A/N: I should be working on all my challenges that are due on livejournal in the near future…but this idea wouldn't leave me alone, especially after You Make my Heart Melt got a nice response. So hopefully you like this one too .

Chapter 1

The windows shattered, allowing the wind and rain to blow through into the house. He tried to block it out; he continued speaking in the language so foreign to him. The lights went next, and he once again tried to ignore it and keep reading. When a figure appeared in the shadows and started to stalk towards him, he could no longer ignore what was happening.

The figure looked the man up and down before his eyes settled on the book on the table. He moved closer to it, running his hands over the yellowed pages. "You called for me?" he asked, not even bothering to spare the man a glance. His eyes remained on the book.


"Why would someone…like you…call something like me?"

"I…I need help."

"And you think I can help you?" The thing in front of the man slammed the book shut, startling the man. "You people haven't wanted my help for centuries. Too…righteous to ask for my help…"

"I read you were the God the Children…I thought-"

"I am a god! But you people have been too busy worshipping another to want me! Why not go to your own God?"

"He has abandoned me!" the man shouted. "I asked for His help! He did nothing! He let my son die!"

"I see," the thing smirked. "So you thought I could help where He could not. How did you find out about me anyway?"

"I…I found a book. I read about you. How you were the God of Children…Moloch…"

All of this caused Moloch to smirk even more. "Well then, that explains it all. So all of this," Moloch paused to wave his hand at the book and materials scattered around the table, "is because you want me to bring your son back?"

The man nodded his head.

"I might be able to arrange that. But it will require some work on your part. If you aren't devoted to this cause…willing to do whatever I ask…then you should just walk away now. I have no time for fools messing around with books and whatnot."

"I am very devoted to getting my son back," the man spat at the god.

"Good," the god smiled. "I need you to bring me a child…a boy around the same age as your son."

"W-what? Why does another kid have to be involved?"

"The…ritual…requires a sacrifice to be made with someone in your son's place. It is the only way."

The man looked conflicted. He hated the idea that another boy would suffer…that another family would go through what he did. "H-how do I know you are the real deal here? How do I know you just aren't some psycho claiming to be a Pagan god? You don't look like your picture in the book."

Anger flashed in Moloch's eyes, but the smirk never left his face. "I thought my true form would scare you off petty human. I guess I was wrong."

Lightning flashed outside and cast a light into the otherwise dark room. The god's form appeared human. He was tall and muscular. Lightning flashed again, this time illuminating a shadow around Moloch. The shadow was not that of a man's. The shadow showed Moloch's horns and bull like face against the wall. It showed his true height; much taller than the average man he appeared to be. Flame like shadows danced around him against the wall.

Seconds later, the lightning died down and the shadows went away. The man gulped back his fear at the creature he had summoned. He had to do this. He had come this far. What did he really have to loose? His son was dead…he wife had left…

"So, do we have an agreement now?"


Dean awoke with a jerk, sitting straight up in the bed. He looked around to see what had woken him up so early in the morning. It didn't sound like his dad was awake just yet. One look at the empty bed beside him was enough to realize Sam must have woken him up somehow. But his brother was nowhere in sight. Seconds later, he heard soft sobs and wrenching sounds coming from the bathroom.

Dean quickly jumped off the bed, nearly falling as the sheets tangled around his feet. He regained his balance and made his way to the bathroom as fast as he could. He didn't bother knocking on the door; he just opened it slowly. The lights were off, but the sun streamed through the dingy window. It illuminated Sam's shivering form hunched over the toilet.

"Sammy?" Dean kneeled down next to his brother. "Shh…I'm here kiddo. Come here."

Sam tried to compose himself, but his stomach clenched once again. He just barely was able to lean over the toilet before his stomach emptied what little contents remained. It soon tapered off into dry heaves that brought fresh tears to his eyes.

"Easy Sammy," Dean tried to sooth. "I'm gonna go get Dad. You ok for a few seconds?"

