I own not Charmed nor Supernatural. Mike and Kate aren't mind either, they are actually from John's journals (As is the excerpt before the story). Only Vickie and Jerry are mine, and they are barely mentioned so need to worry on that :-)

Thanks to those who waited for my muse to get back on track! Really appreciate it.

December 17, 1983

I met someone… someone who I think might be a friend, to me and the boys. For the last couple of days I've been visiting… well, psychics, I guess would be the term. I wandered past a place, and I don't know, I just walked in. Two months ago I would have laughed out loud if anyone told me I'd be doing this, but at this point I'm not sure where else to turn. Anyway, I went inside… it was a total scam. I watched this guy read some palms… he'd just parrot back what people were telling him, or give them broad stuff – "someone you love is worried" and they ate it up. Like I said, it was bull, but for some reason, later that afternoon I went to another… then today, I went to Missouri. And the second I walked in, I can't explain it… it was like we'd been friends for years. She knew every detail, not just of my life, but also of me… my thoughts… fears. She was the first person who didn't look at me like I was crazy when I told her my story… she just listened, and nodded, and then she told me she believed me.

An hour later I was back… with the boys. For some reason I wanted her to see them, to meet them… maybe to tell me they were okay. They both loved her immediately… Sammy sat in her lap the whole time, smiling, and Dean talked nonstop… he never does that anymore. I don't know, if it were just me, maybe I wouldn't trust her, but seeing the boys warm up to her like that… There's something there. I think she can help me.

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"We're going on a little trip guys."

Dean looked up at him, the frown that had taken over the formally usually smiley face curving even more downwards than usual. Giving a feeling of severity that had no place on any four-year olds face. Stopping his new habit of smacking the back of his spoon on soggy cereal- instead of eating it - Dean blinked up at his father as something passed over his features as he tilted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. It was a question and acknowledgement at the same time. It was waiting to hear more and possibly waiting to do. Which was funny because Dean hadn't looked at him like that for a better part of a month. In fact, Dean hadn't talked to him for a better part of a month. And in a way John was kind of glad that he hadn't because he was afraid if his oldest son had all that would spill out would be recriminations and hurt and anger and a little boy's ache for his dead mother. And while he knew it was selfish, John didn't think he could deal with all that right now and that had caused guilt and caused John to fall even more into a funk. A bigger funk then their charred home. House.

However to have his oldest son look at him like that, like he still trusted him, like Dean wanted to do something and be alive and not follow in John's footsteps and continue on as an existence as a ghost; it caused John's throat to constrict.

'He's like your little solider, always following your orders and go to the next step' Mary turned towards him and laughed, her smile becoming that of a mock scold. 'He'd follow you to the ends of the world, so you had better stop that cussin'!'

Oh his Mary. How she had been wrong. Looking at Dean now, the frown warring with a look of curiosity the former hard emerald of his eyes softening to a more moss green ... his little brow still cocked up. Looking at his son now John saw that his son didn't follow anyone's orders but his own. Now Dean did as he said because he felt that he knew best but one day, one day if John were to ever go down the wrong path and if Dean believed enough in himself ... Dean wouldn't stay in John's shadows, no his son had all the makings, all the ability to surpass him. All he needed was a little guidance.

Problem was, John didn't think he had it in him to be a guidance to anyone. He didn't want Dean to be in his shadows. He didn't want Dean to make his mistakes. Sometimes John wondered if it would be best to leave his kids with Mike and Kate or Vicky and Jerry and just go ...

He was too weak to do such a thing. He was too week to loose his only living parts of Mary. He couldn't leave his boys. But he might be able to leave his girl.

Cutting his eyes to Paige, who hadn't once looked up since he made his announcement, he felt his heart break even more. If Dean was a ghost, then Paige was long gone. She didn't smile, she barely slept, she only talked to her brothers, and that one time to him. The one time to warn him about the bad things. Fear had gripped John when his daughter had come up to him: scared, determined, earnest, came up to tell him that she knew that there were things that really went bump in the night and John had been so damn scared. Was what killed his wife coming for his little girl too? Was it better to leave her or was it better to just take her and keep on running and hoping?

John had always been good at running.

Watching Paige as she patiently tried to feed the fussy Sammy; her face screwed in exasperation and frustration and the tiniest bit of annoyance as time and time again the infant would angrily push the spoon into his sister's face, causing it to splatter all over her. John watched as her bottom lip trembled before she huffed and rolled her eyes and patiently tried again. Only to fail again. But she would try and she would try until she managed to get at least five successful spoons of mashed bananas into the baby's mouth. Then her hazel eyes would twinkle, an equivalent to a grin.

