Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who took the time to review last chapter. Please, keep reviewing; I love hearing your thoughts. I appreciate all of you, nonetheless.

Warning: Child Abuse

Ignorance Is Bliss, Chapter 6

Parental instincts pushed past his hunting ones for the time being. John was out the door with his jacket and keys in hand before anyone had the time to blink. Bobby, dumbfounded figured he had no choice but to hop in. John had a wild look in his eye as he pushed past Bobby, outside, and into the driver's seat of the Impala. Quickly, he jerked his head to the right, making sure Bobby was entering the car, too. Once they were both in, they were off, speeding down the road.

John gripped the steering wheel tight. Suddenly everything felt wrong. As the trees whipped by them, John only pressed down harder on the gad pedal. Bobby held on to the handle on the door, sneaking a peak at John every once in a while. He didn't like this.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong or you gonna wait for my mind-reading senses to kick in?" Bobby asked rhetorically.

John didn't smile.

He turned the steering wheel, swerving out the way of a small squirrel in the middle of the back road. They jerked from side to side. It took a moment or so for them to get back in the right lane and somewhat under control. John spoke, "Dean called…"

Bobby didn't see any harm in that. So what, he thought. But he didn't say it aloud. Obviously, John wouldn't have let himself get like this if he didn't think something was wrong. And for that reason, Bobby stayed quiet and waited for him to finish. A full minute of silence passed and John didn't even begin to speak. Curiosity and a little bit of worry hit Bobby, forcing him to speak up.

"And…?" he asked. "Dean called and what?"

Again, Johns' eyes never left the road, but the speed they were going at did increase little by little the further they drove. John cleared his throat and took his right hand off the wheel to rub it across his forehead in the way he does when he's trying to hide emotion. If there was anything Bobby as learned about John in all his years of knowing him is that he loves his son's more than anything. And only when it came to them did Bobby ever see him get emotional.

Letting his hand go back to the steering wheel, he began again.

"And … he said Sam's sick. I don't know how bad. I don't even know how long that voicemail has been sitting there, but -" his voice trailed off. He was trying to find words. The right words. "I just need to go back, to make sure everything's okay."

Bobby nodded. He understood. But something else was bothering John, he could see it. He was going to ask, but John started up again before he had the chance.

"I just have this bad feeling and it's really starting to freak me out. Like, this whole time we've been gone I've been feeling a little weird and I've been meaning to check in on the boys but we've been so damn busy and -," again he stopped. But it was only for a moment or two. "and then when I heard Dean's voice, when he said Sam was sick, the way he was asking me to come home… It just made me feel worse." He shrugged. "I don't know."

Reasoning. Bobby was always good at reasoning, so that's what he did.

"I'm sure Sam's fine, John. A little cold isn't anything. Dean knows that to do…"

John shook his head.

"But that's just it," he said. "The sound of his voice. He was crying, I could tell. He's stressed out. He's scared or something…" John shook his head. "What' if it's just not a little cold, Bobby? What if it's something serious?"

Bobby shrugged. "Well Kris is there, isn't she? She'll know what to do then if Dean's unsure-"

John cut him off.

"That's it, too. He said something about not liking her or something… I dunno. I just don' t know, Bobby. I just need to go back and check this out for myself. I mean, I told Dean not to call unless it was absolutely his only option. They both know how busy I am and can't always get to my phone in time. So the fact he's calling… he's been calling.. I just don't know how I feel."

"How many times has he called you?" Bobby asked.

John shrugged. "Five times, maybe? I didn't sit there and listen to all the messages. That one I heard was enough." He looked over at Bobby and he could see the worry in John's eyes. "This is bad, Bobby. I feel it."

Bobby cursed.

Yeah, he thought, this isn't going to end well.

