The Slide into Hell

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear --- H.P. Lovecraft

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John carried Dean to the room across the hall, where four year old Sam was peacefully sleeping.

"Did you brush your teeth?" John whispered.

Dean nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good man." John slipped him under the covers of the empty bed and sat on the edge. He smoothed Dean's blonde hair and smiled down at his son.

"Don't be sad, Daddy."

John's brow furrowed. "I'm not sad, Dean. I drove a long way today; I'm just tired."

Dean laid his hand on John's. "Do you like going after the bad guys, Daddy?"

John tried to keep his expression neutral. Sometimes his eight year old son was so perceptive that it scared him.

"Sometimes more than others."

"I want to help get the bad guys when I'm bigger."

Dean's words made John sad; he didn't want his sons to follow in his footsteps, but he was afraid they were doomed to do just that. He squeezed Dean's hand. "You have a long time to figure out what you want to do when you're bigger. Right now you need to close your eyes and go to sleep."

It didn't take long for the little boy to fall asleep. John quietly moved to Sam's bed and adjusted the blankets that covered him before leaning over to kiss his forehead. Sam didn't move and after watching him for a moment, John walked to the door. He paused just outside the room and turned around to look at his boys.

"Leave him alone." John whispered angrily. A moment later, he joined Jim in the kitchen.

Jim was sitting at the wooden table, a cup of tea in front of him and a beer for John. The hunter sat down across from his friend and took a long, grateful swallow from the bottle.

"They were here."

Jim looked at him. "Don't worry, they can't hurt him."

"Yet.."

Jim nodded.

"You want to tell me about the hunt?"

John took another swig from the bottle. "I told you everything on the phone. We got the cup. Joshua's probably got it melted down by now."

"You want to tell me about the hunt?" Jim asked again, patiently.

John leaned forward, his elbows on the table and hands wrapped around the bottle. "I've seen worse things, but the things some of the others said – some of the things that have happened because of that cup. How do you do it, Jim?"

"For one, I don't see the things you do. I stay here and gather information; pass it along. I help people who need it. But you and the other hunters, you're out there and you see things. But if you're going to survive in this business, you're going to have to harden your heart to what you see. You're helping people by doing what you're doing; ridding the world of evil –"

"Ridding the world? There's too much, Jim. We're not going to get rid of all of it."

Jim smiled at him. "Maybe not; but there's less of it because of you. People live in peace because of you."

"I don't live in peace." John drank more beer. "And I'm afraid my sons won't live in peace either."

"No one is holding you to this life, John. You can take your boys back to Lawrence and raise them around friends and family."

"They're with family when they're here." John said.

Jim smiled at him. "Thank you, John."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before John spoke again. "You know I can't go back to Lawrence. And I know too much, and not enough, to leave this life."

Jim knew what he meant. Despite all of their resources, they still didn't know what killed Mary. John's purpose these days was to identify it, find it, and destroy it. In the meantime, he learned what he could while helping as many people as he could along the way.

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Two days later, John and his sons were still with Jim. There was no immediate job and John appreciated the downtime to work on researching his wife's death. He felt at home with Jim and he knew Dean and Sammy enjoyed the atmosphere. Jim was great with them and there were other children around for them to play with. Dean had another few days of a school break so there was no rush to get back to the dingy apartment.

"Hi, Daddy."

John looked up from the file he was reviewing to see four-year old Sam standing in the kitchen doorway, clutching a well-worn blue blanket.

"Hi. Are you done with your nap already?"

Sam looked around uncertainly.

"What's wrong?" John asked, holding out his arms to the small boy.

Sam didn't hesitate before moving closer to his father. John scooped him up and settled him on his lap. "What's wrong?" he asked again, gently.

"I had a bad dream."

"I'm sorry, Sammy. But you know dreams can't hurt you, right?"

The small boy nodded. "Where's Dean?"

"He's playing next door at the church. Do you want to go over there?"

Sam shook his head. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Just some work." John said, pushing the papers away. Although Sam was only four, he could already read fairly well and John wanted to keep the file away from his curious eyes.

"Are you going away again?"

John squeezed him. "Not for a while."

"I don't like it when you're gone."

"I don't either, Sammy."

"The lights only come when you're gone."

John's blood ran cold. "What lights"

"Dean says I'm making it up."

"What lights, Sammy?"

"The lights I see floating in the dark. I only see 'em when you're not home, but Dean never sees 'em." Sam shrugged.

"What do the lights look like?" John asked.

"Like the fireflies we saw when we slept in the woods that time…." Sam said, busying himself with the blanket.

John held him more securely. "What do the lights do?"

"Just fly around my head."

"Do they scare you?"

"No. Not now."

"Not now? They used to scare you?"

Sam shook his head. "No, but they will some day."

John held back a shudder and pulled Sam even closer.

TBC