The abandoned house was cold, musty and had a vague smell of death lingering in the empty rooms. The walls seemed to sway with every gust of wind whether small or large. Creaking could be heard throughout whether you were in the basement or on the second floor by the widower's room. Every piece of furniture had what seemed like a cover of dust, as if it was keeping the pieces clean of any other dirt. Some of that dust was now covered on John Winchester as the ghost liked throwing him into the old furniture.
The hunt started off easy enough but the widow was more than keen to have her fun with the Winchester. Unfortunately for her, John found her necklace quick enough and a dislocated shoulder and a broken nose later had him burning it to ash. He was still not use to seeing women burn in front of him, even women from the early 20th century. His hand always came up to shield his face from the heat knowing it would vanish just as suddenly as it appeared.
With the ghost gone from the home, John had nothing more to do than go back to the motel and lick his wounds. He popped his shoulder back into place using a wall that looked like it wanted to tip over. He had learned that trick long ago when realizing most of his hunts would be alone. Wiping his sleeve against his broken nose brought pain but it also wiped away the blood that John didn't want Sam to see. Dean, on the other hand, knew exactly what John did every night he left them in their temporary homes. Every day John had off he would take Dean out and train with him on the proper use of guns and self defense. It didn't matter that Dean was barely ten; he needed to be able to protect himself. Protect Sam.
His youngest was another story altogether. Samuel was smart, keen and way too nosy sometimes. He asked way too many questions that John couldn't answer or more importantly didn't want to. And his confusion about his mother's death always tore John apart whenever faced with his youngest. Dean would tell his brother to not worry, Dad would be back. Mom's in a better place. If only John could be certain of that then maybe he could end this crusade.
No. Every part of him said to keep fighting until the monster that took Mary away was dead. Nothing would stop him from reaching his goal.
There were sometimes that he seemed close in figuring out whom or what took his wife away. And there were times that the evidence felt like smoke caressing his face before disappearing with the wind. Every monster was a lead and every lead would eventually bring him to the finale.
The Impala waited for him in the exact spot where he left her. It seemed like she would question him as he entered the driver's seat, bloody and bruised. Wondering if he was hurt bad or whether the hunt was worth it. The whiskey was always there as well, calling him to the bottle with every waking moment. How some hunters stayed sober he wasn't sure but after six years of hunting and constantly moving he knew he wasn't strong enough to give it up.
There were moments of true clarity where reality would crash down on him and the bottles, guns and motels drove him mad. Those were the times he would leave for the closest bar and not return until his mind was blanketed with booze. Dean always gave him a knowingly look as he stumbled into whatever rat hole they were staying in at the moment. Dean's green eyes said more than the boy and John usually ignored the looks sent his way.
The Impala was somewhat clean as mostly fast food wrappers littered the floor. The leather was always wiped down almost every other week to make sure the sun didn't crack it. Dean was willing to help his father clean the Impala every chance he got while his youngest read the latest book on his school's reading list.
Sammy was a little less willing to do things that John took pride in. The oldest Winchester wasn't sure if he just craved the intellectual side more or if he despised whatever his father cared for. Sam was a little too young to be resentful of the life they lived but John knew that his youngest feelings would only grow. The only way to end that would be to end his hunt and that could not happen soon enough.
Sammy would come along to accept and fully appreciate the good the Winchester family was doing. The people they were saving and the lives that weren't destroyed. Dean already grasped that concept and was willing to do whatever the family patriarch asked of him. Hunt, train and eventually kill.
The rumble of the Impala broke the silence of the night as John started driving away from the abandoned home. He ignored the whiskey bottle in the passenger seat, silently reminding himself to move it to the trunk before either son saw it. His presence must show strength and confidence at all times. Somehow smelling of whiskey made that demeanor nearly impossible to pull off.
ACDC blasted from the tape he had in as John Winchester drove slowly to the motel they were currently living in. Four days was more than enough time to get settled in a place, especially a school where Sammy liked to make friends. John wasn't necessarily ready for that fight again, even if it was against a six year old. Sam would cry, beg and practically do anything to stay. Hoping for once they could find a place and permanently settle down even if it was in a motel room.
Dean would calm the youngest down with a soothing touch and kind words that seemed alien to John. They would work to ease Sam into surrendering but not before casting a hateful gaze at their father. Sam didn't even know what he did for a living and he already had that look locked down.
The motel room looked quiet and dark as John pulled up into the parking spot a few rooms over. His sons would be sleeping this late at night and he didn't need the headlights waking them up. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey he took a generous swig before he climbed out of the black beast. Visiting the trunk to drop off the whiskey and his weapons he walked towards the motel room.
The room was dark when he entered as he tried to be as quiet as possible. Closing the door slowly he started to go to the bathroom when his instincts went on high alert for a split second.
"Dad."
John let out a breath of relief as he turned to face Dean in the dark. His son was tall for his age but still had the body of a child. Barely ten afforded him no trace of manhood as his eyes, face and entire demeanor screamed innocence. However, Dean was slowly becoming deadly with a weapon and his instincts were too sharp for his age.
"Why aren't you asleep?"
John wouldn't give his son the satisfaction that he had successfully snuck up on his father. Dean could never know how good he was. That way he would always grow into a more deadly hunter.
"I was waiting for you. How was the hunt?"
John didn't need to look to know Sam was soundly asleep in one of the double beds. Sam's bedtime was a lot sooner than this and Dean was already very experienced in putting the kid to sleep. Dean would know this if he was asking about the hunt so close to Sam. Dean took no chances when it came to Sam.
"Fine. We leave in the morning."
"The morning? Sam won't be happy."
The oldest Winchester wasn't sure why his son was reminding him about his youngest emotional rampages. Of course Sam won't be happy. A six year old gets use to a place for a day and then screams and cries whenever it was time to move on. He would get use to it and eventually be happy to be moving onto a new hunt.
"Just be ready to leave. You can pack in the morning."
"Dad, maybe we can…"
The darkness covered John's facial features but he still turned to his son as he spoke. Dean immediately faltered in his resolve and John could swear he heard the kid swallow out of fear.
"I'll be ready."
"Good. Now get what sleep you can unless you want to sleep in the Impala."
Dean nodded and climbed back into the bed with Sam. His arms wrapped around his brother as his head bent to hide in Sam's brown shaggy hair. Dean didn't mention anything about his nose so he must not have noticed. Or he didn't care. John didn't put too much thought to that.
He closed the bathroom door behind him and a moment later it was bathed in light. He didn't have to look when he undressed to know that his body was covered with bruises. None seemed too serious and the best thing would be to ignore them and continue on. Someone had to finish this fight.
John wasn't sure if he would make it out alive when he finally came to the final battle. He was trained enough to give him some shred of confidence but he was wondering if the demon would leave anything of him for his boys to return to. John knew whether he finished this fight or not he would leave his sons alone in this nightmare of a world. Their only chance would be to train them enough to fight on their own.
John prayed to whatever god would hear him that they would be ready. They had to be ready.