Well, here we go again! Thank you so much to everyone who's read/reviewed. Especially thank you Ani-maniac494 and Spooky Claire, your encouragement is much appreciated!

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Chapter 3

John's lies fell easily from his tongue, and he was too used to the sour taste they left to even notice it any more. He spun the story expertly, a simple explanation, with little touches of detail for authenticity: 'I think he had a tattoo on his arm… he had a strange accent, like he didn't speak English too well… he used an antique Colt revolver…'

The policeman nodded gratefully and left the cubicle with assurances that they would do their best, and a warning that he might need to be questioned again. John nodded.

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Sam was leaning against the wall in the corridor, waiting for the police to leave his father. He was dreading the talk, but he had reached a point of exhaustion where he was willing to do it now, get it over with so he could sleep. He had visited his brother, but Dean was still unconscious, and Sam had found it unnerving, sitting with him. He wasn't used to seeing his brother looking so torn and fragile, literally held together with a web of stitching and some staples.

Sam rubbed his face with his hands in an effort to keep his eyes open and realised that his palms were still stained dark brown with dried blood. He straightened up, intending to go clean himself up, aware that he must look dishevelled and alarming, but then he noticed the two blue uniforms disappearing up the corridor, and changed his mind. Do this first…

John was sitting up, pulling his jeans on carefully around his bandaged leg. He only glanced up when Sam entered, then returned to his task. The silence between them took on some weight, so that breaking it felt almost like a physical task. Sam frowned, and then took a deep breath, and began.

'So… I saw the doctor. Looks like Dean's going to be ok.' So it's a good thing you didn't get to shoot him, huh? Only when John's head whipped round to fix him with a hard stare did Sam realise he had said the last sentence aloud.

'Sam, think!' John hissed. 'If I had made that shot, the demon would be gone. We'd have nothing to worry about… As it is, the demon is still out there. It knows where we are, it knows we haven't had a chance to regroup, and it will be back. And we have nothing to fight with. Believe me, I'm glad your brother is alive, but for how long, Sam? We're completely defenceless. Next time it finds us, we're dead meat.'

Each word sunk slowly into Sam's mind, and he could almost understand. Almost.

'We could have avoided the whole thing if you'd just damn well shot me when I told you to,' John continued.

How many fathers have said that to their sons? Sam wondered.

'I really thought you could understand this… I need to get this thing; I can't just let it go. It's… all I live for.'

Sam chewed his lip, feeling tears swelling behind his eyes. 'Of course I want to get it. But you can't let revenge come before everything else, Dad… It's insane. Younearly convinced me… but, Dad, you almost shot your son!' He kept his voice to a harsh whisper, realising that the curtains provided only minimal privacy.

'Sam, I've been looking for revenge on this thing 22 years. Don't tell me I can't put it first!'

'You're putting it before Dean's life, now?'

'I already explained this, Sam,' John growled, his voice rising in volume.

'And I could almost understand… but no, you can't justify that.'

John grunted harshly, glaring at his son, and rose awkwardly to his feet. 'Right well…you two take care of yourselves,' he muttered, trying to move past Sam, who stepped sideways into his path.

'You're not… I don't believe you would leave again, now. Even you…' Sam could hardly keep the stunned disbelief out of his voice.

'We're all in danger, Sam, but it's worse if we're all in one place. I'll call you if I find anything… you should do some of your own research if you don't want to be sitting ducks when the damn thing comes back…'

'You can't just walk out of here…' Sam whispered fiercely, catching hold of his father's shirt, ignoring the strange looks he knew he was getting from passing nurses.

'I'm sorry, Sammy.'

And he was gone.

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Dean woke up slowly, his senses returning to him one by one. Hearing came first, and it was fairly disappointing. The regular beep of some machine beside him, and in the distance, people bustling around quietly. Themuted hum of electrical equipment. Soft snoring.

Next, smell. Antiseptic. Worse than disappointing.

Then, taste. Dean's mouth felt dry and gritty, and he could still taste the residue of a remembered metallic flavour.

When the feeling returned to his body, he immediately wished it hadn't. His chest was generally aching, but it was peppered with small points of fiery agony. He sucked in air through his teeth, waiting for it to subside. When it didn't he just waited until he was more accustomed to it, and that didn't work much better. More to distract himself than anything else, he opened his eyes.

Sight, initially, seemed every bit as underachieving as the revelations of his other senses. A clinical white ceiling swayed into focus, and the upper part of a wall, which was painted an insipid shade of green. He lowered his eyes, and took in stiff white sheets, a small room, some beeping monitors, and Sam, sleeping in a chair beside the bed. Explains the snoring, I was wondering about that.

Dean smiled slightly at the way Sam was sleeping, slumped onto the bed, his mouth hanging open. Looks like he needed it, too.

Sam stirred, feeling his brother shift beside him. His eyebrows shot up. 'You're awake!'

'Wow, how did you know?'

