Jake Tully – strength

Max Miller – telekenesis

Ava Wilson – visions

Andy Gallagher – mind control

Anselm Weems – mind control


Seth knocks on the front door only after both Dean and Sam are at school. He brings take-out coffee that looks like it's from a decent diner instead of just a gas station on the freeway. But Seth's eyes are still shadowed, and he keeps arching his back like he's not used to standing up. Either everything is built too small for him, or he's been in his midsized car for too long. John knows it's a long drive from Kansas, but why would Seth drive that far that fast just to get to John by the next day?

John spends most of the day going over the case with Seth, pausing to send the younger man to pick up some lunch midday. John doesn't tell him about the weeks it took to settle into this house, with John working off the books at a garage that looks more like a chop shop and Sammy putting up a fuss every time John starts to suggest they should move on to a town with an actual hunt. But he does tell Seth about the rumors at first of a well-thought-of man of a higher class neighborhood that had been acting weird. They're still at the kitchen table when a diesel engine tries to rev outside the house and Sam and Dean burst in, slamming the door shut on the school bus outside. Sam thunders up the stairs immediately, bypassing even a "hi" for his father.

"Hey, Dad," Dean says first. He enters the kitchen and eyes the room studiously before he relaxes. Mostly. He nods deeply like a man still reserving judgment. "Seth."

"Hi, Dean." Seth rubs a hand hard across the back of his neck and smiles, much more comfortable than either John or Dean.

"Seth's helping with the demon case," John says shortly. He probably should have warned Dean that the new hunter was coming, but John had hoped he'd have time this morning, before the boys went to school. Instead, Dean had the two of them ready and on the bus before John had a chance to finish his cup of coffee.

"This demon—" Seth leans forward in his chair with one hand resting on his leather journal. "Do you know why it's here?"

"No, we've only seen it once."

"We thought it was a shifter," Dean says suddenly.

Seth looks up at him expectantly, and John wants to recapture his attention.

"A skinwalker?" Dean explains. "But then it's eyes turned black."

"Yeah, that's a demon." Seth frowns deeply. He turns back to John. "Do you know who it is?"

"A man named Wilson." John's pretty sure he's said this already, along with the explanation of why John was thinking skinwalker instead of demon at first.

"Not the possessed, the demon." Seth waves a hand, cutting John's words out of the air.

"Demons don't have names," blurts Dean.

Seth leans back in the kitchen chair and tilts his head up to stare at Dean.

"Yeah, they do." Seth gaze freezes in the middle of Dean's chest for a moment — where that cheap amulet falls — but not long enough for John to get too worried. "Most people only recognize the powerful ones: Samhain, Lucifer."

Really? The Devil? John doesn't really think about God anymore, at least he tries not to. He still recognizes the name, though, and he thinks the way Seth shifts in his seat looks strangely like someone trying to avoid a snake slithering across the floor. Before that image has a chance to sink into John's mind, a thunder of feet on the stairs signals Sam's emergence from upstairs.

"Hey, Seth!" Sammy swings himself into the kitchen and hovers right at Seth's elbow.

John doesn't look at Seth, but he can't look at Sammy either when he's trying not to frown in the middle of wondering why Seth got a greeting when John didn't even warrant one. Seth just looks right at Sam like the kid's the best thing Seth's seen all day.

"Hi, Sam." He even grins, the bastard.

"Are you here to help Dad?" Sam rests his elbows on the table — something he's never allowed to do during supper — and John sees that he's got that notebook he was drawing in last night clutched in both hands.

"Yep, that's the plan." Seth leans forward and puts his elbows on the table, mirroring Sam's posture.

John stands and strides around the table to Dean.

"Get your gear," he commands. "We're going out again today."

Obediently, Dean nods and scoops his backpack up off the floor before he slips out of the kitchen and upstairs. John hopes his exit will give Seth — or Sammy, for that matter — a clue that he wants to get going. But Seth just keeps staring at Sam.

"How's school?" Seth asks.

"It's good," Sam says, like's he's been waiting to be asked. "I've got the most stars in Reading."

John didn't know that, although he doesn't really know what's important about stars in Reading, either. They sound like a point system, but he's always known that Sammy was good at reading. He was reading even earlier than Dean had been when he was Sam's age.

