John Winchester came close to losing his children more than once.

Chapter three: Good intentions, part two

John drove Sam to school in the mornings, and came to pick him up when school was over. Other than that, he stayed close to Dean, trying to convince his son to stay in bed and keeping an eye on him. Dean finally relaxed and stopped complaining about staying in bed when John gave him some of his research to read.

It was four days after what John considered one of the scariest days in his life. He had just picked Sammy up from school. Normally, by this time, John would have considered moving on already. The job for which they came to this town had been completed. But this time, they would stay a little longer. Dean didn't argue even once today, and just stayed in bed. He started having a fever again, though it still wasn't high, and John was worried. He made a quick trip to the convenient store to buy some groceries and some chicken soup from the little Chinese place a few blocks down. Dean refused to eat, and John figured soup was the best compromise.

John nearly had a heart attack when he noticed their motel room door was open. He never kept it open, and the boys knew to always keep it locked. John saw the police car parked just outside the room, and pushed the pedal all the way, driving as fast as he could. He ran out of the car just in time to see a strange woman getting out of the room holding Sam's hand and leading him away. Sam seemed terrified. John reached for his gun, cursing himself when he remembered he had left it in the room.

"Get your hands off him! Who the hell are you? Get away from my son!" John yelled, running for Sam, who cried out for him. But the woman held Sam's hand firmly, leading him towards another car parked behind the police car. "Where do you think you're going with him? Let him go!" John demanded.

"Mister Winchester?" it was a cop.

"That woman's trying to take my son!" John yelled at him.

"No, sir." The cop said calmly. "That woman is taking your son. Both of them, actually." He said, slapping some papers into John's hand. John's heart was pounding. He looked at the papers in his hand. DCFS. Damn social services, there was no way they were taking his boys. No way in hell. He'd die before he'd see that happen.

Another man was coming out of the motel room, leading Dean by his shoulders. Dean didn't resist. From the glazed look in his eyes, John figured his fever must have shot up again. Sam was still crying for John, but for some reason, John just stood there. He wanted to launch in the room and come back out, guns blazing, and claim his sons back, but his feet wouldn't move.

"Mister Winchester? I am Lucy Tribeque, from social services." The woman who took Sam said, reaching her hand out for him to shake. He gave her a cold look.

"You're not taking my boys." He said icily.

"I'm afraid we've gotten a number of complaints about your children, Mister Winchester. We can't just do nothing about it. We have to do what's in the boys' best interest. I know you agree…"

"What's in the boys' best interest is to stay with me!" John roared at her, and the cop was quick to get between her and John. Lucy reached in her purse, taking a small card out and handing it to John.

"When you decide you want to talk like a reasonable man, you can call this number. Set up an appointment. Until then, Mister Winchester, you won't be allowed to see your sons." She said sternly. "I don't want to break a family apart, sir, believe me," She added at the ferocious look in John's eyes, "but the children come first. If you're prepared to admit your mistakes, maybe we could work something out." She said, and turned to the car. Sam was pounding on the window, crying for John to come and get them back.

No. He wasn't going to let some stranger just walk away with his sons. John ran for the car, but the policeman held him back, preventing him from reaching it in time. He watched, tears in his eyes, as the car drove away, with Sam still pounding on the window. And then the cop held him simply so he won't collapse to the ground.


John collapsed onto one of the kids' beds, his hands shaking. All their stuff was gone. There was nothing left. John couldn't stop the tears. With everything he had seen, everything that was out there, and everything he still didn't know about, this wasn't the way he had thought he would lose his boys. Not like this. Not because someone thought him an unfit father.

Hell, maybe he was. Maybe they were right. Maybe his boys would be better off without him. They would be safer, out of harm's way. Dean would go back to being a kid again, and Sammy would get to go to school. They will grow up, meet nice girls, have families of their own… They deserved it. That's the kind of life he and Mary had dreamt for them.

