Disclaimer: I don't own anything, least of all The WB's Supernatural.

Author's Note: There's kind of a lot of information in this chapter, so if any of it doesn't make sense or seems a bit confusing, just let me know. Also, I didn't really get many reviews in the last chap, so I thought I'd just go ahead and ask...would you like to see more of Tessa too, or just keep focus on the boys? You tell me, I aim to please!

This is John Winchester, I can't be reached. If this is an emergency…

He slams the phone shut and throws it up against the wall. "Damn it!" For the past five minutes he'd been calling, hoping she'd answer. But all he ever got was his own voice worming its way into his ear.

"Maybe if you had just let me talk to her," Dean spews from across the room. His posture resembles a little boy sulking, but his face is alight with rage. John looks at him and for a moment nothing but anger and frustration can be felt in the room. "She didn't want to talk to you," he says slowly, almost hatefully, to his father.

Sam goes to the corner and picks up the pink phone, looks at the display list, and speaks, breaking through at least some of the tension. "She called from your cell. How'd she get your phone?"

John looks at him, his eyes softening a bit as they come to rest on his other son. "I don't know. I lost it."

"When?"

"A few weeks ago."

"You just lost it?" Dean asks incredulously.

"Actually," he says sharply, "I thought it was stolen, a pick pocket or something. I had it…and then it was gone." He sits down on the bed, his shoulders hunched. "She wasn't there, I would have known. I would have seen her."

"But – " Sam tries.

"Somebody must have taken it and given it to her. I don't know who." A sudden look of realization comes over his face, followed by a quick hint of anguish. "That's how she found him," he says to himself.

"Who?" inquires Sam.

"Baz. That was the only place I had his name, his number. I refused to give her my contacts. It really pissed her off."

"So she stole them from you."

"She didn't sound good," Dean says, changing the subject. He scrapes his foot along the carpet carelessly. His eyes no longer carry anger, just sadness, and he does all he can to avert them from the gazes of his family members.

"What do you mean?" Sam asks hesitantly.

"I mean, she didn't sound good. She was crying, trying to hide it, but still…" He sighs deeply and shakes his head, laughs a bit. "Sounded drunk."

"Great," his father mutters. "That's just great."

"What did she say?" Sam says, ignoring him.

Dean finally looks up, makes eye contact, and tells them all about her little tirade regarding her year of sleepwalking. "Dad?" he says when he finishes. He looks to his father who is sitting on the bed looking tired, worn out, and not at all surprised. "Did you know about this?" he asks when John offers no response.

"She told me. Years ago…the night she fell off the balcony. She told me that Mary had been calling her. I made her promise that she would never do it again, never follow the voice. She mentioned to me, months later, that she'd ignored her for so long that she never even heard her call anymore. I don't know if that was true or not, but it certainly made me feel better."

"Do you think it was true…that Mom was really calling her?" Sam asks, his face showing that he's hoping for a 'no'.

"I wondered." He shakes his head, a gesture almost identical to the one Dean made moments before. "It's true. Mary knew, I guess…she knew that Tessa wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to be with her."

"Dad…"

"It's true, Sam. Your sister should have died then, ten years ago. She should have died but I wouldn't let her. The sleepwalking started just after she got out of the hospital, remember? We thought it was just…trauma related or something. But it wasn't. It was your mother trying to make things right, trying to bring her to the place she should have been."

"And where's that?" Dean asks, crossing his arms protectively over his chest. "Heaven? Hell? Some kind of limbo?"

"I don't know."

"Because, you know, Mom wasn't even where she should have been. She was haunting our old house."

"She wasn't haunting it," Sam corrects.

"Well she was there. She wasn't exactly resting in peace."

"I don't know the where, Dean. I only know the why. I think she knew what might happen, your mother…I think she knew what it would mean if Tessa stayed here when she didn't belong."

