(So there are quite a few breaks in the story. Transferring from one person to another. The best way that I can explain the transfer is this chapter kind of played out like an episode for me. Where Sam is talking to Dean on the phone one second and then the camera pans to Dean and what he's doing. That's kinda where I was going with this. Sorry if the little breaks are too much.

Thank you FriendlyTuesday for the review! You are amazing.)

Chapter Seventeen

Blood pooled from Sam's nose as he concentrated on the large glass. If he hadn't been with two experienced psychics he would have been very concerned. As it was however, it was informed to him that nose bleeds were very normal for the inexperienced psychic, AKA himself.

He continued focusing on the cup urging it to move a single inch.

It had been two weeks and Sam hadn't been able to fight off Fred's mental attacks, but he finally had been able to fling away a plastic cup. Not move it as much as launch it off the table. It had taken one shattered window, and one lost plate of bone china (Missouri hadn't been too happy with that. Next day all the fine china was hidden away.) After the plastic cup they had upgraded the challenge. Try to move a heavy glass mug. Sam hadn't been able to hide his shock. Plastic solo cup sure. That weighed nothing. When the mug had been placed in his hands however he had balked at its weight. This was a much bigger upgrade than he was expecting.

"It's too heavy!" He had complained only to have the cup placed in front of him with the strict order to move it. Not too far, but at least an inch.

So there he was sitting at Missouri's dinner table an impossibly heavy mug placed in front of him and his nose bleeding something awful. He kept flinching every time blood made it into his mouth, but kept his focus. At least he was doing that. Without the meditation and without the previous practice he would have lost focus the second a drop would have entered. This was something of an improvement.

Tangy blood entered his mouth again and Sam kept staring at the cup. But something else was rising in him and as much as he wanted to tamp it down it was too infectious. Irritation. At the mug, at the two psychics next to him for making him do this so soon after such a small feat. God, this was so stupid.

Then his focus was lost when the mug cracked rather than move. He leaned back in the wooden chair and exhaled the pent up breath softly. He moved to wipe his sleeve on the river of blood that had stopped coming from his nose when a damp cloth had been put there instead.

"You're supposed to move it, not break it." Fred muttered. He stayed away from the kid in the corner of the kitchen while Missouri fussed over him. "You got angry didn't you. Emotions don't help with this stuff kid. You have to let it go. Feel too much of something and it gets out of hand."

"I know! I don't know, though, why you upgraded from some stupid Solo cup to the impossible cup but-" Sam stopped and flinched another crack appeared loudly in the glass. He ignored the twin stares. "Calming. I'm calming down guys."

A mug was pressed in his hands and Sam instantly recognized the scent of lemon balm again. He took a sip and felt the irritation start to melt away slowly. He remembered the time that he had asked her instead for a beer and she had dismissed the idea quickly. Alcohol clouded the mind, she had said. It made one's ability either dampen, or out of control depending on the psychic. Either way it wasn't a good effect.

"We're going back to the Solo cup again, Sam." She glared at Fred. "That wasn't what this experiment was for, however."

"Then what?" Sam asked careful to keep his cool.

"You kept your focus for fifteen minutes." She patted him on the back and urged him to take another sip from the mug. "Despite the blood, and the distractions we perpetrated around you, you didn't budge once from your goal. And no, you weren't supposed to move it. Think of it as exercising a muscle."

Sam exhaled again more tired than irritated. "You could have told me that."

"Would you have been as determined if we had told you?" Fred asked his own anger dissipating.

Sam rubbed at his head. "I guess not." He took another drink from the cup and put it down on the table. "Can we take a break. My head is going to split into two."

"Of course." Missouri headed towards the entry way to the kitchen. She stopped when she noticed Fred wasn't following. She started to scowl, but stopped when Fred fixed her with his own stare. They didn't say anything but Missouri eventually left, leaving Sam and the older man alone in the kitchen.

Fred walked over to the table and joined Sam across from the table. He laced his hands together and looked down at them like they were an intricate design. "I know you think I'm hard on you at times." He cleared his throat when Sam notched up an eyebrow. "I know I am hard on you, but I don't want you making the same mistakes that I have. I was inexperienced once and it cost me someone. Someone I cared about very dearly."

Sam studied Fred's expression. He finally said, "I'm sorry," once he'd seen the man was sincere.

"It was a long time ago. I was young and inexperienced like yourself. I just know that you have people you care about, and I don't want you losing anyone else. Jessica wasn't your fault. As much as you blame yourself for it, there wasn't anything you could have done to stop it." He held up his hand when Sam protested. "There was something you could have done but it would have put you at risk too and she would have died all the same. So that would have ended in the same tragedy. So no nothing you really could have done. Your father, your uncle…your brother…You have to do this to protect them."

