I felt a small tug at the back of my eyes as my sons stepped into the doorway. It seemed like years since I'd seen my boys, although they still looked exactly the same. Except Dean, he was more reserved, farther behind, away from everyone. Sammy ran into my arms as Dean let go of his hand. His small arms clung to my neck as he buried his face into my neck. I could still hear him saying, "Dad!" into my neck.

I looked up to see Jim in the doorway, trying to push Dean closer. Had something happened? Why didn't Dean come to me? Something was wrong.Those hazel eyes peered up at Jim Murphy's, and Dean moved a little closer. Not much, but a little closer. At that moment he noticed someone else behind him other than Jim.

Dean's eyes flew to their corners, peering behind him to see Dr. Krohn standing behind him. He tensed and moved quickly into the room, making sure to ignore her at all costs. He sat towards the other side of the bed, watching me and Sam hug. My left arm released Sam and reached to grab Dean, trying to pull him into the hug, or at least ruffle his hair. It was one of the few signs of love we still showed each other. He wiggled closer to my hand, allowing me to pull him closer to me. I smiled as his head leaned against my neck as well.

There's something remarkable that happens when you notice someone/something (most likely the later in my family) has hurt your child. Sudden rage, strength, and bloodlust escape throughout your whole body and make you want to punch everyone in your way and kill the first person that gives you lip. I could feel the rage make my spine quiver as I saw the red marks around my eldest son's neck, fingers clearly visible on one side.

I felt Dean clutch my shirt, grabbing hold of me, and looking into my eyes. His, now, jade eyes poured calmness into mine as I felt Sam pull away from my body. He looked up into my eyes with his innocent eyes and a smile tugged at my face; this tug-of-war I gave into. "Dad, what happened?"

"What?" I knew it was no use playing stupid, but I didn't want to tell him the truth. I couldn't.

"Why did you come home late?" A yawn made its way out of his mouth as he spoke, making me smile wider. His eyes were still a little lazy from sleep; so were Dean's, but right now he had to stay awake a little longer.

"I think you need to go to bed," I said, a soothing tone rang out of my lips. I laid him on the bed and brushed the hair off of his face. What? You didn't think I could be fatherly? Well, thanks for the faith in my fathering abilities.

Sam's eyes fought to stay open, "Dad, I want to stay up with you and Dean."

"Sammy, go to sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up," I smiled, hoping I was being honest. Right now I didn't know what was going to happen. I had put my rage on the back burner, but as soon as it could it would be coming back with a vengeance, like Bruce Willis. I saw Sam's eyes close, but reopened, making sure I was still there. I smiled at him again. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise." I bent lower to my son, whispering into his ear, "Winchester promise." No one broke a Winchester promise, well at least not yet. It was the strongest promise this family had; unbreakable in the eyes of Sam. Me and Dean, on the other hand, knew that these were just lucky breaks.

Sam's eyes closed, making me watch him for a few minutes. I watched the even rise and fall of his chest as he entered sleep. It always gave me great pleasure to see my sons go to sleep, means I did my job. I kept them safe; made sure they had a bed to sleep in every night.

I shook my head and turned to Dean, who was studying the floor with little concentration. He shrank a little under my gaze, looking like a guilty eight-year-old. "Dean," my voice was a little over a whisper; my eyes drifted towards the two other people in the room: Dr. Krohn had a curious look on her face, while Jim shot sympathy at us, making me feel uneasy. "What happened to your neck?"

Dean's eyes stayed averted at the ground; I saw his lips move, trying to form words, but nothing came out. This fueled my anger. What the hell would make my son so nervous or upset that he couldn't tell me? What did my mistake cause him?

"Dean, you need to tell me," my voice was still quiet, but it came out angrier than I wanted it to. His eyes shot to mine, glossy as it started to fill with tears. They shot back to the floor as soon as he saw the rage in my eyes.

He lifted up his neck so that I could see the entire hand print around his throat. His eyes looked at Jim, begging him to tell me what happened. He shook his head, closed his eyes, and I braced myself for the horrible truth.

"John," his eyes shifted towards Karen, stopping a moment, trying to figure out how to explain what happened without seeming insane himself. "Something attacked Dean."

Karen blinked at the word something, and I hoped that she would just dismiss it, but she seemed to dwell on it silently, in her head. Her eyes swept to mine quickly, but looked to Dean's. Although they were burning a hole in the tiled floor, I could see the guilt and failure that were in those jade eyes. I was about to put my hand on Dean's back to comfort him when Jim spoke:

"He's fine, but there was something strange…" Jim looked at Karen again, wishing he could explain everything to me…in private. My eyes hit those bright blue eyes, and I silently asked her to leave. She shook her head slowly; Of course, God forbid anything's easy!

"Dean," I paused, waiting for his eyes to find mine. I guess after feeling my stare he looked up at me; I could feel my face soften as I saw the hurt in his eyes. "What happened?" My voice was soft, yet stern, demanding an answer.

He looked at Jim, who nodded at him with a smile; I never figured out how Dean was so relaxed with Jim. Maybe one day I'll have to get Jim to let me in on that little secret, but not now. Now I saw my son's mouth open with an answer, but closed it immediately.