Sam managed a weak nod before miserably laying his head down onto his drawn up knees.

Dean ran his hand over Sam's hair, noting the heat he felt, and then left the room to go find his dad. He jogged to his dad's bedroom down the hall from theirs. The apartment they had been using for the past couple of months had been more spacious than the Winchesters were used to, but Dean made it to John's room in no time at all.

"Dad," Dean called as he opened the door and crept inside the room. John stirred but didn't fully wake. He had pulled a long night of research for Pastor Jim, and Dean knew he was exhausted. Dean walked over to the bed and gently shook his dad's shoulder. "Dad!"

John awoke at once, his hand reaching for the gun under his pillow until he saw Dean standing in front of him. "Son, what are you doing up?" he asked tiredly. His eyes moved to the alarm clock. "It's 5 in the morning, Dean…"

"Sammy's sick, Dad."

"Oh…" That had John shaking off the last bit of sleep that had remained.

"He's been throwing up in the bathroom. Woke me up."

"I'm coming buddy." John threw off the covers and reached for his a discarded pair of jeans on the floor.

"He has a fever too, and he's shaking real bad."


"Yeah," Dean sighed.

"Let's go see what's going on." John put his arm on Dean's shoulder and quickly guided him back towards the bathroom. Sam was still sitting with his head on his knees in the dark room. Tremors wracked the poor boy's frame, making him look downright miserable. "Hey tiger," John said calmly.

They heard Sam sniffle but he didn't say anything.

John moved so that he was sitting on the floor next to Sam. Dean followed and was soon sitting on his knees in front of his father and brother. Sam tried to keep his face hidden in his knees.

"Sammy," John said as he ran his hand up and down his son's shaking back. It finally became too much for Sam and he weakly launched himself into his dad's arms as best he could. John pulled him onto his lap and held onto him. "What's wrong kiddo, huh?"

Sam coughed against John's chest before replying. "Don't feel well."

"I can see that bud. When did all this start?"

"Last night," he mumbled.

"Sam, why didn't you say somethin'?" Dean asked as he moved closer to his family in the small space.

"Wasn't that bad last night. Just was tired and had a headache."

"Well, looks like it is pretty bad now kiddo," John said sadly. "Let's get you up and changed. There's a family clinic a couple blocks from here." John stood up from the floor with Sam still in his arms. "Dean, why don't you help your brother get changed and I'll grab him some blankets for the car?"

"Sure Dad."

John placed Sam on his bed and went to get everything they would need gathered up. Dean grabbed a pair of basketball shorts, a t-shirt, and a sweatshirt for his brother. When he turned back from the drawers he saw Sam struggling to get his lethargic limbs to cooperate.

"Let me help you, Sam."

Dean could tell Sam felt awful as it was, and that the fact that he needed the extra help wasn't making him feel any better. "K," he sighed miserably, knowing the sooner he got to the clinic, the sooner he would feel better…at least he hoped.

"Lift your arms up."

Sam did as he was asked, granted very slowly. His whole body ached and the nine year old just wanted to curl into a ball and hide.

"I know Sam," Dean said, as if sensing his little brother's thoughts. "I'm hurrying for ya. We'll get you to the clinic in no time and get ya fixed up." Dean helped Sam with his clothes. It wasn't an easy task considering that Sam was sweating, aching, and shivering all at once. "There," Dean said as he tugged on Sam's beat up Chuck Taylor's.

"Thank you," Sam muttered, casting his eyes to the floor.

"No problem." Dean sat down on the bed beside Sam, nudging his shoulder against his brother's. "Been doin' stuff like that since you were born. I'm a pro at it man." Dean smiled.

"Shouldn't have to be…"

"Sammy, you're sick. I don't expect you to be able to do it all right now. Remember last summer when we spent that day at the lake with Dad? He had taken a day off from," Dean paused, still not used to his brother knowing the truth, "hunting."

