John spent the better part of the next two hours persuading the doctors that it would be best for everyone involved if they would just move his two sons into the same room. It took him a long time to convince them that, if they actually expected Dean to stay anywhere in the vicinity of his own bed, they'd simply have to put that bed as close to his brother's bed as they possibly could.

At first they had scoffed at the entire notion, figuring that John simply wanted to make it easier on himself by not having to run all over the hospital to check on his boys. After all, since when does a seventeen-year-old adolescent want to spend any length of time in the same room as his thirteen-year-old brother? Especially when they're both injured and confined to their beds. How many seventeen-year-olds would actually choose to be that close for that long to one of their siblings?

That had been the bulk of their argument until John pointed out that his eldest son - who just happened to be the seventeen-year-old they were talking about - had successfully avoided being detected for well over an hour while they searched the entire hospital (which really wasn't that big) looking for him. And all he'd done was to sneak out of his room and wander downstairs to be with his brother.

And why would he do something like that?

Because, he obviously wanted to be with his brother. No matter what anyone else thought. Or said. And he didn't want to run the risk of having someone tell him that he couldn't go see him. Or that he'd have to wait. Nor did he want anyone telling him how long he could stay. Or harping on him that he needed his rest too and that sooner or later he'd have to go back to his own room.

Instead, he'd simply taken matters into his own hands and strolled down to the second floor all by himself. Without even bothering to mention it to anyone. Or asking for permission. And, just so he wasn't encumbered by that awkward IV line and pole, he'd decided to remove it. Because, without it, he was free to come and go as he pleased. Which made it much easier for him to stay out of sight and avoid being detected too.

And even though they now knew where he would be the next time he went missing and wouldn't have any trouble finding him, that didn't mean that they'd be able to get him to go back to his own room. Especially considering that it was an entire floor above his brother's room. And, if he did go back, they certainly wouldn't be able to make him stay there.

Not unless they were willing to post some sort of guard in his room. And, if they were going to do that, why didn't they just put the two boys in the same room? And save everyone all that trouble. And the ensuing headaches of continually having to hunt down their missing patient.

Because, the only way they would be able to ensure that Dean stayed anywhere near his own bed and followed any sort of medical advice was to put him in the same room as his brother. They'd just save themselves a whole lot of trouble if they would do that. Because Dean just wasn't like most seventeen-year-olds; especially when it came to his younger brother. He was very attentive of him. And extremely protective. John simply couldn't explain it any other way.

You'd really have to know their family history to be able to understand it.

Hell…sometimes John even had a hard time understanding it.

So, in the end, they had relented and moved Dean into the empty bed in Sam's room. And John had heaved a great big sigh of relief. Not only because that meant that the odds were now in their favor that Dean might actually stay in his assigned room but also because he could actually keep an eye on both boys at the same time. And there was also the added bonus that, for the first time in an awfully long time, he was reasonably sure that Dean wasn't likely to get into any more trouble.

At least, not without him knowing about it first.

The entire time that he had been debating his case with the hospital staff, John couldn't help but notice that the sheriff kept poking his head into the room about every ten minutes or so. Which had to mean that the sheriff desperately wanted to talk to him. And John really couldn't say that he was looking forward to that prospect. Even though Sheriff Durham appeared genuine in his willingness to help them, John was still leery of law enforcement officers of any kind. Rank and kindness notwithstanding.

His reluctance probably stemmed from almost thirteen years of doing his best to avoid them. And lying to them whenever the need arose. Which would actually account for the majority of that time. And he couldn't forget the various credit card frauds and fake ID's that usually kept him about half a step ahead of the law. Or just a stone's throw out of their reach.

But for some unknown reason, this man seemed to be sticking to them like glue. Or like bees to a honey pot. And he was just as annoying too. Delving into everything they did. And showing up everywhere they went. He'd even said a few things that made the hair on the back of John's neck stand up too. Things about knowing why he was in town. And why he couldn't leave just yet.

