The Wind tossed and spun Jack around with no regard to his protests, too delighted to see that he was alright to listen to anything that Jack tried to say. He tried to direct the Wind to bring him back to Stanford to find Sam and Jessica and James and make sure that they were alive, but she paid him no real attention, blowing and throwing him along different currents, never letting him fall but never letting him control his own direction.

Jack protested at the indignity of it, until he recognised where they were going.

Jack spun around until he dropped out of the wind current and he could carry himself on the breeze. He needed to rely more on the Wind than he was used to. Healing spirit or not, Jack had been near mortally injured. If the others hadn't found him he definitely would be dead.

It took all of his concentration not to crash into anything or fall to the ground, even with the Wind focussed on keeping him safe.

Still, Jack was able to reach Sioux Falls virtually without incident. Those unexpected snowstorms in Ohio didn't count at all.

At least his powers weren't affected by the bone deep exhaustion that he still felt.

The old car yard looked the same as Jack remembered from the last time he had visited a couple years ago during one of Sam's school breaks. As Jack dropped down on the ground, an old dog barked in the distance.

Jack paid it no mind, some animals could sense his presence and it tended to set them off. They couldn't hurt him, although some cows had conspired to once.

Jack walked through the maze of cars, finding the house solely from overhead memory. He tapped his staff against the unbroken windows of the wrecked cars he passed, creating spiral frost patterns and testing his precision.

He was still a little unsteady on his feet but Jack could feel his strength returning steadily in the cold air. Jack spun his staff around his in hands, debating, as he approached Bobby's house. He couldn't just open the door and let himself in because of all the wards and sigils and other forms of protection around the house, but he didn't think that standing in the yard and screaming until Bobby took notice of him would work too well either.

Another spirit might see him. And it would really annoy that dog.

Jack could approach the house. The protections kept him out but they didn't stop him from going right up to them. It was just like walking into an invisible wall rather than an actual repellent, which was a shame because if there was something that could repel his type of spirit then he might be able to use it on that Kangaroo.

Sniggering at the thought, Jack crept towards the house slowly, wary of the invisible wall that he might smack into. Once Bobby opened the door and acknowledge him, he would be able to slip inside but until then he wanted to keep his face intact.

Jack was within a foot of the window when he found that he could take another step forward, as though the invisible wall only blocked his feet. With a huff, Jack peered through the window and tried to spot Bobby.

He only noticed the hunter from the way that he paced somewhere deeper inside the house, moving between rooms and becoming visible for only seconds.

Jack sighed. There was no way that Bobby would notice him from in there. He pressed his lips together in thought for a moment before he pressed the tip of his staff to the window, this time with a focused expression and a determined thought in mind.

Saying the letters as he spread them, Jack very carefully traced Bobby's name onto the glass. He wasn't too good at writing to begin with, even less at doing so with his staff and definitely not backwards. But he was sure that it was still passable. Bobby was spelt with three 'b's right?

Jack stepped back to admire his work and tapped his staff against the glass, hoping that the hunter would notice his name written in frost and figure out who it was. Although, Jack worried, he might think it was some sort of ice creature out to kill him? Most of the creatures that tried to kill Jack knew his name, but then, they were often out to kill him. He didn't randomly stumble onto danger. Usually.

"Jack?"

Jack spun around to the front of the house where Bobby was standing, waiting. He waved him over and the winter spirit bounded towards him, stopping just at the threshold. "Have you heard anything from Sam?" Jack asked, forgoing any greetings or pleasantries.

Bobby sighed. "Yeah, he's alive. So are the others. Sam was still laid up last thing I heard, but no one had any idea about you." He shook his head. "Thought you might have died."

Jack shuddered. He had come closer to death in last few years than he had ever come in the three hundred years before it, but this time had been way too close. "The other seasonal spirits rescued me. There was nearly a war over it. Very exciting, but unimportant. How hurt is 'alive'?"

Bobby shook his head. "Jess was released, James' hands are pretty messed up but they'll heal, and Sam's still full of stitches that need to come out. But they'll be fine soon enough."

"So long as nothing else attacks them," Jack said. He frowned. "What was that? I've seen a few demons before but that one was different. Stronger."

Bobby shrugged. He gestured inside a little helplessly. "I've searched every damn book I could find for anything on that demon for John, and I've searched through it all again since I heard about Sam." He sighed. "I've still found nothing."

"Well, it had yellow eyes, and it can make fire, and it can give visions - but only if it's set fire to your house at some point," Jack summarised.

Bobby nodded. "There's just not that much about demons, much less yellow eyed ones. Either this thing is rare or it's not a demon."

Jack frowned. "I was talking to Jess once about," he began, but trailed off. Didn't the Nightmare King have yellow eyes? It was worth investigating. "It might be a spirit," he suggested. "I told Jess about him. He's the Nightmare King, he can cause bad dreams but he's been underground for years now. This could be him, or he might know about what's going on. He has to know," Jack decided.

"Hold on," Bobby cautioned. "You nearly died. Sam, Jess, James - they all nearly died. You're not going off after some nightmare without backup and without telling the others that you're alive. Stay here," he ordered, and then he disappeared into his house again, leaving Jack alone on the porch with only Rumsfeld's barking - and where was that dog tied up? - for company.

Jack knew that he could go into the house. 'Stay here' meant don't leave the property, not 'don't leave that spot,' but he guessed that he could behave for a few minutes and bask in the evening chill, feeling it revitalise his skin and brush away his exhaustion and all those other things that were in beauty cream ads.

Bobby returned slowly. Jack grinned at him when he heard him coming but his smile shattered when he saw the expression on the older hunter's face.

"Is it Sam?" Jack gasped, clutching his staff to his chest like a teddy bear. He needed to know the truth almost as much as he never wanted to know it. He couldn't lose his first believer, he couldn't.

"No," Bobby choked out. "It's Jessica and James. They're missing."