Author's Note: Hi everyone! Welcome to the sequel to "The Greatest Gift"! I really enjoy this little universe I've created and I knew that I had to write more for this AU verse. A word of warning, if you haven't read "The Greatest Gift" you won't understand a lot of what's going on here. Please go take a look at that story, as I'll only mention the events in it briefly here. Without further ado, here's the first chapter! Please enjoy!

A phone ringing in the dead of night is usually an indicator that something terrible had happened. A phone call at 2:30 AM usually meant that someone had been hurt or died. Normal people dreaded these phone calls. For Bobby Singer; however, phone calls at such an early hour were not an odd occurrence. He knew hunters who lived in different time zones; hell some of them lived in different countries! So, he hadn't been worried when he had answered the phone with a gruff, "Singer."

"Bobby?" It was a young woman's voice, timid and scared. The older hunter racked his mind to try and place the voice on the other end of the phone, but found he could come up with nothing.

"Who the hell is this?" He growled, because if he had woken up because of a wrong number, someone was going to pay.

"Nadine," The voice answered. "Nadine Young. We met two months ago after you helped me out on some research?" Bobby nodded as an image of young woman filled his mind. Nadine was new to hunting solo, but she had grown up in a family of hunters. She was experienced for a hunter of just 21 years old, but her research skills were sorely lacking; however, she was extremely polite and Bobby had been almost glad to help out. She had even bought him a drink afterward.

"Right," Bobby murmured. "Something wrong?"

"Listen, I was wondering if you could give me some information on another hunter." Bobby forced himself to rise from his bed and flicked on the lights to the hall as he shuffled to desk where he kept his contact info.

"Sure," He told her. "Name?"

"John Winchester."

His blood ran cold. It had been almost a month since John had vanished after trying to kill Sam and he had literally fallen off the radar. No one had seen him and no one could seem to find him—Bobby included. So, what was John doing now that he had exposed himself?

"Where are you?" He forced his tone to remain calm so as to not frighten her. Last thing he wanted was for her to hang up on him.

"Dallas, Texas," She replied. "I was in this bar, checking up on some things and he came over to me. Told me he knew I was a hunter. He said he wanted my help on something."

"On what?" Bobby pressed, fearing the response.

"Said he was hunting a demon that hadn't fully possessed someone. He was hoping that I could track down the host and let him know where it was."

"And what did you tell him?" He hissed, because dammit John was still hunting Sam and was now recruiting other hunters!

"I said no," Nadine replied. "There was something . . . off about him, Bobby."

"Off how?"

"Like he wasn't really all there, you know?" Nadine supplied and Bobby sighed. He knew. Ghost possessions did that to people.

"Listen to me," Bobby ordered. "He's dangerous. Stay away from him, Nadine."

"Why? What's wrong with him?"

"I don't have time to explain," He told her as he frantically grabbed his keys. "If he talks to you anymore, call me right away."

"Bobby, what—?"

"I got to go." He hung up and cursed loudly before practically sprinting to his truck.

Sam and Dean were in Dallas on a hunt and if John was there too . . . An image of Sam, bleeding and broken filled his mind. For the few split seconds that they had arrived at that desolate field, Bobby had thought Sam had died. Seeing Dean's anguish at finding his brother like that had broken his heart. They had been lucky that time—Sam had lived.

But would he survive another encounter with his father, especially if he had help?

Bobby couldn't risk it—those boys were just as much his as they were John's and he would risk life and limb for them.

He floored it and prayed he would make it in time.

"I'm sorry, Sammy."

The gun went off and the bullet entered his chest. Fire coursed through him and he felt like he was burning. John stood above him, sadness and grief in his eyes. Sam wanted to scream for help, but nothing would leave his lips. Why was this happening to him? What had he ever done wrong?

"Dad?" He croaked and John simply shook his head before aiming the gun once more at him.

"You're evil, Sam," John mumbled. "This is for the best."

He fired the gun again and Sam felt himself fall.

