The nightmares were bad, but the boredom during the day was worse and Dean was beginning to plot evil plans to get off his butt and back into action, but as long as his leg was acting up, he knew that his chances of getting past his father's watchful eyes were equal to zero.

After another week of doing zilch, Dean was about ready to kill somebody. Sam did involve him in the research, but in Dean's opinion that was almost as boring – if not more – as sitting around and doing nothing.

He sat on the couch, his left leg propped up on a pillow on the coffee table, his arms draped over the back of the couch and his head back while he contemplated the plaster of the ceiling.

Bobby was by the bookshelves, going over yet another tome of total and utter boredom while Sam was doing whatever research he saw necessary on the laptop. Dean had spent about an hour pestering him to let him use the laptop to at least watch a movie or something, but Sam needed the damned thing and since Bobby didn't have a television – who the hell didn't have a television in this day and age? – he was reduced to sitting there, staring up at the ceiling like a damned stick in the mud.

"Bored," he muttered.

"Huh?" Sam countered, not even looking up from what he was doing.

"I'm bored," he repeated a little louder.

"Yeah, you said that already," Sam agreed absentmindedly.

"What the hell?" Bobby suddenly exclaimed. He put the book he'd been going through down and pulled another one from the shelf. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"Has Sam messed up the order again?" Dean asked, hoping for some sort of distraction right now.

Bobby ignored him. Ellen, who had been working on something in the dinning room, stepped through, followed by John. "What's up?" she asked.

"This is up," Bobby said and handed her the book.

Ellen frowned, then glanced over the page he had opened it on. "And?" she asked, obviously not getting why this was such an eye-opener.

John leaned a little closer and arched an eyebrow. "Perdition?" he asked and looked up at Bobby.

"I thought that witch had that place locked down so tight, there were no records of it," Bobby countered. "Besides, I don't remember seeing that book before."

John glanced around the book-littered livingroom. "Are you telling me that you know every book you've got here?" he asked, a tinge of disbelief in his voice.

"That's kinda what I do, John," Bobby growled, a little annoyed. "And I haven't seen this damned thing before. As in ever," he added and nodded toward the book Ellen was still holding.

They eyed each other for a moment, then Bobby took the book back and leafed through it. "This is a whole freaking account of the creation of that place and the natural currents in the area that make it demon-proof," he said and rubbed his chin thoughtfully with one hand. "Something's changed," he added and looked up to meet Johns gaze again. "Do you remember where it is?" he asked.

"Big Bend National Park," John countered, then stopped short, a frown furrowing his brow.

Dean glanced at Sam, who was following the exchange closely. "Why's that such a big thing?" he asked and returned his attention to his father. "You were there. You should know where it is."

"That's the thing, Dean," John countered. "The second we left, I forgot. It just totally slipped my mind. But now I remember it clearly." He focused on Bobby again. "What the hell is going on?"

"I'll be damned if I know," Bobby countered and scratched the back of his neck.

Before any of them could make any further comments on it, something clattered against the front door. John and Bobby glanced at each other and then converged on the front door, weapons drawn. Ellen followed suit and so did Sam.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Finally some action and I can't participate. Man, I wish someone would just put me out of my misery," he groaned, then frowned at his own words while remembering a comment Sam had once made when he'd had a similar reaction. 'Be careful what you wish for.' He glanced up at the ceiling again. "Just kidding," he muttered under his breath, then shifted around and tried to catch a glimpse of the action. He could actually see the front door from where he was sitting.

John nodded to Bobby, grabbed the doorhandle and yanked the door open. Whoever had made the noise out there had obviously been leaning against the door, because a shape came tumbling in with the opening door and fell right into John's arms.

"What the hell!" he exclaimed.

"Jennifer," Sam said, sounding alarmed.

Dean couldn't really make out what was happening, and sighed with annoyance.

John hoisted the girl up and guided her into the livingroom, where he eased her down on the couch next to Dean. She looked dazed, pale and she was bleeding from a gash somewhere above her hairline.

Sam dropped down next to her, deeply concerned already. "Let me look at that," he said and carefully pushed her blood-matted hair out of the way.

"That's from a bullet," Ellen said, her tone tense.

"Jennifer, what happened?" Sam asked.

She blinked at him. "Everything went nuts," she muttered.

"Get her something to drink," John suggested. "She's in shock."

They managed to get her to drink a shotglass of whiskey, which did seem to settle her frayed nerves a little, and Sam spent a bit of time after that cleaning the graze-wound on her head.

John settled down on the coffee table and eyed her closely. "You went back, didn't you? To Perdition?"

She met his eyes and nodded. "I had to try and get some of the others out. But ... Annie went totally nuts. She was erasing memories left and right and George kept begging her not to, but she kept killing his memory too and he got so confused in the end ..." She made a face, obviously fighting back tears.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

She bit her lip and shifted a little closer to Sam. "He shot her," she whispered. "He kept saying he couldn't let her hurt his kids any more and he shot her. Right in the head."

Sam glanced at John, his expression pained. John in turn looked pretty grave too. "How'd you get shot?" he asked quietly.

Jennifer shook her head sadly. "He just ... went nuts, started shooting at random," she said and a single tear trickled down her face. "Tony's dead, too. And I don't know how many others."

Dean grabbed her shoulder. "What about Lisa?" he asked quietly.

