A/N: Okay guys, here it is! The third installment! Thanks to sitonkia for giving me her input on it before I posted it! If you haven't already, check out her fics, they are amazing!
John Winchester was cooped up in a motel room, across the county from his boys. Neither father nor sons knew they were so close to each other. Different hunts, same county. John was ready to go out and hunt tonight but it was pouring down rain. His better judgment told him not to, but when did he ever listen to reason? He was John Winchester, hunter extraordinaire. What could a lowly spirit do to him? Besides, he didn't mind the rain. It was just weather. He didn't mind it. He wished it wouldn't come on a hunting day, but you can't stop nature. That was something he had learned in the Marines. Work through anything. He had taught that to Sam and Dean, but he always knew Sammy wasn't one for rain. Dean on the other hand, he had always loved the rain. He wasn't sure why, just always had.
John shrugged on his coat and exited the motel. He walked through the rain, not slowly like Dean, not running like Sam, but at his normal pace. He got into his truck and made sure he had everything he needed. Rock salt, check. Lighter fluid, check. Lighter, check. Shovel, check. He looked out the window at the rain. It was steadily getting heavier. Could he pull off burning the bones in this rain? He really didn't want to stick around a whole day longer than he had planned. He got out of the truck and checked to see if he had a tarp incase the weather got worse. He climbed back into the truck and drove towards the cemetery, windshield wipers on full blast. John drove like it was any other day. The rain didn't bother him at all.
When he reached the cemetery he grabbed what he needed out of the trunk. He set up the tarp, keeping the grave he was digging dry so that the flames wouldn't get put out. He face dripped with the water but he didn't notice. He dug up the grave, poured the fluid and threw in the lighter. Thanks to the tarp, the flames went up, sufficiently burning the bones, killing the vengeful spirit. John gathered his supplies and returned to his black truck that he could barely see in the wet darkness. After he threw his things in the back of the truck, he climbed into the front seat. Only then did he realize how wet he was. He shrugged and wiped the drops from his face. He smiled. Another spirit gone from the world. God, how he loved the hunt.
A/N: So? What did you guys think? How did I do with my first John POV? I think you guys know this already but please review!!