When John Winchester first knocked on Missouri�s door, Missouri could feel the anguish and the rage pouring out of him like tidal waves. That was why she opened the door for him. She had to help the man. What could have put him in such a state?

What indeed.

The days and the weeks passed. John visited often � enough that Missouri began to understand that she was now his only friend, his only confidant. Everyone else, John had pushed away.

Including his boys.

Missouri assumed John would work through the pain, would learn to let go. He didn�t.

And each visit brought the same overwhelming flood of anger/despair/sadness. It made her tired, just to be near the man.

�What is it you want now, John?� Missouri snapped when she opened the door and found John standing on her front porch, looking at her with bleary eyes. An all too common sight.

He didn�t answer. Missouri heaved a huge sigh and stepped aside to let him in. He entered silently.

�Sometimes I wonder if I should�ve ever let you in my house that day,� she bit out, barely checking in her temper. She couldn�t help it. She wasn�t really angry � it was John�s emotions, so powerful that they were seeping into her own mind. Lord, she was going to go crazy long before John ever would.

�I�ve got to go out of town for little while, Missouri,� John finally said, turning around to face her. �It�s last minute, but I heard of a fire demon in Kansas City. I�ve got to check it out. You have to understand.�

�You want me to watch the boys,� said Missouri. It wasn�t a question. She already knew.

�If you could. I know, I�ve asked a lot of you these past few months ��

�This past year,� Missouri interjected.

�Yes, but you�re the only one I can trust to watch them. To keep them safe while I�m gone,� said John, and before he even said it, Missouri knew that it was true. �Just pick up Dean from school and stay with them tonight. I haven�t ever asked you to watch them before. Please. Just this once.�

He looked so� helpless.

Lord, she was getting soft.

�All right. Just this once. Because, John Winchester, you better not get in the habit of asking me to baby-sit,� said Missouri. �You need to take responsibility for your boys. And I ain�t no flighty college girl to come running every time you want to go chase shadows. I�m a busy woman.�

�I won�t ever ask you again. And I�ll be back tomorrow night, I promise.� John went to the front door, about to open it again, and paused. �Thank you, Missouri.�

�I don�t come cheap, either, John. You�ll be getting my bill.� Missouri took her purse from the hook on the wall and pulled on a coat.

At that, John cracked a rare - very rare � smile. �Wouldn�t expect anything less,� he said.

* * *

Missouri walked to Dean�s elementary school that afternoon, and stood by the gate, waiting. Sam held her hand, and he watched the front door of the school silently. John told her Sam hadn�t started speaking yet. It worried him � Sam should�ve begun speaking a year ago.

From what Missouri could tell, Sam was perfectly normal and exceptionally intelligent, seeing and understanding everything around him. He�d speak when he was ready, Missouri assumed.

There was something else about the child that Missouri couldn�t really put her finger on. Something besides Sam�s intelligence, something that lay dormant in the back of his mind. And Missouri suspected that Sam may have the potential to become what she was � someone with a sharp sixth sense, as Missouri�s mama used to say.

But Missouri didn�t tell that to John. The man didn�t need any more worries, and the boys would have to learn to deal with the cards that life dealt them on their own.

When Dean came running out of the school, he stopped short upon seeing Missouri, immediately wary. He wasn�t frightened, only� cautious. Oh, John had taught the child well. �Hi,� he said.

Sam�s face lit up in a huge smile upon seeing his brother. He broke free from Missouri�s grasp and went to hold Dean�s hand instead. Dean took Sam�s hand and stepped forward, slightly in front of his little brother, instinctively protecting him.

Well. What an interesting pair they made.

�You remember me, Dean?� asked Missouri. She�d be surprised if Dean did. She had only visited the children once, immediately after she first met John. He had wanted her to see them, to make sure they were okay, after the� incident. That was more than a year ago.

�You�re Dad�s friend. You touched my head,� said Dean putting his free hand up to the offended spot, his temple.

The child had a good memory.

�I was just making sure you weren�t sick,� said Missouri. And it wasn�t a lie.

�You�re a doctor?� asked Dean, meeting Missouri�s watchful gaze straight on. He didn�t even fidget. Remarkable, for a six-year-old.

�Of sorts,� said Missouri. �Your father had to go to Kansas City for the night, and he asked me to watch you and Sammy. Is that all right?� She offered her hand out to Dean.

�Okay.� But Dean didn�t take Missouri�s hand.

Missouri shook her head, suppressing a smile. She could already tell what kind of man Dean would grow up to be. Stubborn and full of spitfire, but cautious.

�You want to tell me what happened in school today?� asked Missouri, as they began walking back toward the Winchesters� tiny house, a few blocks from the school.

Sam looked up at Dean too, as if he also wanted to hear the answer to Missouri�s question.

�Nothing,� mumbled Dean.