Dean leaned towards my ear the breathed into it, "A demon." Just that word made my blood boil; how dare they try to hurt my children! I gritted my teeth a little and pulled Dean's chin up, making sure he was looking at me.

I grabbed him and pulled him into a hug; my hand stroked his hair as I looked at Jim. What was I going to do? I was stuck in this room and I have no idea what I'm up against except a demon. What had happened? Why didn't Dean just tell me?

Karen knew that she really wasn't welcome in the room, but she wanted to make sure that John had no violent tendencies at all. She wanted to make sure that Sam and Dean were in perfectly safe hands, although Dean wasn't before. She wondered what had happened: Jim had gone down to see them…no, he couldn't have. Could he? I don't actually know him, but he seemed fine. Grant you most psychopaths seem fine until they are slitting your throat.

She looked skeptically at Jim Murphy, the family trusted him. She could tell that he wasn't a murderous or hurting type. Check that one off the list.

Karen's heart started to tug her towards the door; she knew that the family wanted to be alone, but she wasn't sure if that was a good idea. There was a battle inside her between principle and heart. Both had strong points:

Principle: What if something goes wrong? The kids aren't even supposed to be up here to begin with! Is this really worth risking your job? Your future? Your happiness?!

Heart: Why tear a family apart now? They need time alone to rebuild their relationship. You know that there is nothing wrong with John.

Eventually she found herself saying she was going to go look for her clipboard so that she can write down some information about them. Karen's hand grabbed the handle of the door and closed it, grabbing the clipboard off the door and walking down the hallway. She glanced at her watch; 10 minutes.

"What happened?!" I demanded as soon as Dr. Krohn was out of the room. She finally got the hint that she needed to leave; she was nice and all, but right now I needed to talk to my eldest son.

"Dad, I didn't…" Dean shook his head, guilt escaping with every breath he let out. "Pastor Jim told me to stay in the room and wait for him to come back." He let out a low sigh, creating suspense that was clearly not helping my temper. His hesitation made me cringe in fear of what happened. I took a quick glance towards Sam before returning to Dean.

"A doctor came in…she asked if we wanted to see you, but…" his eyes met mine momentarily. "There was something wrong, and I said no. She wouldn't leave. I wasn't sure…"

I nodded my head, trying to calm myself for the sake of my son and for my sanity because if he takes any longer I think my head will explode. "She grabbed by the throat and choked me….I woke up and she was gone and Pastor Jim was there." He moved off of the bed and moved to the far side of the room. I couldn't think of what to say. Was I supposed to pull him into a hug? Was I supposed to tell it was okay? All I could do was make a promise:

"Dean, we're gonna find this thing and kill it."

I was staring at his back until he turned around quickly, his eyes closed tight before he opened them. I could tell that he was holding in tears. "Dad that's not the point! She could have done something to Sammy and I couldn't stop her…" he trailed off, his eyes looking at the floor once again.

I stared at him in astonishment; I had never seen him break down like that. He seemed like a stranger in that one moment, but he immediately changed back to the normal Dean. The Dean that was rock solid, never lashed out, never yelled at me (which I was going to have to talk to him about that later), always took care of Sam. Maybe that was too much responsibility for him. He shouldn't have to deal with this all…neither should I. But let's not get selfish here.

"Dean…" I couldn't form words. I saw Jim move towards my son, pulling him into a one armed hug. I waited until this hug was over, waiting to see what was wrong with Jim's arm. My mind completely forgot about Dean's moment of vulnerability.

"Jim, what happened to the arm?"

"Oh, just a little run in with a bitchy doctor." I had to take a moment to absorb that. I had never heard Jim curse before, not even a small one like 'shit'. My eyes almost fell out of their sockets while my mouth hit the floor. "What? Just because I'm a priest doesn't mean I can't curse."

"You never cease to surprise me."

"Well, that's how you keep the relationship lively," he winked at me. I returned the favor with a nod of my head. Any smile I made at that moment wouldn't be real and I had too much respect for Jim to try to fool him with one.

"Dean, come here," I patted the bed next to me, hoping he would turn towards me and climb onto the bed like he did when he was younger. Dean shuffled his feet towards me and I wondered if that was a sign of embarrassment or guilt. I pretend to not notice. I grabbed hold of him from under his arms and hauled him onto the bed. I placed him down next to Sam and ran my fingers through the short pieces of hair. Although they weren't as long as Sam's, I realized that Dean's hair needed a trim; Dean's hair wasn't much longer than a military cut, the way Dean liked it. Sam, on the other hand, liked to have hair flop over his eyes; he said he felt like that Sheep Dog from the Bug Bunny cartoons he watched every Saturday mornings.

I watched as my two sons slept side by side; they were so peaceful when they slept. It was as though they weren't awaiting the evils of the next morning. I smiled down on them, hoping that I was doing the right thing with raising my children. Oh yeah, I don't think in the parenting hand book there was anything on how to tell your child that you are actually in the loony bin even though you're not crazy. Maybe I could start my own classes: Letting Your Child Know You're Not Really Crazy.