Not to mention the little issue of his toolbox key. The sheriff's words had been dripping with innuendo when he'd handed the key back to him. But he'd simply dropped it into John's hand as if he really didn't have a clue as to what the toolbox contained. And John simply wasn't naive enough to think that was very likely.

He knew that he was going to have to go speak with the sheriff sooner or later. And it wasn't just because the man wanted to talk to him. The truth was that he wanted to talk to the sheriff too. To find out exactly what he knew. Or what he thought he knew.

So the next time the man poked his head into the room, John turned to greet him. "I don't know about you, but I could really use a coffee." Nodding briefly towards the flurry of activity in the room while the hospital staff relocated his eldest son, he remarked, "I don't think they'll be needed me here for a while. Sammy's gone back to sleep. And I doubt Dean'll be waking up any time soon either."

Sheriff Durham nodded and stepped aside so John could join him in the hallway. As John stepped through the doorway, the sheriff announced quietly, "You might be interested to know that the entire Leavey family is currently camped out in Emergency. They're here to get both their boys checked out by a doctor. They want a written medical record of the injuries your sons inflicted on them. I gather they're planning on hitting you with a lawsuit within the next few days. Probably because they know that I'm gonna delay laying any charges until my investigation is complete. But…the good news is, that I don't think they know that your boys are here too. So they won't come looking for them. Or for you. Still, it might be a good idea if we just go to the lounge at the end of the hall and get a coffee out of the machine in there instead of going downstairs to the cafeteria. Wouldn't want to risk the chance of running into them there."

Disregarding all the sheriff's comments about the Leaveys, John responded matter-of-factly, "Sounds good to me" as he followed the sheriff down the hall to the visitor lounge.

The coffee that came out of the vending machine looked like last week's dishwater and tasted almost as bad. But it was hot and laden with caffeine, which was something that John desperately needed. He was tired and feeling the debilitating effects of his earlier tussle with the Aswang. His side was aching where the creature had speared its claws into his side and he was both mentally and physically exhausted. He knew that if he had been a smaller man, he probably would have passed out by now. But the Aswang's poison was designed to render much smaller victims unconscious so it was simply making him tired and weak. But, he'd suffered through worse and knew he could outlast his debility.

Taking another sip of his coffee, John eyeballed the sheriff who had assumed a seat on the couch. John chose to remain standing for the time being as he patiently bided his time in order to let the sheriff begin the conversation.

Sheriff Durham glanced toward the hallway to make sure they were alone before he looked back at John and stated bluntly, "I killed one of those creatures tonight."

John sipped his coffee but didn't respond; he was going to wait and see what else the man had to say. And he didn't have to wait for long.

"If I hadn't killed it when I did, your son would have become its next meal," elaborated the sheriff.

That hit a nerve. And raised his anxiety to a whole new level. But John knew that was exactly what the sheriff had intended. So instead of responding, John fixed the sheriff with a constrained stare and remained mute.

Sheriff Durham settled back on the couch and crossed his legs. He took a deep breathe, never taking his eyes off John. He was having a hard time trying to figure this stranger out. And judging by the man's steadfast demeanor, the sheriff discerned that John was going to be a very hard egg to crack. He hadn't even flinched when he heard that his son's life had been in danger.

But, based on what he now knew, the sheriff realized that this probably wasn't the first time that had happened either.

So the sheriff decided to sit back and play John's waiting game. To try and crack the man's veneer and get a look inside the mind of this maverick in front of him. He had to somehow get John to trust him and fill him in on exactly what happening. Because this was his town and he had a sworn duty to protect all its citizens. But he couldn't do that if he didn't know what was really going on.

And all his instincts told him that John knew.

So, for the next few minutes the two men simply stared at each other, neither of them making any attempt to continue their conversation.

Until finally, John asked diffidently, "Which one of my boys?"

"The oldest one."

"When?"

"A couple of hours ago. About twenty minutes before I brought him back here."

"At the park?"

"No," corrected the sheriff. "At the station. After I threw him in one of the cells and left him there for safekeeping."

