When the Cradle Falls

by Rheme

The hunting life was never easy, but it was for Dean. Never had he thought he'd get a slice of that white-picket fence, apple pie life. Not until a high school fling with Alice Mercer grew into something more than that: a family. Follows the Winchesters, with a few new additions, including Alice, and Alice and Dean's children, Cara and Noah. Currently in Season 3.

26. Learned From the Best

When the Cradle Falls

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Chapter Twenty-Six: Learned From the Best

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Sioux Falls, South Dakota

---

"Alright, be good. I mean it. If I find out you two were anything less than perfect—"

"Come on, Allie, you know those two are angels," Bobby joked, nudging the mother on the shoulder. He winked at Cara and Noah, who were standing against the wall in Bobby's study, trying not to roll their eyes while the mother berated them gently.

Sighing, Alice nodded, closing her eyes for a moment. "I know. I'm just…" Nervous was the word she was looking for.

Not that she would say that in front of her kids. Or Dean, either. Any sign of hesitation from her and he'd call it off.

"Everything'll be fine," Bobby assured knowingly. "Now, where'd those boys get off to?"

"Nowhere good," Alice grinned. She followed Bobby out of the house, Cara and Noah trailing behind.

They found the brothers near the Impala. Dean had a pinched, slightly pissed off look on his face, while Sam looked amused.

After Alice's endless begging and Dean giving—what he thought were empty—promises, the two were finally going on a hunt. Originally, Alice had asked Sam to watch Cara and Noah, and he had been honored that she trusted him to, but he didn't feel well equipped enough to watch the two of them for a few days to a week. So, Bobby offered to let the three of them stay there while Dean and Alice were on their hunt. Jan was somewhere in Canada, doing God knows what, so that was the best option.

And now, with the car all packed, Alice was full of giddy, nervous energy, ready to see—up close and personal—what Dean did. Although she had nearly been killed by Sue Ann LeGrange a few months back, Alice felt the hunt Dean promised her was long overdue.

"You ready yet Winchester?" Alice asked with mock seriousness.

Frowning more deeply, Dean crossed his arms when Alice tried to take one of his hands. She smirked at him.

"I hate this," he growled to her.

She smirked wider. "And I love this."

"Dad, why are you taking Mom if you don't want to?" Noah asked.

Brushing past Alice, Dean's icy demeanor thawed as he approached his kids. "Noah, one day, you'll realize, women don't take no for an answer."

"Really? Cause Mom said you're afraid she'll shoot more deer than you," Cara said.

Turning his attention to his daughter, Dean raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Mom thinks she can outshoot me? That's cute."

"Put your money where your mouth is, then," Alice taunted from behind him.

Shaking his head lightly, Dean hugged Cara and then Noah. "Your mom is something else," he muttered under his breath. At a louder volume, addressed the two one last time. "I know I don't need to tell you two to behave."

Smiling at the faith their father had in them, Alice fussed over them one last time, as Bobby and Sam both assured her everything was fine, while at the same time, goading Dean for his lack of enthusiasm.

"Bite me, you two," Dean growled, wrenching open the door of the Impala. "Don't poison my kids with your cooking, Bobby," he added, half jokingly, half maliciously.

Bobby raised an eyebrow at him. "Boy you better get on the road before I whoop your ass."

"Sorry," Dean muttered, climbing into the Impala. The door shut behind him and he started the engine, and rolled down the window. "If you're not in the car in the next twenty seconds, I'm leaving without you," he called to Alice, partially serious.

From where she stood in front of Cara and Noah, Alice turned over her shoulder and gave him the iciest glare she could manage. In response, Dean rolled up the window, muttering unhappily to himself.

Her kids chuckled as she kissed and hugged them one last time. "I love you two. I'll see you in a couple days. Behave!" She called, hanging halfway out of the car. "And thanks again Sam and Bobby!"

"Go on girl; we've got everything here," Bobby called, waving in response.

Dean eased the Impala away from the house, and the two groups waved to each other as they went their separate ways.

---

Devil's Lake, North Dakota

A Few Hours Later

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"You get us a room. I'm gonna poke around the police station, talk to some vics."

Turning around, Alice was about to set her bag on the ground and respond, but Dean, still in the Impala, was already reversing out of the parking lot.

"Dean. Dean!" Alice called weakly, knowing it was fruitless, as the Impala was already out of view.

Realizing he had left her alone in the middle of the motel parking lot, Alice threw her hands up in exasperation. Running a hand through her hair, she replayed the car ride there.

It wasn't often she felt awkward around Dean. But for the entire car ride, every time she would try to say something, Dean would give a one word response and turn the music up a little louder. Eventually, she had given up and had angrily stared out the window.

It had been a long car ride.

It was showing more and more that Dean didn't want her to be here. Alice was beginning to think it had been a bad idea since the start. She was sort of wishing she hadn't pushed him to take her on a hunt.

Had she manipulated him? Made him feel guilty? Was it her fault he was angry with her?

Probably.

But did that mean she wasn't angry at him?

Nope.

With a ragged huff, Alice grabbed her duffel and heaved it over her shoulder, turning to enter the office. The rusty bell over the flimsy door rang as Alice entered the tiny room. A single desk that ran the length of the room, and several chairs occupied the space. A young man—probably early twenties—wearing a short sleeve shirt with a puffer vest over it jumped up from the back room and eagerly came to attend to the guest. He tried to give a charming smile, but Alice ended up cringing slightly. He was gangly, had greasy black hair, and a missing front tooth.

"What can I do for you, m'am?"

"I'd like a room. Two doubles if you don't mind." She reached into her wallet and pulled out a fake credit card. Every instinct she had flashed red when Dean handed her the fake card. But he was right. They needed to cover their tracks, even from the get go. And from that get go, they were strictly FBI agents to anyone who asked, even the young man at the motel.

His eyebrows raised at the suggestion she wasn't sharing a bed with someone. "Sure thing." He looked down at the card and frowned. "Janie Joplin? Interesting name." Alice ground her teeth at the fake name. She wanted to hit Dean for giving her something so ridiculous. For someone who was so adamant in covering their tracks, he was sure dumb when it came to picking ridiculous rock aliases.

She gave a fake smile. "My parents were big rock fans. Swore up and down Janis Joplin was a distant cousin."

Nodding his head, he scanned the card and slowly handed it back to her. "If you don't mind me asking, what could a tiny place have to offer to someone like you, Janie?" Her eyes widened a little in panic. Why had he asked that? Was he onto them? Was she that obvious?

"Uh…none of your business," Alice said with more force than she intended, immediately feeling anxious.

Retracting a little, he blinked rapidly. "Jesus. Sorry. I was just trying to be nice." Eyes dropping to the counter, he awkwardly fumbled around and a pulled a key out from under the desk. "Here. Room E."

Gingerly taking the key from the man, Alice watched as he looked down, dejected. God she was paranoid. He wasn't onto her like she thought. He was just trying to be nice.

"Umm…I didn't mean to sound so harsh. I've just…been on the road all day and I'm a little tired."

Perking up a little, the young man nodded. "No. You're right. I was just being nosy."

Alice graciously accepted the apology.

As she left the room, the young man waved after her. "Enjoy your stay in Devil's Lake."

---

"What does whiskey taste like?"

"Come again?"

"What does it taste like?" Cara asked again, nodding at the glass in Bobby's hand.

Staring down at the amber liquid, Bobby contemplated for a moment. Eventually, he passed the drink to her. "You tell me."

Cara hesitantly took the glass from him and stared down at it. Bringing to her lips, she sniffed it and grimaced.

"Bobby!" Sam chastised from the opposite side of the table. His mouth was half open, filled with pizza, one hand holding the greasy slice over a plate.

Giving Sam the side-eye, Bobby raised an eyebrow. "One sip won't kill her."

"She's not even eleven!"

"You wanna tell them what you were doing at their ages?"

Clamping his mouth shut, Sam frowned. "Fine. One sip. And that better be a tiny sip, Cara."

With a slow nod, Cara brought the glass to her mouth and took a small sip. Immediately, she slammed the drink down on the table and sputtered, coughing. "My throat is burning."

Chuckling Bobby reclaimed the drink. "Yeah. Whiskey'll do that to you."

"That stuff is terrible. Why would anyone drink that?" Cara continued, quickly taking a sip of her pop.

"It's an acquired taste. You want some, Noah?"

"I'm okay. I'll stick with root beer."

"That's a good man." Bobby clapped Noah on the shoulder and finished off his drink.

The four had shared a large cheese pizza and a lively conversation. It had been a few years since Bobby had seen the kids and they had certainly grown. Both were smart as whips and about as clever as they came. Dean and Allie should've been damn proud of the pair they were raising.

And in a turn of events, Sam had precociously become overprotective of the two. He was worried something terrible would happen to them under his watch, afraid of how his brother and Alice would react. He had grown quite fond of his niece and nephew and the paranoia had set in.

As the meal ended, Sam had relegated himself to doing the dishes, while Bobby went to show Cara some non-lore books he owned. As she was known for being an avid reader, he had tucked away all the books about monsters in the attic.

Growing bored of the small print and boring topics, Noah had gravitated to the kitchen and was helping Sam washing and dry the dishes.

"Uncle Sam?" Noah asked, splicing up the sound of clinking glass and silverware.

"Yeah, buddy?" Sam responded, guard down, as he sponged off a plate.

"What was Jess like?"

Nearly dropping the plate, Sam quickly set it down, and turned to face his nephew. "What?"

A bit bashful, Noah set down the towel he was using to dry dishes. "I just mean…I remember you told me about how you had nightmares about her. And you don't really ever talk about her."

Composing himself, Sam realized Noah was right. It had been weeks since Sam had even mentioned her name. "She was great. Smart, and funny, and kind. Really beautiful. She was gonna be an elementary school teacher. Did you know that?"