"Hey, I've been practicing the symbols. Wanna see?" Sammy slides the notebook in front of Seth.

John lays his hand flat on top of the notebook before Seth can open it and see how eager Sam is to please him. He hopes the wide eyes haven't already given Sammy away.

"No time," he says. "We're going out."

Sam's head snaps up to his father, injured childish betrayal crossing his face before a stubborn pout takes its place.

"Dean, c'mon," John calls up the stairs and just that is enough to get Dean closing his bedroom door and hurrying down the stairs, his shoes already on.

"Dean said he was gonna do homework with me," Sammy whines. "I have math stuff to do."

John scrapes the notebook across the table and looms over Sam.

"This is more important than division, Sam." It's frustrating that Sammy doesn't understand that when John knows how curious the kid is. Usually too much for his own good.

John leaves the kitchen to fetch his boots by the door. Sam trails after him, practically dragging his feet the whole way.

"Now, don't wait up for us, go to bed on time," says John. "Don't move the salt lines once we're gone. And if anything happens, you call Mrs. Gabbards next door; don't leave the house." He waits for an answer as he ties his boots and looks up sharply when he doesn't hear anything. "Sam?"

"Yessir," Sam mutters at the floor.

Good enough. Dean's already by the door, and even Seth looks ready to go. Except now Seth has that stupid notebook in one hand.

"Let's go," John orders as he yanks the door open.

Dean shrugs into his jacket and leaves, but Seth stays hovering where he is, right between the kitchen and the front door. He walks over to Sam, casual as can be, and hands back the notebook.

"Maybe when we get back," he says. John wants to snap at him and say Seth can't promise something like that when they'll probably be out all night. Sam gets disappointed with broken promises, so John's learned not to make any.

"Tell ya what." Seth bends down and fishes around in the single bag he brought into John's house. "I'll draw them for now, and you can study the way they look on the walls." He withdraws a long piece of chalk from the bag.

"Okay." Sam straightens immediately and stares as Seth turns his back, facing the south wall with two windows on it.

"Sam, go brush your teeth." John refrains from pointing out the way to the bathroom because Sam's old enough to obey without that stupid pout. "Sam!"

Sammy shoots a dirty look in the vague direction of John's left hand before he trudges upstairs. John really should swat his behind for that. Sam probably thinks he can get away with it as long as he doesn't actually meet his father's eye with that look. But more important is the symbol that had been in Sammy's notebook, now repeated three times in John's living room across peeling wallpaper.

Seth doesn't even look at John until he's finished with the chalk and replaces it back in his bag.

"You're leaving him home alone," Seth says lowly as he shrugs the bag on one shoulder. "A little extra protection won't hurt. He's only eleven."

He has the same flat tone that John heard last night, when he said that Dean — the one hunting partner that John trusts with his life most — was fifteen.

"Dean's been staying home alone since he was ten," John says defiantly. "My boys can handle themselves."

Seth's face turns abruptly blank, like he's forcing whatever he wants to say so far down his own throat that he's choking on it. Without another word, Seth marches past John out the door. John can feel his jaw clench as he lays down salt just beyond the threshold, pulls the door shut, and locks it. Dean stands next to the Impala eyeing both Seth and John like he's ready to bolt.

"So the man who's being possessed," Seth says, "you said you know who it is?"

"Bruce Wilson," Dean sounds relieved at the easy question. "He lives at 1211 Sycamore Drive."

John pushes his way in front of Seth.

"I'm driving," he says.

No way is he forcing himself into Wesson's bitty car again.

o0O0o

John parks the Impala across the street from the house on Sycamore Drive just in case someone looks out the window and wonders why police officers drive a muscle car.

"How do we get in?" Dean says as he slides out of the back seat.

John turns to say something about approaching as city police officers and asking whoever's in the house — he's hoping Mrs. Wilson is at home — if they've seen anyone matching the description for an APB. The description, of course, will be Mr. Wilson's, but there's a chance Mrs. Wilson won't admit that her husband actually matches the description. So it's a risky plan.

"There's a For Sale sign we passed that's just been closed," Seth says. He circles the car to stand between John and Dean, although he speaks to Dean. "We can be the new neighbors who got lost. We're looking for Sycamore Circle and turned on Sycamore Drive instead."