It was all in the eyes with his kids.

"What do you think, fairy? You want to go out?"

It took John a while to realize what he had said to cause her head to shoot up and back as if he had just slapped her. The nickname. He hadn't called her that since That Night.

Goddamit! How could he have not seen how much she was hurting?! He had seen it for Dean. He had noticed for Dean and for Sammy. Dean didn't talk and Sammy couldn't stop crying. He HAD noticed that Paige was hurt in a way. It was a given. She would lash out at times and she really didn't sleep. But he hadn't noticed the guilt, and the disappointment, or the fact she only ate just enough to keep herself going. He had thought it was directed at him but maybe ... it was all towards her? Why would she be guilty? Why hadn't he seen that his little girl was hurting like that?

Was Dean's pain at himself too? Did his son blame himself for his mother's death too? As ridiculous as it sounded but would baby Sammy?

Why hadn't he noticed that his kids, as strong of a face that they put, were so vulnerable?

Paige looked at him and blinked rapidly for a long moment, before shrugging. "If you want."

Paige never deferred to him. Not since she was three. It was always 'Daddy, I want to do this ... Daddy, I CAN do it, lemmie try ... Daddy, I won't because this is better ...' Never just 'If you want'.

Turning her attention to Dean, he watched as she gave a brother a look that was a cross between an affectionate smile and a scowl, "Dump that and get some new cereal and ya better eat it before it goes'n get's soggy or Ima force ya."

Dean turned around and gave his sister such a glare and stuck his tongue out at her. She was the only one who could get a real reaction out of him anymore.

That made John wonder. If Dean was supposed to be his solider what was Paige?

"Well now that settles it. We're goin'."

"Going where?" Kate asked as she breezed into the kitchen, a careful smile in place and she reached over to pat Dean on his shaggy head. Nevertheless, she seemed to stop and pull her hand back as if she was burnt, a sheepish smile taking over the plastered one.

For the first time John noticed, since today seemed to be the day that he was actually noticing his children, that Paige was just sitting there her eyes holding Kate's. And a wealth of things seemed to cross between the two females. Moreover, for the first time in what seemed like forever, John find himself biting back a smile.

If Dean was his obedient solider, meant to be his own general, then Paige was his feisty cub, meant to be the new lioness.

"Out." John replied. It wasn't really any of her business where he took his kids.

Apparently Kate thought it was. "John." She started carefully as if she were speaking to a slow but especially volatile child. "It's raining. Maybe, another day, okay? I'm sure even the places that you ... those ... I'm sure everything worth going to is closed early this weekend."

In translation: I think it's best that you don't take the kids to those crazy people who keep feeding you 'false' information about how Mary died. It's not healthy. And you're nuts to be even thinking to take them out in this weather.

Even though it's barely drizzling.

John felt his fists clench and he leveled the annoying, negative woman with a dark look. "It's not even twelve yet. Pletny'll be open."

"But John. It's raining."

"They have rain coats."

John and Kate both missed the look that Dean was giving both of them, they didn't notice that Sammy had stopped fussing and was looking at them too. Paige didn't even bother doing so. She really thought that Kate was nice but should mind her own damn business; she wasn't family so she really had no say.

Looking back and forth between Kate and his father a few times before looking at his little brother and his older sister, Dean sighed and pushed off his chair. Going into the hall closet, he tugged down his and his sibling coats. His dad already had his on.

"... really. I don't think those are places-"

"Never asked you what you thought Kate." John tried his best to grind out patiently. He got that Kate was worried, and somewhere deep down inside it actually touched him, but it wasn't really any of her damn business.

With another sigh Dean drugged the coats into the kitchen and gave them to his sister. They both put Sammy's on, then she helped him button his up before she lastly put hers on, all the while the adults continued to "talk". With a roll of her eyes, Paige gestured for him to get his father's attention. Cocking a brow at her, he silently asked her how which in turn she shrugged. Something else John didn't notice. His kids may not speak to him or aloud but they could "speak" to each other; Dean could read Paige like a book and vice versa. And they both knew what each one of Sam's wails meant. Their mother was dead and their father was broken but they did have each other. Paige wanted to make sure that they always had each other and Dean did too.

Trudging over to his father with one last sigh, Dean tugged at John's coat. Looking down at his son, John's eyes widened. And this time he did smile.

Kate frowned at him, "That boy does whatever you tell him to do."

Really?, John thought and he thought other parents begged for that. However, John's smile just widened. He hadn't said a damn thing to Dean, his boy did what he wanted. He was getting that courage.

So was the cub.