-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-

Dean needed to go. He needed to just, push himself up and go. But he was tired. Drained; both emotionally and physically. How is he supposed to look out for Sam when he can't even look out for himself right now? He was running on empty - literally. Sixteen hours they had been in that room already and Sam was looking worse by the hour- or maybe even the minute. He had rolled himself toward the wall so his back was now facing Dean, but he took notice of the way Sam was breathing just by the way his midsection was rising and falling. Dean was scared. Not only for Sam, but for himself, too. He was dizzy... the room had this weird tilt to it and a strange tinge, too. He was tired, tired beyond belief and his eyes kept falling shut.

Maybe it was from being so hungry and so tired, but everything looked weird. Dean couldn't explain it, but it was almost like he was looking at the world through someone else's eyes. Certain things kept popping out at him. Most of the time the room swayed, and made him feel like he was going to fall if he moved too quick. The way Dean was feeling only made him feel worse when he thought about Sam. He was so exhausted to the point where he couldn't stay awake anymore. That scared the hell out of Dean, more than he could comprehend in his fogged mind right now. But he knew that he had to get both himself and Sam out of here. His job was to look out for Sam, and damn it, he was going to do just that.

Reaching out, Dean pressed his hand to Sam's back. The back of his shirt was damp from sweat that also made a home in Sam's hair and began to make a thin sheen over Sam's forehead. Dean shook him a little, trying to get him to roll over.

"Sammy," he called and his eyes expanded a little. His voice was hoarse, deeper than it should be for his age. He almost didn't recognize it. It hurt to even talk, they both had been quiet for so long.

He shook Sam again and watched as he fell onto his back, his eyes still closed for a moment before they opened up a slit and looked over at him. He coughed. It was a deep cough that shook his whole body. It sounded rough. It sounded like it hurt. Even Dean squinted a little at the sound.

"We're gonna get out of here, okay?I don't care what she's gonna do to us. We can't stay here anymore. We need food-"

"Wah'tr," Sam choked out, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. The back of his throat felt like sound paper.

Dean nodded. "Water, too."

Making himself stand, Dean let his feet press into the ground. With all the strength in his arms, he lifted himself up. Again, the room swayed. For a moment he thought that he was going to lose his balance and fall back onto the bed, but he quickly steadied himself. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Sam seemingly imitating what he was doing. Sam, too, was trying to stand. He rolled off the bed, planting his feet. Sam held on to the side of the bed, then the end of Dean's shirt for stability before he finally ensured himself. Slowly, he let go of Dean and the side of the bed.

Letting his arm fall around Sam's shoulders, he kept both of them stable.

"C'mon," Dean says as he removes the chair from under the door knob, sets it aside and turns the door knob. "Let's go."

-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-

They weren't far now. Maybe another hour or two, and John had calmed down a little, but on the inside he was still just as freaked out. The ride here had been relatively quiet, there was nothing to say. Bobby looked over at John again. He he didn't like seeing him like this and he hoped that all of this was for no reason, an over reaction. Ever since they were born, and more and more over the years, Bobby loved both Sam and Dean like his own sons. He babysat for them when John had a hunt. And in that time he had gotten to become closer to them and realize that he kind of loved being ' Uncle Bobby '. Those kids has heart and drive, and at such a young age, Bobby was amazed at them. Dean never ceased to amaze him. The way he takes care of Sam and does it so well.. it was truly astounding. Dean's only nine years old. Most of all the other kids can't even take care of themselves by that age, cry when they lose their favorite toy, still think girls are icky, and thinking about school. But not Dean. He had grown up so quick at such a young age that he didn't even have time for those little things to cross his mind.

"You okay?" Bobby asked, just to make sure.

John rubbed his palm across his face. He nodded slightly.

"Yeah... I'm fine."

That's the number one lie all the Winchester's tell. They say they're fine, that nothing's wrong, but when they say that, that's usually when they're hurting the most. Bobby looked out at his window, unsure of how to help his friend.

The only thing he could do was hope that both Sam and Dean were okay.

They'd be there soon enough...

