A/N: Hello dear readers! Thanks for reading, and the follows! An unexpected party: Thank you so much. I think what happens in a lot of these fics is that the writers truly hate John, and that comes through in their writing. They do not have a problem turning him into an inhuman monster. He's not. He's just a man, drowning in grief, in the middle of what is essentially a war, with two small children that he doesn't have the slightest idea what to do with or how to take care of. Basically, Mary used to fill the role of dealing with the kids, and dealing with him when he got stressed and angry (He does have something of a temper), but with her gone, he's sort of mentally replaced her with Dean. He's not evil, he's just lost, confused, and doing the best he can in impossible circumstances. I actually based John a lot on my own dad and his relationship with my older sister. Okay character rant over. I'm glad you liked the supporting cast. After all, this isn't only the Winchester's tale, this show has such a rich and complete backstory, I'm sort of trying to tell as many as I can. MaraDixon413: Thank you for your review! My last comments aside, John is a terrible father and I actually wish the boys had ended up in the system. They would have been adopted, together, in a heartbeat, by a loving, functional family who would have treated them like kings. I am very sorry that they had such a terrible childhood. Hundley: Hello again. It is never a good idea to underestimate Dean, particularly not to his face when he's scared and panicking, especially if you're messing with Sam. I figure, apart from taking care of Sam, Dean doesn't have all that much to do and has probably been working with him some on vocabulary. If nothing else, it makes it easier to know what he needs. Glad you enjoyed! ncsupnatfan: Thank you for your review. I love hearing from you. Anyway, glad you like the plot. Keep reading!

Wow! That was a long one.

I do not own Supernatural or its characters.


Chapter 16


Bobby carried the children into the house, closing the door with his foot and setting them down to build a fire in his study. He looked up from his completed work to find Dean standing where Bobby had left him, still clutching Sam. Poor kid. Shock was probably setting in now the adrenaline had worn off. Five-year-olds just weren't meant to go through stuff like that. Bobby stood up, "Okay, kid, I'm done here, why don't you go find you and your brother something to eat while I get your stuff in, huh?" Dean nodded heavily and started toward the kitchen.

Bobby called after him, "Hey, kid!" Dean turned back.

"You did good back there. Your Daddy would be proud of you." The boy smiled and kept walking, his step significantly lighter. Bobby chuckled and went to unload the car.


He reentered the kitchen to find Dean feeding his brother chicken and rice baby food. Sam did not seem particularly thrilled with the arrangement.

Dean held the spoon towards the baby, "Come on, Sammy. Just one bite." Sam turned his head to the side to avoid the spoon as it approached. The boy tried again, and Sam kept his mouth closed, lifting his head up to look at the ceiling. Dean sighed, "Please? You need to eat." Sam stared at him, his eyes narrowing slightly. Then he batted the spoon away, sending the food all over Dean's face. "No!" yelled the toddler. Dean's eyes closed and he gave a heavy sigh, "Okay, let's try this again." He held out the spoon, "Eat."

"No." The brothers locked eyes in a silent battle of wills.

Bobby decided to make his presence known, "I'd say your brother has a new favorite word."

Dean glanced at him, "Yeah, maybe."

"I'd also say, judging from the standing ovation you got going there, he ain't particularly fond of the menu."

"Yeah, but, what am I supposed to do? He has to eat."

Bobby thought for a second. "Why don't we give him a little break. Who knows, maybe the idjit'll decide he's hungry if you're not pushing it at him."

Dean stood up hopefully, "You think so?"

"Yeah. He's a stubborn ass, but he's just fishing for attention. Come on, I got something to show you."

Dean pulled away as they started to leave the room, "Is Sammy gonna be okay by himself?"

"Yep. Kitchen's baby-proofed, made sure of it 'fore I left to get you boys. And-" He took an expandable baby gate from next to the study side of the doorway and set it up, "The monster is contained. That should hold him." Bobby lifted the boy over the fence and carried him upstairs, setting him down outside a closed door.

