A/N: Just a short chapter tonight. We're almost done, can you believe it?

Don't Judge a Book
Chapter Eleven

"I believe you know who we are," AJ said. He felt like he would never catch his breath. "I think it would only be polite if you told us your name now."

The loud, raucous music and otherworldly screams had vanished, but the silence that remained was almost as dizzying. AJ wasn't sure if the room was still moving a little, or if that was his brain simply trying to catch up. He couldn't even be certain he was really there. Maybe he had died back in the office and this was … hell. Twisted heaven. Purgatory? Or maybe he'd just passed out and he was having a bizarre near-death dream. The latter would, oddly, be easier to buy than what he thought was reality. Poltergeists were real. He wondered what else was.

"My name's not important," the guy said

In answering AJ's question, the crazy guy who'd tried to kill him shattered the hope this was all in his head. And AJ begged to differ with his reply. A lot.

"I can't keep mentally referring to you as the lunatic with a gun," AJ said. "I'm sorry, that's simply too exhausting. I can't handle it anymore. Not after you nearly killed me and not after I almost got beheaded by a hardcover of Don Quixote, and certainly not since both of those things occurred in the span of an hour. So, please. A name."

Something like humor glinted in the lunatic's eyes, but it only lasted a second. In its place was that cold, hard look AJ had recognized even in his foggy state on the car ride over. It was the look of a man pushed to extremes. AJ thought maybe he'd look that way himself if he weren't so damned befuddled.

"You can call me John."

AJ noted that he didn't say his name actually was John, and a last name didn't seem like it was forthcoming. He thought it a little suspect and generic, but John was better than lunatic with a gun. He studied John's outstretched hand, and instead of taking it scrambled to his feet on his own. Rick was right there, one hand on his elbow and the other at the small of his back. The truth of the matter was he wasn't sure which side was up and which was down quite yet, and the help was appreciated.

"AJ," Rick said. "You steady?"

"Mostly."

He blearily gave his brother a once-over. He frowned at the blood on Rick's sleeve, the small nicks on his face. He frowned deeper when Rick waved his hands dismissively. AJ stood straighter, his hands going to his shirt, straightening it and re-tucking. He gave it up after a second when his left shoulder pulled. He glanced down and found his shirt torn. And bloody. Huh. He had no memory of sustaining that injury. Now that he knew it was there, it hurt a lot.

"So, John, that was a poltergeist," Rick said, as if that wasn't one of the craziest things to ever come out of his mouth. "It's gone?"

"It's gone," John said. He sounded as gruff as ever, and weary. He pinched the bridge of his nose like he had the world's biggest headache. Probably did. "We banished it."

They had no reason to believe him. Then again they probably wouldn't be standing there, bloody and bruised but alive, if he was lying about that. AJ was suddenly reminded that John was untrustworthy because he had brought them there at gunpoint, and had almost killed him with his bare hands. He saw no gun now – it must have become lost – and if he and Rick got it together quick they could overpower their mysterious stranger. He eyed Rick, but Rick wasn't looking his direction. His brother had his head tilted, as if listening for something in the silence. It was then AJ heard sirens growing closer.

"Now we get gone," John said, the weariness in his tone replaced with resolve. "The family called the cops or something."

More likely, they'd called for medical assistance. Looking at the three of them, it wasn't a bad idea. Rick's arm still bled and probably needed stitching up, John had hit that wall really hard, and AJ was sure he was going to be mostly, eventually fine but wanted medication at this point. Okay, and a bandage. Maybe stitches. He raised a hand, pointer finger in the air, to mention the idea and set himself right up for it. In the blink of an eye, his arm was twisted behind his back and he felt the familiar, circular business end of a handgun jammed into his side. It was only minutely less painful than the re-aggravation of his shoulder wound all the jostling around caused. He guessed he was wrong about the gun being lost.

Damn it. If John didn't kill him, Rick would. Rick appeared apoplectic. AJ was so damned sorry he kept screwing up.

"Hey," Rick said angrily. "What's the idea?"

"We ain't friends. I appreciate your help here. I do. But you know where my boys are, and I want them back. We're leavin' before I have to answer questions from anyone, but especially the cops."

