A/N: Hi! I'm back! Great to see you all. MaraDixon413: Thank you for the follow, fav, and the amazing review. You're the best! The rest of you, neglectful, ungrateful wretches that made me suffer, take notes. ncsupnatfan: Lovely to have you back. Thank you so much for the review, you made my week. Yeah, Bobby is one of my favorite characters, and remembering Dean's birthday just seemed like the sort of wonderful thing Bobby would do. As far as John, writing him in this fic is actually very painful for me, because I actually like him, and he went down some very dark roads after Mary died. So, yes, I would love for him to be a wonderful father-of-the-year type and all, but unfortunately that just isn't in the cards no matter how good it would be for any of the Winchesters. Wow, that was a different response. I've been watching Con panels, I think it shows. Thank you so much for the complements. Anyway…

I do not own Supernatural or its characters

Chapter 11

Dean sat at the table, warily eating a grilled cheese, Sam in his lap. Until he was sure of this man, he wasn't getting anywhere near his brother, no matter how nice he seemed.

'Pastor Jim' sat down across from him, "Well, I've fed you, and I've told you my name, I believe it is common courtesy to return the favor."

Dean didn't understand a word of that, and apparently it showed on his face.

Jim smiled, "What's your name?"

"Oh, Dean. He's, uh, he's Sam."

"Dean and Sam. So, Dean, what would you like to do?"

"What?"

"We have a few days here, perhaps more. Is there anything you want to do while you're here?" Dean blinked. What did he want? What was his opinion? The concept was foreign to him, "I don't know. No one's ever asked me that before."

"Well, what do you do for fun?"

"I take care of Sammy. Sometimes the motels have cartoons." Jim sighed. He should have known. Most hunters with children would be leaving them at home with their mothers for a hunt like this, not dropping them off with a stranger. But then, vigilantes with children were very rare, so he supposed it was reasonable that he hadn't seen the truth in John Winchester's case. He felt for the boy.

"Well, this is your chance. So, how about it?" There was a long pause. Dean looked down at the table.

"I'd like to learn to read." That was not what he was expecting, "Really?"

"Yeah. I was going to ask Daddy but, uh, I think he's busy."

Jim considered the strange request, then nodded, "Okay."

"Thanks. So, um, what sort of hunter are you?"

He thought. How do you tell a five-year-old that you perform exorcisms and follow up on angel sightings? Not that the angel sightings hadn't all been bogus so far or anything... "Well, I mostly do research, for other hunters that aren't so good at it." It wasn't a lie. That was the majority of what he did. That and helping amateurs learn the ropes. There was a very limited number of demons floating around, after all, for which he was immensely grateful.

John sat at the bar, studying the place curiously. Hunters filled the Roadhouse, drinking, exchanging stories, and frequently proving the wisdom of the Harvelle's strict 'no weapons' rule. It was strange, seeing this many people together, knowing they were all like him. More kept trickling in at a fairly steady pace, a sign out front saying the place was 'reserved for a private engagement' ensuring no civilians showed up by mistake. He watched as a man attempted to bring in a large shotgun, only to be met at the door by Bill Harvelle, and after a brief argument the man left, returning weaponless a short time later. He turned to face Bill's wife, Ellen, currently wiping down the bar, "That 'no guns' thing is smart. Without it, I'm pretty sure there would have been some deaths by now."

"Yeah, well, when you run a bar for hunters, you learn real quick to take precautions. Some of these people have awful short tempers." He smiled at her, and she returned the favor, before moving to grab a beer for a customer, "What is that, Frank, your fifth? Make it last, 'cause that's the last one." Frank looked astonished, "Come on, Ellen! I can hold my booze better than that! How long have we known each other? Please, I'm dying of thirst!"

"The only thing you're dying of is lack of common sense. I know how well you hold your booze, and I'd rather not be cleaning you off the floor. There's important stuff going down tonight, and we all need clear heads." John chuckled as she took a Polaroid of the man, turned around, and added him to the 'do not serve' list. Frank continued to plead until she walked off into the back.

"Excuse me everyone, if I could have your attention." He turned to see a tall redheaded man standing on the raised platform next to the pool table. Well, his hair had been red. Now it was slowly turning gray. Despite his age, he was still a commanding figure, and the room instantly quieted. He spoke, "I am glad to see such a large turnout. Thank you for coming. Now, most of you don't know me. My name is Daniel Elkins, I'm the one who summoned you here. I-"

There came a yell from somewhere in the room, "Cut the monologuing crap, Daniel, we all know what's up!"

Another voice rose, "Yeah, what's this I hear about some massive vamp hunt? Tell us about that!"

"I would be glad to, if you could just let me talk."

"You guys hunting fangs?" Everyone turned to take in the newcomer, standing just inside the door with his hands in his pockets. He was young, perhaps seventeen, with dark skin and handsome looks. But that was not the remarkable thing about him. He had a dangerous glint in his eyes, and a wolfish smile that confirmed the man as a hazard. Daniel stared at him in horror. When he had put out the call for all available hunters, he had hoped to avoid this particular vigilante. It wasn't that he was too young, there were quite a few sixteen to nineteen-year-olds in the room. It was that Gordon Walker terrified him. Many there had heard how he became a hunter a year ago, after his sister was turned into a vampire. Some had heard how he had found her last month. Daniel had been there, and in this moment, all he could think of was that poor girl on the ground, begging for her life as Gordon killed her. Most of all, Daniel couldn't forget the crazed look in his eyes, the maniacal glee as he killed his way through the nest. He shuddered. The man was insane, and he wished he didn't have him on this hunt. Still, as he apparently knew about the hunt, it might be better to have him close by where Daniel could watch him, rather than off somewhere stirring up trouble.

"What? No welcoming committee? Oh well. Just have to find my own way, I guess." Gordon swaggered through the room, clearly reveling in the silent stares from every hunter present. He finally plopped down in a chair, the air considerably tenser then before he walked in. He locked his eyes on Daniel, as though daring him to throw him out. Daniel wanted very much to take him up on it.

"Welcome," He forced out, "We can use all the help we can get. Many of you are aware of the efforts of certain individuals, like myself, over past years to eliminate the vampire threat, with relative success. Now, the last of the nests have banded together and set up a sort of fort, a box canyon in Arizona. That's where they are. That's where I tracked them. Three hundred vampires, the last of their species, and we have this one chance to wipe every last one of them off the map. End this war, for all time. Who's with me?"

The room erupted in cheers, along with a cry for beer that was met with a wet bar rag to the responsible hunter's face from Ellen. Daniel walked off the improvised stage, to backslapping and handshakes from all and sundry. He found himself face to face with John.

It was strange, something about the dark-haired man seemed familiar, the way he moved, or held himself. Then Daniel realized, he bore an odd resemblance to the man that stole the colt from him a decade ago. He wondered if that person was somewhere in this assembly. John held out a hand in greeting.

"John Winchester, nice to meet you." Daniel accepted the handshake.

"Pleasure." He scanned the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of a spiky blond head. The man had seemed like a damn good hunter, the sort they could use on a job like this. After all, not many people could sneak into his house, crack his safe, and steal the colt.

"I'm sorry, am I keeping you?" He looked back at John, "Huh? Oh, sorry, it's nothing. Just distracted for a second, that's all. Excuse me." He turned to another man, "Hey, Matt, you son of a bitch, how you doing?"

"Great. Damn good plan you have here, Daniel."

John looked around, taking it all in. So this was what a hunter army looked like.