Chapter 12

Sam brought the mug of soup up. He managed to get most of it into him, adding a couple of painkillers, at the end. He could tell Dean was hurting. He'd long since learned to look for clues in his features; the taut set of his jaw, the darkness around his eyes, rather than asking him how he felt.

Dean took them without complaint, and after a few minutes he drifted off again. Sam watched him for a little while. Another crisis weathered...another scar or two gained. He rubbed his eyes and sighed miserably. He felt uneasy; there was more to this one...this wasn't so simple this time. It wasn't just a case of kick evil's butt and move on. He knew the demon had told Dean things, and Dean had seen more of it in his sickness; terrible things that clearly frightened him. And Dean didn't scare easily.

And he knew that Bobby was privy to some of it, but the two of them would never divulge anything they felt was best kept quiet. Sam was out of the official loop yet again, a position that frustrated and infuriated him. These bloody secrets were going to bring all of them down someday. Look at Dad...he thought bitterly. Everything was a secret with him; so much so that they couldn't even talk to him now, when they needed to so damned much. He sighed again and got up. There was nothing more to be gained by sitting and watching his brother sleep.

Dean was away now, somewhere comfortably far away, but Sam was stuck here, in the house of the girl who had brought this trouble to them; with a worried and secretive Bobby and a confused and questioning old priest downstairs. He wished he was a capable drinker. Dean was adept at using whatever was being poured to chase away the demons for a while. All Sam ever got was a case of heaves and a headache. He finally rejoined the happy little circle downstairs.

"He had his soup. I gave him something for pain, and he's sleeping now." Sam said, pre-empting their questions. He sat down heavily. He was feeling suddenly angry, his emotions threatening to bubble over. "Look, Bobby; I know there's a lot more going on here. That freaking thing came here for Dean; it's obvious. So what the hell's going on?"

Bobby was caught off guard. Father Patrick sat watching expectantly, and Laura stopped and turned towards them. All eyes were on the elder hunter. He saw that Sam was in no state to accept platitudes, and it was time they all had a serious dialogue. "Sam; hell, I don't know yet. I swear I don't. I'm not gonna lie to you; that demon came here with an agenda, one that had nothing to do with Laura, and everything to do with Dean...and you."

Laura sat down, needing to hear what came next. Father Paddy swallowed his remaining brandy and leaned forward. Poor Bobby felt suddenly under siege. "Look, all I'm saying is this... Laura; yeah, it was your prayers for revenge that opened the door to this thing, but it was just waiting for any excuse to break out. If it hadn't been you, it would've been somebody else. And it seems it had a mission; one that involved taking Dean out, so it made you believe he was responsible for your tragedy. Don't feel bad; these things exist to manipulate and deceive, it's their purpose. And they revel in watching humanity fall to their level. It got more entertainment from making you do the dirty work than it would ever have gotten by doing it itself. We're just a bunch of freaking puppets to them." He downed his drink and continued. "This demon is out now. It's not the first, and it's not the last, but this particular one wants your brother dead, Sam. So we need to find out why, and we need to watch out for it. And we need to stop it."

Laura had a trembling hand held against her mouth. "You're...you're saying it...it might have come here anyway? Even if I hadn't-"

Bobby cut her off. "Laura; that thing was coming here no matter what. You were a convenient key to the door, but it woulda found some other way. Your family tragedy was a terrible thing...but there are hundreds...millions of tragedies every day. And every one of those have people begging for closure, or revenge, or whatever. They all cry and pray for help, but they don't get it. Not unless there's some bigger motive; something else to be gained. I haven't figured out yet how heaven works, but I know this; hell works to its own advantage, and nothing else."

There was stony silence in the room. No one knew what to say.

But Sam wasn't satisfied yet. "Yeah, ok, fine...the demon came for Dean. But why? There's hundreds like us; hunters, people who fight these evils. Why Dean?"

Bobby wasn't ready to discuss anything more, not without more information. "Sam, I don't know. None of us do yet. We need to find your Dad; he needs to know this, and he sure as hell needs to share what he knows with the rest of us. Until then, all we can do is keep our eyes sharp for any clues and any threats. That's about all I can tell you right now..." He sat back and rubbed a hand over his grizzled chin, his eyes suddenly weary, and pained. "I wish to hell I had something more useful for you."

After a time of silence, Father Patrick spoke up. He rose and addressed them formally. "Gentlemen; Laura; this has been an eye-opening evening. I don't know where to go from this. I thought I knew everything, I thought I could make things better with all the memorized prayers and ceremonies I've relied on all these years...but now..."

Bobby rose with him. "Don't, Father. Don't doubt what's good. Please; bless us, bless everyone who needs it; and keep doing it. We need that. Just because you're aware now that there's more evil than you ever knew before, doesn't mean it diminishes the good. We need you now more than ever. We need people like you, fighting on our side of the gate. Otherwise we're all screwed."

Father Patrick thought about that, and nodded solemnly. He made a sign of the cross and blessed all those in the room. "Well then...I pray that you all have the blessed protection of God. Forgive me, I'm tired; I need to leave this for a while. I will go now and bless that young warrior upstairs, and then I must go home." He sighed, turning his gaze to Laura, and taking her hand. "Laura, as I've said before, I say to you again. You were not responsible for what happened to Karin and your Dad. God knows it. You have to believe it. And now you must see how your life has to change. Find a way to forgive yourself; before you, or anyone else, comes to further grief."

She looked down, and the old man headed upstairs.