Disclaimer: Supernatural and all its characters belong to Kripke and the CW. I own nothing.

Title taken from the Eric Clapton song of the same name.

AN- For the purposes of this story, Epipens had not been invented yet. Not sure if they were around in the 80's or not and couldn't find any info on when they were first available on the internet.

Warning: There is a death in this chapter. (not the boys)

Six year old Sammy Winchester dashed out the backdoor of his classroom with his friends Trent and Logan. Running onto the playground the three boys stopped in front of the jungle gym and Trent dropped the soccer ball he was carrying onto the ground. He raised his foot to kick only to stop as their teacher's voice called his name.

"Trent, you boys go away from the playground equipment if you want to play ball." Ms. Marshall instructed pointing to a grassy area at the far edge of the playground.

"Yes ma'am" the boys replied. Scooping up their ball the three friends raced across the playground to the small, empty spot beside the woods.

Trent, a tall dark headed boy with gleaming brown eyes, set the soccer ball down once more. Taking a couple of baby steps back he ran up and kicked the ball to Sammy who dribbled the ball across to the bench before passing it to the smallest member of the group. Tongue stuck out in concentration Logan pushed his sliding glasses back up and readied himself to kick it. Waiting till the last second he raised his foot and kicked with all his might landing on his behind as he missed the ball completely.

"I'll get it!" Trent hollered as he dashed towards the woods after the rolling soccer ball.

"You alright, Logan?" Sammy asked as he dropped down next to his friend. He looked the blond haired, blue eyed boy over searching for any injuries and smiling when he found none. Standing he helped Logan to his feet and then brushed the dirt and grass off his jeans. "You'll kick it next time" he said patting the other boy's back as they started walking. "Dean says you just have to keep practicing if you want to be a good player like he is."

"I practice all the time and I still can't kick the ball." Logan whined. "I'm never gonna get it right."

"Yes, you will" Sam encouraged snapping his fingers as an idea came to him. "Hey, maybe you can come to the park with me and Dean. I bet he could teach you. Dean's the best!"

"You think he would?" Logan asked.

"Sure, he will. Dean's always helping me." Sammy replied stopping at the edge of the woods. Looking over at Trent who was using a stick to search the bushes for his ball the littlest Winchester called, "Did you find it?"

Dropping the stick the first grader leaned down pulling something out of one of the bushes. "I got it!" he yelled holding up his prize. He sidestepped through the bushes heading for his friends. "It was stuck in that…OW!"

"What's a matter, Trent?" Sammy asked hurrying to his friend's side.

Trent rubbed the side of his neck. "A bee stung me." He sniffed.

"Want us to go get Ms. Marshall?" Logan questioned staring at the raised red bump on his friend's neck.

"Don't be a baby." Trent huffed. "It's just a *wheeze* bee sting."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked. Taking in his friend's pale, sweaty face and the way he was breathing hard he added, "You don't look so good."

"I can't, *wheeze* I can't br-breathe" Trent gasped out as he dropped to his knees.

"Trent!" Sammy hollered dropping down beside his friend. He grabbed the other boy and helped him lay on the ground before turning to a terrified Logan. "Logan, go get Ms. Marshall now!" he barked. He waited for the little boy to run off and then turned his attention back to his ailing friend. "You're gonna be okay, Trent. Logan's getting Ms. Marshall and she'll make you all better." He soothed as he took Trent's hand in his. Seeing his friend's frightened eyes staring at him Sammy started carding a hand through the boy's hair remembering how the action always calmed him. Sammy mumbled reassurances and stroked his friend's hair long after the boy's wheezing breaths stopped and his lax hand released its grip.

"Ms. Marshall! Ms. Marshall! Come quick! Trent's hurt! He got stung by a bee and he can't breathe!" Logan hollered running up to the teachers sitting on the bench by the school. Grabbing his teacher's hand he started pulling her toward the far end of the playground.

Knowing immediately what the words bee sting and can't breathe meant when combined Ms. Marshall hurried after the small boy shouting out instructions as she ran. "Mrs. Cobb, tell the office that a child is having an allergic reaction to a bee sting and to call an ambulance!" Seeing two of her students sitting at a tiny picnic table eating their snack she called out, "Sarah! Jenny! Go inside and get the blankets from the reading center and bring them to me! Hurry!" Kicking off her heels she raced across the playground to the far corner by the woods. She dropped down beside her two students gasping as she noticed Trent's blue tinged lips and closed eyes. Grabbing the boy's lifeless hand she felt for a pulse. Finding none Ms. Marshall quickly began chest compressions praying that the ambulance would make it in time.

John Winchester slammed the ancient book closed and tossed onto the huge pile on the other side of the table. Rubbing his tired eyes he glanced at the last book and sighed. This latest hunt was turning out to be his hardest one yet. After a week of searching city records and a good number of Bobby Singer's book collection, he was no closer to figuring out what was taking people from their homes at night and ripping them to shreds in a nearby forest. Parts of the case fit the m.o. of several different supernatural creatures but not one was a perfect match. And every day that passed without a successful hunt was another chance for the killer to strike and another life lost. Scrubbing a hand across his beard John stood and walked over to the small kitchen in the house he'd rented four months ago. Snatching up the coffee pot he poured himself another steaming cup. There was something he was missing; he was sure of it. But what? He headed for the table to go over the information once more. Changing directions as the phone rang he set his mug on the coffee table and picked up the phone. "Winchester here" he gruffly answered.

"Mr. Winchester, this is Mrs. Robins at Westell Elementary School." The secretary said. "I'm afraid there was a little incident on the…"

"What did Dean do this time?" John impatiently asked. He didn't have time for this. He glanced over at the mound of research on the table before remembering he was on the phone. He tuned back into the conversation eyes widening as he caught the words 'Sammy' and 'hospital'. "I'm on my way!" he hollered into the phone. Dropping the receiver John snatched his keys off the hook by the door and hurried out of the house. Climbing into the impala he slammed the car and revved the engine. Throwing the gear in drive the Winchester patriarch sped out of the driveway and onto the road leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.