated.

Stepping away from the window, Cara tried to not look guilty. "I was just getting a glass of water."

Rising from the plastic-covered lounger, Jan indicated to the kitchen. "I could use a drink too. Come on, then." She disappeared first into the kitchen.

Realizing she had no other choice, Cara huffed and reluctantly followed her aunt into the kitchen.

Flicking on the lights, Jan grabbed two mugs from the cabinet and plopped them down on the island in the middle of the kitchen. Slowly, Cara made her way to the countertop, where she pulled out a stool and sat down.

"I haven't seen much of you or your brother," Jam commented as she rummaged through the fridge. "What do you want to drink?"

"Uh water's fine, thanks."

"And the first point?" Jan asked, as she went to the sink to fill up Cara's mug.

Cara just shrugged. She didn't know what she was supposed to say to that. Yeah, she and Noah had been holed upstairs for most of the time they'd been there, but could anyone blame them? They had been yelled at by their father, who hardly ever did, and saw their mother and aunt both acting like someone was gonna jump out from behind a door and scare them.

Jan studied the young girl. "I know you're curious as hell about what's going on. Why you're here."

"Doesn't matter. Not like anyone's gonna tell me anyways," Cara mumbled, shoving her face into her arms.

Leaning against the other side of the counter, Jan sighed. She could tell how difficult it was for them. Alice and Dean both thought that keeping them in the dark was better, and maybe it was, but Jan couldn't help but wonder. "You remind me a lot of myself when I was your age," Jan said.

Cara frowned, but lifted her head up a bit.

Jan smirked at how Cara thought of that as a bit of an insult. "I hated authority. Did the opposite of whatever I was told to do. Thought I knew what I was doing.

"You're like that, Cara. You hate being told what to do. You're independent and wish everyone else would see that too. Understandable."

Jan pondered for a moment. "You know, there's two types of people in the world."

"What are they?" Cara asked, now a bit intrigued.

"Now, this is just my own personal theory, but I think that there are people that hated being a kid and love being an adult or hate being an adult and miss being a kid. For me, I was the first kind. I hated being a kid. It sucked."

Cara's mouth dropped open at that. Never had an adult told her they hated their childhood, even her own parents. She just assumed all adults have been perfectly well-adjusted and had always loved every stage of their lives, even if the situation was less than ideal. She had always believed she was alone in her thoughts. Cara thought she was the exception, the anomaly. Because, from what she understood, her parent's childhoods hadn't been great, but she had never heard them complain about it. So, the conclusion she came to, was that even though her life was pretty good, there was something wrong with her. Because, Noah loved being a kid. He was always happy and content while Cara never was.

Jan watched her great niece carefully, knowing exactly how the little girl felt. She could tell how frustrated it made Cara to be kept behind a glass wall, not able to understand why people didn't see her the way she saw herself. And although the way Cara saw herself and how others saw her did not line up, Jan knew how it felt to be stuck, how powerless she had felt, having her choices made by others.

And she wished she could tell Cara the feeling went away, but she couldn't.

"I know you feel angry, Cara. But, you've still got your whole life ahead of you. Just please don't let your frustration make you bitter." If there was one truth Jan lived by, it was that she was not bitter. She had made peace with every stupid decision, every wrong choice. Although their effects and consequences still hurt her, she knew that she wouldn't have been where she was now without them. As much as their ghosts still haunted her, she would not forget them, but she saw them now as harmless shadows as opposed to malignant spirits.

Cara nodded slowly, seeming to take in Jan's words. And for the first time, Cara wondered if her perception of her Aunt Jan had always been unfair. For he entire life, Cara saw the older woman as a strange, oblivious old lady who's carefree attitude irritated the younger girl.

But it seemed that Cara had misjudged her aunt.

"For the record, I had thought your parents were best to keep you and your brother in the dark, but now...I'm not sure. Maybe you two are better off knowing the truth of what's going on.

"Now, it's not my place to tell you, but I'll vouch for you, Cara. Maybe I can convince your parents to tell you.

"Is that fair enough?"

A petulant part of Cara wanted Jan to tell her now, but the girl recognized the olive branch that was being extended to her.

It was more than she thought she would ever get.

Cara nodded. "That sounds fair. Thank you."

Jan nodded. "Good. Because of that, I need you to do something for me."

