Will have language and possibly graphic violence.

Summary: Sequel to Meddlesome Fools. Major ANGST! John's decisions are weighing heavily on him and nightmares plague his dreams. The demon is still keeping tabs on the boys and making itself know with Dean's migraines. Then there's the new kid…

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural related, but I wish I did! Enjoy!! Yes I will probably use direct quotes in this story, but I admit it so please don't sue me!!

Warning: Will contain child abuse! If you don't like it, please don't read it!

John eased his eldest back to arm's length away, keeping the ice on the back of Dean's head. "Kiddo, I know it's hard to tell right now, but I need to know if the pain you feel is just from the knock or if you've got a migraine too. Think about it before you answer. It's really important."

"Ugh…. Hurts enough to be a migrane…" At his father's worried look, Dean quickly consoled him. "Don't worry, dad. He's gone right now. I swear." Dean's voice was raspy and sounded painful, making John and Bobby suspect some damage was done to the kid's throat besides the bruising. Only after the words left his mouth did he realize what he had given away and he paled slightly. Bobby dragged Sam back into the kitchen stating they should make some more coffee.

John frowned, his focus solely on his eldest now. "How can you be sure?"

Dean quickly tried to deflect. "Uh… Instincts?"

The eldest Winchester had his doubts. "Hang on, why do you think the demon is linked with your migraines?"

Dean sighed. Of course his father wouldn't let those few words go. "Don't play dumb, dad. I know you know there's a link. Always has been. He gets too close or wants to screw around with my head and I get hit with a migraine."

John looked taken aback. "How long have you known?"

"Long enough."

"What else have you figured out?"

"Just the obvious. He's tryin' to turn me and Sammy against you for his stupid army." He purposefully left out all the details he remembered from the demon's first attack. After all, he wanted to keep the few memories he had left and he knew John wouldn't let him.

"Dean, what do you remember from before you passed out?"

"I didn't pass out, I was knocked out," came the indignant reply. Dean sighed at his father's I don't give a damn, just answer the question face. "I remember wakin' up to his cold, dead hands on my face, then realizing Sammy still has my knife, which I would like back now by the way…!" he added loud enough for his little brother to hear in the kitchen. "I remember the excruciating pain in my abdomen when the pervert healed the knife wound. Felt like he was welding it shut."

"Gotta say he did a decent job of it too," John admitted reluctantly.

Dean wrapped a protective hand around his midsection as the memory made it twinge with pain. He moved on quickly, skipping the part where he pleaded with the demon to stop the torturous pain. "I remember listening to his boring speech about joining his team and 'being all I can be'… Seriously, he needs new material. He figured out you three were there, then I tried to make it to the other side of the salt lines and he kicked my ass. Wait a sec, how did it get away? I thought you guys had it surrounded by salt?"

"We did, but he was going to kill you. We didn't have a choice."

"Yeah, you did! Why didn't you just send its ass packin' back to hell? I could've held out long enough."

"The spell wasn't working and you were turnin' blue, so I think we made the right call."

"But it's still out there now! Even if it took me with it, you could have left it trapped in this room until you found a spell that worked. Then at least you and Sammy would've been safe."

"Not an option. I've lost enough to that bastard. I wasn't gonna lose you too. I don't say it often enough, but you're a big part of this family and a huge asset to the hunting world, Dean."

Bobby cleared his throat loudly from the doorway where he had apparently been listening and sent John a menacing glare, clearly telling him to get his priorities straight.

"What I'm tryin' to say, kiddo, is that I risked your life by making you bait and it was a huge mistake."

Dean hung his head in shame. "I'm sorry I blew it, dad."

"That's not the kind of mistake I'm talkin' about. Dean, you're my son, and I love you and Sammy more than anything else in this whole world. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"So yes, it got away this time. But we'll get it. Don't worry."

Sam slipped past Bobby in the doorway and made his way back to his brother's side, sitting on the bed next to him.

John gave his eldest a calculating look before continuing. "Right now, we need to get you back into shape. You look like hell."

"Gee, thanks."

Bobby and John laughed. Dean let out a small chuckle at Sam's goofy grin and high pitched giggle, but stopped abruptly and brought a hand to his sore throat. The laughter died instantly.