Dean gasped as the door opened. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it wasn't this. He looked up at Uncle Bobby, his eyes wet with joy. His voice caught, "Thank you." He walked inside, gazing around and treading softly, afraid he would wake up to find it all a dream. It was a bedroom. A small, short-legged wooden bed sat against one wall, attached to it a crib with abnormally low sides. Shelves lined the walls, filled with toys and children's books. There was even a small dresser. He stared back at the man who had put all this together, ignoring the tear that escaped his control to roll down his cheek.

Bobby spoke, "I built it after your last visit. Your Daddy said he might leave you two here sometimes, and, you know, I figured I should have someplace to stash you when you kids were here. I-" Dean ran to hug him, tightly. He hadn't had a room since the fire, and Uncle Bobby had put so much care and effort into this. He didn't think he had ever felt so loved.

Bobby continued talking awkwardly, "I made everything little so you could reach it, and, I uh, I figured you'd want to have the crib's sides low so you could check on your brother. It ain't much, but, uh, I guess it's someplace to sleep." Dean ignored everything the man was saying. He didn't care about excuses, this was the best day of his new life, and he wanted to enjoy it. And he was going to start by sleeping in a real bed.


Anna watched a group of human children, chasing each other about a playset at a park somewhere. Their lives seemed so simple, so uncomplicated compared to hers. She wished she were one of them. Castiel's words kept spinning round and round in her mind. She had even found herself wondering if he was right. She did remember a time, long ago, when they had been humanity's shepherds, their caretakers, meant to guide them and help them along the right path. And now? What were they now? She wasn't even sure she knew anymore. She was to follow orders, to do otherwise was sinful, but what if the orders themselves were sinful? She didn't think that was possible, but lately… some of the orders she had received made her wonder. What was right? She tried to quiet her mind, force it to block out the treacherous thoughts, but she couldn't stop. She kept thinking these things, kept coming back to this park, no matter how hard she tried to stay away. What did God want? Was he even there anymore? Did he even exist?


John returned to the motel a couple of days later. He stared at the police cars and crime scene tape strewn everywhere. "Dammit," He whispered, grabbing his FBI badge and exiting the car. The sheriff approached him, "Agent Campbell. What are you doing here? I thought you had everything you needed."

"Well, I thought I did. What happened here?"

The sheriff motioned for him to follow, "I don't think this has anything to do with your case." He led him past crime scene tape into John's motel room. "Happened two days ago. Couple of kids. Someone called in that they were living here alone, CPS guy came out, got shot."

John crouched beside the dark stain on the floor, "Really? How bad?"

"Just in the leg, but bad enouph. He's lucky the gunshot attracted attention. He was unconscious when help arrived. Blood loss. Damn kid locked the door."

John nodded. At least his lectures about locking the door had taken hold. Of course, Dean never should have let the man in in the first place. "And the kids…"

"Gone. Went out the window and bolted." He straightened up, "Well, thank you, sheriff. I'll let you know if I need anything else. You know, anything I can do to help…"

"Yeah. We all want these kids found. Hey, uh, how about a drink before you go? There's a good place a couple of blocks over." John glanced around, noting his belongings spread around the room. He didn't think there was much important, but it was still annoying. He turned back to the officer, "You know what? That sounds great. How about, uh, you go on, I'd like to look around some more."

"Okay. Not sure what you hope to find but, uh, help yourself. See you soon."

"Yeah. One other thing. Could I have the CPS guy's name?"

"Sure."

He wrote down the man's name, then the sheriff left. John looked around, there were almost no officers in the room, it was lunch break, and the crime scene was a couple of days old. Those that were there were wrapped up in their work and didn't seem to have even noticed his presence. The coast was, more or less, clear.

He wandered around the room, trying to look like he was investigating. He couldn't take everything, just what he could fit into his coat without it being immediately missed. He slipped his journal from its hiding place under the mattress and slipped it into the inner pocket on his overcoat. He didn't care if they noticed that was gone or not, he wouldn't leave it. He eyed the rest of the room's contents, trying to decide what to take.