"How'd she die?" Noah asked suddenly, not responding to what Sam had just said.

Seeing flashes of blonde hair singeing and the ends of a white nightgown catching fire, tried to vanish the image of her pinned to the ceiling, staring down at him in absolute agony.

And he hadn't done a damn thing.

"There was a fire in our apartment."

"How'd you get out?"

"Your dad actually saved me. Pulled me out of the fire."

Noah frowned. "And grandma died in a fire too?"

"Uh…yeah. When I was a baby."

"Isn't it kind of weird how they both died in a fire? And that you survived twice?" Noah wasn't trying to sound accusatory, but in Sam's mind, he kept thinking Noah was blaming him for both Mary and Jess' death.

"I guess."

"Wow. You're really lucky, Uncle Sam," Noah commented.

Sam tried to smile, but it came out like a grimace.

He wouldn't consider himself lucky.

Maybe unlucky.

But more likely than that: cursed.

---

When Dean returned to the room, Alice was curled up on one bed, mindlessly paging through the Bible she found in the nightstand. She didn't even look up to greet him.

"Two beds?" Dean asked, plunking down the twelve pack of beer he had gotten.

Snapping the book shut, Alice finally looked up at him. More like glared.

"You think I wanna share a bed with you?"

Sputtering in confusion, Dean shrugged out of his jacket. "Why not? It's not like I haven't already seen every part of you. Several times. Up close and personal."

"This has nothing to do with me suddenly turning into a prude."

"Then what's wrong?"

Alice swung her legs over the edge of the bed and took a sharp breath. She hated she had to spell this out for him. Was he really that clueless? "You barely talked to me the entire car ride here. And then, as soon as we get here, you dump me in the parking lot of some seedy motel? For what? So you can go get some beer?"

"You knew what you signed up for," Dean muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Did I? I thought I was doing a hunt with Dean Winchester. Not some dick giving me the cold shoulder."

"Whoa what's your problem?"

On her feet, Alice strode up to him. "Look, I know you didn't want to hunt with me in the first place, but here we are. So can you act like an adult about it? Cause I could really use the support. You know, I'm scared out of my mind too. We're hunting a freaking monster, Dean. A monster. Things that aren't even supposed to exist."

Out of breath, Alice suddenly took a couple steps back and grabbed her jacket and keys from the table.

"Where are you going?" Dean called after her.

"Oh he speaks!" Alice responded goadingly as she slammed the door behind herself.

---

By this age and the fact she was a nurse, Alice should've remembered that alcohol didn't actually make the feelings go away, only damped them. And after time, it just exacerbated them.

She couldn't give two shits about that right now.

Not normally one to do shots, Alice had already had several, only at the bar for about two hours.

And Dean hadn't come after her.

After leaving the motel room, she had brushed away the angry, guilty tears she felt and wrapped her arms around herself, to fight off the cold. Although it was spring, the weather in North Dakota was not as forgiving.

Eventually, tired from the cold and mind a mess, Alice ducked into the Devil's Horn Bar and immediately claimed a barstool for herself.

She had already brushed off several advances from drunken men in the bar. But they were all the same. Unbuttoned flannel, ratty truckers caps covering balding heads, and stained wife beaters stretched over beer bellies.

"Well, you're definitely the prettiest woman in this bar."

Head turning to the side, Alice observed the man who had taken up residence beside her.

Not immediately rebuffing him, she noted his appearance. Neat black hair, rolled up dress shirt with no stains, nice pants. There was a sort of heaviness in his eyes that if she didn't know to look for it, Alice wouldn't have known it was there.

Like her, he was different than anyone else in the bar.

Alice glanced around the room at the other women in the bar. They were all middle aged and just as out of shape as the men. "Oh God I hope so," she laughed, feeling her inhibitions lowered. Still, she could feel the anger and sadness in the back of her heart.

"What's your name?"

"Alice."

"Nice name. I'm Peter."

"Nice name. You gonna buy me a drink, Peter?"

Peter smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to?"

Alice leaned back drunkenly, and pretended to contemplate that. "If you feel like it."

Peter got two more shots from the bartender, who placed one in front of Alice. The two clinked the tiny glasses together and downed the drinks.

Setting down the glass, Alice noted she couldn't feel the liquid burn her throat as much anymore. That drink had been the lucky one, the magic number that was making her forget why she was even there in the first place. "You from out of town Peter? Because I am and you certainly don't look like anyone else here."

Peter sighed and gave a small smile. "Unfortunately no. I'm finishing my residency at the hospital nearby. I guess there aren't many doctors that want to come work in beautiful North Dakota."

Alice found herself letting her hand inch forward on the counter, towards Peter's arm. The alcohol had finally impaired her enough that she had forgotten yelling at Dean earlier. "Really? Cause in my free time I'm actually a nurse."

"I was gonna guess lawyer, but I knew you were smart and beautiful."

Alice felt herself giggle. Actually giggle like a giddy school girl. "What a line." Her hand had found his arm and was rubbing along his bicep.

Peter's eyes glazed over slightly. "If you consider that a line, then what about this?" Gently, he turned her head with one thumb and met her lips with his own. The kiss wasn't very short, but it felt long.

Peter gently pulled away, removing hands from either side of her face.

A bit stunned for a moment, Alice wondered vaguely if she had crossed a line. Not with this man, but with Dean. She didn't know if he slept with other women—he probably did and she didn't actually want to know. She wouldn't be breaking any relationship code by sleeping with this guy. She and Dean were co-parents, at best, and not very good ones, it often seemed.

Fine, if he just wants us to be work partners on this hunt, then that's all we'll be. The thoughts slipped to the forefront of her mind.

Not even remembering thinking them, Alice pitched herself forward, grabbing Peter by the collar of his shirt as she crushed her lips to his.

For the first time in a long time, Alice acknowledged she was a woman, a woman with needs. For years she had been a mother, a nurse, an estranged daughter. But never had she just been Alice. She was Allie to Dean, and God knows he thought of her as some prize he'd one, some sweet, innocent girl that he wouldn't treat like an equal.

Fueled by the resentment and anger from the things she tried to forget—that were bubbling up again—Alice pushed herself off the barstool, half climbing onto Peter's lap, arms locking around his neck.

Taken off guard by her sudden forwardness, Peter grabbed onto the counter with one hand to steady himself and grabbed Alice around the waist with the other, anchoring her to him.

"You wanna get out of here?" Peter asked after a couple minutes.

Breathless, Alice couldn't say anything but felt her head begin to nod.

Eagerly, Peter helped her slide off the stool, and he followed quickly. Throwing a few bills onto the counter, Peter waved to the bartender who gave him a sly wink.

Taking Alice by the hand, he led her out the front door of the bar as she stared at the back of his head.

"We can walk. My place isn't too far away," Peter said.

Alice felt herself nodding and hand still in Peter's, she felt her feet begin to move underneath her, down the sidewalk, in the direction of the motel. He must've lived near it.

They walked at a brisk pace. Alice felt her heart racing, veins dilated from the alcohol. She felt extremely out of breath and could hardly feel herself as she stumbled over her legs. Peter walked quickly, obviously eager about getting laid.

They were still walking towards the motel.

With each step Alice barely felt, the thoughts that kept bobbing up to the surface of her mind were beginning to revolve back to why she'd gone to the bar in the first place.

"Wait."

"Huh?" Peter looked back over his shoulder.

"Stop." Alice sounded a little louder this time.

"Alright." Peter turned to look at her, slowly letting go of Alice's hand. "What's wrong?" He frowned slightly, as if he was trying to read her mind.

"I'm sorry, but I can't," Alice said, feeling small.

Not understanding what she was saying for a moment, Peter opened his mouth to ask. But before the question came out, it seemed to click in his mind what she meant. "Oh," he sounded defeated. "Did you change your mind about going home with me?

Looking down at the ground, Alice winced, waiting for him to start cussing her out for leading him on.

He sighed deeply. "Sorry to hear that. We could've had some real fun together."

She nodded, still looking down at the ground.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit disappointed. "Well, at least let me walk you back to wherever you're staying."

Alice's eyes snapped up to him, a bit wary now. "No it's fine. My hotel is just one more block away."

"Oh are you staying at the Yuzak Motel? I basically lived there while I was trying to find a more permanent residence."

"Um yeah, but it's okay. I don't want you to have to go out of your way."

"Please. I insist."

With a sigh, Alice waved her hand. "Are you sure? Because I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I'm really sorry but I just can't."

Peter chuckled slightly, perhaps a bit disappointed. "Still. You shouldn't be walking around here alone at night. Even in a town like this. So please." Peter held his hand out towards the motel and the two walked side by side, not touching. Now that Peter had nothing to look forward to, Alice noticed he had slowed his speed so they were walking at a pace set by her.

"Really. I am sorry about leading you on like that and then changing my mind a block from your house. You must think I'm—" Alice felt herself beginning to ramble.

Stopping, Peter stepped in front of Alice and placed his hands on her shoulder, stopping her from pitching forward. Leaning down so he could look at her face, he gently raised her chin with one finger, the move surprisingly tender. "I don't think any which way about you that isn't good. Now you don't need to apologize for changing your mind. Never apologize for saying no."

A little breathless, Alice felt a bubble around her burst as Peter took a step back, shattering the glass bowl they were in. "Now, what room are you in?" Peter asked, directing his attention back to the motel.

Feeling a strange mixture of relief, guilt, and maybe even disappointment, Alice and Peter found their way to the room she and Dean were staying in. Reaching for the key inside her jacket pocket, Alice fumbled to get it into the lock. "Really. Thank you so much. But you can go now." She turned and continued to struggle with the lock.

"No. Allow me." Peter gently moved her aside and got the key in the lock, and turned the knob for her.