"Yeah, I remember."

"I didn't listen and didn't use sunscreen like you and Dad did. I got sun poisoning and was so sick. Dad had to carry me around everywhere. If I so much as moved, I felt like I was either on fire or gonna hurl. It sucked so much."

"You were miserable."

"Yep. Just like you are now."

Sam rubbed at his sore eyes and nodded. He then laid his aching head on Dean's shoulder. Dean smiled sadly and put his arm around Sam in order to give him some form of comfort.

Minutes later, John came into the boys' room and picked up Sammy. The small family made their way to the family clinic in record time. John shuffled the boys over to chairs to wait while he went to the front desk. Dean sat down in one and Sam ended up lying across the two beside Dean with his head cushioned in his brother's lap. John hated to see his son so sick.

"Winchester?" a nurse called minutes later.


The drive home was done in silence. Sam lay across Dean once again in the backseat with blankets piled up around him. He was fast asleep and Dean's fingers unconsciously ran through his little brother's messy hair. John could see it every time he glanced in the rearview mirror.

"He doin' ok back there Dean?"

"He's still sleeping," the thirteen year old sighed.

"How bout you son?"

"I'm fine. Just hate that he has the flu."

"Yeah," John agreed. "Me too bud…me too."

"Don't forget to call Pastor Jim when we get home," Dean said glumly.

"Was planning on it." John stopped at the red light and turned in his seat to face his sons in the back. "They'll be another time for it bud. I promised you a camping and training trip, and I meant it. I'll make time for it again, Dean."

"I know you'll try, Dad. Don't worry-"

"Why can't you guys go?" Sam mumbled from Dean's lap.

"Sorry, Sammy," Dean said. "Didn't mean to wake ya."

"Why not go this weekend?"

"Sam," John interrupted, "you're sick kiddo. The flu takes more than a few hours to get over. You're not gonna be up to a camping trip for awhile, especially if you want to get some training in like your brother."

"It's ok Sam," Dean soothed at Sam's down turned face. "I'm not mad."

"No, you've been looking forward to this since school ended! I…I can just stay with someone."

"Sammy, everyone's going on the trip buddy," John replied.

"Bobby's not. He said he was too busy at the salvage yard…"

"Sam, I don't want to leave you while you're sick. You've had the flu before…and last time you got pretty bad off."

"I want you guys to go." Tears started pooling in Sam's eyes but he remained adamant in his decision. "You promised Dean and he should still get to go. He can always teach me stuff when I'm better. Please?" His big puppy dog eyes stood out against his pale face and flushed cheeks.

John sighed…he never had a chance against those eyes…


Order forms, receipts, and books lay scattered all over the desk, taunting Bobby as he stared at the vast amount of work he had ahead of him. A car horn honked outside and he moved to the window to see who it was. He breathed a sigh of relief that it was the familiar Impala and not another customer. He then made his way to the front and outside. The summer air blew around him, making him wish he had taken off his button down.

Sam on the other hand looked as if he could use another layer of clothes. He shivered despite the hotter air as John gathered him from Dean in the backseat. Dean hopped out once John had Sam in his arms.

"Hey Dean," Bobby called.

"Hi Bobby," Dean replied as he moved to get Sam's bag from the trunk. "How's it goin'?"

"Busy…got buried with work for the yard and then keep gettin' hunters callin' in for research."

"I'm sorry, Bobby," John called over. "If you're too busy we can always stick around and hold out on the trip 'til Sam gets better."

"No!" Sam weakly interrupted from John's shoulder. "You promised you'd take Dean."

"You heard him John," Bobby chastised with a smile.

John shook his head and smiled at his son as he carried him into the house.

"Hey Sammy," Bobby said once they were inside. He ran his hand over Sam's messy hair. "How ya holdin' up kiddo?"

Overall, Sam looked like a kicked puppy. But he simply replied with a mumbled ok.