Sam looked into Fred's eyes, and nodded. "I know. That's why I'm here."

"And that's why I'm tough on you." Fred cleared his throat. "You ever wonder why Missouri called me to help you out?"

"You're a strong psychic." Sam shrugged.

"There are many strong psychics around." Fred informed Sam. "Many of them much closer than I am."

Sam kept staring at Fred his gaze careful. "Then I don't know."

Fred Jones turned away from Sam and looked outside the window. Or would have if it wasn't boarded up. "Sam, my father died when I was a baby." He held up a hand again when Sam moved to apologize. "I thank you for that, but that's not the point I'm getting at. My father died when I was six months old, in 1931. He died in my nursery, and according to my mother he was pinned to the ceiling."

Sam forgot all about his headache. Sam forgot about everything except for the man sitting across the table from him. "What? He died how?!"

xxxOOOxxx

Dean got the text late afternoon while bent over his baby. The small chirp his phone had him push himself up and wipe his hands on a rag before inspecting the text.

'Check out a house fire. Jones Family 1931.'

Dean notched up an eyebrow but didn't question his brother's request. He closed up the hood of his car and walked towards the house after shutting up the garage.

xxxOOOxxx

Sam put down the phone and fixed Fred with a stare.

Jones didn't question why Sam had been texting. He simply continued. "Missouri knowing about so much of the demon's plans. It isn't all her ability, its partly my experience with it all too."

"Okay okay. Back up." Sam massaged his temple.

Fred flicked his hand towards the coffee maker and the 'on' button turned green. The machine whirled to life. "I'm going to need a cup. How about you?"

Sam would need twenty. "Yeah. Coffee sounds good."

xxxOOOxxx

Dean typed in the key words to the search engine and clicked on the third link down. It was an image of an old newspaper article. He scanned the article and hitched in a breath. "Dad!" Dean called instantly, he looked around for his father and figured he had retreated to the bedroom. "Dad get your butt here now!"

xxxOOOxxx

"My mother never told the police or the journalist, but the exact night I turned six months she heard me crying. My father had just come home then. She was in her nightgown already half asleep, and he told her he would check on me. When he didn't come back, she shifted out of her bed and went to check on the both of us." Fred took a long sip from his coffee not minding how hot and black it was.

"And saw your dad on the ceiling." Sam finished.

Fred nodded. "She figured they would think she was crazy. She didn't tell anyone until I turned twenty and started showing signs of abilities. Lightbulbs would burst when I got angry, and later on the radio would change stations with my temper as well. I didn't know what was going on. My mother became scared of me. She started cowering away from me. This one Christmas she got me more gifts than I needed, more than she could afford and I knew that she was doing it just to appease me. To make sure that I stayed content. And I got angry about that and…"

Sam didn't push for Fred to finish. He waited patiently while the man took another sip of his coffee.

"Well the tree fell over, and the star that we put on the top stabbed through her. I knew I had done it. I knew I knocked over the tree. The police though said that the stand had been faulty, that one leg was shorter than the other. And they weren't wrong, but If I hadn't-" He stopped again and tightened his hand on the mug.

Sam tactfully remained quiet.

"A woman read the story in the newspaper and came to visit me at my mother's funeral. I got mad at her and told me to leave me alone when she told me she understood what I was going through, but she left a business card with just her name and a number. After I shattered a window in the home, and nearly split a bed in two I called her and got training. When I was under her wing though she informed me I wasn't the only one. So I looked, and I noticed other people my age dying. They were all born the same year as me. Some with house fires and some without. Some of them were committing suicide. Some of them were being shot by police in crazy stories involving crazy claims. Some of them were being put away into asylums. I snuck into a facility one time and read through what one had to say, and they mentioned yellow eyes, and a gun."

"Did any say what he wanted?" Sam asked.

"No, none of them revealed that. The doctors all thought they were just- insane. Then it got quiet. I don't know what happened, but I thought it was done. Everything was back to normal. I continued to train with Edith and once I could handle the abilities given to me I went back to my normal life. Until 1982."

"When my mother died." Sam said quietly.

Fred nodded. "I read about your fire. What your father claimed. The police and the journalist all attributed it to stress but I knew better. I read about other babies, and other fires. All in different states. One in a different country. It was happening all over again."

Sam sucked in a breath. "How many of your generation are left?"

"Five. One is in a psych ward, after he lost his mind. One is suffering from cancer, and probably has a few months, if not weeks. One is in Mexico enjoying the beach. Another is currently mourning the loss of her husband. And the last is unaccounted for. So I can only hope they are still alive and not dead. Although we are 75, we can't live forever." Fred swirled his cup and watched the liquid whirl.

"How do you know about them?" Sam asked. Maybe one he built up his ability he could track down the other children. Maybe they could all band to together and avert- whatever was going to happen.

