As the house creaked and groaned, warning it's inhabitants to get out, Dean stood still. He hated this. Ever since Sam left he wasn't sure anymore. He felt at war with himself. One part of him screamed: don't let him tell you what to do! what does he know? Because of him Sam's gone and your ALONE. The other part though, it reminded him of who he was. The soldier, the son, the brother. And just because he lost part of himself didn't mean he could give up. Sam's the one who left anyway. He knew Dad was hard headed, but Sam still had pushed him.

Dean did the only thing he knew how to do. He turned around and left. Slowly limping his way through the destroyed house, almost in a daze. Resigned to following orders for the rest of his life.

As he rounded a corner in the hallway and came to the stairs he saw something that made him sick to his stomach. Something that he had hoped to never see again. An image he knew would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.

"DAD!"

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John climbed the ladder quickly aware that Dean was still standing there. The boy would listen, eventually, he always did. John waited at the top of the ladder, out of sight, for the sounds of dean's retreating footsteps. It took longer than John would have liked but finally he could hear Dean's soft uneven footsteps leave.

Pushing away his worry over his sons apparent dissension, John made quick work of the attic. He searched everyplace he could think of that the fire didn't prevent him from getting to. Maybe lighting the fire in the attic hadn't been the girls best idea, but regardless, she had gotten the job done and he still couldn't find her. Just as he was about to recheck the whole thing again, praying that he would find her before the fire did, he heard Dean scream.

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NO. No, he thinks to himself. I should have been there. Not good enough, a voice whispers in the back of his head. And he lets it, it's right. Not good enough for sammy and not good enough for this girl. He throws himself down the stairs desperate to save him even though a part of him know's he's to late. And the part of his head with that whispering voice keeps telling him that he can't do anything right. If he had just followed the order right away he would have gotten there in time and she would still be alive. He presses his fingers to what he guesses is her neck, desperate for a pulse. He wants to throw up when he hears her skin crack and feels it give away underneath his hand. He doesn't let himself smell that smell. The one that almost smells like pot roast for a second before your brain realize what it is. He wishes his dad was here right now, he has no idea what to do. They were too late. She burned to death saving them. How? he asks himself. How could she have caught fire? the truth is it doesn't matter. She's dead and he could have saved her, so many different ways. He gets up and leans heavily against the wall. DAD!

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He was there in seconds. Beside his son as he leaned down and checked for a pulse. "Dean?" he waits a beat. "Dean, kiddo? Can you hear me?" no response. Suddenly the flesh gives way beneath his son's hand and John sees Dean wince and stagger backwards. Dean rises slowly, unsteadily to his feet. Deans eyes look panicked, but the shock quickly sets in; and it's all John can do to keep from crying out to his son. Dean's lips move but nothing comes out, and John does what he does best. He moves. He's always been a man of action and that's not gonna change now. He grabs dean's arms and begins to basically drag his son away from the carnage. When the finally get out of the house it wasn't anything like those action movies Dean watched.

Dean didn't get better, didn't make some smart ass remark. His legs gave out of the grass in front of the house. The house didn't explode it slowly burned away, to far out for anyone to have reported it yet.

John loaded dean into the impala, knowing Dean would be mad if they took his new truck and left dean's baby behind. After driving, well flying really at the speed John was going, dean started mumbling. At first john couldn't pick up a single word once he could he wished he couldn't... "mom?...Mom. Mom? MOM. MOM! MOOOMM! NO!" an endless chanting wail calling for Mary.

John had to pull the car over as his eyes clouded over with memories. The time Dean hit his first baseball without a tee, and Mary was so proud. Dean in his batman footie pajamas that Mary loved. Mary rubbing her pregnant belly. Dean, Mary, and Sam together in the hospital bed. John opened the door and fell to the ground crying so hard he was dry heaving. At first he screamed for Mary then he screamed for Sam and Dean. Mostly though he screamed at God. At a God who had killed his friends in Nam and then killed the only person who had chased away the dark jungles the creeped up on his mind. How could an all loving God have taken away the good parent? "No!" John yelled up at the sky. He sat there for what seemed like an eternity until he heard a firetruck pass by. He crawled into the driver seat and slowly made his way to the motel. Desperate for Dean to shut up.

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Yep, it took forever. It's not my fault though a swear. Jared and Jensen spent the month at my house hanging out and what was I supposed to do? So I'm sorry, I truly am.