Jennifer glanced at him, then her eyes widened in shock and she jerked sideways away from him. "Holy crap," she snapped and nearly ended up on Sam's lap in her effort to get away from Dean.

Dean made a face. "I don't bite, you know," he stated.

"But your ... but your ... but how ..." she stammered, then glanced at Sam. "It worked?" she whispered.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, it did," he said with a vague smile, that faltered almost at once. "Jennifer, what about Lisa?" he added and glanced briefly at Dean.

"I don't know. I didn't see her. She might have made it. I mean ... if anyone would, it would be her. She reads minds, after all," she said. "I just had to get away from there and I didn't know where else to go."

Sam slipped an arm around her and pulled her close. "You're welcome to stay here," he said and glanced at Bobby. "Right?"

"Sure," Bobby said and sighed. "The more the merrier."

Jennifer snuggled against Sam, still pretty distraught, and John rose and ushered Bobby and Ellen out of the livingroom to give them some peace.

Dean just sat there for a moment, feeling a little awkward, then sighed. "Guys, I would love to get our of your way, but I'm still grounded here," he said.

Sam gave him a glance that told him to shut up and he sneered lightly at that. "Dad! A little help here," he yelled.

John stepped back up to the couch, got Dean to his feet and helped him limp out of the room and into the diningroom, where after he closed the doors to the livingroom.

Then he turned back to face the others. "Shit," he muttered.

"That's one way of saying," Bobby agreed.

"I generally had nothing against George," John said and sank down on a chair. "I guess she messed with his head one time too many."

"It would seem so," Bobby said.

Ellen propped Dean's left leg up on a chair and shoved a pillow underneath it, then patted his shin lightly. "So, what does this mean?"

"That there are a lot of depressed kids running around out there with well-developed abilities," John countered and made a face. "Not good, in my book. It'll up the ante on the special kids, make other hunters with less insight go after them." He focused on Dean. "Has Sam had any visions since you came back?"

Dean shook his head lightly. "Not that I've noticed, no," he said. "But then again, his abilities have become very subtle since he had that ... fit back in Perdition," he added.

"Yeah, I know," John muttered, then glanced at first Bobby, then Ellen. "His abilities stay under wraps. I know that guys like Gordon knew about it, but with Gordon gone ..." He stopped and glanced at Dean with a slight frown furrowing his brow.

"Gordon's gone?" Dean asked. "What happened?"

"Nothing. It's not important," John countered. "We'll have to look out for Sammy a little more than we've done so far. Just in case. You know who we can trust, Bobby. Let's steer clear of anyone else until we know where they stand on this issue."

Bobby nodded and glanced at Dean, obviously uncomfortable about the whole thing.

"Ellen?" John asked.

She stood behind Dean now and grabbed his shoulders tightly. "No argument from me," she said.

"Dean?" John asked and focused on him.

"You know I'll do whatever I can to keep him safe," he countered.

"Good," John said and glanced toward the closed doors to the livingroom. "Seems like he'll be a little preoccupied for a bit now," he added and sighed. "Guess it's just as well. You're not up to speed yet anyway," he added and eyed Dean. "How's your leg?"

"Sore," Dean countered. "So ... what's our next gig?"

John eyed him. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"Our next gig. Remember what we used to do for a living? Hunt things? Kill evil sons of bitches?" Dean countered evenly.

"You're not hunting anything until you're able to run laps around this house without bitching about it," John said, his tone a little stunned.

Dean groaned. "Aw man. I'm fed up with sitting around here, doing nothing," he complained.

"You're impossible, you know that?" John asked and sighed. "You've been dead for over a month, and you just got your memory back and now you're bitching about being bored? Jeez. Sometimes I wonder if you're even my kid at all," he added with exasperation.

"There's no doubt about the lineage here," Bobby inserted. "No doubt at all that he's a Winchester. Both of them. They've inherited your ability to annoy the crap out of everybody."

John gave him a glare for his trouble, but wisely kept his trap shut.

Dean merely grinned. Despite the somewhat disturbing news about what had happened in Perdition and his underlying worry about Lisa, Dean felt good about life right now. Nightmares and general aches and pains be damned. They were a family, they were together, and even their father seemed to have lightened up a lot.

"So ... what do we do about Perdition?" Ellen asked.

"Off the top of my head ... I'd say nothing," John countered. "Right now, I wanna focus on getting Dean back on his feet and with all the slacking off he's been doing lately, training's on the schedule for at least a month before we're back in action. So, the world's just gonna have take care of itself until we're ready to kick ass again."

"A month?" Dean asked, stumped. "Dad ..."

"No, Dean. There'll be no discussing it. With what you've been through and what Sam's gone through on account of it," John said and gave him a deeply serious look. "We're taking this slow. I will not risk losing either of you over this. It's not worth it."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Ellen said. "A month of recuperation should do you good, Dean," she added and tightened her grip on his shoulders.

"Aw man," Dean moaned. "A month of this? You've got to be kidding me."

"Stop bitching about it, Dean," John said. "That's how it's going to be. End of story."

The tone of John's voice left nothing left to discuss and Dean resigned himself to his fate with a suffering sigh. But somewhere deep down, he knew he would enjoy this time more than anything. And he eventually smirked. "Yes, sir," he finally said.

John merely smiled, then reached out and patted his leg. "That's my boy," he countered.

The End