"Edith. She tried to save as many as she could. Managed to take in ten kids and teach them to control their abilities. We stayed in contact after we went our separate ways. We returned when she died for her funeral. It was like we were all siblings."

Sam glanced down at his coffee sure that had cooled. He didn't care though. His attention had been diverted. "Can you all 'sense' each other?"

"In a way." Fred got a thoughtful look. "It's hard to explain." He mulled over it for a while. "The ones who had visions had visions of our deaths. So if you got a call you knew to be careful in the following days. There were a few who could communicate with their minds. They were linked up to specific people though. There was one guy who kept us all together, and he could 'sense' us, but that was his ability. Edith used him to track down a good number of us."

Maybe Sam would wake up one day to find that he had that ability loaded on top of his other two. "Okay. That makes sense. I-" So many questions swirled in his head. "Why didn't you ever search out the kids you knew about? The ones who had the telling house fires? Did you ever-"

"Whoa hey. One question at a time." Fred smirked. "First off I did search you out. Although I never really found you until you found roots in South Dakota. I knew though that your abilities wouldn't show until you turned of age so there was little point in freaking you out sooner. By the time I had found you, Missouri was your life line. I let her be it and focused on other children. The obvious children."

"Is that what you and your- siblings did?"

"Most of us." Fred shrugged. "Sampson went a little crazy in the head. Azazel started abusing him day and night in his mind and he lost it."

"Hence him being in a mental facility." Sam inferenced. "Did you ever get communicated to?"

"No." Fred stated honestly. "Edith told me that once my abilities formed I had a block. It was too strong to get through for anyone. Even him. That's why I imagine he never used me for whatever purposes he had."

Sam scowled. He wished he had been gifted with a block. That certainly would have helped him all those sleepless nights. "And no one ever got a handle on what he wanted?"

"No one not even the older generations." Fred stated.

xxxOOOxxx

The second they had found Fred Jones and linked his house fire with their own, the immediately found many other families losing homes and mostly mothers. Funny thing was a good number of the 'kids' had gone off the radar. Just upped and disappeared one day. Bobby was the one who found the generation before theirs. Dean couldn't believe it. 1881. Back when the US was only boasting 38 stars on their flag. Through the use of library portals, and archives from the US government, they found newspaper articles talking about house fires. Strange occurrences with men suddenly turning 'demonic' and moving things, or seeing things before they could occur. Whatever this demon was planning he had planned it a long time ago.

Dean scowled and moved away from his father and uncle as they put their heads together. He flipped open his phone and pressed three instantly dialing his brother.

"You check it out Dean?" Sam instantly asked not wondering who it was and what he wanted.

"Yeah, Sam this goes back to 1881. Back when we only had 38 damn states. This is just- this is just-"

"Crazy." Sam provided for his brother. "Unbelievable, preposterous, absurd, ludicrous."

"Yes, walking thesaurus. All those and a bag of nuts." Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "This is a whole different scale than we ever imagined. I mean every 50 years there are a range of house fires involving surviving infants and at least one dead parent. Then like clockwork in 20 or so years people born that year, house fire or not, disappear." Dean froze. His hand tightened on the phone. "I am coming to you Sam."

"What?" Sam blurted. "You said you'd give me a month. It's only been two weeks!"

Dean scowled. He didn't care. "You just heard me, right? Once the kids are in their 20's they disappear. You are one of those kids Sam. You are 24 dude. He wants you. And that goat man ain't getting you. So I am coming to you whether you like it or not."

"I've got Missouri, and Fred-"

"Fred? Fred Jones?"

"Yeah Dean, how else did you think I knew about the fire?" Dean could see his little brother rolling his eyes.

"What else did Mr. Jones have to say?"

Sam spoke at length about Fred's abilities his past. Finding Edith, finding out he wasn't alone. How he was trying to help the next lot of kids. Sam finally inhaled after filling in Dean with every detail. Once finished told his brother, "Dude, he's powerful. I'm really good with him, and Missouri. Not to mention her house is warded for everything from fae to toe fungus."

Dean didn't know "I don't give a crap if she has a ward to prevent pregnancy, Sammy. I'm driving down there."

"Dean! I was able to move a plastic cup. That's the best I've done in the two weeks. Besides that, I have Missouri's permanent hatred for breaking her window and one of her mother's china plates. I am not ready to have you here. If I hurt you- if I hurt any of you-"

He was already headed up the stairs towards his room to pack up a bag. "Tough luck. I'm staying at Missouri's with you whether you like it or not."

Faintly Missouri's voice came through the line. "I'll set up a room."