"Really, you should go. For your own good." As Alice said that, the door swung open, and from the inside of the room, Dean was up on his feet, gun halfway hidden behind his back.

A few different emotions flickered across Dean's face, and even drunk, Alice watched as his eyes slowly moved to her hands that were wrapped around Peter's arms, in a poor attempt to pull him away from the door.

Every thought had left Dean's mind, and like he was fighting a monster, there was only one goal in mind: kill.

Rushing forward, he tackled the monster that looked like a man, and the two went sprawling across the asphalt of the motel parking lot. And Dean quickly gained power over the man, and pinned him to the ground, hands gripping his shoulders. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

A bit dazed, Peter blinked a few times, as if he didn't believe this was happening to him. "What the—"

"Dean! Dean, let him go!" Clumsily, Alice was reaching for the sleeve of Dean's shirt, trying to pull him off Peter.

"What the hell is going on here?" Dean demanded, reluctantly letting Alice pull him up from the man.

Scrambling up from the ground, Peter stumbled a few steps back from Dean. Eyes fearful, he held up a hand as if to tell them he was no threat. "I was just walking her back to her room. Look man, if I knew she had a boyfriend I never would've left with her."

Before Dean could react with anger, Alice was between the two. She knew Dean's gun was tucked away, but still within reaching distance. Woozily, she tripped forward and shoved Peter in the chest. "I told you to leave. So leave." She shoved him towards the dark where they came from.

She knew if Peter stayed, Dean would have killed him.

The sound of Peter's footsteps slowly growing softer mingled with Dean and Alice's heavy breathing. They both stared at the darkness where the man had disappeared, watching in silence.

When the sound of footsteps finally faded, Alice felt the wall of anger and guilt hit her again. With a heavy sigh, she hung her head in dejection and glanced towards the bright light streaming out of the motel room.

He had been waiting up for her.

He had cared that she had left. He had given her space, but he'd been waiting up for her.

And she'd come back to the room with another man.

Brushing a piece of straggly hair out of her face, Alice stared at her hand out of the corner of her eye. It was the hand that had been wrapped around Peter's arm, the one that trailed up and down his thigh.

She could still taste the alcohol on her own breath, and remember what it had been like on Peter's mouth.

"Dean…"

Dean held up a hand and slowly turned to look at her. "Let's just get some sleep. Alright?"

To her surprise, his voice was gentle, a bit tired. Completely different from the anger he had launched at Peter; it seemed to have dissipated. When Dean finally made eye contact with her, he seemed more forlorn than accusing.

Carefully, he placed a hand on her lower back. "You should get some sleep."

"Right," she agreed quietly,

With downcast eyes, Alice allowed herself to be ushered into the room. Once Dean shut and locked the door, he went to his bag and pulled out a large ACDC shirt from the top. "Here. I figure if you were gonna throw up it's better if you did it on this old thing."

At a loss for words, Alice took the shirt from him, making sure to not brush his hand with hers.

Once alone in the bathroom, Alice took a fast shower and brushed her teeth, the feeling of drunkenness sapping out of her body. The tiredness caused by alcohol was now being replaced by the feeling of tiredness present in her bones.

Coming back into the room, she found Dean with his back to her, the lamp between the two beds on. A full glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen were on the nightstand, near her bed. A small, tin garbage can was sitting beside the bed as well.

Really wanting to cry now, Alice took a few pills and sipped some water. Then, she climbed into the bed, where the sheets had been pulled back.

Lastly, she reached over and flicked off the light, plunging the room into a heavy darkness.

---

When Alice awoke the next morning, she didn't open her eyes right away. Although she was prepared for a hangover, she was not prepared for facing her own shame and Dean's disappointment.

She remained prone for several minutes until eventually her breathing was so sporadic that her body could not physically stay still any longer.

As her feet hit the ground and the blood rushed out of her head, she was surprised by the lack of wooziness that usually accompanied after a night of drinking. Actually, she felt pretty good, considering. Perhaps the mixture of water and ibuprofen had helped. But it could not fix her storm of emotions.

Gaining her bearings, Alice stood slowly and scanned the room. At the desk in the corner, Dean was staring intently at the laptop, seemingly unaware of her waking.

"Dean."

Pulled by the low voice, Dean glanced over to the bed. He gave her a careful, neutral look, like he didn't quite know what to make of her.

"Dean," Alice said again. She crossed the room, hands reaching for him. She noticed he was wearing a dress shirt, tie, and navy suit pants. "Dean. I'm sorry."

Carefully, Dean closed the lap top and pushed the chair back. Alice's hands had reached for his and he gently removed his own from her shaking grip. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible. I—"

"Does your head hurt? Do you feel dehydrated?" Dean cut her off. He sounded gentle in his words, but his appearance indicated otherwise. Refusing to hold hands with her or even look her in the eyes, it was apparent Dean was trying to be accommodating to Alice's mistake, but was still betrayed by her act.

Lip quivering, Alice's hands fell limply to her sides. Clenching and unclenching her jaw, she found herself nodding. "Yeah. I'm fine. No headache. I don't really even feel hungover. That water and medication you left out for me last night really helped. Uh…thank you for that." She clamped her mouth shut immediately after that and tried to recompose herself so she wasn't such a blithering, blubbering mess anymore.

Dean nodded, staring at the floor. "Good. You should get dressed. We have to hit the police station, coroner's office, and talk to all the witnesses today. Got a lot of ground to cover." He turned and grabbed his suit coat draped over the back of the chair. "I'm gonna get us some coffee."

And just like that, he left her again.

Thoroughly humiliated, Alice quickly and meekly got dressed in the gray pantsuit combination and black pumps. She pulled her hair back in a low, sleek bun and felt herself shaking while she shoved pins into her head to hold the hair in place.

It was strange to watch the hazy memories from last night with a clear mind now. Maybe at the time, Alice had a right to be mad at Dean. After all, he hadn't been treating her very fairly since they had left Bobby's. However, she had reacted like a child. She'd stormed out of a fight and got trashed at a bar. Then, she comes back to the room where he was with another man. Although at that point, there was no intention for the two of them to have sex, it didn't matter. It had been unfair to Dean and now—like he always did—he was all work and had locked down in feelings. She knew she wouldn't be able to get anything out of him until the hunt was over.

Trying to bring up what happened last night would only distract Dean and throw him off his game. Alice knew that his way to stay focused was to adopt a tunnel vision and ignore all other problems except for the hunt.

So, that's what she would do too.

Taking a deep breath, Alice forced one last pin in her head and smoothed down her hair one last time.

Staring at herself in the mirror, she arranged her features into a cold, apathetic glower.

It wasn't time for her to grovel on her knees.

It was time to work.

---

In Bobby's front room, Sam was on the couch, leaned over his laptop, furiously typing away. The neat collection of paper's he had organized were now exploded over the coffee table. For hours, Sam had been paging through atlases, weather charts, and newspaper clippings, attempting to gain any lead on the yellow eyed demon, even if it meant going without Dean.

He had woken up early in the morning, shouting and breathing so loudly, Bobby had ran into the room with a pumped shotgun. Quickly realizing it was just a nightmare, and that the kids were right behind him, Bobby had kicked the shotgun under the bed. After explaining what had happened, Cara and Noah rubbed their tired eyes and went back to bed. However, Bobby stayed behind and tried to interrogate Sam about what was wrong. Insisting it was nothing, Sam said he was up for the day anyways.

Since then, Sam had been camped out in the front room. He would've used the study, but as a precaution, he picked on out of the way of the traffic. The location served the dual purpose of keeping Cara and Noah unaware of what he was doing, but also to get some work done.

But God.

The dream.

Never had he ever woken up viscerally screaming from a nightmare, but this one had been the worst.

It was about Jess again. But this time, right before she was about to burn, Jess threw herself down from the ceiling and landed in front of Sam, blinking with glowing yellow eyes. With a chilling smile that his Jess never would have made, the possessed, dream-twisted Jess raised her hand as the fire converged and flung straight into Sam's vision.

That was when the entire Singer house was woken up by the screaming.

He didn't want to have to think about that damn demon anymore, but it was hard not to when the bastard and Jess appeared every night in his head.

Currently, it was nine in the morning and Sam had been parked on that couch for five hours. He'd gone through two pots of coffee and was itching for another cup.

Stretching out his muscles from the position they had been in, Sam sighed and yawned. As he was twisting his body to relieve some tension from the muscles in his back, he caught movement outside the front window. Then, it was followed by a slam.

Tensing, Sam slunk towards the window and moved aside the heavy curtain, but the angle of the window obscured whatever the movement was.

At the front door, Sam contemplated yelling for Bobby or the kids. As far as he knew, the kids were far back in the salvage yard, helping Bobby pick out a car to rebuild.

As he was contemplating what to do, there was a heavy thud on the other side of the door. Grabbing his gun from his pants, Sam wasted no time to pull the door open, ready to point the gun at whoever was there.

But when Sam pulled the door open, he nearly dropped the gun.

On the other side of the door stood someone Sam had been trying to find for months.

John Winchester.

---

"So…we're looking at a vengeful spirit?" Alice asked as they climbed into the Impala. They had just talked to their last witness and everything seemed particularly cut and dry.

A man, Kellen Decker, had gotten in a car accident, after finding out his wife wanted to leave him. His car had collided with another car and killed a woman and her three children. Several people close to Kellen had died, and Dean and Alice had been able to piece together that he was a recovering alcoholic, recently relapsed. According to several sources, Kellen was a mean drunk, and his wife Helena had finally had enough. The toxicology reports from the coroner's office indicated his BAC level was nearly three times the legal limit after he was pulled out of the car accident.

"Seems so. But his body is still in the coroner's office. And we don't have time to wait until after the funeral to do this," Dean said.