"I hate this," Sam says absently. "I can't believe we're even talking like this. I mean she's Tessa. She's not some kind of freak or monster or…thing. Doesn't belong? What does that even mean?"

"It means – "

"People cheat death all the time. Miracles happen everyday. So what, those people don't belong here either?"

"Yeah but what happened wasn't a miracle," Dean says before turning to his father and changing the subject back. "What would happen, Dad? What do you think Mom was trying to prevent?"

"Yeah," Sam scoffs. "What was she trying to prevent by luring her daughter to death?"

"Jessica," he retorts, short and quick. The name rolls off his tongue tinged with bitterness and rage, and he regrets it the moment he sees the look on his son's face. He might as well have punched him in the stomach. In fact it might have hurt less if he had, if he'd smacked him for his insolence instead of punishing him with the truth in such a careless fashion. "I'm sorry, Sammy," he says quietly, gazing at his son's ashen face.

"Whoa, wait a minute," Dean says, almost as taken aback as his brother. "What?"

"Jessica." Sam is left virtually speechless, left to repeat the only word he's able to form. "Jessica," he says again, barely above a whisper.

"She got what she wanted when she took your mother," John says quickly.

"She?"

"She had no reason to come back."

"She who?" Dean leans forward and places his hands on his father's shoulders preparing to shake him. "Dad, she who?" he says loudly, breaking into John's far off gaze.

"Lilith…succubus…that, that thing. Call it what you want."

Dean turns and sits down next to his father, his mouth agape. He looks at Sam, his expression mirroring his own, then moves his eyes back to his father. It takes him a moment to collect his thoughts enough to speak, but it seems that everyone in the room is having that same problem, so he takes his time. "This is it then? This is what happened to Mom? All these years and…this is how we find out?"

"I'm sorry," he says, his eyes connecting pleadingly with his son's.

"Just tell me," he says, then looks at Sam who is sitting in shock, tears readying themselves to fall down his cheeks. "Just tell us."

"I loved your mother. I still love your mother, always will. Always." He pauses to swallow down the tears that burn at the back of his own throat, then continues on in monotone, as though he actually managed to shut all the emotion off. "I never would have given in to her. You were babies," he says looking at Sam. "You and your sister were just babies at the time and Mary and I had a lot to deal with. Dean was still so young, and then twins on top of that. We were stressed, strapped for cash. There were days when it seemed like we never even saw each other, touched each other, we were both so busy. And then this woman, Sarah…she started working with me. She was at the front desk, answering phones and things. We hit it off, had a lot in common. It was like she always knew the right thing to say. Now I know why," he says, his gaze moving steadily back and forth between each of his sons. "She was playing me. But I never gave in."

"Created to lead men's hearts astray," Sam says wistfully, as though remembering the line from a book. "It's just a legend though, right? Lilith? She's not real."

"We're talking about the Lilith, Adam and Eve, but before Eve, Lilith?" Dean asks.

"There are tons of legends, stories…who knows what exactly is true and what isn't? But all myths come from a place of truth, right? I've taught you that?" Both of the young men nod. "I didn't know it at the time," he says, continuing his story. "I only know what Baz told me."

"How did he know? Was he there?"

"Yes, he was," he says soberly.

"He didn't…" Sam says, finding himself unable to finish.

"Take your mother? No. No, he was there to protect you."

"Me?"

John takes in a deep breath. There's just too much that he has to say, he's saved it all up for too long. He takes a quick glance around the room, notices all the books, all the papers, wonders about how much information is on the laptop on the table. And all of this represents only a fraction of the research both he and his daughter had sifted through. He closes his eyes and thinks about where he should begin, tries to remember all that he's already said. When his eyes open again he sees both of his boys looking at him from either side, expectantly, waiting for him to explain everything.