-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-

Somehow, Sam ended up being the one to exit the room first; Dean followed close behind. They peeked around the corner, trying to spot her but she was no where in sight. The brothers moved at a slow pace, trying to get to the refrigerator. They entered the kitchen, the coolness of the tile floor shocking their feet a little. That didn't stop them, though. Dean reached the refrigerator first, he tugged at the handle, but it didn't open. His head tilted to the side in confusion. He pulled again. He looked up higher, finding the pad-lock tying the two handles together, keeping it from becoming ajar. They couldn't get in it.

Sam looked up at his brother, his eyes beginning to tear.

"Dean?" he says, half-whining.

Dean took his arm and headed out the kitchen. "C'mon. It'll be okay," he says to him.

They trot through the living room and to the front door. Dean pulls on the knob, twisting and turning it. It was almost to no one surprise when it didn't open. They exchanged looks. From behind them, they heard a door creek open and heave footsteps come toward them.

"Well would'ya look at this," she began. "Look who finally came out."

They were quiet. She looked up at the locked front door. "Going somewhere?"

She moved toward them.

They took a step back.

"Sam... he's sick. He needs to go to the hospital," Dean says calmly. He's trying to sound genuine. He looked over at Sam who hand his small hand wrapped around the sleeve of Dean's shirt. He was trying to keep himself upright, but it was getting harder and harder by the minute.

Kris looked at them. She pouted.

"Awe," she says unsympathetically. "Does widdle Sammy havea boo-boo?"

She mocks them, using that annoying baby voice. She reaches out. "Here, let me see him..."

Dean pushes Sam back behind himself. He catches Kris' arm but is too weak and too small to do anything with it. She grabs him by the shoulders, yelling in his ear.

"You bastard!" she screams. She shakes Dean, lifting him off his feet and out in front of her. His head rocked back and forth. Instantly, he was dizzy. For a moment, he could've sworn he blacked out. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he heard Sam yelling. That only seemed to make her more mad. She dropped Dean so suddenly that he almost didn't feel himself falling. But he did feel his head connect with the coffee table with a hard, body shocking roughness. He fell to the ground, cupping the side of his head. Blood ran through his fingers.

Just then, he realized that he wasn't hearing anything. Nothing at all. When he looked to his right, he saw Sam banging on the front door, yelling. But he couldn't hear it. He couldn't hear anything.

With anger driving her, she gripped Sam by his sides and tossed him on the couch. He looked stunned for a moment. Clearly, he used whatever energy he had left banging on the door for someone to hear. Kris marched into the kitchen and rummaged through the drawers angrily. She found what she was looking for she charged back into the living room.

"Maybe this will keep your fucking mouth shut," she growls as she unravels a length of Duct tape. She tears it with her teeth and takes a strong grip on the back of Sam's hair. She tugged at his curls, keeping him in place. Kris pressed the tape to his mouth. Then she took another piece and pressed it there, too. But before she even had the chance to take a step back, Sam was pulling at it, trying to get it off his face. She sighed anger boiling even more as she headed into her bedroom, stomping like a child.

She was back within seconds with two ruler-length ropes. They weren't thick, but they were strong. She grabbed Sam's wrists and twisted the rope around his wrists, keeping him unable from taking the tape off.

"You little bastards. You... sons of bitches," she mumbled to herself. Reaching down, she gripped Sam by his forearm, her hand holding him so hard, he could feel the bruise already forming. She drug him odd the couch and then went to get Dean. She lifted him off the ground. As his head hung forward, blood dripped off his head and on to the carpet. She pulled them out of the living room and down the hall. She stopped in the hallway, opened the closet door, and threw them in it.

The room, compared to other hallway closets was pretty big. Nothing but a few coats hung in there. Kris watched as the brothers fell to the ground. Dean, still attentive to his head. Sam, dazed, looking up at her almost unseeingly. The feeling she got when she looked at them was nothing but accomplishment.

"I told you I was going to make you pay," she whispered to them.

Then she closed the door and turned the lock.

Alright, longer than usual, right?
So John's on his way and Kris has now hurt both of the boys.
Hopefully John can get there before it's too late.

Please review everyone!