Father and son sat mutely, staring around the tiny room after the sheriff left to contact the Leaveys. Sheriff Durham didn't want to let Dean leave until after he had spoken to them in case they were opposed to John's request for a meeting. If they refused to meet, Sheriff Durham had explained that he would have no other option than to charge Dean with assault before they left.

Dean had been nervous from the moment they had arrived but his anxiety continued to increase with the length of time the sheriff was gone. He fidgeted in his seat, wrung his hands together, drummed his fingers on the table, ran his fingers through his hair and did about a million other things trying to alleviate the stress.

John, for the most part, sat still and watched his son squirm in his chair. But his expressions ran the gauntlet from concern to annoyance, which only added to Dean's unease. He wasn't sure whether he should expect his father's help in this matter or ask the sheriff to protect him from his father; he just couldn't read his father right now.

Most of the time it wasn't that hard, especially if they were on a hunt. They pretty much knew each other inside and out and could sense what the other one was thinking. But, sometimes when it was personal, Dean found his father impossible to figure out.

Likewise, John was unable to decipher exactly what was going on in his eldest son's head. He knew that there was something that Dean wasn't telling him but he was more or less used to that by now. Dean usually didn't tell him anything. He had never been very forthcoming with information regarding what he was doing and this certainly wasn't turning out to be an exception.

Dean and Sam were so different in that aspect; Sam would blurt his heart and sole out. He usually confided to Dean, but if it was bothering him enough, or was a big enough problem, he would tell his father. And once Dean knew that Sam had a problem or a concern, he made sure that John was aware of it. But Dean just kept all his own problems and concerns to himself.

They were bought out of their private thoughts when the sheriff returned. He had spoken to Mrs. Leavey and she had been willing to meet with the Winchesters. She had reluctantly consented to allow the sheriff to delay filing the assault charges until after their meeting, as long as John would guarantee to Sheriff Durham that, in the meantime, Dean would not venture near her son.

The meeting was scheduled to take place at the sheriff's station the next day at 5 p.m. It had been agreed that all the major participants in the altercation would be present. John would bring both Dean and Sam and Rick would accompany his parents.

As they climbed into the truck, John looked at Dean and said, "Care to tell me what else you think might be going on?"

Dean frowned at his father and appeared to be baffled by the comment. Once again he chose not to say anything. 'Yeah…like that'd help.'

John raised his eyebrows at his son and stated, "I know there's something that you're not telling me." But his statement was once gain met with silence so he added, "Might make this easier if you told me what you're worried about."

Dean rolled his eyes as he looked away from his father. "It's nothin'. Don't worry about it."

"Dean," continued John, "It's not nothing. I can tell when there's something's bothering you."

"Well, you're wrong," replied Dean ardently. 'You wanna hear how I think that this whole thing is tied up with me takin' some silly girl out to piss off Rick's brother and that what's happened to Sammy is all because of that? Talk about conspiracy theories.'

"Dean," tried John again, "You've gotten yourself into a fair bit of trouble with this…"

"Yeah," interrupted Dean sounding extremely irritated, "Sheriff Durham already told me that."

"If there's something you thing might help…"

"No Dad," stated Dean emphatically, "There's nothing. So unless you have something to add, I'd just as soon we stopped talking about it."

Dean knew that he was treading on pretty shaky ground speaking to his father like that, but he was already beating himself up about the entire situation and didn't think that anything his father said or did to him could possibly make him feel worse.

John looked over at his son but opted out of responding. He knew that Dean was feeling guilty about something; he just didn't know what that something was. And if he knew his son like he thought he did, no amount of cajoling or intimidation would drag it out of him.

Neither John nor Dean spoke again until they pulled into the motel parking lot. John parked the truck and the two of them got out and headed towards their room. As John got close to door he spotted a business card tucked into the door just above the lock.

He pulled it out of the door and read:

LORRAINE STODDART

Children's Services

CHILDREN'S AID SOCIETY

749-8990

Then John flipped the card over and saw the hand-written note scrawled on the back:

Mr. Winchester: Call me as soon as possible. This matter is urgent.

"What the hell?" queried John as he opened the door.

Sam was sitting cross-legged on the bed doing his homework and he looked up when the door opened.

"Sam, did you see who left this card?" asked John, turning it over in his had.

Sam shrugged. "Some lady. She knocked on the door a bunch of times but you told me not to answer it, so I didn't."

John was glad to hear that at least one of his sons actually paid attention to him. "What time was she here?"

"I dunno – ten minutes after you left."

"I wonder what the hell she wants?" replied John as he picked up the phone to dial the number on the card.

Dean entered the room and sat down on the bed beside Sam. He looked at the chicken-scratch that his brother had scrawled on the page in front of him. "Nice writing."

Sam peered up at him. "Whaddya expect? I'm writing left-handed," and he lifted his right arm and waved his cast at his brother.

Dean smirked at his brother and nodded his head slightly, but refrained from saying anything else. He glanced at his father, who was talking quietly into the phone, before he picked up the remote to turn on the television.

Just as the television flicked on, John hung up the phone and said, "Turn that off."

Dean looked at him and asked, "Why? What did she want?" but he pressed the button to turn the television off as his father had requested.

"She's on her way over here to talk to us now," replied John.

"About what?" asked Sam.

"Those bruises on your neck."