Hey Readers,

Just a reminder that this fiction is A/U but there is a little canon in this chapter...things are confusing and things aren't what they appear.

John is back ...ALIVE...with secrets and isn't being forthright...poor Jorie is reeling out of control from it all.

So many questions...

Enjoy!

Thanks for the reviews :)

Jorie heard the screams from two hallways away. Making a beeline for ICU, she was overlooked by busy staff in all the chaos of the bells and sirens going off across the wing. Doors to other patients' rooms automatically closed and the glass doors she'd entered through shut firmly behind her. It was like the whole ICU was under some sort of lockdown. Horrifying screams continued filling all the open areas surrounding her. Her hands went to her ears to block out the shriek of someone in horrific pain.

"Kid!" hissed a voice and she turned to her left to see the hunter, O'Connor down staring at her. He quickly scooped her up and made his way back to the double glass doors.

"Wait!" protested Jorie, wriggling to get free of his strong arms.

"You shouldn't be here."

"Who is that screaming?" Jorie couldn't recognise if it was even human. It sounded primal. "What are they doing to them?"

O'Connor pushed through the double doors and set Jorie to her feet. Jorie groaned and went to push back through only to find the door locked. She pounded her small fist against it.

"Now look what you did!" She snapped and turned to face her annoyance. "I was going to check on my dad."

O'Connor scrubbed a hand over his scruffy face. "He's got the antidote and you don't need to see that."

Jorie slowly took in his words and as the information sunk in, her eyes widened and filled with tears. "Y-you mean that's my dad screaming?"

O'Connor nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked like a man that had been awake for days which was true if he'd thought to think about it. He didn't remember the last time he'd slept.

"Why?"

"The toxin is a bugger to rid of so he's going to burn for a while. Fever probably makes him feel like he's burning alive."

"Can't they give him anything?"

"They will, kid, but I'm afraid it won't help much. Nothing will bring down that fever until the antidote does its job."

"Shouldn't you tell someone what you did?" Jorie was nearly sobbing now, leaning her forehead against the glass. She could still hear her father screaming in agony.

O'Connor shook his head. "They wouldn't have let me do it. It's not like we have a supernatural pharmaceutical company up our sleeves. We make this stuff up as we go along and most of the time, it's just experimenting."

"Jorie!"

She heard Dean's voice behind her but she didn't care. The longer she listened, the more honed in she was on her father's anguish. It sounded like he was being tortured and his voice was piercing.

"I told you not to take off!" Dean growled at her as he grabbed her arm and spun her around.

"He's screaming," Jorie managed to say before spinning back around and leaning her head back on the glass.

Dean softened and exchanged a look with O'Connor. "That sounds bad."

"Toxin needs to be burned off…the higher the temperature the better," murmured the blond hunter. "It's not going to be fun for Mac."

"Geez," Dean commented.

"He'll make it," said a reassuring voice and Jorie turned to see John Winchester was on his feet, followed by Sam and Bobby. "Mac Spencer is a fighter like just us Winchesters. And if we die, we surely don't stay dead."

"That proof is in the pudding," murmured Bobby, walking up to stand beside his long-time frenemy.

John put his hand on Jorie's shoulder. "He's going to be just fine, darling."

Jorie was unconvinced as she continued to listen to the high-pitched screaming.

xXxX

It felt like time stood still while the Winchesters waited outside the glass ICU doors alongside Bobby, the hunter named O'Connor and Jorie. The screaming persisted for what seemed like hours and then, just like that, it stopped. Jorie had all but collapsed on the floor, not allowing anyone to touch or move her. Only Dean had been brazen enough to try and later found himself sitting in the impala.

Dean walked back chagrined and sat back down beside Sam. "You could have stopped her."

"I could have but you were getting on my nerves as well."

Dean made a face and elbowed him.

John snorted. "She's a force to be reckoned with."

"You have no idea," Sam said.

"You'd think she was your kid, Sammy."

"It's not genetic, dad," Sam retorted, his ire towards his father not being hidden.