The boys. Oh, shit, in the chaos AJ had forgotten about them, had forgotten they were at Mom's right now. They couldn't take this guy to Mom's house. No way. He might be relieved that John was not a mentally unstable person, but there was no way to know what kind of torment he put his boys through anyway. No, wait. No mentally stable person he knew would ever let their kids anywhere near this sort of thing. Abandonment, neglect, not to mention he and Rick didn't know for sure John wasn't a pervert, all while hunting things that should be imaginary … John did not exactly get gold stars for parenthood.

"Oh, no," AJ said. "You're not serious. You think we're going to –"

"I think that's exactly what you're going to do. And you'd better tell me, tell me you did not turn them over to social services."

AJ had also forgotten he had a gun trained on him again. That fact was brought to the forefront as he was pushed toward the door over piles of what was left of the Sanchez family's home. Right, no choice. He took comfort in knowing Rick was right there, and instantly felt like a fool. He knew Rick wouldn't do anything if AJ remained compromised. Besides, he wasn't a five-year-old who needed his big brother to protect him from bullies anymore, not that his track record tonight was anything to go by. He'd been the weak link all night. Taken down by a man with a moderate concussion, for crying out loud.

"You're going to haul us out of here under duress with witnesses standing right there?" Rick asked. He pointed out the broken front door. "I don't know you from Adam, John, but I'd say you're a smart guy, and doing that would not be very smart."

"Goddamnit," John said.

AJ sensed Rick looking at him more than saw it. He looked away from the obstructed view of the Sanchezes huddled on the lawn and returned the gaze. He tried to understand what his brother wanted to tell him. Maybe it was the pain in his shoulder or maybe it was his reeling head, but whatever it was he couldn't figure it out. Whether or not he had a clue, he did know he trusted Rick. He'd go with it.

Of course he would; he had a gun jammed into his right kidney. AJ would go with just about anything right now if it meant getting the gun off him.

"We'll go with you, okay? No threats necessary." Rick's look to AJ changed subtly into a warning. He turned his attention to John and raised his hands. "You've proven you're not completely wacko, and that we might have possibly had some things wrong. We get it. You don't want trouble. Neither do we."

Behind him, John tensed. Every muscle was taut. AJ thought maybe he felt faint tremors too, which made sense because even though John was apparently used to this kind of thing, he'd still had a rough go of it. The tension lasted only a short time. There wasn't the luxury for any of them to make considered decisions. John released him. AJ immediately scooted to Rick's side, not even a little embarrassed by that. Not at the moment, anyway. Maybe in the bright light of day he would have the time.

"No funny shit." John wavered on his feet.

"We'll be perfect angels," AJ said. He was believable. After all, the only thing he'd done all night was unwittingly help the guy.

Something strange passed over John's features, too quickly to name. AJ did notice John was pale, and he doubted the wetness on his shirt collar was sweat. He still had no idea what Rick was thinking, but if there was a remote chance it included giving little Dean and Sam over to their father, then AJ had to object.

"Let's go then," John said.

So they went, all three of them under their own power. For the most part. AJ wasn't going to be forgetting the gun John had. Josh Sanchez was on them before they hit the sidewalk, Rosalie and Cristina right behind as if they were attached with invisible string. Wouldn't be the strangest thing he'd seen all night.

"What's going on?" Josh asked.

"We have to go now, Mr. Sanchez," Rick said. "AJ and I will explain everything to you tomorrow. Sorry about the house. If the cops ask, none of us were here. Got it?"

"What?"

AJ could see red and blue lights now. He didn't actually want to leave with John, and yet a surge of adrenaline shot through him, a fear response that told him to run. The Sanchezes were not going to get this, not tonight and probably not when he and Rick had a chance to explain later. Like he and Rick understood enough to explain it themselves. They were going to come across as off-balance at the kindest. He frowned. He guessed John probably lived his daily life like that.

"You're safe now," AJ said. Once the family saw the shambles of their home, he and Rick would be lucky not to have charges of some sort brought on them. Better to accentuate the positive upfront. "That's what's important."

