John Winchester had been hunting things that go bump in the night for a long time. Long enough to know that not everyone comes back out of the dark. Long enough to know that sometimes, you find what you were looking for.

Long enough to know that's not always such a good thing.

He was in Jericho, hunting a ghost that he just realized was a Woman in White, and about to get a bite to eat before getting together the needed supplies for the salt and burn tonight. A waiter took his order and brought him a beer, and he opened his journal to make notes for the next hunt (campers were disappearing in Blackwater Ridge, Colorado, and John was thinking it was his kind of thing) while he waited for his food. He looked up, though, when someone took the seat opposite him.

"Hey, Winchester! What brings you to town?" It was Jefferson, an older hunter from the Roadhouse. John hadn't seen him in years, not since his fallout with Ellen and the death of her husband.

"What the hell do you think?" he said with mock gruffness. They both laughed and stood up for a fond and long-overdue hug. It was good to be around friends, whenever any were alive to be around.

"So, what's the great John Winchester hunting this time?" Jefferson asked when they sat back down. "Seriously, how far back in newspaper records did you have to go to put a hunt together in a town like this?"

"'Bout twenty years or so."

"And how many occurrences of the… what was it again?"

"A woman in white."

Jefferson let out an impressed whistle. "How many did she make disappear?"

"Ten."

"You're obsessed, man."

"No, I have a job to do, and I make sure it gets done." They'd had this discussion before; John didn't think that Jefferson was undedicated or unskilled in any way, but the older hunter tended to focus on only the more recent phenomena, while John himself went after things that had long (and often very hidden) track records.

Jefferson leaned back in his chair, chuckling lightly. "Man, I have missed you, Winchester. It's been way too long."

"That it has, Jeff."

"So how's that kid of yours these days?" John raised an eyebrow as he took a swig of beer. Usually he and Jefferson didn't talk about family; Jefferson must have been going through some fresh sort of hell lately.

"Dean's fine, I just talked to him yesterday on the phone. He's off working some voodoo gig in New Orleans, told him to go – "

"No, Johnny-boy." Jefferson's tone turned to ice as he leaned forward onto the table and his eyes went black. "How's that other kid? How's Sammy?"

AN: euoeiuroaieurwiuwdksaj okay I started something that's not a one-shot! Also not entirely Sam-centric, at least for now (I won't be switching POV's or anything, but John's story is going to be heavily influenced by the Yellow Eyes and Sammy story). Basically I got really bothered about how I haven't seen anything about John 1) in a positive light, and I don't think he was such a bad father as some of the things I read make it seem and 2) that explains what the hell he was DOING while Sam and Dean were looking for him.

I'm still working on those Cage headcannons and something else about why Sam didn't look for Dean after S7 – but I've been making myself rewatch everything from the beginning and I'm still on S1, so I decided I'd focus on this for now and then focus on the other things as I get there in the series, since it's really difficult to write later characterization when I'm watching from before character development gets anywhere.

Also, Jefferson is the first OC since that NJ waitress in "Shuffle" that felt right. And no, I have no idea where he came from.

Reviews are like pie, my friends!