Cara frowned. "What?"

"For whatever reason you came downstairs in the middle of the night, I'm kindly asking you to not do it."

She thought for a moment, but reluctantly, Cara nodded.

"Good. Then why don't you head up to bed?"

"Don't you want company?"

A bit surprised by the offer, Jan accepted, and the two made themselves comfortable, in the dark, old house, in the old dark world.


Meg's cryptic final words have led them to the Sunrise Apartments, which resided right by a river. The entire complex had been a gigantic demon barrier, and the brothers had barely gotten out unscathed. But what mattered was they had rescued their father, unconscious and severely battered, causing Sam and Dean to wonder what the demons had done to him, because it was fairly obvious it was more than beating him up: they had tortured him.

They had driven off the grid to an abandoned cabin nestled on the edge of a forest. After the sons had dragged their father into the building, they shut the door tightly, taking a moment finally take a breath.

"How is he?" Sam asked Dean, who was leaning over John, making sure he was still breathing.

"He just needed a little rest. That's all. How are you?" Dean asked, turning to Sam. They hadn't talked about his encounter with the yellow-eyed demon yet.

I wish I killed the damn thing. "I'll survive. Hey uh, Dean. you uh, you saved my life back there." Sam was referring to the demon Dean had shot with the Colt, the one that had been the process of beating Sam to a pulp.

"It was nothing." Dean paused for a moment. "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?" Sam glanced over his shoulder.

"You know the guy I shot? There was a person in there."

Sam sighed. "You didn't have a choice, Dean."

"Yeah...I know. But that's not what bothers me."

Sam frowned and moved closer to his brother. "Then what does?"

Dean began to shake his head. "Killing that guy, killing Meg. I didn't hesitate, didn't even flinch. For your or Dad or Allie and God, Cara and Noah. The things I'm willing to do or kill it just...it scares me sometimes."

Before Sam was about to respond, there was a voice from the other side of the room. "It shouldn't. You did good."

Dean frowned. "You're not mad?"

Leaning across the doorway that led to the bedroom, John exerted himself to enter the rest of the room. "For what?"

"Using a bullet?" Dean asked, like it was obvious.

"Mad? I'm proud of you. You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you watch out for this family. You always have. You're a good brother and a good son. Good father, too."

"Thanks," Dean said slowly.

And just as Dean was about to ask if John was feeling okay, the lights suddenly started to flicker.

"It found us. It's here."

"The demon?" Sam asked.

"I think so," John said urgently. "Dean. You got the gun?"

The older son nodded.

"Give it to me," John held out his hand as Dean removed the gun from his jeans.

"Dad," Sam began. "I tried to shoot the demon in Salvation. It disappeared."

"This is me. I won't miss." There was a crash of lightning outside. "Sam, lines of salt in front of every window, every door."

"I already did," Sam confirmed.

"Well check it, okay? We don't need this bastard getting in here."

"Okay." Sam disappeared to the other rooms, as Dean held the Colt in one hand, staring between it and his father.

"The gun, hurry," John demanded, shaking his outstretched hand.

Frowning, Dean stared at the antique gun, the only thing that could save their family.

"Son, please."

Shaking his head, Dean began to back up, as he realized something.

"Give me the gun. What are you doing, Dean?"

Still shaking his head, Dean began to explain his thoughts. "He'd be furious."

"What?" John asked, beginning to grow annoyed.

"That I wasted a bullet. He wouldn't be proud of me. He'd tear me a new one."

John stared at him wordlessly, watching as Dean pointed the gun at his face.

"You're not my Dad."

The standoff between the two felt endless, until Sam broke the tension and walked in to see his brother pointing a gun at his father. "Dean? What the hell's going on?"

"Your brother's lost his mind," John said.

"He's not Dad!"

"What?" Sam looked between the two, unsure who to believe.

"I think's he's possessed. I think he has been the entire time," Dean said, voice starting to vibrate from the wall of emotions he'd been holding back. They just couldn't catching a fucking break. All he needed was a second where everything was okay.

"Don't listen to him, Sammy," John commanded. Sam frowned imperceptibly at the use of the nickname. Dean was the only one who ever called him that. And their Dad never did.

"Dean…how do you know?" Sam asked, watching the two carefully.