"She tries to seduce men," he says simply, "lure their hearts astray, as you said. If it works, inevitably his wife will find out, marriage ruined. Demons, you know. It's not all death and destruction, sometimes they just like screwing up people's lives. They think it's fun." He shakes his head, reminds himself to stay on track, simply relay the facts. "Sometimes they resist, and that makes her angry. There are all kinds of different stories, myths, legends. One is from the Jewish Midrash. It says that Lilith has the ability to cause infants to fall sick and die. Persian myths agree, say she attacks children. That's usually what happens. If someone resists, she'll kill one of his children. Baz said she's almost single handedly responsible for SIDS."

"That's a lot of babies," Dean says simply to relieve his urge to speak, say something.

"But…why Mom?" asks Sam.

"It happens…it's hard to explain. There's a lot to this, Sammy."

"Just try," Dean says, placing his hand on his father's arm, the first touch of love and comfort he's offered him in a very long time. "Just try to explain."

"Baz knows all about this because he's her son. One of them anyway. He's part of the Shedim, a group of demons that Lilith bore. The Alphabet of Ben Sira," he turns toward the stacks of books. "I'm sure she has it here somewhere. It says that, because she refused to return to Adam, 100 of her children will die every day. He doesn't wasn't to die, Baz. So he's tried to escape the curse. That's why he spends most of his time here, possessing people, trying to live among us and hide from his own kind."

"I thought you said he was hiding because he did something, went against them or something?"

"He did. God placed the curse, you can't hide from God. But he lets him live as long as he does good. Of course that goes against his…family."

"So he's a demon who goes around doing good so he can stay alive, and because of that other demons want him dead?"

"They're always hunting him."

Dean shakes his head and smirks. "Same old story," he says with a hint of sarcasm.

"Um," Sam says. "What about me? He was protecting me?"

John nods. "There are certain children who he's sent to protect. That's what he said. Usually, no one interferes with her…victims, something about maintaining balance. But for some reason, some kids are…I don't know…special. And Baz protects them from his mother, because he can. Because really, no one but another demon could ever know about her plans. Or stop them from happening. He said that sometimes things go smoothly, although he wouldn't say what that meant. But sometimes they don't. Sometimes…call it mother's intuition…someone will interrupt whatever it is that he does, walk in on him and his demon bitch of a mother. And if that happens…well, that's what happened to you mother."

"She walked in on them?"

"He could protect you, but he can't put himself between her and someone else, not while he's helping the child. It would have happened to anyone else who'd been in the room, in your nursery. Tessa was fussy that night and I took her downstairs. We both fell asleep in front of the TV. Otherwise…it could have been her. If I hadn't been downstairs, if I had heard something, or sensed something…it could have been me. Baz said it's usually the mother. They tend to have stronger connections I guess, tend to know when something's up."

"So she just…walked in? And it killed her?" Sam asks, his voice strangled.

"Shouldn't be that simple, should it?" he says, placing his hand on his son's knee. "But when he told me all of this…I gotta tell you Sammy, I felt kind of relieved. All this time I just thought that it was senseless, some evil spirit or demon that killed her just to kill her, just because it wanted to. But it wasn't like that at all. She died protecting you, at least in my eyes. She sensed something was wrong and by going in there, she sacrificed herself for you. That may hurt to hear, but I think it also makes her death somehow worthwhile, don't you?"

He shrugs, tears rolling down his face. John throws his arm around Sam's shoulders and squeezes him tight. "I know I should have told you when I found out. I thought about it. But then when I got back from Philly, you had gotten your acceptance to Stanford, and it was all you could talk about, going away to school, leaving us, leaving me. I got scared, Sam, scared and angry. I looked at you and I thought about what your mother went through for you, what she was forced to go through because of me…"

"It wasn't your fault," Dean offers. His father reaches up and grasps his shoulder, pats his arm in appreciation. "All you did was refuse to cheat on your wife. Dad, that's a good thing. You were right."

"Yeah," Sam says through the tears. "There's only one bad guy here, and it's not you."

John lets go of his boys, lets his arms drop to his sides as he rises from the bed. "Oh, Sam, you might not think that when I finish."