Eyebrows raising at the insinuation, Alice glanced at his side profile. He'd been avoiding eye contact with her. Their act of distant, professional partners wasn't much of a charade at this point. Dean hadn't said anything to her that wasn't related to the case. Alice had learned to only ask questions pertaining to it. "So what are we supposed to do then? Torch the body in the morgue? That's a little conspicuous."

Dean shrugged. "We already know who it is. Look, Helena's friend that ratted Kellen out that he was drinking was the first to die. And then Helena's mother who hated Kellen, and now two of their neighbors who were known to spread gossip about the Deckers. Kellen is picking people off one by one, and it isn't gonna be long before Helena is dead just like her husband."

"Then why not just kill Helena first and leave everyone else alone? It's obvious his problem was with her."

Dean began explaining with his eyes focused on the road. "Because Kellen was an irrationally angry man. You heard from everyone we talked to that Helena was his prize that he liked to control. He saw all those victims as people who were trying to turn her against him."

"If he was so controlling and irrational, then why would he suddenly become so calculating in death? It sounded like this man couldn't see three seconds ahead of him. I can't believe he'd have the patience and take the time to kill all of these people? " Although Alice had never been on a case before—besides inadvertently on the Roy LeGrange one—she had a strange feeling in her gut about the whole thing.

"Death does things to people. Vengeful spirits aren't always like the people they were when they were alive. This is our guy, Alice. And we need to stop if before he kills Helena or the cops start suspecting Helena of something fishy."

After talking to Decker's widow, they had find out Helena was worried about what the cops thought. She said they had been dropping by lately and asking her questions of an accusatory nature. Although there was zero proof she had been involved in the strange deaths, she said she felt like the cops were closing in on her because of the alarming number of people close to her that had died.

Relenting, Alice pushed down the feeling in stomach. He was right. She didn't have any experience and he knew what he was doing. Although she had been appearing okay, her heart was still panging with guilt from last night. It made her perceptions blue tinted, throwing off her judgement.

"Okay," she agreed.

Dean nodded once. "Good. Then we'll do this tonight."

---

Sam felt the gun dropping from his hand. "Dad?"

Looking just as surprised to see his son, John felt himself taking a step back from the door. "Sam? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Sam snapped back.

"I'm here to see Bobby."

The familiar feeling of helpless rage from his childhood was bubbling up in Sam. He'd felt bouts of it when they were close to finding John or when they called and he wouldn't answer. "You're here to see Bobby? What about your sons?" He spat back. Sam knew Bobby hadn't been the biggest fan of John in a long, long time.

Craning his head to the side, John appeared to be looking for something. "The Impala's gone. Where's your brother?"

"On a hunt," Sam responded snidely. He held the front door tightly in one hand, blocking the rest of the doorway, very strongly indicating he did not want John to come into the house right now.

The older man's eyebrows raised in surprise at that. "He's on a hunt without you?"

"Yeah."

Reaching a stalemate, the two had a stare down for a moment before John finally sighed. "Sammy, I heard about your girlfriend. I'm so sorry, son."

Wanting to yell at him for where he'd been for the last few months, Sam didn't get the chance before John did something unexpected.

The father reached forward and pulled his estranged son in to a hug.

With limp muscles, this is not how Sam thought his first encounter with his father would be after more than four years.

When John pulled away, Sam was surprised to find some of his anger dispelled. So, in a quieter voice, he took a breath and then spoke. "Where have you been?"

Actually looking a bit ashamed, John spotted the ground. "Hunting the demon."

"That's it? Dad, we've been calling you and trying to find you nonstop. Dean almost died and you couldn't even pick up the phone?!" With each word, Sam's voice grew in volume, wrecking his father's flimsy excuse.

"Now wait just a minute, Samuel—"

"No! We've thought you were dead and then missing for months. And instead we find out you've been avoiding us? You won't even pick up the phone but you'll give Bobby a house visit? Yeah, like you and he are such good friends!"

"Listen, there are some things you don't understand—"

"Then tell me! You have no idea what abandoning your sons did to this family! Really great example you've set for your kids!" Sam had never made the connection, but perhaps Dean had subconsciously grown to believe leaving his kids was the best way to protect them.

Wonder where he learned that from, Sam thought bitterly.

Seemingly more confused than angry, John was frowning in consternation at Sam's words, trying to make sense of them. He knew there was some hidden meaning in them, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was.

Perhaps realizing he said too much, Sam clammed up. "Sorry, just forget it. Forget I said anything."

The ebbing and flowing tension was raising once again and Sam couldn't stand to stare at his father anymore. He couldn't. Not without saying something he knew he'd regret.

"You want to talk to Bobby?" Sam eventually asked.

John nodded.

"Okay. Well…I'll go get him…you wait here."

"Wait, Sam—"

Quickly, Sam shut the door in his father's face—much like he had when he left for Stanford—and stood there, stock still for a moment, thinking, had that really just happened?

And then, he remembered.

Cara and Noah.

Spinning on his heel towards the back door, Sam ran through the house, thinking about how John could not know they were here. He didn't think he needed to protect them from John, but Sam couldn't think of a scenario in which he could shove two kids in front of John, tell them they were his grandkids, and that everything would be okay.

Even he had a hard time when he first found out, but he couldn't imagine how his father would react.

And besides, it wasn't his place to decide when the kids should get to meet their grandfather—if ever. That was Dean and Alice's decision, and they weren't here.

But perhaps, by proxy, Sam was the one making decisions for them currently, since Dean and Alice were in fact gone.

If that was the case, then Sam didn't want John to know about Cara and Noah.

Once he was out the back door, Sam was yelling for Bobby, in an urgent voice.

It didn't take long for the older man to come running around a pile of cars. With a crowbar wielded like a sword, Bobby glanced side to side for danger, ready to swing the weapon with deadly precision. But, upon seeing Sam alone on the back patio, he lowered the weapon and slowed to a walk, ready to chastise Sam.

"What the hell are you screeching about? You scared the shit outta me, boy."

"Where are Cara and Noah?" Sam asked, eyes darting side to side, trying to locate is niece and nephew.

Shifting the crowbar so it was resting on the ground, Bobby shrugged once. "Last I saw them, they were dragging around a tire and rope, saying they were gonna make a swing. I told 'em 'good luck', that the scrawny tree out front wasn't gonna do much—"

"Bobby, my dad's here."

"Come again?"

"My dad is here. He's standing on your front step right now."

Face darkening, Bobby hefted the heavy metal tool over his shoulder. "What the hell is that bastard doing at my front door?"

"I don't know. But Bobby, he doesn't know about Cara and Noah."

Not needing to say anything else, the two took off towards the front of the house.

---

"Why'd you have to pick the biggest tire?" Cara complained as the two were rolling the hulking piece of rubber through the property.

"Because it'll be more fun."

"Uh-huh," Cara huffed, blowing a piece of hair out of her face.

"Yeah. And I'm sure you're helping me out for fun. I know you wanna use it too."

"Whatever you say, Noah."

"Why are you so boring?"

"I am not boring." Cara regarded him with a cool gaze. "You're just immature."

"Better than trying to act like a boring grown up."

"You know, I bet if you were less annoying, we'd've had the tire there five minutes ago."

"Well it's here now so…Cara, who's that?"

"What?"

Noah nudged her shoulder and pointed to a dark haired, mean looking man standing on the front step, peering into the window that was next to the front door.

"Umm…" Was all Cara could say before Noah walked past her, cautiously approaching the man.

"Excuse me?" Noah asked politely.

Startled, the man's head snapped around and his hands raised into fists, both defensively and menacingly.

Not liking it at all, Cara ran forward and clamped a hand on Noah's shoulder, ready to drag him backwards.

"Excuse me, sir?" Noah asked, this time a little more unsure. "Can we help you with something?"

Realizing there a no apparent threat, the kids watched as the man dropped his hands down, and had one of them shoved into his back pocket. "I'm looking for Bobby Singer. He around?"

Noah's thumb hitched over his shoulder. "Yeah he's just in the back—"

"Noah!" Cara hissed, hitting him hard across the back of the head.

"Oww!" Noah whined to her.

"We're not supposed to talk to strangers!" Cara continued, trying to keep her voice at a whisper.

"I know Bobby Singer. I've known him for a long time," the man responded, still a bit put off by the sudden appearance of two kids.

"May I inquire your name?" Noah asked, retaining the respectful decorum he was always taught to have when talking to adults. In response, Cara shook his shoulder violently.

While Noah could apparently talk to strangers with ease, that was not a skill Cara had ever recovered. She had always been distrustful of those she didn't know, and it was especially apparent after the Hanratty brothers had tried to drown them.

Now looking a bit amused, but also irritated, the man nodded his head reluctantly. "John Winchester."

And suddenly, Cara's hand dropped from Noah's and she felt herself moving forward, Noah shocked into place for once.

"You're John Winchester?" Cara asked.

"Yeah?" The man said, sounding a bit unsure.

"And you're Dad's—"

"—Sam and Dean's dad?" Noah quickly corrected, catching on to who this man was.

Now a bit suspicious, John narrowed his eyes at the two. "Who are you two?"

Cara was about to open her mouth, but Noah quickly smacked her across the back of the head, similar to what she had done to him.

Responding in irritation, Cara turned to glare at him, and Noah responded by shaking his head with wide eyes.

Now, Noah knew Cara found him to be an idiot, but she underestimated him. By him approaching the stranger cautiously and politely, he could possibly try to figure out what was going on. Unlike him, Cara would just clamp her mouth shut, and apparently not say anything, only to blurt out who she was as soon as a man coming around claiming to be their legendary grandfather showed up.

Now, although the man said he was John Winchester, Noah didn't have any way of knowing it.

But Cara, on the other hand, didn't seem to care. She had always been intrigued by the family she had never met. Evidently, she would do anything to meet them.

"Hey, you two!"

