That hiatus lasted far longer than I intended. Hope you all are loving the new season! I know I am!

I spent a while on this chapter. It was harder for me since I don't easily get into the "bad guy" headspace. I hope you like it and intend to have the next chapter up in a week or so- no more three month hiatus' for me!

Thanks for everyone who reviews and Enjoy!

John doesn't sleep. Okay, maybe he gets four hours every few days, but he'd never admit it. And now, he's getting even less sleep, having to hunt down the two good for nothing, snot nosed brats for sons. Sammy- he used to be okay, acceptable, even loveable. He was who Mary died to save, so John would give anything to protect him. Or, at least, he would've.

A cruel sneer creeps across John's face. He flips his laptop open, skimming through articles to find a case. He needs something to kill. After all, nothing is stopping him from going to pick up his son- and, he supposes, the stupid soldier who turned Sam against him.

Of course, Dean is the one he wants to hurt, so maybe he should get him first. Find a case, John. Work out your anger, then settle on the best attack plan. His fingers fly, letting him scan articles as fast as his eyes can read. Of course, finding the patterns is the hardest part. But then, John has a brilliant mind. One I could be using to torture Dean. Instead, he zeros in on a small town in Ohio, far away from Sam and the weak soldier.

It's easy enough, once he realizes the first death isn't natural. Back and back he searches, finding articles and death reports dating back to the early twenties. Given that the creature only kills once a decade or so, he isn't surprised no one else noticed it. Especially since the Internet didn't exist not to long ago. Sam might've seen it.

Sam: the perfect son. Brilliant, a great fighter, and utterly independent. Sure, he argued, talked back, and they fought, but Sam is strong. He wants to know all the facts before jumping into a case, see all the angles. John commends him for this. After all, he does the same. The main reason John and Sam butted heads so much is their similarities. Small differences set them apart, like Sam's soft heart, but all their major personality traits were the same.

Dean, however. Well, Dean is no leader. He follows orders, has no brain to speak of, and really is your average grunt. Any other dummy with two brain cells to rub together, anger and alcohol issues, a bunch of muscle, and the ability to follow orders would be able to take his place. Why should John care about him? The fact that he makes so many mistakes is the only reason John hurts him. And the boy never fought back.

All this swirls through John's mind as he pieces together information on the wendigo he's going to hunt. Soon, he's centered enough to pack his bags up and leave for the hunt. The drive doesn't take too long but the hunt itself clears his mind.

As one of the strongest hunters alive, no hunt takes him very long, besides the demon who killed Mary. Back in his hotel room, John starts to plan. The biggest question in his mind is whether or not to kill Dean.

It is something to consider. But it's boring and expected. No, it's probably better to make the boy suffer first. Kill him eventually, but put him through hell first. Dean should've killed him if he didn't want John to hunt them both down.

John flicks his laptop open, fingers flying across the tracking device he'd placed on the Impala blinks on a map. So predictable. It seems Dean ran to the man he'd left Sam alone for. Fool.

Now, knowing the way John had treated Dean, it breaks Cas' heart to watch him eat. Dean had never said it, but Cas can tell John had starved him. He doesn't come up for air until his entire plate is clear, like he thinks someone will take it from him. Cas is barely halfway through his bowl when Dean is done with his.

"Just a moment, I'll get the pie." I'm growing to hate this John more and more. How could anyone hurt someone as sweet and caring as Dean? Cas lifts out two slices of pie onto their plates. Once the slice is set in front of Dean, Cas' phone starts ringing. "It's Gabe. I need to take this." Dean gestures that it's alright, mouth already full.

"Hey, what's up? Please don't tell me you're sick. I'm not a good enough cook to fill in for you."

"No, no," Gabe chuckles, "it's not that. I just was getting ready to leave and noticed a truck drive past real slow. Almost too slow. I thought you'd want to know."

"Just a minute." Cas pokes his head back into the office. "What kind of car does John drive? I'm sorry to ask." Dean looks stricken for a moment, but answers without hesitation.

"A black Ford, at the moment. Why?"

"I'll explain later. Be right back." Cas returns to Gabe. "Was it a black Ford?"

"Yep. Think it's him or a coincidence?"

"The chances that happened just after we moved Dean's car to your garage are too slim for it to be coincidence. I just don't know how to tell Dean."

"Tell him I might've seen his car. Tell him to stay in the apartment as much as possible. Until that truck is out of town, he might show up in the diner."

"God, I hate him. Thanks, Gabe. I've gotta talk to Dean. See you in a bit." They hang up and Cas leans against the wall. What do I do now? I can't let John take him. I'll do whatever it takes.