Sam treated his brother to a withering look. Then he hesitated. 'Dean, I'm sorry… Dad left.'

To his surprise, Dean just nodded. 'Probably safest,' he muttered. 'Not sure I'm in the mood for spending time with the guy at the moment, anyway,' he admitted. Sam made an uncertain face, the one which always made Dean think of a puppy. He smirked. 'You look about 5 when you do that, Sammy.'

Sam scowled.

'So... they managed to put you together again'

'Yeah… you can mend anything if you got enough string.'

Sam snorted. 'Something like that.'

After a while, a nurse told Sam to go away; his brother needed rest. Sam left reluctantly, but Dean seemed happy – the nurse was in her late twenties, dark haired, petite and lively.

'I'll be back later,' Sam assured his brother on his way out.

'Sure, whatever. Get some sleep, you look… unattractive.' The nurse giggled, and Sam made a rude gesture at his brother.

'I will.'

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Sam had checked into a motel room with two beds out of habit, and after cleaning himself up, he slept for several hours. Later, he awoke and dug his laptop out of thetrunk of the Impala.

He sat down at the small table in the dingy little room, leaving the TV on in the background for company. It felt strange to be alone. He opened the laptop and sat facing it for a minute. Then he got up and made himself coffee, stalling. Then, out of excuses, he sat down again, and wondered where to start.

Ceiling demon weakness. 'Your search did not match any documents.' Typical.

Ceiling demon. 'Your search did not match any documents.' Sam wasn't particularly surprised.

Demon. 'Results 1 - 10 of about 8,490,000 for demon.'

Right… now what? Something told him that the Internet wasn't going to be particularly helpful in this research. He pushed the computer away, and rested his head in his hands. Think, Sam!

After ten minutes, he gave up and went to see Dean.

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Dean was awake, flirting with the nurse, who kept finding things she needed to fiddle with or clean in his room. Sam regarded his brother through the blinds before entering. He was still pale, and there was a veiled look in his eyes which had not been there before their encounter with the demon. But he was grinning, chatting animatedly with the sparky brunette. Sam was always amazed at his brother's ability to put on a mask which said he was fine, but this was exceptional. He wondered whether it was healthy for him to be constantly hiding his emotions, but he knew better than to attempt curing Dean of that particular habit.

'Hey, it's me' Sam declared, opening the door and stepping into the room.

'Hey,' Dean greeted him. 'You look better. I didn't want to tell you yesterday, but you looked like a crazy person.'

'Thanks'

'Now you just look like… a mop.'

The nurse giggled again, but then she caught sight of the stern-looking matron passing the open door. 'I better go… I have to…' she made a vague hand gesture, grimacing at Dean.

'Yeah, sure. Come back,' he replied. She grinned at him and left.

'How do you do it?' Sam said, trying not to sound jealous. Dean smirked at him, and he knew he'd failed.

'So, what happens now?' asked Dean.

Sam looked at him, detecting the change in his tone. Suddenly serious. 'I'm not sure. I was trying to do some research, but I don't know where to start.'

Dean nodded sympathetically. 'Ok, so start with… what do we know?'

'It can possess people, but it can also take corporeal form. It's nasty. It kills women when their babies are 6 months old. It claimed to have... children…'

Dean listened to Sam's summary, searching for a clue they might have missed, something that could be deduced from one of the facts his little brother was counting off.

'…and… it's resistant to holy water. That's all I can think of.' He shrugged in defeat. 'Doesn't give us much to go on.'

Dean was silent, re-running the list through his head. 'What kind of demon is resistant to holy water?' he muttered.

Sam considered, wondering why Dean had picked up on that detail in particular, but willing to go with it, for lack of a better idea. 'Well, it's a kind of superstition thing, for most demons. Except that, when it comes to demons, superstitions tend to manifest themselves physically. Demons are associated with the devil, so anything associated with Christianity is like... reallybad luck to them, in the same way that a normal person might think anything demonic was bad luck.'

'I've warned you before about the dangers of swallowing textbooks, Sammy.'

Sam rolled his eyes. 'So, if this demon is resistant to holy water… it's… not like a normal demon,' he concluded weakly.

Dean frowned. 'What if it was a really old demon? Like, really old… pre-Christian. Would it still have the same effect?'

Sam considered. 'No, probably not. I mean, then, at the time of it's… creation, Christian blessings wouldn't have been associated with divinity. The Catholic mass would just have been… words.'

'So we'd be looking at pagan gods?' Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

'I guess. I mean… we're just guessing…'

'But we don't have anything better to go on'

'I'll check it out'

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That's it, for the moment. I hope it's not getting boring. I promise, things will happen in later chapters! But I left so many loose ends hanging in the first chapter, I needed to tidy up a bit. Please review, even if you can't think of anything in particular to say, I'll be thrilled to hear it! I can probably get another chapter up before I go on holiday, then there'll be a pause. Looking forward to reading the review that you know you want to write ;) Until next time!