The children's heads snapped around when they saw Bobby and Sam approaching, looking quite frantic. Bobby dropped a tire iron to the ground and put on a smile when he saw the two of them. "I was wondering where you got off to."

Before either could respond, their Uncle Sam was there, each with a hand on one of their shoulders, ushering them back to the house. "Come on, guys. We're gonna go inside. Let Bobby and his friend talk."

"But that's—" Cara was pointing over her shoulder and at this point, Sam was practically dragging the two of them into the house. Once over the threshold, Sam slammed the door behind the three of them, only the old men left alone.

"What the hell are you doing here, John?" Bobby asked, not wasting any time.

Eyes darting away from the door, John focused his attention back on the other hunter. "Since when are you a babysitter?"

Bobby waved his hand. "Just some hunter's kids. He's out of town and had no one else to watch them."

John nodded, not believing him completely. "Who's their dad?"

"Ah, you wouldn't've heard of him."

Crossing his arms with a raised eyebrow, John was starting to believe this story less and less. "Really? Cause those kids seemed to sure the hell know who I was. As well as Dean and Sam."

Bristling a bit, Bobby asserted himself a bit more. "Look here, I don't need you showing up unannounced to my house and grilling me for answers about things that aren't your business. Now, I'll ask one more time: what the hell are you doing here?"

Moving away from the topic, John sobered up a bit. "I was wondering if you had any leads on the demon."

"You know I don't. And while we're on the subject, why the hell don't you answer your boys when they call you? You have no idea how worried they've been!"

"Speaking of things that aren't your business, they don't need to be involved in this. It's better if they weren't."

"That's not your decision to make anymore, John. Those boys have grown into capable young men who had been hunting just fine without you for the better part of a year. I thought you'd know by now, pushing away your kids isn't doing them any favors. You may think putting distance between yourself and them is the way to protect them, but it's not."

"What would you know about that?" John scoffed.

"More than you'd think," Bobby responded mysteriously.

"Well fucking great. Thanks for the advice. Now, where's Dean? Sam said he was on a hunt by himself?"

"Yeah, up in the lesser of the two Dakotas. Sam needed a break, I suppose."

"And what? He's friends with the Bobbsey Twins now?"

Bobby shrugged. "What can I say? He has a way with kids."

"Right."

There was a beat of silence. "Am I allowed to come into your house or am I supposed to hit the road?"

Bobby sighed for a moment and thought. "I guess you can come in. But behave yourself. And don't break anything," he said like he was talking to a petulant child.

Reluctantly, Bobby allowed John into the house, who the whole time, was muttering under his breath.

---

"That's our grandfather. Uncle Sam, that's out grandpa!" Cara said for the tenth time in three minutes.

"You said that already," Noah pointed out, feeling a bit numb.

Pacing in front of the closed bedroom door, Sam was trying to figure out what to do, as Cara and Noah sat on the bed, watching him agitatedly move back and forth.

"Uncle Sam—"

Stopping, Sam dropped down do his knees so he was level with the kids. "Look, Cara, I know you're excited to meet your grandfather, but you two know he doesn't know who you two are, okay? So I need you two to listen to me when I say you can't just go down there and tell him who you are?"

Cara frowned. "Why not? Why wouldn't he be excited to meet us?"

"Because, he just might not be, Care," Noah answered tiredly. He'd heard whispers of what his grandfather was like, and how the man could be. He didn't even know if he wanted to even meet the man.

"Your mom and dad had their reasons for not telling Grandpa John about you two," Sam responded.

"Call them, then."

"What?"

"Can you please call them, Uncle Sam? I want to ask them if I can meet Grandpa John."

Closing his eyes, Sam slowly stood up. He really should call them anyways, just to let them know that John was there. Dean would want to know.

"Fine. But I'm going to talk to them first. And you guys stay here. Okay?"

They nodded as Sam stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

He pulled out his phone to call Dean, who answered promptly.

"How's it going, Sammy? Those two behaving themselves?" Dean's voice was garbled, like he was eating something.

"No they're great. But uh, listen. Dad's here."

"What?"

"Dad's here. He showed up out of the blue."

Dean cursed and there was a sound of a fork clattering to the plate, the sound of Alice asking "what?" very faintly in the background.

"That bastard," Dean hissed. Still, Sam knew his brother was mostly relieved to hear their father was alive.

"Dean?"

"Yeah."

"Cara wants to talk to you."

"About what?"

"Lemme just put her on the line. Okay?"

Not hearing what Dean said next, Sam opened the door and passed the phone to his niece. She grabbed it and pressed it to her ear.

"Tell him what you wanted to say," Sam encouraged, not really sure what else to do at that point.

"Dad?" Cara found herself asking.

"Yeah, Care. What's up?"

"How's the hunting?

"Not too good. We haven't seen a single deer yet."

"Oh," she said, voice sounding far away. Dean could tell something was bothering her.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Grandpa John is here."

"I know. Uncle Sam told me."

"Can I meet him? I know you never wanted us to but, he's here. And I wanna meet him."

Dean sighed deeply. "Honey…let me talk to Mom. I'll call you back, okay?"

"Okay, Dad."

The line went dead.

---

"Your dad is there?" Alice asked. She had her arms crossed and was hunched forward at the motel room table. It was the first time Dean had said anything relating to the case, but it hadn't been what she thought she would've heard.

"Yeah. Apparently he hasn't dropped off the face of the earth. That son of a bitch. We've been looking for him for months—"

"What did Cara want?" Alice asked, steering the conversation back to their daughter.

Dean paused. "She said she wanted to meet him."

Alice was silent for a moment. "And what if she did meet him? What would happen?"

He shrugged. "I honestly don't know how he'd react."

Scrubbing both hands over her face, Alice thought. Cara was always asking questions about her grandparents—both sets—and Alice knew the girl was curious to meet them. Any of them.

"I trust Sam and Bobby. Do you?" Alice asked.

"Of course I do," Dean responded, tone suggesting what a ridiculous question that was.

"Well…your dad is already there. And so are they. Look, I don't know the man. It's your father Dean, and your call. If you think Sam and Bobby can handle the situation and keep everything under control, then I don't see why not. I think both Cara and Noah would want to meet one of their grandparents."

Dean contemplated that for several moments before sighing. "Okay. I'll call Sam. Let him know it's okay."

Alice nodded in approval, leaning back in her chair.

Dean was in disbelief as he dialed the familiar number into his phone.

John Winchester was going to meet Cara and Noah.

---

Cara and Noah were going to meet John Winchester.

Sam had just gotten off the phone and was a bit surprised to find out both Alice and Dean had agreed to let John meet the kids.

And still, Sam wasn't too sure about it.

It was with reluctance that the uncle led his eager niece and hesitant nephew down the stairs, to the salvage yard. Bobby and John were standing back there, Bobby hopefully talking in a way that wouldn't raise John's blood pressure.

When they finally made it to the back where the old men were shooting the shit, John turned when he saw Sam and the two kids emerge from the house.

"Dad."

"Sam." John still wasn't quite sure why Dean had left Sam behind to go on a hunt. Both he and Bobby had been dancing around the real reason why.

"Dad," Sam began again. "There's some people that want to meet you."

With a raised eyebrow, John watched as the two kids shyly approached him.

"This is Cara and Noah Mercer," Sam continued, indicating to each kid when he said their names.

Feeling himself smiling a bit at how innocent the two kids were, John dropped down to his knees so he was their height. "Cara and Noah huh? These guys here said your dad was on a hunt?" Before they had come out, Bobby explained to John how Cara and Noah thought of hunting in the sense of big game, not ghosts and ghouls. In his opinion, John didn't think their father was doing them any favors by keeping them in the dark about the supernatural. Kids would be better off if they knew the truth. But he'd play along. They weren't his kids, after all.

Both nodded shyly, not saying anything. It puzzled John. They obviously wanted to meet him, but seemed to have no motivation to actually say anything to him.

"Dad? There's something about you two that you need to know," Sam said carefully, walking closer to John so that he was between his father and the kids. He motioned his father to follow him so they were out of ear shot of the kids.

Reluctantly following, John watched over his shoulder as Bobby bent down to talk to the kids. Neither Bobby or Sam thought John would react violently, but there was a chance he could react a bit angrily, enough to scare two innocent kids that just wanted to meet their grandfather.

"You remember all those solo hunts Dean used to go on?" Sam asked once they were far enough away.

John snorted. "You mean still does?"

Sam nodded, distracted. "Right. But you should know that he didn't actually go on hunts all of those times."

John frowned, starting to not like where this was going. "Really. What was he doing, then?"

Chewing on his lip, Sam took his time to answer the question. He didn't think he'd have to be the one to tell their father about Dean's life-altering secret.

"He was visiting a girl."

"A girl. Just one girl?" John sounded incredulous.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. The very same one. Since he went on his first solo trip."

That made John frown and think. The first hunt Dean had gone on was when he was only seventeen. "So…Dean's been visiting some teenage girl he was infatuated with?"

"He met her when we stayed in Broken Bow, Nebraska. I think at the end of ninety-four."

John shrugged, not quite remembering it. They'd stayed in Nebraska a handful of times, but there hadn't been any eventful hunts there. "Dean's been going back to this same farmer girl for over a decade?" Although John never talked to Dean about the girls he saw, the older man wasn't an idiot. He knew his son wasn't unfamiliar with women. So, it was a bit jarring to hear Dean had been visiting the same girl for years.

And if that was the case…

"Is he seeing this girl right now instead of actually hunting?" John asked.

Sam seemed markedly uncomfortable and on edge as he tried to explain. John's voice was teetering on the edge, and Sam was pretty sure his father was going to lose it soon. "Not exactly. See, the girl is on the hunt with him."

"Is she a hunter?"

"No. Her aunt is. But she knows about the supernatural."

"What's the aunt's name?"

