Okay, so I snuck off with my mom's laptop and wrote this with no planning whatsoever and about ten minutes. So sorry for any errors!

This is told from Bobby's perspective, just BTW

Now, lets finish this freaking fic already!

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I was finally drifting off to sleep for the first time in days when John Winchester started pounding at my door. I was tempted to tell him to go fuck himself; it was three in the morning for god's sake. But then I thought of those youngins he was always dragging across the country. I decided to get out of bed, if not for John, then for Sam and Dean.

Now I have seen John Winchester in bad shape before. I've seen him with bones stickin out the wrong way and with blood pouring out what seemed to be every possible orifice. But I had never seen him with the look or sheer insanity and misery he wore on his face when I dragged that door open. Being a hunter, I immediately scanned the area, and was relieved to find there were no monsters, but distressed to find there were no Sam and Dean, either.

"Bobby," he croaked, tear tracks on his crazed face and sobs building in his throat.

Please God, no. Not those two. Those boys deserved nothing but happiness. Please God, let them be safe in some shithole of a motel waiting for their ungrateful daddy to come back for them.

But it was too late, and not amount of praying was gonna change that. Though John certainly believed differently.

He stayed with me about a month. A month he went without eating, or talkin, or doing anything outside of reading all the books I owned, searching desperately for something he could blame for the new tragedy that had befallen him. He didn't tear his eyes away from the words, and I didn't stop calling everyone I had in my phonebook, trying my best to help.

I knew these boys most of their lives. I had been there when Sammy had taken his first step, and Dean had had his first day of school at the kindergarten in Sioux Falls. We had had many late night adventures, making pizza or reading stories. Hell, I had gotten my goddamed dog because I knew Sam wanted one with a burning passion and I knew John, the idgit, always shot him down. And, more importantly, I had witnessed the two brothers growing up together. Sure, I put the bandaid on Sam's skinned knee, but Dean held his hand the whole time, and played his dumb games the rest of the week, and snuck into Sam's bed each night to make sure he really was okay. He knew that, while the kids might not have been happy with their life, they were happy with each other. What Sam did, it just didn't make sense. The kid would not have killed himself, I just couldn't see it. So, yeah, I agreed with John, and took the search up with a frenzy.

I did not, however, believe with his obsession with bringing them back. I had long sense made my peace with heaven. I believe in it, I have to. It's where my wife is, my mother, my cousins and grandparents and all of the other souls that had given me comfort growing up. I believe that that is exactly where Mary Winchester is, and so are her sons. I miss the kids, and wish to heaven and hell they were still with me, but I get a semblance of comfort from the idea that they are somewhere where they will never have to worry about each other again, and somewhere where they can be with the mother they had been brought up to revere.

I had seen other hunters, other people come back from the dead in my time. And on every occasion, it ended poorly. I didn't want to drag the boys down from heaven with some curse that would eventually send them to hell. I tried to voice my concerns to John, but he would not hear it. He just kept repeating that he would protect them, this time he would save them. He just needed another chance. Suffice to say, I was a tad frightened for the Winchester family.

Then we found it. A tip, from some random hunter number in my phone, and John was off, looking through a book buried deep under all the others. It was a short entry, no pictures or bold words to draw the eye. But there it was.

Name: Veitrein

Origin: Germany

Age: 900+

Description: Physical description alters as it hunts. It latches onto prey's mind, feeds off of it until the kill. Does so by gaining prey's trust, and lulling them into a sense of false security. Looks into their mind, and changes their appearance to provide the prey with someone more comfortable. Often takes subtly after close family and friends. Plays with the prey's mind, and can push into insanity. Convinces prey to kill one's self to join it. Is known to follow family or anyone that noticed a possible abnormal piece to the prey's death. Kills all possible witnesses, driving them crazy first.

Cannot be killed.

Cannot be traced.

Cannot be hunted.

And then, writing in small, neat handwriting,

You cannot find me John Winchester.

John left that night, taking the book with him, and the number of the hunter who had suggested it. I didn't suggest to him how odd it was that he already knew exactly where the book was, as though he had had it before. I didn't say how the handwriting looked exactly like his. I didn't have time to mention how he seemed to be going rather crazy. No, I had time for none of these things. John Winchester left, taking all news of his dead sons with him, and disappeared into the night, never to be seen again.

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Whoah. Guys, I just finished my first actual long fic. THIS HAS BEEN SO GREAT. You guys, especially, have be GREAT. I cannot imagine having actually completed this if I hadn't been for you guys, so really, thanks. I has been an amazing journey, and I am looking forward to doing this again!