John lifted his hand in surrender. "Son, as much as I don't mind having it out with you, I don't think that's something you want right now or do you?"

Sam heaved a loud sigh and stood up to face John. "Maybe I do, I mean who knows… if I wait too long, you might send me for coffee and I'll come back and find you dead on the damned floor again."

Jorie looked up from where she was sitting on the floor. There was no denying that Sam was angry.

What's wrong, Sammy?

Sam looked at her and forced a smile.

Jorie was surprised when Sam shared a myriad of emotions to sail across her mind's eye. It seemed that Sam was being vulnerable with her and allowing her to see and feel some of his anguish. That knowledge seemed to endear Sam to her. If he was allowing her to see some of his raw emotions, maybe she could share with him too.

John let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "It wasn't supposed to happen that way, Sam. I'm sorry."

Sam waved his hand, "Yeah, whatever. You're right, now's not the time to discuss this."

Dean looked pensive. "Well, maybe I do." He wiped his palms on the knees of his jeans and looked deeply into John's dark eyes. "You dumped a huge weight on me, dad and then you supposedly died. I mean I thought you died." Dean raked a hand through his short dark hair. "Yeah, you died. You flat-lined and the doctors called you dead at…"

"10:41 am," John finished.

All eyes in the waiting room flew to the senior Winchester. There was no way he could have known his time of death.

John rubbed the back of his neck. "Belladonna root."

Sam's eyes widened as Dean's face drew a blank. John knew that Sam knew everything about herbs and concoctions better than Dean ever would. It seemed that the number of years his youngest son spent copying out page after page of books as punishment for his various misdeeds and bouts of attitude had paid off.

Sam didn't even bother to look up from his fisted hands. "You faked your own death?"

Dean's brows hit his hairline as Bobby stood to his feet. "Wait, you just said before it was the demon. Dontcha you think you ought to get your story straight?"

Before John could blink, Bobby pulled John to his feet and landed a powerful punch across the younger man's jaw. John stumbled on his feet and stood rubbing his jaw, a sheepish look on his face.

"Do you have any idea what you put those boys through?" Bobby shouted, saliva flying out of his mouth.

When Bobby went to punch John again, John lifted his hands to forestall the man. "Hear me out, Singer."

"There is nothing you could say to make this better, Winchester!"

Dean was on his feet, grabbing Bobby from behind. "Whoa. Whoa. Bobby. Let's hear the man out."

Sam stepped towards his father and Jorie's eyes rounded in fear. Suddenly Sam's shields were down and she was being overwhelmed in Sam's anguish. Did Sam know he was doing that? "We gave you a hunter's funeral."

John put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "It wasn't me, son. I'm alive and well. I didn't die. It just had to look that way."

Sam shook John's hand off of him and took a step back. "Why?"

John looked at Dean's puzzled face, angry but less angry than his youngest child.

John raked a hand through his hair and puffed out his cheeks. "First, you should know that I killed Azazel. It's consumed me since the day he killed your mother. He's done now."

"How?" Dean managed to ask, not being able to hide the shock and then a flood of relief from his expression.

"That's not important right now. I'll tell you but not now. I did what I did to fulfil that mission. You almost died, Dean. I couldn't take another chance with you boys' lives like that. I had to do it on my own. The only way you boys would stop looking for me was to be dead. I'm sorry for what it did to you but I had no choice."

"Bullshit," murmured Bobby, glaring for all he was worth in John's direction.

Jorie rose to her feet and walked over to Sam, slipping her hand into his. Sam looked down at her for a moment and squeezed her hand in comfort.

I can feel how you feel. Her thoughts gently told him. The tears cascading down her cheeks told him that he had burdened her to the point of trauma.

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he blurted out. Sam wasn't used to having to keep his guard up but Jorie was becoming more intuitive each day so he needed to be more careful with his thoughts.

Jorie felt Sam's walls go up and her legs went out from beneath her once the pressure was gone. Sam caught her before she hit the ground.

Concern filled Dean's face as he rushed to Sam's side. "What's wrong? Is she okay?"