There was a sniffle and Sam looked at him, surprised. Dean was fighting back tears. "He's...he's different."

John sighed in aggravation, shifting impatiently against the gun pointed at him. "You know we don't have time for this. Sam, you wanna kill this demon, you gotta trust me."

Eyes shifting rapidly between his brother and father, Sam caught Dean's desperate glance. His brother didn't need to say anything for Sam to see the wild, terrified look in Dean's eyes, that Sam felt himself.

Slowly, Sam moved to stand behind his brother, pitting sons against father.

"Fine...if you're so sure, kill me. Pull the trigger." With a frown, John dejectedly hung his head.

Finger hovering over the trigger, Dean felt himself begin to shake, not able to actually fire the weapon.

The was a hush of silence as both brothers realized they couldn't shoot their father.

"I thought so," John replied in a gravelly tone; the cadence of his voice was different: wrong.

Both brothers frowned.

And when he looked up?

His eyes were yellow.

Just as the neurons began to fire messages to their muscles for the brothers to move, the yellow-eyed demon, wearing their father, flicked his wrist, sending the boys hurtling painfully back into the walls. The gun fell out of Dean's hand as he impacted the wall, lying innocently on the ground.

Sauntering over, Yellow Eyes bent down and picked up the gun, examining it with both hands. "What a pain in the ass this thing's been."

"It's you. Isn't it? We've been looking for you for a long time," Sam managed, struggling to unstick himself from the wall. But the invisible force that held him that ensured he could hardly even turn his head to the side. On the opposite wall, Dean was straining, glaring darkly at the demon.

"Well...you found me."

"But the holy water?" Sam asked.

Scoffing, the demon continued to turn the gun over and over in his hands. "You think something like that works on something like me? You've been out of the game too long, boy. That girl made you rusty."

Upon hearing the mention of Jess, Sam began to fight harder, face turning red in exertion. "I'm gonna kill you!" He shouted.

"Oh, that'd be a neat trick. In fact, here." Yellow Eyes placed the gun down on the table. "Make the gun float to you there, psychic boy." With a taunting smirk, the demon watched as Sam tried and failed to move the gun. "Hold onto that anger, Sammy. You're gonna need it."

Turning his attention to Dean, the yellow-eyed demon walked closer to him. "I could've killed you a hundred times today. But this was worth the wait. Your Dad? He's in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit. He says 'hi', by the way. Just wait. He's gonna tear you apart. He's gonna taste the iron in your blood."

Dean's blood began to boil. "Let him go or I swear to God-"

Yellow Eyes cut him off. "What are you and God gonna do? You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter."

"Meg?" Dean asked, feeling himself begin to pale.

"And the one in the alley? That was my boy. You understand?"

Dean watched the demon carefully, glowering.

"You destroyed my children, Dean," the demon prompted. "How would you feel if I did the same to yours?"

"You son of a bitch I-"

"You should be grateful I haven't touched them yet. You see, as far as I'm concerned, possessing your father? This is just a reparation...hardly justice for what you did to my family."

"You've got to be kidding me," Dean growled. As enraged as he was that the demon was talking about Cara and Noah, he couldn't believe the demon was here getting sentimental about some black eyed bitches.

"What?" The yellow-eyed demon demanded. "You're the only one that can have a family?"

"I wanna know why. Why'd you do it?" Sam interjected, trying to draw the attention away from Dean.

Yellow Eyes looked at Sam. "You mean why'd I kill Mommy and pretty little Jess?"

"Yeah."

"You want to know why? Because they got in the way."

"In the way of what."

"My plans for you, Sammy. You...and all the children like you." The demon paused, and thought for a moment before grinning. "But...in case you were wondering, she would've said yes."

Sam frowned. "What?"

"Jess," Yellow Eyes deadpanned like it was obvious. "I knew you were shopping around for rings, finding the perfect moment to pop the question. She would've been ecstatic to marry you."

"How do you-"

With a sigh, the demon circled back to the table, admiring the Colt again. "I'll admit, when I killed your mom, it was all business. But with Jess...well...I let myself have a little fun."

"What did-"

"If you stop interrupting me, I'll tell you, Sammy."

Beginning to shake, Sam suddenly lost the ability to talk, as if a magical gag was now in place, silencing him just like the force that held him against the wall.