�Don�t want to tell me about the fight you got into?� Missouri could feel it, at the forefront of Dean�s mind. Children�s thoughts were normally all over the place, making them harder to read. But the frightening amount of focus in Dean�s thoughts, even at this age, made him ridiculously easy for Missouri to understand.

Surprised, Dean said, �How�d you know?�

�The principal called the house today,� said Missouri, even though he hadn�t. No need to tell the child more than necessary. �So, do I need to be calling your father? Or is everything okay?�

For a long time, Missouri thought Dean wasn�t going to answer. �We had to tell the class about our families,� he finally mumbled.

Oh dear. That had trouble written all over it. But Missouri didn�t say that. �I see.�

�And� David wanted to know why I don�t have a mother. He said everyone has one.�

And Dean, being Dean, waited until recess and pushed David off of the jungle gym and began punching him, until the administrators finally pulled Dean off. Missouri knew, could feel the tug of Dean�s thoughts, even though Dean hadn�t yet gotten to that part of the story.

They had arrived at the house, but Missouri stopped at the front stoop and said, �You didn�t have to fight him, Dean Winchester. You could�ve explained to him, with words, why you don�t have a mother.�

�No, I can�t,� Dean suddenly spat out. Sam looked up at his brother, eyes wide, frightened by Dean�s anger. �I can�t tell him why, because Dad told me not to. Dad told me not to tell anybody what happened to Mom. And � and it�s not fair, because no one likes me and everyone thinks I�m weird and why does everyone else have a mom and I don�t?�

�Oh, honey,� said Missouri, but Dean wrenched his hand away from Sam and ran inside the house.

Sam stared at the front door of his home, eyes welling up. But he didn�t wail or scream, like other two-year-olds did. Even when Sam cried, he was silent.

What was she going to do with these boys? Missouri felt a headache coming on.

�Come on, Sammy, let me make you a sandwich.�

Sam nodded, and the motion splashed tears down the front of his shirt.

* * *

�Dean! Dean Winchester, come downstairs this instant!�

No response.

Sam sat at the kitchen table, eating a peanut-butter sandwich. He had to sit on a telephone book in order to reach the table. He had stopped crying now.

Missouri�s patience was wearing thin. She knew she never wanted to have children for a reason. �Boy, if you disrespect me one more time, I�m going to slap you with a spoon, so help me God. Come downstairs, now!�

Hard, sulking footsteps came down the stairs and into the kitchen. Dean didn�t say anything to Missouri. He sat down next to Sam. They looked at each other silently.

Missouri could�ve sworn the boys were speaking to each other, but they weren�t. It was uncanny. She could almost hear the exchange, which only happened with their eyes and their faces and their gestures.

Dean�s watchful gaze, a silent apology in his face. Are you okay?

Sam�s careful blink. I�m okay. He offered half of his sandwich to Dean. How about you?

Dean took the sandwich. Shrugged a little. I�ve been better.

Watching this silent conversation unfold, Missouri wondered if Sam didn�t speak because he hadn�t yet needed to. Dean understood him too well.

�Dean, has Sammy started talking yet?� Missouri untwisted the bread bag and began making another sandwich for Dean.

Dean stared at her, still obviously angry. Well, even angrier now that Missouri had questioned his little brother. �Sammy is fine,� he said defensively.

�I didn�t say he wasn�t,� said Missouri. She spread the peanut butter. �He�s a smart boy, I know. I just was curious. He�s been quiet all day.�

�Maybe he just doesn�t want to talk to you.� The child was practically radiating defiance.

If Missouri had talked back to her elders like that when she was young, her mama would�ve slapped her into next week. Missouri took a calming breath, to keep herself from doing the same thing to Dean now.

And the set of Sam�s mouth, mimicking his brother�s, showed that Sam was picking up on that stubborn streak, too. If Sam wasn�t already born with it. It seemed to run in the family.

These boys were going to give John a head of white hair before he even reached fifty. Missouri was willing to bet on it.

�Maybe so, maybe so. I�ll be in the living room if you need me,� said Missouri. She pushed the plate towards Dean.

And as she sat down on the couch in the living room, she realized that the kitchen was still silent.

* * *

Later on, Missouri went upstairs to the boys� room to put them to bed. She stopped at the door, when she heard Dean�s voice.

�Sammy, I know you can do it. Why won�t you?�

Missouri carefully peered into the room, through the crack of the open door.

The boys sat on Dean�s bed now. Sam had a toy truck and was rolling it around Dean�s bedspread, while Dean watched. Missouri wasn�t really surprised to see Dean sitting on the outer edge of the bed, to keep Sam from accidentally falling off.

�You don�t have to be afraid,� Dean continued. �I�m here. I�ll always be here. Come on, Sammy. What�s this called?� Dean pointed at the truck.

No response, at least, not verbally. Sam looked at Dean, smiling, as if to say, Don�t you know that�s a truck, silly?

