Missing-To discovers the absence or loss of.
How could this have happened? Where were they? His boys were missing; his babies.
John left Sam and Dean early that morning in a motel near Blue Earth Minnesota. They checked in only for two days, deciding to spend Christmas with Father Jim. It was a bitterly cold morning, grey skies painting the skies. Snow drifted calmly from the heavens, dusting the earth with a fresh coat of white.
John packed his bag as quietly as he could, moving about the small room stealthily. He had a new hunt near by, a simple salt and burn. Well, it would be simple if the ground wasn't frozen. He looked at the two beds and saw his boys still fast asleep. A small smile grew on his face; he loved when they were sleeping. Innocence personified is sleeping children, even teen and preteen boys.
John made his way to the door a sleep filled voice called out to him.
"Dad?" John immediately knew it was Dean.
"Yea, son?"
"You sure you don't need back up?"
"Yea, kiddo, I'll be fine. You need to stay here and take care of your brother." Sam had been under the weather for a few days and had spiked a low grade fever the night before, making John decide to keep Dean home. Granted he could use the help digging up the dead man, but he didn't want Sam to stay by himself incase his fever spikes.
"Ok, Dad," Dean said, rolling over onto his stomach, burying his head into his pillow. "Be safe."
Dean smiled, gave his boys one last look, and locked the door behind him. He drove the forty five minutes to his destination and began his work.
It was past nine when John pulled up to the small hotel. The lights were on and John couldn't wait just to go inside and grab a shower to warm his frozen bones. He gathered the gear from the bed of his truck and made his way to the door. He slipped the key inside and opened the door.
"Boys?" He called out…but received no answer. John dropped his bags and listened, listened to the silence. There was no bickering, no yelling, no laughing, nothing.
"Boys?" John called out again, swallowing the growing panic. He walked into the section of the room that had the small kitchen and living room area. Sam's school books were still scattered across the floor, right were he had left them. He ran into the back room where the beds were. The beds were unmade and the boys pajamas and other belongings were scattered all over the floor, like hey always were. He ran to the back where the bathroom was, and there was nothing.
"Boys!" John called out again, fear creeping into his voice. Calm down, calm down, he thought. You missed something; they must be out for food. Let's look for a note. He looked on every table he could find, but there was no hotel stationary notepad with Sam or Dean's hand writing on it. Ok, ok, think. Look around, what are you missing?
But all normal processing had quit functioning inside of John. Panic slithered through his veins, spreading like a poison that refused to release its hold. His children were missing, were could they possibly have gone?
He threw open the hotel room door and looked and saw Dean's trusty Impala parked in the same place it had been since he left. The days' snow covered it and seemingly had not been used all day. He closed the door and began pacing the room, trying to consider his options. Maybe the walked somewhere, maybe Dean thought it was too dangerous to drive! John remembered a local burger joint Dean had been itching to try. A small sigh released some of the tension as he thought of his sons sitting in a nice warm diner, munching happily on burgers. John decided to drive to the diner, just to be near his boys, and to reprimand Dean for taking his sick brother out in this weather.
John opened the hotel room door to find a small white envelop sitting on the map. John reached for the letter, wondering if it was the bill for their stay. He ripped open the envelop, revealing a single Polaroid picture. John's body immediately stilled, afraid to reach inside and see what the contents of the picture was. This couldn't really be happening, could it? His boys were supposed to be safe at the diner, munching happily on burgers. His trembling fingers reached inside, retrieving the picture. He pulled it out and closed his eyes, afraid of what he would see.
Slowly he peaked open his eyes and his heart stopped. Blood ran from his face, and the panic that evaded his system was now drowning him. On the picture was an unconscious Sam and Dean, hands bound and gags in their mouths. John's breathing was coming in gasps, sweat decorated his brow, and his body was shaking. Someone had his boys, and he had no idea who.
What am I going to do?