A/N: Relax, chill, breathe. I know the last chapter was a little… horrible maybe? Ending it like that was mean of me, but it needed to be done. I guess the pathetic number of reviews was my punishment. So, here is part two and if you want me to post part three tomorrow, I want at least ten reviews. Or at the very very very minimum, seven. But if I get like, fifteen, I will crank out two chapters. That's an almost promise.

Disclaimer: I own nada.

Warning: eh, none really.

TAKE TWO: JOHN

Pain.

A pain so intense there was no way he could be dead.

Damn it.

Then it wasn't over.

John forced his eyes open and gasped.

The Impala was ruined, destroyed beyond recognition, and yet somehow he was outside, lying on the ground, safe.

"Dad?" A whisper, soft, weak and Dean. "Dad are you awake?" John groaned in reply and forced himself to his elbows. "Wait, don't try to move. You're hurt."

"Are you and Sammy okay?" John asked, for once his priorities were okay. "Where's the colt." Or maybe not.

"Who cares about the goddamn colt, Dad!" Dean screamed. "Sammy is gone!" Dean let out a pained grunt and John could his son breathing heavily, each breath congested with what John realized must have been blood.

"What do you mean, gone?" John whispered, fear taking hold for the second time in that night.

"Dad, don't you let him kill me!" Dean screamed, his face contorted in agony.

John could hear his baby boy yelling in the background, faintly. The sound that occupied John's thoughts was the sound of his oldest son's flesh ripping and the small pained breaths he was taking.

"Dad, please…" The blood that ran over his lips was like a death mark on his body. Dean was dying and John was doing it.

He'd never been more scared of success that he'd been at that moment.

He'd never been more scared than he'd been at that moment.

"The demon… it came and took him… just took him Dad!" Dean was hysterical. "I tried to stop him, I'm sorry…" Dean let his head fall forward and he sobbed softly.

Crying? Dean? Something else was wrong.

John forced himself upright and he crawled over to Dean who was seated on his legs awkwardly, his clothes stained a deep red, his face pale and sweating.

"Dean, how much blood have you lost?" John whispered, grasping his son's shoulder. Dean looked at his father incredulously.

"It doesn't matter! Sammy is gone!"

"Dean… you're hysterical."

"No! Sam is gone, Dad! They took him!"

"This isn't you…" John whispered. His son would not break like this, not if there was saving to be done, especially if it was Sammy saving. "Dean, how did I get out of the car?" Dean looked at his father, his wet eyes seemed dark and blank. "How did I get out of the car?"

Dean's eyes rolled back into his head and he lost consciousness. John caught his son before he hit the unforgiving ground and laid him down gently, hushing the pained, hitching breaths.

"Shh, it's okay Dean. I'm going to fix this… all of this." John promised and flipped out his phone. He dialed Missouri's house, but got static.

Same result with Rowan's cell.

It was like he was cut off from the world.

John staggered to his feet, and though he didn't want to leave Dean, he had a sinking feeling that wasn't even Dean at all.

He was more hurt than that.

But still, he was a father and "Dean" was his son. He knelt down and kissed Dean's forehead, touched his son's cheek and whispered; "I'm sorry."

Then he began the long trek over the embankment.

His leg didn't hurt the way it should.

Now he knew. Someone was doing this. Someone—or something—had projected him into this reality and had done a sloppy job. They'd suspected he'd be so angry that he'd foolishly follow the demon to find Sam.

Someone had tried to put him in a nightmare.

"You think you're so smart, don't you John?" The voice taunted.

A voice he'd never wanted to hear again.

John turned and faced himself… well, the demon actually, but the demon in his body. John stood, ready to fight, fists clenched.

The demon laughed heartily. "There's no use for me to fight you in here, in your self conscious. I never suspected you'd fall prey to this trick anyway. But you know Demons." He paused and smiled. "We'll try anything once."

"Where are my boys? Really?" John hissed.

"In the hospital Johnny-boy. You're all in comas at the moment… my children have made sure of that. You'll be pleased to know that Serena is watching Dean."

"If you hurt either of them…"

"Oh John please, this over-protective father part is getting nauseating, really. For such an independent family, you all certainly baby each other. And those teary eyes… man, I could blush." The demon taunted. "Besides… the only way they could get hurt is if they hurt themselves."

"What do you mean?"

"If they get so worked they just happen to work themselves to death. That's the point here, Johnny. Little Sammy thinks his brother is dead, and you're in a coma. I haven't begun to cook up Dean's scenario… but I can assure you, it'll do him in." He paused and took in John's reaction, but the man was a wall. "I'm thinking Sam will pull the trigger in the cabin… and we'll see what happens from there."

"They're smarter than you think, they'll figure it out."

"Just like you and Sammy figured out Dean was possessed?" The demon asked. "Face it, you're just humans. Your emotions get in the way. And your boys? Well…" He chuckled. "They're a basket of warm and fuzzy emotions."

"We're going to beat you." John hissed. The demon smiled, smirking. He took a step closer, making sure John heard him, heard the certainty in his voice and disgested it.

"You've all ready lost."