The man in the overalls passed, and Sam stared after him. "What?" Dean asked his brother, who had stopped talking midsentence. Sam's eyes remained on the man with the black eyes.
'Dean, that guy..." He said, whispering and pointing to him.
"What about that guy." Dean said, staring where Sam was pointing.
Sam was silent, watching the man walk through the hospital's security line and visitor's center without even bothering to get a pass. He disappeared around the corner. "Nothing, never mind." Sam said, feeling a bit paranoid about the whole thing. He looked around. He must have just been visiting another patient.
He got into the driver's side of the towncar. He drove out of the parking lot, stopping to let the security guard inspect the trunk. Hospital policy. Aparently they didn't want any druggies smuggling meds out of the area.
"Hello there." The guard said, and Sam and Dean looked up.
They had never met the man before in their life. He didn't have the cold black eyes of the man in the overalls, but these eyes were worse. The boys remembered the eyes well. They had once been painted onto John's. This man's eyes were the color of flames, somewhere between orange and red and yellow. Dean got out of the car, moving faster than he ever had. Sam sat, with his hands on ten and two, ready to drive straight through the arm of the booth if he needed.
"How are you boys," he said, taunting them, his voice cold. "Long time no see. I see you survived that little car wreck." Sam's jaw clenched, and Dean reached for the gun hidden in the back of his jeans, covered by his shirt. The one small enough for them to sneak it past security, because the metal detectors really were out of order. The one with the power to kill this thing that had wreaked havoc into every aspect of their lives, and held their only chance of survival against this creature. The gun with the special name. the Colt.
The security guard smiled a nasty, broad grin that made Sam shudder and Dean grasp the gun even tighter. Sam's thoughts went back to the man in the overalls, currently in the same hospital wing as his father. He put the car in reverse, but felt the car move nowhere.
"Smart, Sammy, but not smart enough. You should have gone with your instinct and stopped the man from even getting past," the guard said, referring to the man in the overalls, of whom Sam was now one hundred percent sure was pure evil.
"Sam, what's he talking about?" Dean asked, not taking his eyes off the man.
"Dean, at this moment, one of my children is in this very hospital." The man said, in a low voice, sending chills down Dean's spine. "Walking slowly down the hallway where your very sick father currently lays, completely unconscious." Dean broke his stare with the man to glance back at the hospital, and then to Sam, who was wearing an identical look of horror. Dean's stomach dropped. Working through his horror, Sam was still trying to get the car to back up. It was hopeless. And he wasn't going to exit the car nearest the man either. His orange eyes flashed as he smiled yet again. "In his pocket is a small, yet powerful bomb."
"Dad," Dean said, barely a whisper. "No," he said louder, throwing the door open. He turned on his heel to run back inside. Sam pressed his foot down on the gas, and the car shot backwards. He jumped out the door, catching up to Dean easily with his long legs.
"You wont make it in time," The "security guard" called after them, and then he laughed. It was high pitched an plainly evil; it sounded reminiscent of Doctor Evil in some way. It echoed through the brothers' heads, as they ran faster, past the security and visitor's desk, Sam now in the lead. A demon was heading to blow up their father. Nothing else mattered as they raced down the small hallways, not caring about the aching in their sides.
The security guard stepped out in front of them, from a room. As if it had appeared out of nowhere. Sam and Dean skidded to a halt, just in time.
"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," he said. "I want you two to stay alive, for now at least."
"Dad," Dean screamed down the hallway, past the man, his voice high pitched. This was when they needed the Colt, and Dean pulled it out, aiming in an instant, and shooting. He didn't even hesitate. But the man had already disappeared into black smoke. Too late, the last Colt bullet wasted. The last hope for killing this thing was gone. Dean regretted his action in an instant, but didn't have time to dwell on that fact. The sound echoed through the halls, and people started coming out of their rooms to see what the gunshot had been.
But the gunshot sounded like nothing compared to the sound they heard next. It was the loudest boom any of the had ever heard. The smoke alarms went off, and debris flew from around the corner. A little girl in a hospital gown came up to Sam and tugged his jeans. Sam looked down.
The girl's eyes flamed red, and she tilted her head eerily to the side as she spoke in a voice that was not her own. "There's going to be nothing left of him Sam. You're never going to see your father again. All that's left of him is pink mist now." Sam yanked his jeans away from the girl and took off running into the smoke.
He and Dean held their breaths, running deeper into the cloud of black mist. Dean knelt down and found the plaque that had been on the door, stating the room number. There was no door left. Flower petals from the various bouquets fluttered about, withered and wilted. It fluttered to the ground as Dean and Sam entered what used to be John Winchester's room.
It hadn't completely dawned on them; the prospect of hope had shone through until that moment, when they found the room completely in shambles. Traces of the IV and meds lay scattered everywhere. Metal rods that had been the hospital bed lay thrown about the room. Shattered glass form the vases that had held beautiful flower arrangements lay on the ground, though Sam and Dean didn't notice any of them, simply stepping on them like they were harmless.
Both of them had goosebumps, as they looked around the room for someone they wanted so desperately to be there. But he wasn't. The room held no sign a John Winchester had ever been there. Sam thought of how the girl had phrased it. Pink Mist.
His eyes watered. No, they had already thought their father was dead once before, more than once before. But he had always come back. Now was no different. He looked over at Dean, who looked like he was the one dead. His eyes, usually full of ambition, sat lifeless in his skull as he looked around the room, as if John was going to jump out from the mist and scream "April Fool's."
No one jumped. No one came forward.
A whisper crept around the room, although neither of them had opened up their mouth. It was the voice of the devil himself, it seemed.
"He's gone, boys." Sam locked eyes with Dean, and knew Dean had given up.
Dean had given up. How could that happen? His eyes held no trace of hope for their father at all. None. Dean believed John was dead. And so Sam did too.
The Winchester Brothers stood. Not moving even when the fire department came rushing in. Not when the police had asked to have a few questions with them. They stood, looking at the place where their father had spent his last living breathing moments. And now there was nothing left to even say John Winchester had ever walked the earth.
Author's Note: Hey, guys! Hope you liked the chapter. Please review.
