Alright hey, there's something John really doesn't mind talking about. Mostly because he needs as many people to know as possible if he's going to be able to do anything about it. Manny keeps trying to get him to recruit the few, very mortal friends he has left alive that he'd rather keep far away and (relatively) safe, but the right bastard never offers any backup from his own side.

"Magic's growing stronger, squire. The walls between realms getting thinner, near as I can tell. That's why the nasty bit of Mesopotamian nonsense earlier managed to manifest physically, how it hijacked our friends and got on with a bit of fatal sinning." Rules are changing: demons are showing their mugs in the daylight, and the power they'd lost to waning belief seems to be seeping back through the cracks in reality. If Cas and his grace hadn't been there for the highjacking, the whole mess back in town could very well have gone a much less pleasant way. John wants to ask for help, he does, but he's... just not very good at it. "I've been playing whack-a-mole with these things going bump in the night, but..."

He pops his lips, remembering Papa Midnite's words despite himself. All your efforts are in vain. Lovely chap, Midnite. "They're the symptoms, yeah? Not the disease."