He gives Dean a bright smile that's somewhat sheepish at the same time it manages to show off a dimple in his cheek. The smile makes Seth look younger than he must be, guileless and innocent.

"Dude, you paid that much attention to street signs?" Dean asks as he cranes his neck to check the nearest intersection to see if Seth is right about the streets.

He is.

"Gotta know what to do if you decide to abduct me." Seth grins at Dean with a smile that's more shit-eating than sheepishly innocent.

John's almost surprised at how quickly it changes, but then he knows the value of conning victims into telling him what he needs to know. Seth's plan will work, and it does present them in a better light than local policemen.

"So, if we're family, you two . . ." Dean waves one finger in between Seth and John.

John gives a full-body shake, caught between smacking his son upside the head or glaring at Seth for putting the idea in Dean's mind in the first place. Somewhere in his flailing, he sees Seth sock Dean on the arm, hard enough that Dean jumps back and twists his mouth into something like a pout.

"Shut up, jerk," says Seth. "I'll be the cool uncle."

"Not very cool," Dean mutters under his breath.

John huffs at the two of them and leads the way to the Wilson house, which somehow looks just like every other house on the block except for the color scheme. Seth knocks briskly on the door, and John takes a position with Dean between the two of them.

John turns back to the door when he hears it open. He opens his mouth and raises one hand to lay on Dean's shoulder, ready to act the family man. Then he sees the black eyes looking out from the same face he had seen last night. John's raised hand comes down hard on Dean's shoulder to shove him back. But as desperate as he is to move — he doesn't have any weapons anywhere — John feels something that can't be a hand pulling him into the house, Dean sailing through the air right beside him. He hears the door slam shut even before he hits the floor. Turning onto his back, John pushes himself to his hands and knees as he tries to get air back into his lungs. He can see Dean on his stomach to his right, and Seth is kneeling behind them.

"I remember you," the black-eyed Wilson says. "You just keep popping up everywhere don't you?"

"Leave them alone," Seth growls.

The demon ignores Seth and bends over John, hovering almost close enough for John to smell his breath.

"Didn't expect hunters in town this week." He looks over Dean, blinking so that his eyes are normal instead of black. "Don't you have a dog to chase somewhere else? I could get one for you if you're bored."

"It'll be so much better chasing your ass back to Hell," John wheezes.

His breath is coming easier now, but he's still worried about his lungs and Dean isn't anywhere near recovered yet. John can't see Seth, but the man hasn't made a sound since that pointless demand the demon won't listen to anyway. The demon frowns as its eyes change back to black.

"You're Winchesters," it says. "I can smell you."

John pulls back, or tries to. He can feel something solid pressing against his back, keeping him in place, even though there's nothing else on the room besides them. The demon straightens up suddenly and claps his hands together.

"Oh, this is good!" He says. "Two families in one week, and no one even on assignment but me."

"Don't touch them," Seth says again.

Dean coughs hoarsely and struggles to his hands and knees. The demon looks positively gleeful. John needs to do something, but his lungs are still tight and he can't move either forward or backward now. Why can't he move?

The demon stretches out one hand, palm out like a barrier. It focuses on Dean, and John struggles so hard his lungs start to burn. Black smoke trickles slowly out of the man's mouth and winds its way through the air, circling toward Dean. John doesn't even have the breath to cry out, but before he can choke on the nothing in his throat, Seth jerks his body to one side and ends up on his knees in front of Dean, half held up by a crooked arm planted on the floor. His other arm comes up as if that's a viable barrier for a wisp of smoke that's getting closer to John's son.

But then the smoke freezes, as if it's a living thing that caught a scent of something it doesn't like. It zips backwards, floating back into Wilson's mouth at twice the speed it hissed out. Back in Wilson's body, the demon bares its teeth at them like a dog, then thrusts both its hands up. A force John can't see coming slams into his face and nearly lifts him off the floor. He tries to duck and roll with the punch — or whatever it is. When he raises his head again, the demon is gone, Dean is pushing himself up with the wall at his back, and Seth is panting against a bookshelf that's lost most of its books and half its shelves.

"What was that?" John presses one hand to his chest as he stands, but his breathing is already getting easier.

"It was trying to possess—" Seth waves one hand at Dean and keeps the other pressed into his side. He sounds breathless, and John wonders if he's broken some ribs against that bookcase.