"Sure ya are," Dean said with a roll of his eyes as he plopped down on the couch where John was laying Sam down.

Sam looked like he wanted to protest but he just sighed and crawled over so that his head lay on Dean's thighs.

"Dean, he'll be fine," John warned. "He'll be fine here with Bobby. Ain't no talking him out of it. We've tried."

Sam managed a smile at that.

Dean didn't. He looked absolutely miserable about leaving Sam while he was so sick.

"Come on son. We've gotta get goin' if we want to make it tonight. Jim and Caleb will be waitin' on us."

Dean nodded towards his dad before turning back to Sam. "Feel better, Sammy." His voice was soft with worry and love. "Better not get any worse while we're gone."

"I'll try," Sam said with a smile. "Be careful and have fun." Sam weakly threw his arms around Dean's waist. Dean returned the embrace and then climbed off the couch.

John leaned done and gave Sam a careful hug as well. "Let Bobby know if you need anything bud. Don't be shy about askin'. "

"I won't."

"Good boy. We'll be back at the end of the week."

"Don't worry…I know how to keep an eye on him," Bobby said as he shuffled the older Winchesters out the door.

"I know, but I'm still gonna worry," John replied.

Bobby nodded in understanding and ruffled Dean's spiky hair. "You guys try to have fun. I'll see ya in a few days."

With that, Bobby turned back into the house to check on his young charge. Sam had curled into himself on the couch, and it was obvious he felt awful.

"Hey kid…"

Sam looked up at Bobby with wide eyes.

"How about we get some more Tylenol and get ya to bed again? I have your room made up already."

"Thank you," he mumbled.


"Damn it," Bobby grumbled as the knocking on his front door got louder. He really didn't want to wake Sam; the poor kid had been sleeping for a couple hours now. Bobby quickly opened the door, revealing one of his regulars.

"Alec," Bobby sighed.

"Nice to see you too, Bobby…"

"Sorry…I've just been busy. Come on in. Think I've got those parts you needed in the other room."

"Thanks, man. I appreciate you getting them for me. My old truck won't be runnin' much longer without 'em. And that's all I've got to get me around nowadays."

"What happened to that Taurus of yours?"

"Elle took it with her when she left…"

"I'm sorry Alec. I didn't mean to bring that up on ya."


Bobby nodded in sympathy and began rummaging through his desk for the parts Alec needed. A soft cough stopped him in the middle of his task. Bobby looked up from the desk to see Sam wavering by the door.

"Sammy!" Bobby rushed over to the boy before his wobbling legs gave out on him. Bobby pulled him into his arms and carried him over to the chair. He sat with Sam cradled against his chest. "What are you doing out of bed kiddo?"

"Needed more Tylenol…sorry."

"Sshh…it's ok. Let's get ya some more alright?" Sam nodded against Bobby's chest, but didn't move more than that. "Hey Alec, do me a favor and walk into the kitchen. I have a bottle of Children's Tylenol on the counter in there. Care to grab that and a glass of juice for me?"

"Sure," Alec replied. He got up to get the requested items, but he was a little confused. He had never known Bobby to have kids of his own…

"Thanks," Bobby muttered once Alec returned with what he needed. Sam gratefully took the medicine and some of the water. He settled against Bobby's chest once again and soon fell asleep.

"Didn't know you to have any kids, Bobby."

"Oh," Bobby said in shock, "I don't. Sammy here belongs to a friend of mine. Bout as close as I'll ever get though. John's been bringing him and his older brother here since they were little. He promised to take Sam's brother on a camping trip this week. Sam got sick but wanted them to go. So he's stayin' here for the time being."

Alec took everything in. "He looks awfully young." Much younger than Matty did. "How old is he?"

"Just turned nine a couple months ago. He's just a bit small for his age right now."

"He's nine?"

"Yeah," Bobby said with a sad smile, knowing Alec's own son was the same age.

Alec nodded. He had found his boy…