John took a seat in a chair opposite the sheriff. He still wasn't sure what the sheriff knew and he wasn't about to disclose the truth to him quite yet. But he knew that he was going to have to find out exactly what the sheriff knew sooner or later, so his next question was pretty much to the point. "What did it look like?"

"Sorta like Tony the Tiger on steroids. Although I doubt it had much interest in eating cereal. Judgin' by the size of its teeth anyways. And how engrossed it was on your son's jugular."

John stared down at his hands, silently mulling over what the sheriff had just told him. When he looked back up at the man, he simply said, "Thank you."

Sheriff Durham scrutinized John's face. He got the impression that the man seldom uttered those words. He looked like a man who was beholden to very few people. That he was used to doing things on his own. In his own way. With little or no help. And he'd probably abandoned hope of receiving much help in whatever he did a long time ago.

Recognizing the heartfelt gratitude in those two little words, Sheriff Durham decided to be candid with John. "Your son told me the creature is called an Aswang. And that you're in town to kill it."

"He told you that, did he?"

John was going to have a very, long talk with his oldest son.

"Yeah, he did," confirmed the sheriff. "And before you go getting' all I-told-you-not-to-say-anything-to-anyone on him, he really didn't have much choice. Left it pretty hard for him to come up with another story after I killed the thing. Using your gun too. With a silver bullet that I took from your toolbox. And, watching the thing explode into a million little pieces right after I shot it, kinda put the nail in the coffin." He stared intently at John and added, "So cut him a bit o' slack. 'Cause there was nothin' else he coulda told me but the truth."

John considered the sheriff's words for a few minutes. Although it didn't happen often, there were times when he did have to confide in people. Because there were times when people found out just because they were there when he killed whatever it was that he had been hunting. Or because he'd managed to save them before they'd been killed by the entity. Sometimes there was just no way around it. Because, regardless of how careful he was, people occasionally found out the truth.

And how they handled their newfound knowledge was entirely up to them. Because the general populace still wouldn't believe them. No matter who they were or what they said they saw. So either they joined the fight and became players just like he had when he'd discovered the truth, or they tried their best to forget it and lived their lives as if nothing had ever happened.

But however they chose to deal with it, John was positive that they were never the same again.

Based on the extenuating circumstances, John decided that this had indeed been one of those times when the divulgence of the truth was warranted. So twenty minutes, and three cups of coffee later, John had told the sheriff everything he knew about the Aswang legend. And the sheriff had, in turn, explained everything that had occurred after John had lost consciousness at the park.

John had to admit that the sheriff seemed to take everything in stride. Better than most people did actually. Not once did he look at John like he might be mentally unstable. Nor did he try to offer up with some other rationalization for what he had seen in a vain attempt to explain it all away. He'd only asked pertinent, intelligent questions and appeared to be eager to learn everything he could about the supernatural.

He only had one question that John couldn't answer:

"Do you think we've killed them all?"

"I dunno," shrugged John indecisively, "But I sincerely doubt it. I don't think that they'd risk all of them coming after me and my boys. Even if they had been confident that they'd be able to kill us without a problem. There's got to be another one of them out there somewhere who's callin' the shots. A leader of some sort. And that's who we hafta find if we're going to eliminate them."

With the truth out in the open, John rose abruptly from his seat. He'd left his boys alone for over half an hour while he spoke to the sheriff and he was anxious to get back to them. Even though they were probably safe as long as they remained inside the hospital, John didn't want to push his luck. Not with the way things had been going lately.

Following him into the hallway, Sheriff Durham queried, "And you're positive these creatures are masquerading as residents of this town?"

"That seems to be their habit. They select their territory and hunt throughout the surrounding area. They just won't hunt too close to their home. They'll go to a nearby neighborhood and claim their victims there. And, if we don't find them soon, there will be more victims."

"So we have to figure out who they are in order to stop them," elucidated the sheriff. Taking deep breathe he declared, "I think I'll go back to the station and find out exactly who that drunk was that my deputy brought in. Once I know who he was, I'll be able to figure out where he lived. And that should lead me to his friends."