�I know you know what it is,� said Dean, obviously getting frustrated. �But say it. Just try. Say anything. Please?�

Sam stopped playing with the truck. He looked at his brother. �Dean,� said Sam, in a perfectly clear voice.

�What?� Dean�s voice squeaked on the word, totally astounded.

�Dean,� repeated Sam, and he threw his arms around his brother in a hug.

Dean started laughing, and Missouri, who had never heard that sound before, was immediately charmed. It was an amazing sound. A crying shame it wasn�t heard more often. As soon as Dean started laughing, Sam joined in.

�That�s right, I�m Dean,� Dean was saying, over and over, while Sam continued to giggle.

Well. The boy�s first word. And Missouri wasn�t surprised at what the word was. Not at all.

She pushed the bedroom door open the rest of the way. At her entrance, both boys looked up. Dean�s laughter died and, again, that wary look shifted into place on his face.

�Bedtime, boys. Dean, help your brother brush his teeth,� said Missouri.

Dean didn�t reply directly to Missouri, but he stood and tugged on Sam�s hand. �Come on, Sammy,� he said, and they went to the bathroom without another word to Missouri.

Somehow, Missouri knew, even now, that Dean would never let anyone close ever again, no one except his father and Sam. By the age of six, Dean had built indestructible walls around himself � ones that would last for life.

Missouri took the toy truck off of Dean�s bed and put it on the shelf.

* * *

�Hello! Anyone home?� John called into the house the next morning. He came into the kitchen and Missouri was a little alarmed at the sight of him. John�s eyes were bloodshot and he looked worn-out.

�Dad!� exclaimed Dean, not noticing his father�s state. Dean�s eyes lit up � something Missouri had never seen before. He leapt up from the kitchen table and ran to his father, who picked up Dean and swung him around a little. Dean, laughing, wrinkled his nose. �Dad, you smell.�

�Sorry Deano, I haven�t taken a shower yet.� He held Dean out at arm�s length and turned him upside down, holding him by the ankles. Dean�s hair flopped into his eyes and he laughed loudly. �So, where�s Sammy? What have you done with my Sam, you scoundrel?�

�Sammy�s still sleeping,� said Dean, in between breathless giggles, and John reversed Dean again, cradling him in his arms.

John set Dean down and turned to Missouri. �Thank you so much. I mean it.�

�Thank me when you get my bill,� said Missouri, but her heart wasn�t into the joke. She was growing too damn attached to this family, and it hurt her to see John falling apart like this. She poured a cup of coffee for John and said, �You didn�t find anything in Kansas City, then?�

�No. Nothing.� John paused. �Dean, can you go up and get ready for school? I�ll take you.�

�Yeah,� said Dean, and was already running upstairs.

Missouri rolled her eyes to herself. Dean ran to obey his father, but he resisted Missouri�s requests every step of the way. Well� maybe that was how it should be.

�I think we�re going to have to leave Lawrence,� said John, when Dean was gone. �I� We�ve been here too long, and I don�t think Mary�s killer is here anymore. The fire demon rumor was the last straw. The trail is getting cold and I can�t stay. We can�t stay.�

�And where exactly are you going to go, John Winchester, with two little ones to think of?� Missouri demanded angrily. Her hand shook from gripping the coffee mug too hard. The man was a damn fool, she had known it from the start. �Dean is trying to settle into school here, and if you pull him out now, in his first year, and then move him all over the country, he�s never going to grow up right. And Sammy just spoke his first word yesterday ��

�Sammy spoke?� interrupted John, wonder and relief obvious on his face.

�Yes. And you would�ve heard it, if you weren�t running off to the ends of the earth. They need stability. They need it from you, and you�re a bigger fool than I thought if you think I�m going to let you go run around the country with my blessings.�

�Missouri,� said John, voice hardening, �I don�t need you to tell me how to raise my kids. There�s something out there, something dangerous. And I can�t stop until I know it�s gone. I want my kids to be safe. They won�t be safe until I find Mary�s killer. If that means I have to move them, I have to move them. I�m sorry if you disagree.�

�John. Don�t do this.� But dear Lord, Missouri already knew it was useless to argue. The idea was set as firmly into John�s mind as anything. There was no turning John Winchester away from his quest for vengeance.

�It�s not your choice, Missouri. I�ll keep in touch.� The finality in John�s voice left no room for Missouri to say anything else. She shoved the mug of coffee into John�s hands and marched out of the house.

At the last minute � she couldn�t help it � Missouri turned and looked up at the second floor of the small house. She didn�t know any incantations, any magic words, but she prayed for those boys to be okay. To grow up to be strong, good men � despite everything. But who knew if her silly prayers helped or not.

Missouri sighed and pulled her purse over one shoulder as she walked home. At least the boys had each other. She hoped it would be enough. It had to be.

The End