Dean gingerly pats down his head, but at least he's standing. He's got a wonderful bruise under one eye that's probably going to become a nice shiner tomorrow, but he's standing.

"Easy target, I guess." Dean shrugs but keeps his eyes down.

John swallows back the harshness that's still stuck in his throat. He took his son demon hunting and almost got him killed. John pushes himself to his knees, feeling better for being upright.

"What did you do?" John trains his eyes on Seth.

Seth looks back, but his eyes are slightly unfocused.

"What?"

Dean approaches Seth carefully and kneels down to wrap one arm around the taller man.

"Yeah, man, that was like a vacuum in reverse." Dean almost grins as he slowly, slowly helps Seth to stand. "Schwoop." He approximates the noise he's thinking of while one hand follows the direction of the demon-smoke.

Seth blinks slowly, and John starts thinking they have to get out and check Seth more thoroughly. But then, Seth tugs at the collar of his shirt until John sees a tattoo etched into the man's skin, right over his heart.

"It's an anti-possession symbol." Seth's voice comes out a little clearer, but he still sounds like he's catching his breath. "We mixed the ink with holy water. Bobby's got a couple etched on leather amulets."

John nods heavily as he gets up himself. His back is bruised but only sore in a way that means he took a hard hit. The front room of the small house is a mess, but John can't see any other evidence of the supernatural. With only the three of them standing in it, the room looks more like a robbery gone wrong than a demon possession.

"Wha—what was it saying about family?" Seth says suddenly.

John has to think back to find what Seth is talking about, but Dean apparently doesn't. Dean's eyes grow wide, and he looks at John so fast that John's afraid his body is going to follow his neck and just jerk away from Seth to leave the man standing on his own.

"Sammy," Dean breathes.

"Dean, wait," John says before Dean can bolt straight out the door and go back to the house on foot.

Dean freezes, and Seth runs his fingertips through his hair toward the back of his head. They come away bloody. John's chest settles a little with a clear direction to take, and he steps forward, once again the commander of the mission.

"Check the house," he orders Dean. "Make sure there's nothing else here."

Dean nods once then takes off to explore the rest of the ground level. John takes Dean's place holding Seth upright, but Seth wavers in his grip like he'd rather stand on his own.

"You alright?" John stops taking Seth's weight, but he keeps one firm hand on Seth's back just in case he's overestimating Seth's strength. Or underestimating his concussion.

"Yeah."

John takes a moment to prod at the back of Seth's skull and finds the knot where he guesses Seth crashed into the bookcase. Seth flinches but otherwise doesn't move under the examination. The goose egg is already present, but John takes a handkerchief from his back pocket to press against the bleeding. Seth's hand folds over the fabric without prompting and John moves on to feeling each of Seth's ribs down his side. He has to stand in front of Seth to get to the floating ribs, and John glances at Seth's heart even though his shirt is covering the five-point star symbol again.

"That tattoo is all it takes?" John asks.

"Most of the time." Seth shifts as if he wants to shrug, but his chest won't really let his shoulders move.

There's something hovering under Seth's response, but John can't parse it out immediately. Two of Seth's ribs have a little more give than they should, but John thinks they're fractured rather than broken. Easier healing process, and they won't have to go to a hospital for just that. Briefly, John is relieved that Seth is the one who fractured his ribs instead of Dean, but he pushes that thought down. What ifs are just another way to go crazy, and he has to focus now on the fact that a demon is on the loose and knows both his and his son's face.

Dean comes back into the front room, his shoulders slumped and defeated.

"It ran away," he says.

"Lucky us." It doesn't make sense that the demon would just leave when it had all of them pinned. He wonders if the tattoo is strong enough to repel demons as well as keep them from possessing a body.

"Dad." Dean steps closer to John and Seth, his body suddenly tense. "Sammy's alone at the house."

Right, the demon said something about families. John doesn't know why, since Wilson is apparently a single man. The demon might have heard their plan to approaching the house in the guise of a family, but then it would know that the three of them aren't an actual family. Just John and Dean, and even then Dean takes more after Mary.

"Right." John abruptly takes his hands off Seth. The man is recovered enough to stand on his own, and John needs to see Sammy so that his heart rate can come back down to normal. "Let's go."