John had just finished a job—werewolf in Augusta, Missouri, stubborn son of a bitch too—and was patching himself up when the breaking news report interrupted a rerun of Married with Children. Six found dead outside of Jimmy's Pub and Pool, gunshot wounds to the head, and his first thought was: Dean. He would never admit, not aloud and not to himself, but he was scared. What had his boy gotten into now? Was he okay? Was Sam okay? And how the hell was he supposed to help, four towns and three hours away as he was?
Sometimes he hated himself for the life he'd given his boys. Sometimes he doubted in himself and his actions. Was what he was doing really right? But then he'd remember his Mary's face—pale and screaming and begging, no, God, please, not her—and he knew he had to finish this. Even if it meant his death he'd find the bastard that killed his wife, that did this to their family, and he'd send as many sons of bitches back to hell as he could on the way.
He barely even thought about it as he dialed his oldest son and it only took two rings and Dean's voice was quiet when he answered. "Dad?"
He wanted to sigh in relief, to ask if he was okay, to be the father he knew he should. But all that came out was a gruff, "Those six on you?"
"Yes, sir." The answer was steady, though John could hear shaky frustration underneath the level tone. Meek as he may seem at times, his eldest was a feisty one. And still, even as he fought a grin at the thought, he couldn't help but be angry.
"Why? We don't kill humans, Dean." He had said it again and again since day one. Yes, maybe they were killers, but they only killed those who hurt innocent people. They only killed monsters. They were never meant to become the monster. He needed to know what had happened. He knew his son, at least enough to know he'd never kill six people without a damn good reason.
"They tried to get Sam, dad. Protecting Sam comes first," the shakiness was back in Dean's voice. His son was afraid. And that alone would've been enough to send a shock of white hot furry and utter mind-numbing terror through John, but that it had been Sammy—and he still remembered that night with the Shtriga and the fear of seeing that thing standing over his child's bed—there weren't words for the emotions coursing through him. He wanted to bring those bastards back to life just to skin them alive and not stop until they couldn't even scream anymore. How dare they go after his son?
It took many minutes before he could calm down enough to speak but Dean waited quietly. "You and your brother alright?"
It should've been his first question, after all it was the most important. And not even John could deny to himself the feeling of immense relief at his son's strong and sure affirmative. He could feel himself go limp, bruised and sore muscles protesting at being tensed so long after going through so much abuse already. And he knew he had to end this conversation quickly before his emotions started getting the better of him.
"Good job, son. I'll be back tomorrow. Be ready to move. Watch out for your brother."
As soon as he hung up he let his head fall back against the headboard. He could have lost his son tonight. He could have lost them both. To a bunch of humans, no less. Sometimes, seeing all that he'd seen, he sometimes forgot that humans could be just as bad as any monster, if not worse.
He let out a long breath and tried to focus on the TV once again. Tomorrow he'd see them both again, safe and whole and alive. This wouldn't be the last close call with them. In their line of work there would doubtlessly be many, many more to come. But he just had to hold onto the fact that they were safe right now, they were alive right now, and that was all that really mattered.
Flicking the TV off in frustration and plunging the room into darkness, he lay out on the bed and ran his hand over the cold and empty space beside him, the space his wife was supposed to have occupied for the rest of his life. Signs had been popping up more frequently of demon activity, similar to those that had when Mary had been killed. It wouldn't be long now. A few years, tops. But soon this would all be over.
"I'm sorry, Mary. I'm so sorry. I love you."
Soon, this would finally end.
AN: It's not as long, and not exactly what many of you had asked for, but here's John's chapter. It's really hard for me to write in his mindset, so I'm really sorry if I couldn't quite manage it T.T But hopefully it was acceptable nonetheless? Anyhoo, review and let me know what you think, pretty please? :) And thank you for reading!