"Whatever you do," cautioned John adamantly, "Don't confront them alone." He stopped walking and turned toward the sheriff, "You have to remember they're not human and it won't make a damn bit of difference to them if you're the sheriff or not. The only thing they'll be concerned about is their own survival. And once they know that you've figured out what they really are, you'll be added to their hit list - right alongside me and my boys." He set out walking towards the boys' room again. "Believe me when I tell you that these Aswang creatures are smart. They've managed to thwart me more than a few times already. And injured my entire family in the process. They've laid traps and followed through on their plans. And there's a very good chance they'd make mincemeat outta you if you go after them by yourself."

"Thanks for your concern," stated Sheriff Durham sincerely, "But I know enough about bad-guys not to go after anything dangerous without the proper back-up. And you'd be about the only back-up I'd trust to have with me on this case."

Having reached his destination John stopped, turned once more toward the sheriff and said, "Well, I'm glad for that." Gesturing in the direction of his sons' room, he added, "You know where to find me when you need me."

Sheriff Durham nodded as he shook John's hand. Then, without another word, he headed toward the elevators to make his exit.

John strode into his sons' room and was pleased - as well as a bit surprised - to discover that both Sam and Dean were still sleeping. They needed their sleep in order to rid their bodies of the Aswang poison. But, not wanting to judge anything on appearance alone, he wandered quietly over to their beds in order to get a closer look at each of his sons. Once he had satisfied himself that nothing untoward had happened to them while he was gone, John grabbed a chair and set it between his sons' beds so he could try to get a bit of rest.

As much as John hated including strangers in their business, he had to admit that he was grateful to have the sheriff's help on this hunt. He'd made enough mistakes already. And he didn't want to risk making any more. Both his sons had been hurt by these creatures and he wasn't willing to put them in any more peril. And right now, the sheriff was doing the research that was required in order to successfully track down these awful predators. And he was in a much better position to learn what they needed to know than John was. He had unlimited access to everything and as soon as he gathered the information they needed, John knew that he would come back and get him. Then the two of them could track down the remaining Aswangs and eliminate them once and for all.

With a sigh of relief, John slouched down in the chair and closed his eyes.

He had only been asleep for about half an hour when he sensed an unfamiliar presence in the room. Careful to remain as still as possible, John reached discreetly behind him for the gun that he always carried in the waistband of his jeans. Only it wasn't there; he had lost it back at the park. Or somewhere en route to the hospital. The fact that he was without a weapon marginally increased his anxiety but he remained motionless while he assessed whatever threat the new arrival might present.

In order to maintain the appearance that he was still sleeping, John kept his eyes focused on the floor in front of him. But he was able to inconspicuously survey the visitor in his peripheral vision. He watched intently as the intruder walked a few feet into the room before stopping. And, although his view was limited, he could tell that the person was female and wore the garb of a hospital worker – probably a nurse. She remained standing in the same spot for a few minutes, not moving or making any noise, and John sensed that she was assessing all three occupants in the room. Seemingly satisfied that they were all asleep, she slowly eased the door shut, guiding it gently closed to ensure that it didn't make any noise.

Her baffling movements heightened John's unease but he resisted the urge to reveal that he was actually awake. He bided his time prudently even though he felt that he was probably being overly suspicious and that the woman's actions were nothing more than a precautionary measure to guarantee her patients' privacy while she completed some routine test or procedure.

John continued observing her as she wandered quietly over to Dean's bed. He tilted his head ever so subtly in order to get a better view of what she was doing as she grasped his son's wrist in order to check his pulse before she walked softly to Sam's bed and repeated the same procedure.

John relaxed a bit as the woman went about performing her professional duties and he became somewhat confident that the woman didn't pose any danger to them. But his optimism was short-lived. She lingered insidiously beside Sammy's bed and John began to wonder what medical attention she was bestowing on his youngest son. John was about to raise his head and address the woman when he suddenly noticed that Sam's body had gone completely rigid and he had flung both his hands up to encircle his neck.