"The evil thing is gone. That's what the light was," Cristina said. "So it was never this pervert?"

Okay, maybe they would understand it all just fine. Better than he did.

"No, it wasn't me and yes, the evil thing is gone. You're welcome," John said. He didn't deny the pervert allegation. "We've had a long enough Hallmark moment. We're leavin'."

For lack of anything else to do, and in no small part because he did not want to be at the business end of a handgun one more time tonight, AJ trailed after Rick and John as they walked to the car. His mind raced as he tried to come up with some way to avoid taking this guy to Mom's house; he wasn't the type AJ ever wanted to give his home address to. Or, more specifically, Mom's.

They resumed their positions from earlier, AJ none-too-gently encouraged to slide into the backseat of a black behemoth of a car he hadn't really been terribly aware of before. Jeez, even the guy's vehicle was intimidating. He was almost glad he'd been too out of it. The car looked like it might have its own personality, and it was just as grim and steadfast as John's. Rick didn't seem to mind getting behind the wheel; he even let out a little laugh as he started the engine and roared away from the curb. AJ spun around and looked out the rear window in time to see several patrol cars descend on the Sanchez house. The cops had missed them by a hair. He was filled with almost as much relief as distress about that, and he didn't know why.

"Tell me, John," Rick said, modulating his tone into something remarkably non-confrontational. "How often do you really do this kind of thing?"

"As often as I have to," John said, and paused for a second, "and more often than I want."

AJ heard vulnerability in the response, and was the first time John truly sounded anything but angry. He had a billion questions and wanted to latch onto the opening that gave him, find out what drove John. Something told him, though, that would be a bad idea. It was probably the gun, not jammed into his ribs anymore but still very much a passenger in the back seat with him and John. He thought about Dean, shoving a shotgun in their faces and started to see things he didn't like any better than the prospect of kidnapping and molestation. What had happened tonight terrified the shit out of him. What was prolonged exposure doing to John, and through him, Sam and Dean?

"You bring your kids along. Why on earth would you do that?" AJ said breathlessly, the magnitude of it just now hitting him.

He hadn't meant to say that out loud. He regretted it immediately and braced for a reaction. A backhand, a bullet through the gut, something. It didn't come, though AJ swore he felt the car slow down for a second, probably Rick expecting the same reaction as him and preparing for action of his own. When AJ peered up at John, he saw the anger there, but the vulnerability hadn't disappeared. That might be the concussion; he noticed John's eyes had a slightly far-away expression. He counted himself lucky. Again. Maybe. The dazed look didn't last long, and AJ thought even with a concussion this guy could take him.

John turned to him, eyes blazing. "Do you think I want to do this? You don't have any idea what my life is like. You don't get to judge."

That wasn't strictly true. There was something so visceral and horrible about the thought of John carting around two small children, existing in the shadows where death was likely always a big threat it was difficult not to judge. People by nature judged on less, sometimes something as quick as a glance. Given what little he actually knew, AJ couldn't imagine what it had taken for John to get to this point, and, yes, he supposed that he was judging.

"Okay, not judging. So tell us," Rick said. "Explain to us why, besides the fact you got a gun on my brother again…"

AJ cringed. Oh, yeah, Rick was angry with him as much as with John and the whole messed-up situation.

"Why should we take you to them? Why should we assume it's better for your boys to be with you than somewhere safe? 'Cause I have to say it just doesn't make sense to me."

"Everything I do, every decision I make, I do it for those two boys," John said angrily. "He … they aren't safe anywhere but with me."

AJ held his breath. Any vulnerability he had seen or thought he'd seen vanished from John's voice and countenance. He didn't know why he was having such a time remembering they had basically been kidnapped, bonding experience over banishing a poltergeist aside. He and Rick had seen nothing to indicate John wouldn't kill them in a heartbeat if they pushed him too far, or didn't do what he asked. Ergo, this probably wasn't the best time to play a game of chicken. He thought all three of them knew when it came down to it, Rick would have to swerve out of the way at the last second and John would win. Because if that wasn't how it went down, then AJ was probably as good as dead and so was Rick.