"SAM! GET THE HELL OUT OF THE WAY!" huffed John as he approached the door. "Your brother's heavy!"

Sam stepped out of his father's way and reached for the chair that he had almost tripped over to get it out of his father's path. As John entered the room, he kicked another chair out of his way as he proceeded to the closest bed.

He gently lowered Dean to the bed and then stood up and surveyed the room. It was a disaster. Clothes and papers were scattered everywhere. The beds had been ripped apart and the linen had been cast around the room. Every single drawer had been emptied and there didn't seem to be anything remaining in its rightful place. He shook his head slowly and wondered who would have done this before he turned his attention back to Dean.

What had caused Dean to lose consciousness this time? He had seemed okay during the meeting and didn't say anything in the truck on the way back to the motel. Granted, he had lost a lot of blood, but if he was going to pass out because of that, he should have done it earlier. Of course, he probably hadn't eaten properly that day and needed some nourishment to help combat the blood loss. But still?

John knew that he was missing something - something important - about the Aswang. And now Dean was paying for whatever it was that he had missed. But no matter how hard he tried to concentrate, the information he sought stayed just beyond his mind's reach. John couldn't understand it. The Aswang had attacked him too, yet it hadn't affected him like it was Dean. What could possibly be happening?

While he continued to search his memory, John flipped some papers and articles of clothing out of the way, looking for the first aid kit. It should have been in the drawer right beside the bed, but like everything else, it wasn't where it was supposed to be.

"Sam," he barked, "Help me find the first aid kit – NOW!"

Both father and son searched the room in vain for the missing kit. With each passing moment, John became more frantic; he needed the first aid kit and he needed to figure out what he had forgotten about the Aswang if he was going to help Dean. He was just about to order Sam to get the first aid kit from the truck when heard Dean groan quietly.

He returned to his eldest son's side and inquired, "Dean? Can you hear me?"

Dean's eyes quivered open, "Dad? What happened?"

"You passed out beside the truck. Don't you remember?"

Dean closed his eyes and stated slowly, "Yeah. Sort of." He opened his eyes again and tried to focus on his father. "I feel like hell. What's wrong with me?"

"I wish I knew, Sport," answered John. "But the first thing we have to do is get you something to eat."

John gave some money to Sam and sent him to the diner for a couple bottles of orange juice and a handful of sugar packets. He'd mix them together in the room and give that to Dean to drink. It would be a start anyway.

After Sam dashed out the door, John turned back to Dean. "When did you first notice you weren't feeling well?"

Dean tried to smile. "Last night, right after the Aswang attacked me."

John was in no mood for his son's humor and shot back harshly, "Be serious, Dean"

Dean wiped his hands across his eyes, "I dunno, Dad. As soon as I got outta the truck, I guess. My legs felt like rubber. I remember telling you I didn't feel good. Then I woke up here."

John furrowed his brow and tried again to concentrate. "I'm missing something."

Dean looked perplexed and asked, "Missing what? About what?"

"This has something to do with the Aswang. I know it does."

"What? Something other than the fact that it attacked me? And wanted to eat me for dinner?" queried Dean. "Isn't that enough to make me feel like shit?"

"No, Dean," stated John firmly. "If that's what it was, you'd have been too weak to make it through school today. Or through the meeting with the Leaveys for that matter. And you'd have felt weak all the time. Not just when you got out of the truck. It's because of something else. I know it is."

"Dad," protested Dean, "It can't have anything else to do with the Aswang. It got you too and you never felt like this. And you can't tell me that thing could hurt me worse than it hurt you. " He paused before he added, half-jokingly, "Not that I'd ever call you an old man but you're not as young as you used to be, ya know."

John frowned while he contemplated what Dean had just said. Then he remembered something he had read but dismissed as being implausible. According to some legends, Aswangs have poison in their claws, which they use to immobilize their prey. Babies, children and young adults are especially susceptible to it –all of which are an Aswang's favorite prey. But, according to the legend, the poison seems to lose its strength on older, more mature humans. That's why he had dismissed that part of the legend; he felt that if the poison could affect some humans, it would affect them all.

But now, he remembered – and he rethought his position. After the Aswang had attacked him, he had briefly lost consciousness. That's how the creature had been able to drag him from the truck. But he had regained his senses in time to stop the Aswang from gutting him and the creature had flown away. After that, John couldn't remember very much until Dean showed up.

He must have passed out again after the Aswang flew away and, in all probability, the Aswang had simply gone far enough away to wait for the poison to take effect. But Dean had arrived before the creature had been able to attack him again. And the poison wasn't potent enough to render him unconscious for long. So when he awoke, the Aswang had decided to leave instead of challenging both of them.

And he had slept most of the next day. He had slept away whatever remaining effects the poison had on his system.

But Dean didn't. He had gotten up and gone to school only hours after the Aswang had attacked him. And Dean wasn't completely grown yet – he was only 17. The poison would linger longer in a teenager than it did in a fully-grown male. That's why he hadn't known he'd been affected. And why he never had a relapse.

But Dean was still feeling the effects of the poison. Either the poison wasn't strong enough or there wasn't enough of it left in his system to immobilize him completely, but in his weakened physical condition, it had knocked him out again - briefly.

Now John just had to figure out how to get the rest of it out of his system. And he had to do it fast. He needed Dean on this hunt tonight. And he needed him healthy - or at least healthy enough that he wouldn't pass out again.