"Janet Sutton?"

"Sutton?"

"She was married to a man named Don. Also a hunter. Died a couple years ago. On the job, I think."

Seeming to nod in approval, John scratched his chin. "Don Sutton? I worked a hunt with him once. Way way back. From what I saw of him for a few days, he was a decent man. So what about this girl makes her so special?"

Wringing his hands out, Sam looked down at the ground. He didn't know how Dean and Alice classified themselves. He knew they weren't a couple because it was very apparent they weren't based on the way Dean acted when the brothers were away on a hunt. "She's smart and kind. Selfless. Not someone I would've thought Dean would go for. Honestly, I think she's too good for him." And the same could've been said for Jess to Sam, or to Mary for John.

Feeling the never-far-away pang of longing, John's vision flashed orange for a moment as he remembered Mary. But always, she was burning on the ceiling, looking down in agony, her eyes saying "save me, why can't you save me?"

Giving a small, but sharp gasp, John composed himself quickly and nodded, saying he accepted Sam's response as an acceptable answer. "And he kept this girl a secret for this long?"

Sensing John's voice moving towards the edge again, Sam attempted to placate him. "Look, Dad, even I didn't know about Alice until Dean came to get me at school. When he said you were missing."

"I didn't ask for him to look for me, Samuel. Either of you."

"All you had to do was pick up a phone, Dad. Just once all you have to do was answer once!"

"I don't see why you'd care, Sam, you haven't talked to us in over four years—"

"That's not fair! You were the one who told me to stay gone. You were the one—"

"That's enough, you two!" Bobby was suddenly between the two, shoving each of them in the shoulders. "You two want to bicker like children? That's fine! But do it on your own time!" Bobby pointed to Cara and Noah, who looked stunned, several yards away. "Samuel, you made a promise to those two, and you better finish it before bitching about your own drama. And you," Bobby warned, pointing to John.

"He's the one who started it!" John said, sounding quite like a spoiled child.

"I don't care, Johnny-boy. You're his father, so act like it. And I'm telling you right now if you don't keep your lid on for what your son here is about to tell you, I will send you packing with a round of buckshot in your ass. Do you understand me?"

Chastised, both men nodded.

Satisfied with the silence, Bobby waved his arm towards Cara and Noah. "Alright, Sam, let's get this show on the road. Tell your father what you need to say. Cause at the rate you're going, those kids are gonna have gray hair by the time their grandfather knows."

The air pressure suddenly dropped as everyone had the wind knocked out of their lungs. The only sounds for a good minute were birds chirping in the distant trees, and the wind blowing.

Bobby was the first to speak, realizing his mistake. "Ah well. He was gonna find out eventually. Just moving this along." With a sheepish smile on his face, Bobby turned and started walking back to the silent kids. "Balls," he muttered to himself, as he saw their frozen, innocent faces.

Even though the cat was out of the bag, Sam didn't feel the burden lifted from his shoulders. In fact, it felt heavier. "Dad…" He didn't know where to go from that.

John finally spoke. "Sam, explain." Like a calm before the storm, John's voice was dark and foreboding, carefully measured, but poorly restrained, like he was about to lose his temper.

Realizing there was no more dodging the question, Sam sighed and held out a hand to Cara and Noah, indicating them to come closer.

With hands on each of their shoulders, Bobby gently steered them towards their uncle and grandfather. But both kids suddenly looked like they wanted to run and hide.

"I told you before, this is Cara and Noah Mercer. And I told you, Dean would always go to visit a girl, and that she was on a hunt with him right now. Her name is Alice Mercer and these are her kids."

Everything was becoming clearer in John's mind as the pieces were beginning to interlock. Still, he wasn't satisfied with Sam's evasive answers. "Say it Sam. I wanna hear you say it."

If Sam said what John wanted him to, then everything would be revealed. He didn't know if that meant it would all come crashing down, but as if a wall had come over his mouth, it seemed as though Sam had suddenly lost the ability to speak.

It seemed to Noah that time was moving half as fast as it was before. Even Cara, who had been so excited to meet John, now seemed frozen. He knew she folded when things got stressful and that appeared to be what was happening right now.

Because he was the youngest, Noah always felt like other people were his mouthpiece. But he didn't always need someone to speak for him. Yeah, maybe he didn't always have much to say that actually was important, but for once, he could have a hand in something bigger than sports or school.

"I'm his son," Noah's solid voice shattered everyone's carefully constructed cocoons. As they all emerged like a body from a grave, he continued. "Dean Winchester is my dad. Our dad." He indicated to Cara. "Alice Mercer is our mom. And you're our grandfather."

But he wasn't finished yet.

"Cara—my sister, Dean's daughter, your granddaughter—has wanted to meet you for a long time. She's been talking about it and asking about you nonstop. It was kind of annoying, honestly.

"But Mom and Dad always said you didn't know about us. They always said they never got around to telling you about us. But, as we got older, we started to learn that there was a reason we never met you. Mom's parents never wanted anything to do with us. They said we were unclean, unholy."

Cara looked over at Noah. "Where did you hear that?"

"It doesn't matter." He waved her off. As usual, any real information the two ever gathered about their grandparents was via eavesdropping. In that case, he'd heard Alice condescendingly use the term to Dean when she was mocking her parents' reactions.

"I don't know if you'd think the same way about us, or something different, but still bad. But it that's the case, it's not fair, because, we've never done anything to them. We're just kids.

"So…you can do whatever you're gonna do, but before that…" Noah trailed off and moved forward. Reaching John, he wrapped his arms around the man's middle, pulling him into a hug.

Once he pulled away, Noah looked up at him. "It's nice to meet you."

Absolutely blown away by the little boy in front of him, John stared in shock. The little boy— Noah, he supposed he should call him—had moppy dark hair, almost black. There was a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, and he had bright blue eyes.

And the next words out of John's mouth, he didn't even have control of.

"Your grandmother had the same eyes as you."

Encouraged by the response to Noah, Cara carefully began inching forward, shyly toeing one foot in front of the other, until she stood bashfully before the older man.

"Hi," she said in a quiet, squeaky voice, wishing she didn't sound so scared.

"Hi," John repeated. John didn't exactly know how to handle little girls. All he ever dealt with were boys. But, he knew Mary had always wanted one.

Showing a bit of bravery, Cara held out her arms, waiting for a hug. Carefully, John wrapped his arms around her, not wanting to break the thing. She seemed like she could crumple like a leaf if someone hugged her too hard.

When the two pulled away, John straightened up and found himself staring at the two of them. The more he looked at them, the more he saw Dean and Mary in them. He didn't know what their mother looked like, but right then, he was damn curious to meet Alice Mercer.

"H—how old are they?" John asked, turning to look at his son, who seemed to be pleased, but surprised by the interaction.

"Nine and ten," Sam said, pointing to each of them.

"So…" Trying to wrap his head around the age, John found himself doing the math. "Dean was how old when they were born?"

"Uh…sixteen when she was born. And I guess seventeen for Noah." Feeling uncomfortable doing the math, Sam watched as the shock of having grandchildren was wearing off, and John was starting to realize the circumstances of the situation.

"He was a teenager and he decided to have kids? Two of them?"

"That's something you should talk to Dean about. And maybe not in front of them," Sam hissed, indicating Cara and Noah.

Looking back over his shoulder, John almost did a double take, as if seeing the kids for the first time. Seeing them in clarity, John felt his head begin to spin. Those two kids were Dean's children. His grandchildren. Sure, there was a part of him that wondered if it would ever happen, but not out of the blue. And certainly not two kids who had already been alive for a decade.

Like before, John started to notice similarities to Mary in the kids. He decided it wasn't fair that she was the one gone to see it. There were so many times and instances he tried to trade places with her, but nothing had ever worked. And now, here was life—new life—going on without her. Although it had been more than twenty years, he still often felt like time had stopped and the world hadn't spun for two decades.

"I need a drink," John suddenly said. Head down, he broke the circle and quickly paced to his truck. Hopping in, he slammed the door shut, roughly started the ignition, and haphazardly spun down the road, leaving everyone else in the settling dust.

---

Alice watched with misty eyes as Dean dropped the security tapes into a metal trash can. They plunked to the bottom pathetically. After pouring some kerosene over the tapes, Dean ceremoniously dropped a match into the can, and a giant flame shot up.

Shielding their eyes, the two took a step back and watched the fire eat away the video evidence.

After doing some investigating, Dean determined the Devil's Lake morgue had no security guard at night and no alarm system. The surveillance system was dated and shot on video tapes. So, it wasn't hard to break into the morgue, burn Kellen Declan's body in his metal cubby and snatch the tapes.

The entire time, Alice had watched passively, on edge at what they were doing. For godsakes, they burned a man who's family was waiting to bury him, and who's wife's life was now fractured because her husband was not only dead, but the ghost of him had come back and killed everyone that was close to her.

"That poor woman," Alice intoned quietly.

"Huh?" Dean asked, barely hearing her over the crackle of the fire.

"Helena Declan. Her life is in pieces."

"But at least she has a life," Dean responded. He glanced around the deserted forest preserve parking lot.

The two stood on either side of the trashcan in silence. They didn't talk about Dean giving her the cold shoulder, Peter, their children meeting John, or even the fact they had just burned a dead body, not even in the ground yet.

The two stayed until the fire died and they made sure there were only ashes left in the trashcan.

Finally, in the darkness, Dean made a move to leave. "Let's go. We should get some sleep. Gotta get up early to drive tomorrow."

Robotically, Alice turned and went to follow him.

And then, in the darkness, behind their retreating figures, there was a metallic clang.

In one movement, Dean was turned around, gun held at the ready. A bit delayed, Alice had initially jumped at the sound, fumbling for the flashlight in her pocket.

Her first instinct was not to go for the gun in her jacket.