And then he remembered the scared look on Sammy's face as they took him away. Those boys knew what was out there. They counted on him. The way Sammy kept pounding on the window… John shook his head. No. They were safer with him. This life may be scary for them, it might force them to grow up too soon, but they will be safe. They will know what was out there. And they will know how to protect themselves. Once they were old enough, strong enough to defend themselves against whatever was out there – then, if they wanted to leave, he would let them. But not now. Not yet. He wasn't ready to let them go just yet.

He pushed himself up from the bed. Now was not the time for self-pity. Now was the time for action. He was going to get his sons back. With shaking hands, he called the number the social service woman gave him and set up an appointment for later that day.


"Mister Winchester, I understand, I really do, but you have to see it from my point of view." The annoying case worker said, leaning forward in her seat. "It's a very good sign that you called me, even better that you made an appointment for today. It really shows me that you love your children."

"I do." John said quickly. "They're my entire world."

"But," the woman went on, "your older son… Dean." She had to look at her papers to find the name. John clenched his jaws, picturing himself tossing her across the room and getting his boys back. "He's attended… five different schools in four years, and in five different school districts. Now, that doesn't show much for the stability in your son's life."

"We move around a lot." John said quickly, "My job…"

"Yes, let's talk about that for a moment, Mister Winchester. What do you do for a living?" the woman asked, looking intently at him, crossing her hands on the table.

"I'm… in private investigating." John lied, figuring it sounded better then him being a hunter of the supernatural.

"Uh ha." The woman seemed less then impressed. "Would you mind bringing in some paychecks to back that up?" she said, "You see, we couldn't quite confirm that."

"I sure would!" John raised his voice. "It's none of your business how much I get paid! Rich people aren't the only ones who are allowed to have children! My sons have everything they need!"

"Mister Winchester, you live in a motel." The woman stared at him.

"Until we find something better." John snapped at her.

"Let me be frank, sir, and tell you what really worries me." The woman said, leaning back in her seat. John stared coldly at her. "You checked your son out of the hospital when he was still in serious need of medical attention. You didn't supply a convincing explanation as to the source of your son's injuries, or for the lack of a previous medical care." She said, "Not to mention you used a fake name." she paused for a moment, waiting for a reaction that never came, "But more importantly," she added just as John was about to speak, "You left two little boys, unattended, in a motel room, with loaded weapons lying around where they could get to." She finished in a harsh tone. "That, sir, is reason enough to place the kids in foster care, as far as I'm concerned."


"Daddy!" Sam practically jumped at him, hugging John as tightly as his little arms allowed. The boys shared a room with six other young boys, most of them Sam's age or younger. Dean was the oldest there. One of the caretakers told John that normally, Dean would have been in a room with boys his own age, but they didn't want the brothers to separate on their first night there. John was appalled by the thought the boys might be separated. Being away from him was bad enough. But it won't be for long. He picked Sam up in his arms.

"Hi, there, buddy. How are you doing?" he asked.

"You came to take us home? Can we go now?" Sam asked anxiously. John set him back down, glancing at Dean.

"Not quite yet, Sammy. But I'm working on it." He told his youngest as he made his way to his oldest. Dean was sleeping. John sat on the edge of his bed, checking for fever, and was relieved to find the fever gone once more. "They're treating you well in here?" John asked Sam.

"I want to go home." Sam said simply. "And Dean does, too." He added. John turned to his boy, stretching his arms out for Sam and sitting him on his knee.

"You did your homework?" John asked. Sam shook his head. "You did your workout?" John asked again, and this time, Sam nodded. John smiled. "That's my boy." He said proudly, noticing the case worker from the corner of his eye. He hugged Sam tightly. "I'm going to get you out of here, Sammy. You and your brother. Tonight. But it's a secret. You can't tell anyone. Can you do that for me, Sammy?" John asked.

"Yes, sir."


John returned to the motel, packing his things up and making sure his sons didn't leave anything behind. Sam forgot his toothbrush. Well, John felt 'forgot' was probably the wrong word for it, but he still stuffed it in his duffle bag. He got in his truck, made sure his nine millimeter was loaded, and started the car. He was going to get his sons back. Tonight. One way or the other.