"Before I roasted her on the ceiling, just like your Daddy, I got up in her, and got to know her real well.

"What a great gal. Real genuine; one of the kindest hearts I've ever seen. I usually don't get enamored, but Sam, I can see why you liked her. You have a thing for blondes, I see.

"Really though; it's too bad. You could've had a great future with her."

Silent and pinned against the wall, tears were now streaming down Sam's cheeks as he screamed. The one person he had loved more than everything, he found out her death was even more horrific than he thought. Her last moments had been spent being inhabited by pure evil.

Sam was going to obliterate the yellow-eyed demon.

Watching his brother in absolute anguish, Dean gritted his teeth and pulled against the supernatural restraints. This was not how it was all going to end. For any of them.

"Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh? Cause I really can't stand the monologuing," Dean said, sounding incredibly bitter.

Ignoring a still screaming and thrashing Sam, the demon raised an eyebrow. "Funny, but that's all part of your M.O., isn't it? Masks all that nasty pain, masks the truth."

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

Yellow Eyes sighed. "You know, you fight and you fight for this family and those Mercers, but the truth is, they don't need you, at least not Johnny Boy and Sam-who's clearly John's favorite, by the way. Even when they fight, it's more concern than your father's ever shown you.

"And as for your 'secret' family?" Yellow Eyes shrugged. "Well, with you as their father, they're gonna end up at the bottom of a bottle before they learn to drive or in a wooden coffin before they graduate high school. That's just the way it's gonna be for them. Just be thankful I didn't burn their mother on ceiling like I did to yours."

"Well, I bet you're real proud of your kids too. Oh wait, I forgot. I wasted them," Dean hissed back with malice.

In retaliation, Yellow Eyes caused a giant slash to tear itself across Dean's chest, causing him to bleed profusely and painfully. He let out a torturous wail.

Suddenly finding his voice again, Sam began to call out for his brother, the tears falling faster down his face.

The noise levels in the room continued to escalate, as Dean, cringing in pain and breathing for life begged his father to spare him. Sam, from the other side, was yelling for his rapidly weakening brother.

The mixture of pleas from both sons triggered something inside John's head. Where the father had been slamming into the brick wall in his mind, the sounds of his children in pain had been enough to break down the wall, enough for him to regain control of his body.

When John was in control once again, both brothers dropped heavily to the floor, the impact knocking a barely conscious Dean out.

Coming back to reality, and seeing what he had done to them, John suddenly fell over, feeling the demon struggling to regain control, as it likely saw Sam grab the Colt and aim it at John.

Teeth gritting, chest rising in exertion, John tried to hold Yellow Eyes back. "You kill me, you kill Daddy,"

"I know," Sam whispered, teeth grinding against one another.

Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger, shooting his father in the leg.

Immediately after, Sam dropped the gun and scurried over to Dean, who was stirring. Hands hovering over Dean's wound, unsure, Sam was at least a little bit relieved that Dean was still alive. "Dean? Dean. Hey. Oh God, you've lost a lot of blood."

"Where's Dad?" Dean managed breathlessly, ignoring Sam's worry for him.

"He's right here. He's right here, Dean," Sam reassured.

"Go check on him."

"Dean…"

Appeasing Dean at the repeat of his command, Sam went over to check on their father. John's eyes popped open. Teeth gritting like he was holding something back, his wild eyes locked with Sam's. "Sammy! It's still alive. It's inside me, I can feel it. You shoot me. You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son! Do it now!"

Shakily, Sam aimed the Colt at John's heart. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. He had missed the first time, but now the demon was trapped in a flesh vessel, motionless on the ground for him to shoot. He held the gun tighter in his hands.

"Sam, don't you do it. Don't you dare!" Dean yelled from behind, trying to drag himself towards them, like he could stop it when he couldn't even get off the ground.

A high pitched static began to buzz in Sam's ears, growing louder, like a plane passing overhead, but right beside his head. His vision began to blur from focusing too harshly on his father.

As Sam stood frozen with the gun, John suddenly began to choke, black smoke erupting from his mouth.


"Oh this is just ridiculous," Jan berated internally, shaking herself from the edge of sleep.

Standing up from a chair in the living room, Jan cursed herself for the uncomfortable furniture she had chosen for her house, even though she had nearly fallen asleep in it. Her back and hips cracked as she straightened out, feeling the weight of her eyelids.

