Having arrived in the short space of time he had said he would, after worrying over those still left at the apartment under the guise of making sure they were properly prepared for all eventualities – an act that had been seen through by his wife – John had circled the area to see what they had to work with, then returned to the truck to load both himself and a bag with everything needed. The Colt was secured at his side under one shirt and his jacket, the one bullet – that was all he had right now, and it might be the only bullet they had for awhile – in it. Even now, part of him rebelled at the idea of using the only hope they had of taking down Azazel. Would Sam's abilities be enough?
It was a worry. Sam had taken down an innocent in the heat of it, that meant people needed to be to safety to give Sam a clear path to work. John realized Sam would want him out of there, but he wasn't about to let Sam do this without backup. He was still the father, and while he was trying to listen to them more, he didn't have to obey anyone's orders.
"Unless people have learned to fly, they aren't going to be here like that," he said with a snap of his fingers as he approached the boys, rummaging in his bag, "but it doesn't mean we all have to stand around doing nothing." With that, he rolling out a long white piece of paper on the trunk of the Impala and, with a several brief but clean marks of his pen, the property was outlined.
"So what's your plan here?" And John was expecting a plan, not just 'we'll storm the place and see what happens'. With this many people involved, they all needed to be where they would serve best.