I stood up looking at Jim, wanting him to tell me what to do. Should I try to escape? Grab the kids and run? Which, of course, would end in disaster. I very well couldn't leave my children here; I couldn't watch helplessly while my children were carted away. "Jim," I began, taking one last glance at my sons, hoping this wouldn't be the last time. "Take 'em."

"What?" Jim's face twisted into a confused smile. "What are you talking about John?"

"You know what I'm talking about. There's no use ignoring it. You need to take Sam and Dean to your house until this gets sorted out." That familiar tug at my eyes returned as I pictured Sam and Dean going to school, growing up, going to Prom, having a semi-normal life without me. They would live their lives, trying to forget the father that really was insane in his belief of monsters and demons. I wouldn't see them again, but I would imagine what they looked like, what my grandchildren would look like. I would rot in this place until I was either released sane or incarcerated. Either way, everyone's life will change and having Sam and Dean as far away as possible seemed like the best chance for them to actually have a life.

"John, I can't take your sons away from you."

"Oh yes you can. And you will. Just as soon as they wake up, you'll take them home. I'll sign over legal rights and everything. This isn't what they should go through…I can't watch them go through this," I turned my eyes towards my boys once again. I noticed Sam's uneven breathing and heard the whimpers escape his throat. My hand moved towards him, rubbing his back, trying to calm him out of the nightmare. The only problem was that my hand to seem to make it worse. He squirmed away from my hand and bumped into Dean.

"Stick to your side Sammy," Dean said, trying to stay asleep. He pushed Sam away with his hand, but as soon as he felt his brother's hand reach out for him his eyes opened wide. Apparently Dean had realized the same thing I did: something was wrong.

"Sammy, it's okay. It's only a dream," I said lowering my voice; I heard the door open, but I didn't turn my head to see who was there. Dean's hand grabbed hold of Sam's shoulder, trying to settle him down. Sam tensed and eased quickly against his brother's grip; his eyes slowly moved open, scanning Dean's face with his tear filled eyes.

He looked up at me and grabbed me around the neck. I swung my right arm around him, holding him tight against my chest; I felt his sobs into my shoulder as his body shook with every passing moment. I looked over at Dean who seemed stunned, almost confused at how his brother was acting.

I pulled Sam away for a moment and brushed his hair away, the ends wet from his tears. They clung to his face for dear life, but I pulled them away, staring at my son's brown eyes. "What's wrong?"

I could see Jim and Dr. Krohn out of the corner of my eye, watching to see how Sam was. Jim and I were more afraid it was an affect of something the demon had done; Dr. Krohn was probably worried that I might kill him or something, and how many different ways she could lose her job.

Sam's tears continued down his face as he looked at Dean and back at me. "I had a nightmare. I…you…I couldn't see you. You didn't come home, and Dean promised we would see you again, but you never came home! Dad don't leave! I don't want you to go!"

Could he read minds or something? I looked down at him wondering what was going through his head at that moment. I did all I could do to keep my voice from cracking, "I won't ever leave you."

The tray hit the ground, an echoing crash leading down the hallway, but it was heard by deaf ears. Her footsteps were barely heard over the roar of the wind; bright colors littered the sky as she walked past the windows, ignoring the universal sign of hope. Her hand smacked another tray, making it smash to the ground. A needle broke, releasing liquid onto the ground.

Her shadow heard larger, looking as though it was about to consume her, but if you looked closely you would see a different story. It struggled to break away, pull away, separate from the evil, but it was stuck, glued to the bottom of the doctor's shoe. The bag over her shoulder bounced as she made her way down the hallway until she suddenly stopped in front of a green door. Her hand grasped the handle and pulled it open; she entered the dark room, noticing two bunk beds with the lower one being occupied. Clearly she had walked into the on-call room; she smiled at her lucky break.

Her finger found the light switch and she placed her bag down on the ground, pulling out a gray metal goblet. The goblet had faces plastered to the sides, screaming out with pain as though they were trying to escape from torment. She placed it on the floor pulling something out of the center of the goblet. It was a small makeshift blade that fit into the palm of her hand.

The portly doctor that was in charge of John lay in the bottom bunk, completely oblivious of what was going on around him. His throat was slit before he even heard her come near him; he started to choke before he was able to open his eyes completely. She slid the goblet under the waterfall of the blood that was cascading down his shirt. His hacking cough and chokes died out moments later.

She sat back down on the ground, placing the goblet between her legs, and stirred her finger through the blood. "Why couldn't I just take him right then and there? I could have!"

The blood spiked up as though pins were sticking up from the bottom, painted crimson. She nodded and watched tentatively as the pins swirled in the puddle of blood.

"Fine, but this won't work." The blood spiked up again, silencing her immediately. Her face turned away momentarily until her eyes returned as the blood settled. "Okay…okay…I'll go. But I don't think this is a good idea."

The blood spiked again. "Yes, Father." She looked up at the dead doctor. "What are you looking at?" she asked as his glossed over eyes stared straight at her. She stood up, emptied the goblet in the sink, and exited the room. She discarded the nametag that read Lucy into the nearest trash, and exited the building.