He woke up in a cold sweat, panting and blood pounding through his system. A buzz rang in his ears and Sam pinched the bridge of his nose as he fought the headache that was coming on.

"Sam?" Dean flicked on the lights and his concerned older brother was immediately by his side, helping him sit up on the bed. "Vision?"

"No," He answered with a small sigh as the headache increased two-fold. Funny, he had never gotten such a bad one with a nightmare before. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep finally getting to him? "Nightmare." He no longer needed to say what the nightmare had been about, Dean understood. A month ago his nightmares had been about Jessica burning into flames. Now, they were about John trying to kill him.

"Here, take this." Dean handed him two pills and a glass of water, which Sam gratefully took. It always amazed him how his older brother was able to know what he needed even before he did. Then again, Dean had practically raised him. It had been Dean who had taught him how to ride a bike, how to swim, even how to drive. John had only been there to force hunting techniques down his throat. His childhood had been seriously screwed up, but Dean had always been there.

Dean would always be there for him, that Sam knew for a fact.

"I'm sorry." He whispered and felt Dean stiffen beside him. Though he would never admit it, hiding from their father was taking a toll on Dean and Sam knew he missed John. Even though his older brother would always choose him over their father, Sam knew that Dean wanted to believe that the ghost possessing him caused all his actions. Sam would've liked to believe that too, but he had done research on it—ghosts could only possess a willing subject, meaning John had wanted to do this.

He had wanted the power to kill him. Even though a month had passed, that realization didn't sting any less. His father wanted him dead. His father thought he was a monster.

"Sam." Dean's tone was a warning, a sign that his brother did not want to get into this conversation.

"If I had—"

"If you had what, Sam?" Dean growled, angrily rising from the bed. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "Dude, we've been over this. What Dad did to you . . . it wasn't your fault." He met his younger brother's gaze, eyes full of love and a promise to protect him no matter what. Sam opened his mouth to speak when a bolt of pain cut off all trains of thought. "Sam?" He could barely see Dean's face anymore, his vision darkening, but he felt strong arms hold him securely.

Everything blacked out.

"The way I see it," John began, walking deliberately towards Sam, gun pointed at a figure tied to a chair. "You come with me or I'll kill her."

"Dad—" Sam begged, desperation clawing at him. Why was this happening? Where had his father gone?

"Don't call me that," John hissed. "You're a monster, Sam. You're nothing but one of those things we hunt. You need to be put down." The figure in the chair protested and Sam could tell that it was a young woman with vibrant red hair and sea-green eyes tied up. Panic flashed in her eyes and Sam tried to shoot her a reassuring smile.

"Let her go," He forced himself to keep his voice even. The last thing he wanted was to worry the girl even more. "I'll go with you."

"See, Nadine?" John told her with a sinister grin. "I said you'd be fine." The vision began to fade as Sam saw John point the gun at the girl's head. "Too bad I was lying."

He shot her point blank in the head, blood flying everywhere.

Blackness encompassed him once more.

"Easy," Dean soothed as Sam gasped. "Just breathe, Sam."

"A g-girl," Sam choked out. "Dad killed her to get me to come with him." He coughed violently and Dean cursed quietly.

"Save the details for now," His older brother ordered brusquely. "Focus on getting air, okay?" The youngest Winchester took some deep breaths in and tried to slow his pounding heart, but he knew what he had seen. John wouldn't stop until he got to him—even if he had to kill innocent people to do so.

"Dean—" He tried again, but his brother's cellphone interrupted him.

"Yeah?" Dean answered gruffly. "Whoa, Bobby, slow down." A pause as whatever Bobby told him sunk in. Dean's expression grew grim. "Okay. We'll stay put. See you in a few." He hung up and Sam knew that Bobby had brought bad news. Dean frowned as he faced his younger brother before finally saying, "Dad's in Dallas."

Well, wasn't this shaping up to be a great day?

Author's Note: And there we go, chapter 1! I've got lots in store for this story, so I hope you'll all stick around to see it. Please review!