*Still don't own Supernatural*
John had been driving for several hours now. Dean was asleep in the front seat, his head resting against the window. He looked so peaceful sleeping, and for a moment John smiled. Dean had no idea what had happened to Mary and Sam, and really neither did John. But he knew where to start. He kept driving along I-36 towards the only town that held family now: Sioux Falls, South Dakota.
It was close to 3:00am when John and Dean pulled into the salvage yard lot. They were greeted by the biggest man Dean thought he'd ever seen, holding a shotgun. "Bobby, relax. It's us." John said, familiar with how paranoid Bobby could be. It wasn't really surprising that he was still up, he was always up studying some lore or another. "John, what the heck are you doing here?" Bobby questioned, aiming his shotgun at the ground away from the boys. "Is there someplace we can go to talk?" John asked. Bobby nodded and they headed into the house with Dean right behind them. They walked into Bobby's living room…well, Dean wasn't sure it could be called a living room, since most living rooms he'd seen weren't covered in stacks of books and papers taller than him. Bobby sat down in the only chair that was really available, the one behind his old wooden desk. He didn't seem concerned with finding a seat for John or Dean, but he also didn't seem to care. John leaned against the front of the desk, pushing papers and books aside so they wouldn't topple off onto the floor. Dean busied himself by looking at stacks of papers and measuring his height against theirs.
"Bobby, something's happened. Mary…" John trailed off, his voice catching in his throat. "She's gone Bobby, Sam too. I don't know what happened. We were only gone for a couple of days…" I should've been there, I could've protected her from whatever it was. John was mentally scolding himself. "John, I've been meaning to call you. I found something, or should I say, I think something found you." Bobby flipped through the old, dusty book on the desk in front of him until he found the page he was looking for. He slid the book towards John and pointed at a sketch of a man's face. The writing told the story of the man, but John could only focus on one part of the picture: the eyes. They were bright yellow, almost captivating. He could swear that he'd seen them somewhere before, but where? John searched his brain for the answer, tuning Bobby out as he explained. "John, ya listening to me?" Bobby interrupted John's trip down memory lane. "Oh uh, sorry Bobby. What were you saying?"
Bobby sighed and took off his hat, rubbed head, and put it back on. John looked down, feeling guilty for ignoring Bobby when he was trying to help. "Azazel." Bobby tapped his finger against the face of the Yellow-Eyed man. "That's what they're calling him, anyway. Them demons say he's a nasty sonovabitch." John had definitely seen this man somewhere before, but he thought he'd remember a name like that, and he was drawing a blank. His thoughts were interrupted by a crashing sound on the other side of the living room. John looked over and saw a pile of books and papers all over the floor with Dean laying under them. "Dean, are you okay?" John called to him.
"Yeah, I'm fine." Dean said, pushing papers off of himself. "Sorry," Dean said, looking at Bobby, who shook his head. "Don't worry about it."
"We should probably go. I need to head back to the house, see what's left and figure out where to go from here. Come on, Dean." John started to head for the door , but Bobby stopped him. "John, don't go huntin' Azazel. He's not like the other demons out there. They say he can't be killed with anything. But I reached out to a few hunters I know and may have found a place you could start." Bobby disappeared into the rarely used kitchen of his home and came back with a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it and read from it to John. "Nashville, Tennessee. Locals been goin' missing and turning up dead, torn to bits. Sounds like something that needs lookin' into." Bobby folded the piece of paper and gave it to John. Below the information he had just been given was a name: Rufus Turner, and a phone number that John assumed belong to Rufus. "Call Rufus if you get into any trouble down there. He'll know what's going on." John nodded and slipped the paper into his pocket, mentally deciding that he'd call some guy named Rufus from Tennessee when Hell froze over. John walked out the front door, Dean trailing him. He climbed into the Impala and started it up, pretending for a short moment that he was headed home for dinner with Mary, not headed home to see if anything was left of her. Bobby nodded his goodbye from the doorway, and Dean waved as they left.
John never thought he'd used the word 'shambles' to describe his own home, but that seemed the only appropriate word now. They had pulled up nearly fifteen minutes ago, but John couldn't get himself to get out of the car. If he got out, it was all real. Dean was getting antsy, sitting in the car for so long. He had gotten bored of the belongings he had brought for the weekend stay and wanted to run around. John sighed and got out of the car, unable to avoid the truth any longer. Dean hopped out and ran around the yard. Thank God he's not old enough to really understand what's going on, John thought. He walked up to the front step and carefully stepped through what used to be his front door, but was now a pile of chopped wood on the porch. From the firemen, he assumed. Surprisingly, the house was relatively intact. Nothing on the lower floor seemed charred or ruined, which actually bothered John more than it should've. When he had pulled up to the house that night, the fire was so big, so hot, he assumed the whole house would be lost. What causes such a localized fire? He wondered.
John headed up the stairs and into Dean's bedroom. There was some charring on the wall that touched the master bedroom, but other than that, everything seemed fine. The fire must have started in our bedroom, John thought. He walked out of Dean's room and straight into his bedroom. John couldn't have been prepared for what he saw in there. A human-shaped scorch mark was on the ceiling, and a pool of blood on the bed. "Mary…" John whispered, turning his head away. He just couldn't look at this anymore, not right now. He left the bedroom, closing the door behind him, as if closing it would make it all go away. John walked down the hallway, passing Sam's room. Something caught his eye that made him go back and enter the nursery. The room was decorated simply, but with all the items any new baby would ever need. The crib was in the center of the room, and it was something on the crib that caught John's eye. The white lining was spotted with blood, and in the crib there was Sam's blanket, a stuffed bear, and the letter 'A' written in blood. "Azazel," John said, remembering what Bobby had told him.
John stormed out of the house carrying two duffel bags: one full of his stuff, one full of Dean's. He opened the trunk of the Impala and threw the bags in, hearing them hit the board that covered all the hunting materials he could ever dream of. John slammed the trunk lid and sat down in the driver's seat. He started the car and the engine roared to life. John cranked down the window and called to Dean, "Come on, Dean, we're going to Nashville."
Thank you so much for reading! As always, please r&r.
Authors Note: Thank you to Souless666 for reviewing and reminding me to get it in gear.
Eridium Blight
