Title: Hunters: Through Children's Eyes
Summary: On a job, something goes wrong and John is left to take care of our heroes in an…..odd condition.
Disclaimer: No, Jack is mine, OC's are mine, everything familiar belongs to someone else.
AN: Set a couple months after the Dream.
Sam shoved his things into the backseat, all but embedding the bags in the leather seats with the force he used, slamming the door hard after.
"Dude, what the fuck?" Dean shoved his brother. "You're gonna to scratch my car, bitch."
"Get outta my face Dean." Sam said pushing past his brother to walk around to the other side and climb into the front seat. He scowled out at nothing, refused to acknowledge his brother climbing into the driver's seat.
"Dude, what hell is your problem?" Dean demanded.
Jack came out of their motel, closing the door behind her and ambled along to slide into the backseat, shoving her pack on top of the pile.
"Sam?" Dean said sharply. Sam jerked his head around to glare at his brother.
"Leave me the hell alone, Dean. You too." Sam tacked on sliding his eyes to Jack before returning to glaring out the window.
"What the hell bit your ass?" Jack demanded, rolling her eyes at Sam.
"Leave him alone remember." Dean said mockingly. He started the car, warming up the engine till John came out of his room and was ready to go.
"Where are we going?" Sam asked turning to address Dean again. "Its been two months, there are no leads on Carl Rhodes. Dad mentions some Hunter's hangout once and then buries it. We're up and around again. I don't know about you but I wanna find that evil son of a bitch yesterday."
"I do too." Dean agreed, "But we have no leads, he hasn't popped up on the grip, Sam."
"You know better than anyone that when someone doesn't want to be found they won't be." Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel. John came out of his room, loaded down with his own bags. Dean watched him carefully, wondering the same things as his brother.
"Has he even tried his contacts Dean?" Jack asked from the backseat.
"Listen up," Dean twisted in his seat to address them both. "Dad wants to find Rhodes, I know he does, maybe not as bad as we do but he does. Or did you forget that we were the ones who wouldn't go after him when the trail was still warm?" Jack cleared her throat and Sam looked away briefly.
"I'll talk to him next place we stop." Dean promised.
"Good, cause I want this guy Dean." Jack said leaning forward. "I'm getting a little tired of people fucking around in my head and I'm lookin to make an example out of this demonic sonuvabitch."
Dean nodded feeling the familiar anger rising. He wanted him too. He'd been having the dreams, he suspected Sam and Jack had too, flashbacks of what could have been, all of it tearing to pieces, bleeding into the reality of it all. He never regret his life, he still didn't, but Dean didn't like having his memories reworked, to have his mother's memory disturbed. He hated it.
The past couple of months had been them trying to heal from the shit storm that the end of the previous year had been. Two near fatal hunts, sabotage, the Dream, not to mention the fact that, although Sam tried to get his partners to deal, they hadn't really addressed the aftermath of Tucson and Vinita, just avoided it like the plague and hoped to hell it would stay buried next time.
Dean was also well aware that out of three of them he was more than likely the one suffering the least. Another stab in the gut.
Things were not coming together well. He remembered Missouri's warning at Thanksgiving; that the next few months were going to be bad, very, very bad. Were they through the worst of it? Dad hadn't taken off again, Jack was having fewer night terrors, or at least getting better at hiding them, Sam wasn't having visions and for better or worse they were in more than good enough shape to start taking jobs again.
They were following behind John now, classic rock playing softly in the background. Dean on autopilot, caught in his thoughts, but still vigilantly aware of everything going on around him; The sedan three cars up that was trying to turn into their lane in front of his dad, the tape skipping just a little cause it had been played on two many times(he made a mental note to find a new copy somewhere), Jack looking out the window blankly, Sam staring straight ahead, his fingers unconsciously tapping out the beat to the song playing, complete with skips, the observant bastard. His lips twitched into an almost smile at that.
Dean's phone rang and he listened for a second to his ring tone, noticed the amusement that flitted across Sam's face. Dean's phone had been a casualty of the fire and he'd needed a new one, had made sure to send the new number to the people who he felt needed it and Sam had shown the fun that was ring tone shopping.
"Dad," He said flicking the phone open.
"Hey, we got something to check out. An old contact just called. A text I've been looking for showed up in a museum." John said, his tone saying this wasn't a friendly heads up and it wasn't a question, it was an order, as much as any anonymous set of coordinates were.
"Yes sir." Dean replied and snapped the phone shut. He kept watching the road as he said, "We got a job."
AN: Hi, people. I know I haven't updated a lot lately but I'm going to be better about that now. Contrary to the angsty Prologue, this is actually mostly a humor story with a healthy dose of that Good Ol' Winchester/Fontenot inner turmoil. Enjoy.