John looked at his son lying half-comatose on the bed in front of him. He shook his head and wondered when he had stopped being a father. Here was his son – his first born – lying on a bed with poison cursing through his system and all he could think about was that he needed him to get better so he could go on the hunt. So he could put his son in harm's way once again. He thought about Mary and prayed that, wherever she was, she couldn't read his mind.

John was roused from his thoughts when the door opened and Sam returned with the requested items. John set the table upright and went about mixing the sugar into the juice. When it was ready he took it over to Dean.

"Here, Sport, drink this."

Dean cautiously opened one eye and asked, "What is it?" as he reached out to take the bottle from his father.

"It's juice. You need something in your system."

Dean gulped down as much as he could before he lay back down.

John looked at him and stated quietly, "You need to finish it, Dean."

Dean sat up and said, "I know, Dad. I will," before he finished the rest of the bottle. He swung his legs off the bed and looked around the room. "Nice mess. What happened?"

"I dunno," answered John. "But we gotta clean this up. The sun is going to set in less than two hours and we still haven't figured out where the Aswang is going to hunt tonight. And I have to figure out how to get you better too."

"Get me better?" reiterated Dean. "I'm fine. But who the hell looted the room?"

"I don't know. But we have to take stock of what was taken. That will give us a better idea of who might have done this. Now…let's clean this up, pronto," ordered John abruptly.

They set about tidying up the room as quickly as they could. Everything that was related to hunting went onto the table. Clothes and personal items went back into drawers and cupboards. The bedding and other linen were placed back where they belonged after they were shaken to ensure that nothing was hidden in the folds.

When everything had been picked up, John took a look around. At first glance he couldn't pinpoint what was missing. They hadn't left any weapons of consequence in the room and the first aid kit had been found under a radiator. The little bit of money that John had left in the drawer beside his bed was even found scattered around the floor. It seemed like a pretty senseless break-in; that was until John started going over everything that had been placed on the table.

It didn't take John long to figure out that everything related to the Aswang was gone. Every newspaper article, map, information sheet or other documentation that he had recorded had been taken. There was nothing left to help him track where the creature would hunt tonight. Nothing left detailing the Aswang or its habits. Nothing left to tell him how he could help Dean.

Nothing to help him kill the creature.

And from what John could see, that was the extent of what had been taken. Why would someone break in and take that? To normal people it meant nothing. It was only important to him and his family.

And the Aswang.

John took another look around the room. Then he got down on his knees and swept his hands across the carpeting. It was clean. He crossed the room and checked the carpet in front of the door. It was clean too. John stood up and glanced at the walls. The only things left on the walls were the tacky paintings that belonged to the motel.

"Son of a bitch."

"What is it Dad?" asked Sam, who had been curiously watching his father crawl around the motel room.

"I know what broke in," stated John and he glanced at both his sons. "It was the Aswang."

"The Aswang?" asked Sam in disbelief. "How'd it get in."

"The room's clean," answered John matter-of-factly. "There's no salt, no protection symbols, nothing left to stop it."

Dean, who had been sitting in a chair with his eyes closed, trying to regain some of his strength, sat up and surveyed the room. His father was right; the room was spotless. "How did that happen? I thought you told them that we'd clean the room ourselves while we were staying here."

"I did. And it's never been a problem until now."

John turned and headed out the door to the office to find out what had happened. Dean and Sam stared at each other, but there wasn't much they could do until their father returned.

When John came back, he brought back some hamburgers and fries with him. He handed some food to both the boys and they all sat down to eat.

Dean looked at his father and asked, "What'd you find out?"

John took a bite of his hamburger before he replied, "Someone called the office this morning. Told them it was me. Said I wanted them to go in and clean up the room. That one of you boys had some friends over and left a mess and I wanted the room cleaned up as soon as possible."

"Who'd do that?" asked Sam confused. His father had said the Aswang ransacked the room but who would call the motel to have the room cleaned so it could come in?

"The Aswang. Remember it takes human form during the day," answered John. "It would have called the motel after I left for the hospital to get the record of Sam's visit and then it waited until we left tonight to come in and take everything we had on it."

"Was the room clean when you came back from the hospital?" questioned Dean.

"I didn't come right back. I didn't get back until after you and Sam were already here from school. And you were pretty sick - lying across the bed bleeding, if I recall. I didn't notice what the room looked like and I think the Aswang was counting on that."

"You mean to tell me that it knew I was going to come back sick?"

"I think so. It's pretty smart."

"But Dad, that doesn't make sense," put in Sam. "How could it know that Dean was going to be sick?"

John quickly explained his belief that the Aswang had poisoned Dean when it had penetrated his skin with its claws and the reasons why he felt the poison was lingering longer in Dean's system than it had in his. The Aswang would know that Dean would still be feeling the effects of the poison and would have used that to knowledge to gain access to their room.

Then he explained that he was sure the Aswang had them under surveillance. That it would have seen Dean collapse beside the truck and watched as John had carried him into the room. It would know that the poison was still affecting him.

"Great," replied Dean. "So it's watching us and it knows I'm not much of a threat to it."

"It thinks you're not a threat to it," corrected John. "That it will be able to hunt safely tonight, because you're too sick and I have no way of tracking it down. But we can use that against it."

How are we going to do that?" asked Dean.

John stared at his son. "By using you as bait."