John drove all night long, stopping for nothing. He glanced at the mirror and smiled at seeing Sam and Dean sleeping in the back seat. John hoped the kids will eventually forget what had almost happened. He was pretty sure Dean would, the boy barely knew where he was, but Sammy was still frightened. He kept asking John over and over again if the bad woman was coming for them again. John tried telling Sam it was just another job, that the woman was only taking care of them for a while as a favor, and that no one was never really taking them away. John hoped Sam believed that.

Much later the next day, when John just couldn't keep his eyes open anymore (and after making sure the state line was far behind them), John finally allowed himself to rest. He bought them all breakfast at a little diner, and was pleased by the fact that Dean seemed to have his appetite back. He allowed himself a short break, and then hit the road again, stopping a few hours later in another motel.

John had asked for a room with a very large bed. He wanted his sons close tonight.

John was sure he would fall asleep the moment his head touched the pillow, but for some reason, sleep didn't come so easily. He lay in bed, his hands around his boys, and listened to their soft breathing. He couldn't understand why Dean would always let Sam sleep in the same bed with him. The kid kept tossing, turning and kicking in his sleep, but for once, John enjoyed every second of it.

Unfortunately, Dean's recovery was short-lived. The next day, his fever shot up again, to the point where John had to carry him to the shower again. John knew Dean probably still needed the antibiotics, but taking him to a hospital again wasn't an option. Not now. He changed his son's dressings, making sure to disinfect the area with rubbing alcohol before taping Dean up again, and then started calling each and every one of his connections. He was getting desperate, but then one of his friends mentioned a doctor who lived not far from where John was, saying the doctor made house calls and kept quiet when needed. John quickly made the call, promising the doctor that money was not an issue.

The doctor arrived in the late afternoon. He doctor took a look at Dean's cuts, changed his dressings again, and gave John a prescription for antibiotics, mentioning the fact that there was a pharmacy not far from the motel.

John thanked the doctor, paying him with most of the money he had left, and then hesitated. He needed to get the medicine, but on the other hand, he was quite reluctant to leave the boys on their own. But Dean's fever won. Giving Sammy the .45, he ordered the boy to lock the doors and not let anyone in, making up a password so that Sammy would know it was him and won't shoot him by accident. Sam seemed very scared by the responsibility. It was Dean's job to take care of him, not the other way around, but he said nothing, and John couldn't have been more proud of him.

He was gone for only fifteen minutes. That's it. Maybe even less. But Sam wouldn't open the door. John tested the door and was relieved to find it still locked. He called out for Sam again, but Sam still didn't answer. Unlocking the door, John carefully got inside the room. It was ominously quiet. He called out for Sam, but again, Sam failed to answer. Walking over to the bedroom, he found both boys fast asleep, their arms around each other. Neither was asleep then he left, and neither was usually quick to fall asleep. Worried, John looked around the room, his hand quickly reaching for his shotgun, but there was nothing there. Sitting on the bed, John felt Dean's forehead. The boy had a very high fever just twenty minutes ago. The fever was now gone. In fact, both boys seemed perfectly healthy, but neither of the boys would wake up.

John's heart was pounding so hard he thought it might beat its way out of his chest. The boys weren't unconscious, they groaned and moaned when he tried to wake them up, and refused to listen to him, complaining they were tired.

John had a bad feeling about this. His hunter instincts told him something was wrong. He turned his EMF on. The readings were through the roof. John didn't even try to figure it out, didn't even look for the source of the readings. He packed up his kids and left.

The next morning, when his boys woke up, alert and a little confused, neither of them remembered a thing that had happened in the last couple of days.

But John did. He never forgot.

TBC

A/N: Just to be clear, what John had done in the story – not giving Dean the full course of antibiotics is wrong (!) and dangerous, because it creates bacterial resistance. So don't do that. (I know, I know…) I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Reviews are always appreciated.