"Wait what?" Dean could imagine Sam's face twisting in anger. "Missouri you can't- you can't be serious, you're the one who said it could be potentially dangerous for anyone while I was training. HEY! MISSOURI!" Sam gave an irritated growl. "I am training Dean. I am fine. Please don't-"

Sam's protest faded and quieted. Dean couldn't account for it until a different voice spoke through it. "I'm setting up a room for you, sugar. If you distract him while he's training I am going to whack you so hard you'll fly all the way back to South Dakota. You hear me boy?"

"Scouts honor Missouri." Dean grinned. With her agreeing to this there was no way Sam could protest now.

"Missouri! How- He can't-" Sam's protests continued but in the background.

He heard Missouri chuckle. "You and your brother are both forces of nature. There was no way I was preventing him from showing up."

Sam's voice grew louder as she passed the phone back. "He is not coming." That must have been directed towards her. "You are NOT coming." And that towards him.

"Try and stop me." Dean grinned before ending the call.

xxxOOOxxx

The woman scowled and leaned up against the kitchen counter. On the table sat a scrying bowl and a wide blade of questionable metal. Something that couldn't be seen. In haste she scooped up the pair and dropped it underneath the sink.

Whenever the fool host's daughter came to visit with her own miniature hoard she'd have to hide all her things in spots that they wouldn't think to look. Her guest tonight however wouldn't snoop around too much. She could afford to hid it in such a simple spot.

"I would have something on with a lower neckline if I were you." A voice echoed from behind her.

In shock she nearly fell over. She settled herself before closing the doors and straightening. "I wish you wouldn't sneak up on me like that." She frowned, although little else emotion was put into the statement. One did not offend Azazel and live. That was a solid rule.

"What's the point of popping in if I don't actually pop in." Azazel shrugged. He swiped an apple from her kitchen counter and took a large bite. His current host sported salt and pepper hair, but it was clear how much he worked out. Had once worked out.

She smoothed down her work outfit a little self-consciously. "I take it you found out who is killing them?"

"Oh did I." Azazel's eyes flashed. His hand tightened on the apple, causing some of the skin to bruise. "A hunter. He's tracking them. But according to my sources Sam should be getting the information and do something about it. Maybe I won't have to lift a finger."

The woman wanted to snort. Lift a finger and make someone do the job for him was what he probably should have said. But once again, last thing she wanted to do was offend him. "He has shown himself to be quite capable even though he hasn't figured out what he needs to do quite yet."

He seemed pleased by her confidence in his favorite. "Yes indeed. As for the job, I'm giving him the time he needs to train properly. I'll get him to work the job once he's ready."

"Speaking of- ready, I was wondering. How much longer do I need to be here." She spoke quietly and carefully. "I'm not doing much here besides entertain their father. Although trust me he isn't that bad, in fact-" She stopped when Azazel started looking disgusted. "-I mean."

"No it's okay. I don't judge." Although he very clearly was. He took another bite of the bruised apple before continuing. "And I need you here as long as possible to monitor the family. If you hadn't stuck around I wouldn't know that Deano is on his way to visit his brother. It's small but it helps."

She hid her disappointment. "Of course. I do what I can to keep you informed."

"And you do it very well."

Roles like this were tedious. She preferred working from higher positions, where she could give orders and have things done at a snap of her finger. Before the CEO of Candle Wicks Inc had mysteriousy over dosed on prescription medication, she had been living the life in suits and working from a desk. Now she was at the mercy of some little bell, a cook, and taking orders from useless country hicks. The sex was good, but the job; the job she could do without.

"He is here." Azazel glanced at the door.

Before she could question she heard the engine of the truck get louder as it closed in on the house and cut off once it parked. Azazel reached out and tugged the hem of her collar down so that she showed more cleavage. She wanted to swat away the hands but withheld the urge.

Azazel disappeared at the sound of a knock, but his mirthful tone echoed in the home. "Have fun."

She walked towards the front door finally able to roll her eyes at her boss's antics. She put her 'face' back on however when she slid the chain away from the door and undid the top bolt. Once opened the elder Winchester was very evidently standing at the door. His salt and pepper hair tousled from having his windows down on the drive, and his eyes darkened at the sight of her.

"Heard you were having engine problem, Sally." He stated hungrily as he swept in and shut the door behind him. His arms wrapped around her waist and his mouth nipped hungrily at her neck.

"Mmmmm. Damn right it does." She shut her eyes and drank in the feeling that she got only when he was around. There was something about him that just made her shiver. Oh yes, this was the part of the job that she really enjoyed. "My engine is ready to purr, John Winchester."

(So you reached the end. You can always leave a review or drop me a PM. Dislike something, something doesn't add up- did I make an error somewhere? Do not be afraid to tell me. One of my biggest peeves is reading through these things again and again, only to post and find that I missed something. So help me clean up my stories. And thank you!)