Sam lifted Jorie into his arms and sat with her in his lap. Jorie closed her eyes and leaned into his chest. That short amount of adult-sized anguish had almost crippled her.

"I let down all my guard..."

John frowned. "The kid's an empath?"

Sam shook his head. "No, not really…it's hard to explain, dad but Jorie's abilities are growing. Letting down my guard like that must have caused her tremendous pain."

"Just you or does she feel everyone's feelings?" John asked looking with concern at the small girl in Sam's arms.

Jorie blinked a few times and lifted her head to look at John. "Just Sam."

Sam hugged her. "Hey, are you okay?"

Jorie nodded. "But you're not."

Sam hugged her again.

Jorie pulled away and slid off his knee turning to face John Winchester. "Sam doesn't hate you but I do." With those words, Jorie took off running down the hallway.

Dean shouted after her. "Jorie, come back."

Sam stood up. "Let her go, Dean. I can see her."

XxXx

Jorie ran down the hallways, not paying attention which direction she was running. She didn't care if she got lost. Soon she came to a brightly lit area surrounded by windows and skylights. Sunlight sparkled in the alcove, shimmering across all the empty chairs. It was then that Jorie realized that it was early morning. Up until that time, she'd had no way to gauge how much time had passed. Her eyes felt grainy. She rubbed them and sat on the floor in the sunlight letting it warm her head. She pulled her knees up to her chin and allowed the tears to flow freely.

Jorie, I am so sorry. Sam's voice filled her head.

Jorie chewed her lower lip but didn't answer Sam. She wished she could block him from talking to her but she couldn't. All she could do was raise a curtain to keep him from seeing her thoughts which she did. He said he couldn't see as long as she didn't move. She wouldn't move. She'd block him out.

My dad makes me crazy, Jorie. I get so angry that I lose control of myself. Sam said in explanation Are you okay?

She wiped tears away and sniffled. Sam had shown her raw jumbled-up emotions-anger, betrayal, and guilt and more. Jorie understood so much now. John Winchester died, leaving his sons to grieve his loss. Sam had felt so much pain over arguing with him before he died and not getting to tell his father that he loved him. He felt remorse and guilt over being a terrible son. He was in agony over Dean's pain, his older brother blaming himself and saying that he should have died instead of John…something about what is dead should stay dead. The scenes in Sam's head were confusing to Jorie and so were the many emotions. She was overwhelmed by it all.

Please answer me, Jorie.

Jorie shook her head. She wasn't going to answer him. Sam had shown her powerlessness. If Sam and Dean felt helpless and desperate, how could she hope for anything? In those moments while John had been making excuses, Sam had shown her clips of conversations that haunted him, a vision of Dean and himself on a side road in the middle of nowhere with Dean in tears and telling Sam that their dad was dead because of him. I'm sorry, Sammy. He was your dad too. He's dead because of me. Doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Jorie could see the tears rolling down Dean's cheeks. It's my fault he's gone. I don't know how the demon was involved, and I don't have any idea how it went down but it wasn't natural. One minute I'm dead and then I miraculously recover? And five minutes later dad is dead. I was dead, Sam. I should have stayed dead. Dad's dead because of me. Jorie's heart ached from the pain and anguish in those words. Dean knew exactly how she felt. John Winchester was supposed to be dead but he wasn't. Jorie shook her head. None of it made sense.

"Jorie!"

Jorie looked up to see Dean stalking towards her. "You can't keep running off like that."

Dean took her by the arm and hauled her to her feet.

Jorie's first instinct was to jerk her arm away and that was just what she did. She glared at him.

Go back to where you were, she compelled him.

Dean continued staring her down. "You keep pressing your luck with me, kid."

Jorie tried again. Go sit in your car until Sam gets you.

Dean didn't move, not seeming to be affected by her compulsion. Instead, he grabbed her arm and began dragging her down the hallway once again. Jorie growled under her breath. Lemme go!

Dean kept walking and dragging until Jorie got frustrated enough to haul off and kick him. Dean picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. "I've stopped caring if you like me, Jorie Spencer. Mac is like a brother to me and I'm going to keep you safe if it kills both of us. It's the least I owe him."