Shakily scanning her flashlight across the landscape, she stopped the beam of light on the knocked over trashcan, the ashes scattering out. "Maybe it was just an animal?"

But the words died on her lips when she continued the beam of light, which found a lone figure, unmoving.

"Dean," Alice croaked, losing her voice.

"Who are you?" Dean demanded with a growl.

The lone figure continued to stare. It was a woman with shoulder length icy blonde hair. She wore a short sleeved paisley button up, stylish flare jeans, and leather high heeled boots.

There was a chilling smile on her face.

"I said who are you?" Dean demanded again, with more urgency in his voice. He cocked the gun.

Eyes widening, Alice realized why the woman looked familiar. It's because Alice had seen her before. Seen the woman's obituary picture.

The woman before them was one of the people killed by Kellen Declan's drunken road rampage.

"Dean, that's Amy Kincaida," Alice whispered in his ear.

Amy nodded to Alice. "That's right." She turned to Dean. "You burned the wrong body, bozo," the woman informed with a taunting, sharp voice.

Shocked by the turn of events, Dean sputtered for a moment.

"I don't like it when things are pointed at me." With a flick of her wrist, Amy sent Dean's gun flying into the darkness. "That's better. Now we can talk."

"Talk about what?" Alice stammered.

Rolling her eyes, Amy slowly began to walk forward. With arms behind her back, her boots clicked across the gravel.

"What are you?" Dean demanded. He felt himself moving closer to Alice. Grabbing her by the wrist, he steered her so she was partially hidden behind him, away from Amy, and whatever the hell she is.

"Um…dead?" Amy responded with a smart ass voice. "I know I am. I was driving, singing along to music with my kids. Next thing I know, I'm standing on the side of the road, watching as my body and my kids' bloody bodies are pulled out of our car."

"No but what are you?" Dean asked again. Based on her appearance, she was no normal ghost he had ever seen. Completely corporeal, he would've assumed she was just a regular person if he hadn't known any better. Put off by his fervent questions, Alice was beginning to realize something was different about Amy.

"Apparently a ghost, according to you. A hunter, huh? I've been following you guys around for a while. Didn't know monsters were real."

"They are. And I'm looking at one, right now."

"Ouch, Dean," Amy said, as if they were good friends joking around with one another. She sobered after a moment. "But why am I a monster? Because I died? No. Kellen Declan is the monster."

"Amy, I'm so sorry what he did to you and your kids—"

"Oh don't be, Alice. I've been getting my just deserts."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, keeping their backs away from her as Amy continued to circle them.

"After I ended up watching my kid's bodies be zipped up into these body bags, I saw a man staring at me from the other side of the road. He looked like a mess. Unshaven, stained shirt. I put it together when I watched him get pulled out of the car that t-boned mine.

"Kellen Declan, I quickly learned, was a drunk who like to abuse his wife and terrorize those close to him."

They were both ghosts? Dean quickly gulped. They had only gotten one of them so far. There was still another.

Expression darkening, Amy looked down at the ground. "His biggest mistake though, was getting behind the wheel of the car that day.

"Because of what he did, I made it may after death business to make sure he got what was coming to him."

"By making him kill those close to him?" Alice asked. She was trying to piece together everything that was happening.

Amy laughed. "You know, it's amazing what death can do to a person, or spirit I guess. See, Kellen in death, wasn't so tough. He was actually quite apologetic, kind of pathetic. I guess the alcohol really messed him up."

"And what about you?" Dean asked.

Grinning widely, Amy was trying to hold back a laugh. "I was a soft-spoken kindergarten teacher. I went to church every Sunday. I was a good wife and an even better mother."

The smile dropped off her face and she was no longer laughing. "I've never considered myself an angry person but…being dead just brought out a whole new side of me." Turning her head towards the trash can, she slowly moved her hand forward. In response the can scraped across the gravel until it was beside her.

"You know, when you can temper rage like a piece of metal, it's amazing the things you can do." Crushing her hand into a fist, Dean and Alice watched in horror and fascination as the metal can began to crunch like tin foil.

"How can you do that?" Dean was pulling Alice further behind him.

"What do you mean?" Amy asked. Relaxing her fist, the crumpled metal fell to the ground.

"I've never met a vengeful spirit that young and that powerful." And let alone one aware they were actually dead.

She shrugged. "Well, like you said, I'm that vengeful."

"Were you the one that killed all those people?" Alice asked.

As if pondering for the question a moment, Amy proceeded to answer. "Kellen." She thought for a moment. "I mean, I made him do it, but he was the one that actually did."

"Why?"

Amy rolled her eyes. Using her kindergarten teacher voice, she began to explain. "Abby, age five. Emily, age two. Joseph, eight months." Amy's voice cracked on the last two words.

"Your kids," Alice realized quietly.

Tearful, Amy nodded with a sniffle. "Their lives were ripped away from them. From me. I know you understand me, Alice."

"But why make Kellen kill people he hated in real life?"

Amy shrugged and flicked something off her shoulder, unaffected again. "Like I said. He was so pathetic. Felt really bad for the people he was an asshole to when he was alive. To really punish him, I needed him to take their lives. It really worked wonders."

Giving Dean the side eye, she gave a tiny sigh. "I know you're thinking about burning my body, now. Go ahead. Maybe that'll work. Maybe it won't. But if you're thinking of touching my babies' bodies, you better not."

Alice glanced at Dean, who wasn't denying what the ghost was saying. "Dean, you cannot burn her poor kids' bodies."

"But it that's what's keeping her here—"

"It's not. They're already gone. I swear. Look, I'm a little sad you burned my toy, but I have no quarrel with you two. You were just trying to do what was right. As long as you don't touch my children, we won't have a problem."

He scoffed. Dean was not about to bargain with a ghost. "Well, sorry honey, but we can't just leave you here to terrorize this town,"

"You won't have to. I want to be with my kids as soon as possible. There's just one more thing I have to do. One more person that needs to die."

"You're not touching Helena Declan," Dean said.

"I agree. She was gonna be next if Kellen was still alive, but I think you two may have done me a favor by getting rid of his ghost. I was a little blinded by the rage. Don't get me wrong: I'm still full of rage, but it's made me focused. Now I see she's just a grieving widow that doesn't deserve to die.

"But…there is a grieving widower that needs die."

Alice and Dean looked back and forth between each other, trying to figure out who the ghost was talking about. Dean just thought she was delusional. Alice thought she was a mother in pain.

"My dear husband," Amy continued. "Alice, you met him. Almost intimately, I might add."

Feeling herself pale and go cold, Alice began to shake. "Peter?"

"That's right. The handsome doctor? And not even a week after his wife and children are brutally killed in a car accident, he's a carefree Casanova—wedding ring in his pocket—trying to pick up ladies in a bar."

Amy stopped and eyed how Dean was suddenly pulling Alice even closer to him, and how Alice shook like it was below zero outside. "I know I make it cold but you don't need to shiver like it's the middle of winter, honey. And don't worry. You didn't know. I was mad at you, but I've seen how much you beat yourself up over things that I don't think anything I can do to you would be as punishing as the things you do to yourself. So keep up the good work." Amy teleported to in front of Alice and patted her on the cheek.

Reacting on pure adrenaline and instinct, Dean pushed Alice back behind him and flung a canister of salt at Amy.

With a screech, Amy went swirling away into the darkness for a moment, be appearing, breathing heavily. "Don't do that!" She yelled. Amy pointed a finger at Alice. "Don't give me a reason to kill her. Because if you keep acting like this, I will!"

"Touch her, and I will torch their bodies. Just on principle," Dean growled lowly.

Composing herself, Amy stopped and scowled. "Fine. But I gotta say, it makes me a little sick that you'd so willingly do that to my babies. How would you feel if I did that to—what are their names again?—Noah and Cara?"

Both parents were suddenly straightened up, watching Amy with cold, warning eyes. It was amazing how the simple mention of their kid's names could send them into a tailspin.

"I wouldn't hurt a child," Amy assured. "That's the measure of a real monster. Someone who would hurt a child.

"Well…I'm getting bored of you two. I wanted to find you to tell you to burn my body after I'm finished. Just in case. Now if you don't mind me, I need to drop by to visit my dear husband."

"Amy, wait don't—"

"Really treasure your kids. Tell them you love them every day. The sooner this is over, the sooner I'll get to see them again," Amy said.

And with that, Amy was gone.

---

It wasn't hard to find the Kindcaida's house. And once they did, Alice was banging on the door, yelling for Peter like he was an old friend to worry about.

"Move," Dean instructed, and roundhouse kicked the door down once she was out of the way.

"Peter! Peter! Amy don't touch him!" Alice found herself yelling as she dashed around the first floor. When she didn't see anyone, she made a dash for the stairs and caught herself in the first doorway she went to.

"Oh God," Alice whispered to herself.

Peter was laid face up on the bed. His face was purple, eyes bulging, tongue sticking out of his mouth. A tie was wrapped tightly around his neck and his hands—which had likely been grasping the tie—were loosely gripping the edges of the tie.

Only when she felt a tug on her arm that Alice was able to look away from Peter.

"Come on," Dean said quietly. "We've gotta go."

With a nod, Alice allowed Dean to guide her out of the house, while he wiped down anywhere they may have touched on the way out, same as they had done at the morgue after burning Kellen Declan's body.

"We need to finish it."

"Huh?" Alice turned sideways, realizing she was sitting in the Impala.

"We need to burn Amy's body. Just to be sure," Dean said. Looking around, Alice realized they were driving in the direction of the morgue.

"No, please, no more," her voice was hoarse and fragile, like it was about to crack. She couldn't stand the thought of seeing another corpse.

"Just one more. I promise," Dean insisted, looking at her carefully, like she might explode if he made her any more upset.

