John pulled the old batteries out of his police radio, replacing them with two new Energizers he had picked up earlier that day. He slid the batteries' cover back onto the radio and rose, collecting the scrap from the package the new batteries came in and the old batteries. He crossed the room, tossing them in the garbage can.
On his way back to his chair, he glanced over at his sons. They hadn't been asleep long, an hour tops. Like always, no matter how hard he tried to stay awake, Sam was the first one down. Dean took a few extra minutes to fall asleep. John always figured his oldest wanted to make sure everyone else was safe before he really let himself fully rest. Or get as much rest as any hunter could get. Looking at them, he had no trouble picturing the little boys they once were. The little boys they could never be again.
Heavily, John sat back in his chair. He turned the radio back on, flicking through the channels until he found the right one. As he did, he let his mind wander. He had never wanted this kind of life for his kids, and he knew for damn sure that Mary would have flayed him alive for putting her boys through this. They weren't supposed to be hunting vampires, avenging the death of a hunter they hadn't even met. They weren't supposed to have to worry about the police coming for them, stitching themselves up in motels to avoid too many questions. They weren't supposed to be afraid that Daddy would never come home because the big, bad monster killed him.
They were supposed to be raised by both parents, in one location, like normal kids. They were supposed to graduate high school, go to college, and not have to worry about the things that go bump in the night. Sam wasn't supposed to hide the fact that he had gotten a full ride to Stanford. Dean was supposed to graduate, not drop out of high school because John needed more help with hunting. Everything was so fucked up, and John knew there was no way to fix it. Not entirely.
If it wasn't bad enough, he had finally figured out what killed his wife and Sam's girlfriend. A demon. Some big, bad, hell-fiend named Azazel. Caleb and Josh had been doing as much research as he had over the past year, keeping him informed on their findings. Funny thing was neither Josh nor Caleb found out about Azazel. Jefferson, Josh's older brother, came up with the information, a demon in Tulsa telling him sometime in November.
For almost a year John knew all about Azazel's plans and had kept it safely locked in his head, away from his sons. John knew he had to tell them, Sam especially. It all seemed to revolve around him, him and any other kids like him; any other kids who were visited by Azazel. Not only was this bastard going to die for killing Mary and destroying any form of normalcy her sons could have, he was also going down for whatever he did to Sammy. That was a promise John could make himself. Once he had The Colt, of course.
Which brought him back to the hunt. A nest full of vampires. How could he get his kids into something like this? He had heard about vampires from a few hunters. They were vicious, freaks of nature that were damn near impossible to kill. Of course, anything would be impossible if the only way to take them out was to decapitate them. He doubted something was just going to sit there, arms spread wide, and allow a hunter to swing a machete at its head. Regardless, vampires weren't supposed to be around anymore. The rumor was they had been extinct. That'swhyit'scalledarumor,idjit, John could almost hear Bobby say.
Just thinking of Bobby Singer made John realize he could probably do a better job keeping his friends. It was only a fluke that Josh and Caleb still talked to him. He hadn't heard from Jim Murphy in over a year, hadn't talked to Bobby in six. Hell, Jefferson didn't even talk to him anymore, having pretty much used Josh as a mediator for the info on Azazel. He knew he could be an obsessive dick at times, and a part of him didn't blame his friends for avoiding him.
He glanced back at his boys, eyes resting on Sam. It was a wonder the kid didn't run away more often, the way John acted sometimes. He just worried about his boys so much, and he and Sam were too similar in personality despite their differences in life goals. John hated taking orders growing up, just like Sam. It shocked the hell out of his old man when he told him he wanted to join the marines.
Speaking of marines, his dark eyes rested on Dean. The poor kid was treated like a solider since he was four. And he took orders without question, something John never wanted. It was almost as if the kid was afraid if he stepped out of line, John would up and leave him. Something John would never intentionally do. He'd never leave any of his boys under his own free will. Not entirely at least.
The radio crackled to life, causing him to jump. He listened to the voice before pushing himself to his feet. The job was calling, just like it always was. As he woke his boys he couldn't help hating himself for continuing to drag them through this mess, for cursing them from a young age. If there was any way to redeem himself for his actions he'd take it, but until then they had a nest of vampires to destroy…
I keep finding these half finished one-shots in old folders. I really need to learn to actually stop starting new stories and never finishing them :D
So, yeah, this is one of the few I actually liked, so I finished it and here it is.
This is my first time actually writing in John's POV, so if it's a little off his character I apologize
So, yeah, thanks for reading, I own nothing, and tell me what you thought
P.S. This is a tag to Dead Man's Blood from season one