"Let me down!" She cried out loud this time. Her compulsion wasn't working for some reason. Sam must have blocked her somehow.

Dean seemed to ignore her as she kicked and screamed and made a scene. It wasn't until he ducked into an empty waiting room that she stopped screaming. Dean planted her feet on the floor, crouched to her level and stuck a finger in her face. "Stop being a selfish little brat!"

Jorie blinked.

"Your dad is in there fighting for his life and you're having a temper tantrum. Stop it!"

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked into Dean's face.

Her silence seemed to help Dean soften a little. "You need to stop taking off. Sam and I need to know where you are. When your dad wakes up, he is going to need to see that you are alright."

Suddenly Dean's teary eyes flashed in her mind again, the look of anguish and hopelessness over his father's death flooding his face. Dean understood. He knew exactly how she felt. Jorie's lower lip quivered.

"You and me are already going to have a chat when this is all over and I don't want to be forced to deal with you now..." Jorie felt her back go up. She didn't like the sound of having a chat with Dean, especially the way he said it. "But, if you take off again, make no mistake, I'm going to deal with you."

Jorie felt a flood of emotions wash over her.

Jorie, it's time to come back.

Sam's voice made her jump.

Dean stood to his feet, having apparently finished what he wanted to say to Jorie. Her head pounded as she felt herself drown in Sam's visions, her own feelings and growing compassion for Dean. She was on information overload and felt ready to implode from the weight of it all crashing down on her.

Dean pulled on her arm and Jorie crumbled off the edge.

XxXx

"Leave me alone!" She screamed and before she could stop herself, she reached for the small side table, swiping the magazines off of it and threw it at Dean. She needed to get away. She needed to get away from Dean, from Sam's voice in her head. She needed to see her dad. Dean ducked as the table was hurled at him. The look of shock on his face almost tripped Jorie up and stopped her. His expression wasn't angered this time but compassionate.

"Jorie, hey, calm down, it's okay," Dean said.

Jorie felt panicked and cornered, her heart raced. She felt clammy and light-headed. Dean blocked the only exit to the room he had ducked into earlier. She paced like a caged animal.

Dean raised his hands. He recognized the difference in her and knew it wasn't behaviour this time. Something was wrong. The kid's demeanour had changed from belligerent to manic. He recognized the change immediately.

Jorie's heart hammered against her chest as she stared at Dean and then before she knew, she flung herself into his arms sobbing. "It wasn't your fault, Dean."

Dean wrapped his arms around her and hushed her in confusion.

Suddenly Sam was by his side, out of breath and eyes wide.

"What's going on, Sammy?" Dean asked as he held Jorie's trembling body in his arms.

Sam blinked and took a second to catch his breath. "It's my fault."

"It wasn't your fault, Dean. It wasn't," Jorie sobbed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Dean pulled her up into his arms and hugged her. "What's going on, Sam? What's she talking about"

"She saw things, felt things…I didn't know…"

"What did she see?" Dean put his hand on the back of Jorie's head, trying to comfort her as she cried.

"She saw dad's death through my eyes and some flashbacks of things we talked about. Dad makes me crazy, Dean. Everything he said back there…nothing makes sense. I should have…"

"Whoa, whoa, Sammy. It's okay. We're all figuring it out. It's not your fault. We don't know what's going on with Jorie either; hell, we're still trying to figure out your abilities. No one is blaming you."

Jorie kept crying and telling Dean it wasn't his fault. Dean sat down on the nearest chair and Sam did as well. He turned Jorie to face him. "You're right, Jorie. It wasn't my fault. It was no one's fault. Everything just happened and none of it was anyone's fault. My dad is alive now and we can figure things out now. It's going to be okay."

Sam rubbed her back. "I am so sorry, Jorie…"

The hunter named O'Conner poked his head in the room. "Dude, you are not easy to find."

Sam and Dean looked up. Jorie felt numb.

"Mac's awake and he's asking for Jorie."