"Dean?" John prodded.

"'m fine." He quickly dropped his hand to his lap again.

John took hold of his son's chin as he had done outside and gently turned Dean's head to the left and tilted it back. Dean winced at the angle but didn't say anything. John watched the boy's face as he turned his neck in the other direction, checking the extent of the bruising. Finally, he released his grip and Dean eased his head back to its original position.

"Those look pretty deep, kiddo." His dad sounded concerned.

"Nah, it'll be fine," Dean answered hoarsely.

"You know you have an unhealthy relationship with that word?" Bobby interjected.

"Well with the way he looks right now, it's the only relationship he's gonna get for a while," Sam teased.

"I've still got my charm, Sammy. I'm unstoppable. Hell… I'm Batman."

"Yeah, you're Batman…" Sam teased back while rolling his eyes.

"You're startin' to sound like 'im too," Bobby replied, then went to grab Dean a glass of water.

John gently prodded the bruising around Dean's throat. The boy grimaced but didn't pull back or push his father away. He didn't like the frown on his father's face.

"What is it?" he croaked.

"You clearly have dysphonia, but I want to make sure it's nothing worse."

"Dis… what?"

"A hoarseness to your voice that comes from strangulation. Can you swallow for me?"

"Do I have to?"

"Well you just answered one of my questions, but I'd like to see if everything is still working properly."

Dean nodded resignedly but took one last attempt at getting out of it. "My mouth is too dry. I've got nothin' to swallow."

"That's why you keep me around," Bobby called from the hall as he made his way back to the bedroom, glass of water in hand. Dean grumbled under his breath, and though John couldn't discern any of the words, he was pretty sure they weren't meant to be friendly. However, he knew better than to whack his injured son in the back of the head for being rude right now.

Dean took the offered glass and poured a small sip into his mouth. He held it there for a while, afraid to swallow, but with a look from his father, he did as he was asked. Pain flared through his throat as the water intruded down the bruised pipe and he nearly coughed it back up again.

John patted him gently on the back until Dean stopped coughing, then switched to a rubbing motion to comfort him.

"Odynophagia. Sorry, kiddo, but I needed to know. I think that bastard damaged your larynx too."

"Lovely…" Dean coughed out.

"How's your breathing?"

"Fine when I'm not coughin' my brains out."

John checked Dean's eyes for any signs of concussion and was relieved to find none. Finally, something was going right.

"Alright, keep this ice on the back of your head for another fifteen minutes. With any luck, the swelling won't be too bad."

A beeping from the kitchen informed Bobby that the coffee was ready. When John gave him a few silent signals, he told Sam he needed some help serving. Apparently John wasn't done with his heart-to-heart just yet.

Dean looked at his father nervously when it was just the two of them again. Please don't ask me about the attack at the Prescott's place… When John didn't say anything for a few seconds, Dean jumped in, unable to take the awkward silence any more.

"Dad?"

That spurred the elder man into conversation. "Dean, when the demon carried you outside and put you on the ground, he whispered something to you. Any chance you remember what it said?"

Dean looked extremely confused. "Huh? It did? I…I dunno, dad, I was out cold."

John nodded, looking slightly disappointed.

"Sorry," Dean felt he had to add.

John smiled warmly at him. "Don't be. I'm kinda glad you don't remember, son. It was probably just messing with your mind again anyway. Get some rest. We'll meet up with the Prescotts tomorrow to say goodbye and then hit the road. We've been here too long already."

"Yes, sir."

John ruffled his son's hair affectionately before heading out to the kitchen to get his coffee. Dean slumped down against his pillows. For once, he didn't want to leave yet. He had made a good friend here, and the Prescotts weren't so bad themselves. But that was the life of a hunter. Never get attached, never tell the truth, and move on when the hunt was over. That was just something he'd have to get used to.

TBC

Please review!!!! Nearing the end! Maybe one or two chapters left in sight. Any last minute requests you'd like to see before I wrap it up? Got some more humor and personal chats from the boys on the way, followed by the return of the Prescotts and Ethan and Emily. Thanks again to everyone who's still reading out there and for all your support. You're all my inspiration!!