It had been nearly two days since she'd gotten any sleep. Instead of being up in her bed, she'd been camped out in the living room, waiting for the ambush that would likely never come.

Still, Jan walked around the first floor, checking all the wardings once again. Then, as soon as she was done, she felt like a paranoid widow. This house was a fortress. Every piece of furniture and every surface in the house was covered in sigils and wardings from any and all religions and belief systems in history.

"They'll be fine. As long as they stay in the house. And you're no good to them dead on your feet," Jan muttered to herself, hand on the railing, one foot on the first step.

Deciding all she needed was two hours of sleep to get herself a little more alert, Jan slowly climbed the steps, feeling older than she ever had in her entire life.


Under the pitch black, net of stars, the only headlights on the lone highway were the Impala's.

Inside the car, Sam had the gas pedal pressed down all the way, as he squinted through one eye, trying to see the road. The other one had been swollen shut as he was being beaten by the demon that had almost killed him.

As they hit a pothole, John, in the passenger seat let out a sharp gasp.

Glancing at him in worry, Sam assured him the hospital was only a few more miles down the road.

Looking in the rearview mirror, Sam observed Dean, spread out in the backseat, completely unconscious.

John turned his head slightly to the side, so he was looking at Sam. He was so weak he couldn't even lift it from the headrest. "I'm surprised at you, Sammy. Why didn't you kill it? I thought we saw eye-to-eye on this? Killing this demon comes first. Before me. Before everything."

Eyebrows knitting together, Sam began to shake his head. "No sir. Not before everything." He sighed. "Look, we've still got the Colt. We've got one bullet left. We just have to start over. Right? I mean we already found the demon-"

Suddenly, headlights blinded Sam's vision as a gigantic truck suddenly crashed into the Impala, full speed.


"Ah!" Noah was launched so forcefully forward from his deep slumber, that he fell sideways off the bed, all while hearing the sounds of breaking glass and crunching metal in his ears.

Scared and confused, Noah huddled on the floor, back on the side of his bed, as he rocked back and forth, hands clamped over both ears, waiting for the sounds that had woken him up to fade. They did, but there was a lingering tinny that would not go away.

When he could properly think without the disturbing noises, Noah took several minutes to level his breathing, rising up after it was steadier. He went to stand in the middle of the room, and listened to the silence. It didn't seem like his abrupt wake up had disrupted anyone else's sleep.

"What the hell is happening to me?" He whispered to himself, looking around the dark room as if the answer would somehow be standing in the corner.

Actually, no thanks, Noah retracted his previous statement of wanting something to appear in his room. He guaranteed any little spook would be enough to send him into a breakdown.

There was a growing seed of lingering worry that Noah had been right.

That the thing bad thing he was worried about finally happened.

Slowly leaving the room, Noah trekked quietly down the hallway, trying to figure out what the sounds that woke him up meant.

Coming to the edge of the stairs, he looked down, and saw a dark figure at the bottom, standing in the dark. Instinctively tensing, he wanted to yell for his mom and Aunt Jan, but sighed a bit, when he realized it was just Cara. A bit miffed that she was creepily staring at the front door, Noah was about to call out, ask her what she was doing, but instead, he stayed where he was, frozen. Something in his mind was whispering at him to be still and to be quiet.

From the top of the stairs, Noah watched as Cara peered out the peephole of the door, unmoving. "What?" Her voice was barely audible, but the utter bewilderment was clear as day. She strained on her tiptoes more, trying to get a better view.

A few anguishing moments passed, with neither sibling moving, Cara unaware Noah was watching her, and Noah unaware of what she was looking at.

And then, Cara quietly returned from tiptoe and took a step away from the door.

Eyes shutting in relief, thinking she was going back to bed, the feeling was short lived when he heard the sound of the lock clicking, and the knob turning.

When opened his eyes, Noah still was unable to move, and could only watch as Cara opened the door, and hesitantly peeked out the door, before stepping into the dark of the night.


There's only a few chapters remaining in Season One. Let me know in reviews or messages if you would prefer I keep this as one massive story, or if I should split it up into smaller ones. At this point, I am not sure what I am going to do, so let me know what you think.

Thanks

V.