She didn't respond, but by the time they reached the morgue parking lot, Alice felt herself beginning to shake at the idea of walking through the doors. Seeing Amy's body would put her over the edge. Even though Amy had been a ghost, she looked healthy and alive. It would be too much to see Amy's battered and bruised body now.

Once Dean had taken the key out of the ignition, he turned to Alice.

Shaking her head, she felt the tears pricking at the edges of her eyes. "Dean, I can't. I—"

Leaning forward, he grabbed the side of her face and gently kissed her jaw. "It's okay. I'll be fast."

With a slam of the door, Alice was alone.

And she wept.

---

It took a lot for John Winchester to get drunk.

"Another!" John slammed his empty glass down on the counter petulantly, impatiently waiting for the bartender to make his way over with the whiskey bottle.

The bartender, a man, probably slightly older than Sam and Dean, approached John with a judgmental air. Matching John in pettiness, the man poured the drink into the glass with obvious irritation. "You know, the bottle's almost gone."

"Then you better crack open another one," John growled back. He pounded back the entire drink in one gulp.

"This is our last bottle."

"Bullshit! What kind of bar only has one bottle of whiskey on hand?" With a flash of rage, John reacted by throwing his glass against the back wall of the bar. The glass shattered loudly, causing the bar to grow silent, all eyes on the red-faced man heaving in anger.

Glaring darkly at John, the bartender slammed the bottle down on the back counter. "I think you should leave," he counseled lowly.

"I'm not leaving till I get another damn drink," John snapped back.

"Get lost you drunk!" Someone from deep within the bar called.

"Yeah, you're ruining it for the rest of us!" Someone else echoed.

"Mind your own damn business before I kick your ass!" John yelled back, turning around, trying to locate the hecklers. Spinning around so quickly caused his already double vision to multiply.

"If you don't leave, I'm calling the cops," the bartender warned.

Giving the bartender a challenging glare, John finally relented when the man grabbed the rotary phone and punched in the first two digits.

"Fuck you," John hissed. Pushing himself off his stool, it fell to the ground. "This place has the shittiest whiskey I've ever had!" He yelled, stumbling his way through the double doors.

---

Alice couldn't stand to spend one more minute in Devil's Lake, so as soon as Dean was done in the morgue, they gathered their stuff from the motel and drove like bats out of hell.

Once they were about two hours out, Dean gently guided the car down to a rest area near a lake. There was a dock near the parking lot protruding into the water, and several picnic tables were erected nearby.

Pulling the sunglasses off her face, even in the dark, Dean could see the shimmering quality of her eyes. He thought she'd been asleep.

"We should talk," she said simply, regarding him for the first time since they left Devil's Lake.

Talking about what happened was really the last thing Dean wanted to do, but he knew how hard the whole thing had been on Alice. "Sure."

The two exited the car and made their way down to the edge of the dock. Pushing off her shoes, and pulling up the legs of her jeans, Alice sat down and let her feet dangle in the cool, glassy water. Dean reluctantly followed and sank down beside her.

They stared out at the water in silence, Dean waiting for Alice to speak.

"I don't know how you can do this," Alice finally spoke. Her voice broke in multiple spots. She flagellated herself that even after a few hours she still sounded on the edge of tears. She suddenly wished she hadn't taken the sunglasses off her face, because even in the pale moonlight, it was still too much visibility for her to cry openly.

"I'm sorry," he responded quietly. There was a reason he had tried to keep hunting and his family separate. He knew how devastating a case could be on someone who hadn't grown up around it. It was really all his fault. He never should've agreed to take Alice on a hunt in the first place. And it wasn't as if he could say at least she had never gotten hurt—already she had almost died in the LeGrange case.

He should've known better than to take her.

"Don't be. I shouldn't have been mad at you and yelled at you. I shouldn't have gone to the bar that night. I should've have come back to the room with…Dean?"

"What?"

"I understand why you didn't tell me about hunting."

He was silent.

"I never want the kids to even know about it," Alice requested.

"I agree," Dean intoned. If there was something they would always agree on, it was the safety of their children. "But there's one more thing I need to say."

Alice felt herself beginning to hunch forward, drawing herself into a ball.

"I should've listened to you. You were right about Kellen. I was just to mad at myself for letting you come with. I just wish you never had to see me like that."

"It seems like we both have things to be sorry for," Alice responded. "Let's forgive and move on." She didn't want to forget, however, she needed the reminder of how hard Dean's job was. She needed the images of Peter's dead body, and Amy's sadness over her children to keep Cara and Noah safe and her thoughts in perspective.

"Agreed," Dean said. Standing up, he held out a hand to Alice.

Once they were both up, he pulled the keys out of his pocket. "Let's get the hell out of here."

---

They arrived at Bobby's around sunrise.

Upon seeing John's pickup truck parked in front of the house, Dean began to feel strange. The pickup truck meant his father was safe and sound, but it also meant he had met his grandchildren.

"That's his car, isn't it?" Alice felt herself asking, unable to look away from the truck.

Dean nodded. "Yeah." Letting out a deep breath, as the two approached the door, he pulled out his key and turned the lock to Bobby's front door.

Once in the dark house, there was the sound of glass dropping to the floor. Ready to grab his gun, Dean slowly moved into the house. "Bobby? Sam? It's Dean and Alice."

"Dean?" A voice from within the study caused Dean to freeze for a moment.

He recognized that voice.

"Dad?" Dean called back hesitantly, making his way towards the source of the voice.

"Yeah."

The two stepped into the room as one, and witnessed a drunken John Winchester slumped behind Bobby's desk. There were several empty bottles of alcohol around him.

Upon seeing him for the first time, Alice was frozen for a moment. Seeing the bottles filled with amber liquid caused her to see flashbacks of her mother, wearing a bathrobe, sitting in the living room in the early morning light. In the memory, Sherry holding heavy glass a heavy glass tumbler, shakily holding a crystal decanter with the other, as amber liquid poured into the glass.

Looking up at the two, John clumsily stood up from the desk, pushing the chair into the wall behind him. A loud thud vibrated through the house.

"Fuck," John muttered under his breath, grabbing the edge of the desk so he didn't fall.

"Dad." There was relief in Dean's voice. Although his father was completely smashed, at least he was alive.

"Uh-huh," John waved a dismissive hand at his son.

A bit stung by John's lack of reaction to seeing him, Dean continued, trying to keep his father's attention. "It's good to see you. Been awhile. You know, we've been worried about you."

"So I've been told," John retorted, words slurring in drunken sloppiness.

Watching Dean's disappointed reaction, Alice stepped forward, and held out a hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Winchester. I'm Alice Mercer."

Eyes flicking to her, John studied the woman in front of him. "Why am I only hearing about you now? Must be damn special to have my son keep coming back to you."

"Dad—"

"It's fine, Dean," Alice said, retracting her hand.

"Is it? I met your kids, Alice Mercer. My grandchildren? The ones that were a secret for ten years by you," John snapped at her nastily.

"Don't talk to her like that," Dean suddenly said.

There was a gust of air leaving the room. Never never had Dean stood up to this father like that.

John was silent, studying the way Dean and Alice moved together, the subtle interactions between the two of them. It was as if they were breathing as one, communicating without words.

And in his muddled mind, he came to one conclusion.

"You're a wicked woman," John finally said.

Even that shocked Alice. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." John staggered forward towards the two of them. "You've been clouding my son's judgement for years. You've made him unfocused, which puts him in danger while he hunts. You deceived him, twice, using my grandchildren as pawns, forcing him to stay around. You hid my grandchildren from me, Sammy's niece and nephew, and Dean's own children. What kind of woman does that? A snake."

"That's enough!" With an uncontrolled display of rage, Dean rammed forward into his father, knocking John back into the desk. Books went flying across the floor, bottles clattering to the ground.

Before Dean could go back to shove John again, Alice and a newly appeared Sam were between the two of them.

Facing Dean, Alice placed both hands on his heaving chest. "Please, Dean. It's not worth it. It's okay."

Facing his father, Sam was dragging John up by the collar of his shirt. "You need to leave. Now. Cara and Noah are waking up and they don't need to see this shit from you. So go." With a final push, Sam shoved John towards the door, who stumbled into the knob.

Turning around, John glared at his sons and Alice. "I'll admit, she's a pretty one, Dean. Hopefully she doesn't end up like your mother." John's gaze swiveled to Sam. "Or Jess."

"LEAVE!" Sam yelled, losing his composure, like Dean a moment ago. He opened the door and threw his father outside.

The three listened with heavy breathing as there were bangs outside and a slew of profanities. Eventually they heard a car door slam and the turnover of an engine.

Holding their breath for several minutes, Sam finally peeked his head out the front window and saw John Winchester's car gone.

"I wish we never found him," Sam muttered darkly.

"Sam..." Dean began.

"How can you defend him after everything that just happened?" Sam retaliated, on behalf of Alice.

"I wasn't going to defend him. But his is our father, Sam, regardless of everything that happens." Again, it didn't take long for Dean to begin talking like a good little soldier.

"You're just like him. Learned it from the best, didn't you, Dean?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean was moving closer to size up his little brother, who wasn't so little anymore.

"Why do you let him walk all over you? Even now, with her and the kids!"

"Hey, hey!" Alice yelled sharply. "Look, you two obviously know your father better than I do, but it's okay. I understand, better than anyone, difficult parents."

Sam and Dean looked at each other guiltily.

"We've all got our own shit to sort out, but for now, put a lid on it." As Alice said that, Noah appeared, rubbing his eyes, Cara coming a few moments later.

And as promised, the adults smacked smiles on their faces and pretended like there wasn't a damn thing wrong in the world.

---

I want to apologize for taking so long to get this chapter out. It's been a long couple months filled with work and classes. But hopefully, the length will make up for it!

I hope everyone is enjoying their summer and please, review and favorite! I really appreciate it and any feedback helps!

V.