Just a Bad Hunt- Part 2

A/N- Guys! These reviews have revitalized me! Thank you so so much for your kind words!

Here is another little chapter before the real angst and action get started!

John gripped the glass tightly, staring down into the amber liquid, leaning over his worn journal trying to find the words to explain the horror of the last hunt. His thoughts drifted as he listened absently to the soft sounds of his younger sons practicing their Latin.

The past month had been hard. More than hard, it had very nearly been unbearable. Part of it was that the hunt had taken too long. John never wanted to be away from the boys for too long- a week, or maybe two, was the very most he felt comfortable with, but following a rogue werewolf meant that he was gone for an entire lunar cycle. Even with the intel that Bobby and Sam had given him, he was behind. The wolf was taking victims left and right, reeking havoc on the town. There seemed to be no pattern in the murders. Usually, with a werewolf it was easy to follow the path from victim back to creature, but something was different with this one. Victims were found in various locations, at different times of night. Embarrassingly it took John over a week to work out a radius of an area the werewolf inhabited and another week after that to pinpoint who it was that was turning and taking victims.

He grit his teeth at the thought of the discovery, picking up his glass and taking a long swallow of the warm, burning liquid hoping that the whiskey would soften the memory and lessen the pain of the reality.

The wolf had been a teenager. Close to Adam's age. The kid had been targeted at random by a pack moving through the area and ungraciously left behind to fend for himself. Poor kid didn't even know what he was. Didn't know what was happening to him.

John had gone through every scenario, tried to work out any sort of plan that would let him spare the child. He scoured for research and a cure. He'd called every hunter he knew and practically begged for some other option. He never told anyone that the werewolf he was hunting was a teen, even in the hunter's world he wasn't sure he'd be forgiven of the sin he was considering.

While he researched and worked, he watched the kid, for days at a time, tackling him and containing him at night when he turned and tried to strike, releasing him and offering a vague explanation in the morning. He debated over and over whether it was kinder to explain what was happening or to just get it over with. There was no cure for this, no end in sight for him. The kid was doomed to a life in which he would murder his family, his friends and everyone around him without even being aware of it. He'd change others, continue the werewolf race and bring more murder and misery to others in the world. How could John even begin to explain that?

It didn't help that this kid looked just like his sons, dark headed like Sam with soft adolescent features like Adam, only just beginning to look like the man he would never be.

John agonized for a week on what his course of action would be. In the end, it was exactly as he knew it would be- the wolf was put down and the boy with it. He'd never explained to the boy what was happening to him. John knew he'd been cowardly not to offer the kid some semblance of choice in the matter. He'd waited until the full moon, wanting to make sure there was no other way, no chance that the boy could return to normal, before letting the kid turn and ending it quickly with a silver bullet.

He was violently sick after that moment. John Winchester had seen a lot of horrible, horrible things in his life: the unforgettable tragedies of the Vietnam War, the despair and damnation that was brought upon his young family, and every haunting supernatural oddity since, but he'd never been brought this low. Leaving that town, John left a piece of himself there, a piece that he would never get back and part of his soul was immeasurably changed.

Adam was really trying to pay attention to the Latin that Sam was trying to teach him, but he couldn't focus. He kept sneaking looks at his Dad, slumped over the motel table gripping his whiskey glass like it was a lifeline out of his misery. Adam had never seen Dad quite like this before. Sure, there had been some hunts where he came back in a strange mood, more grumpy and gruff than normal, but this was weird. He'd been crying before they came in, Adam was sure of it. Adam had never seen his Dad cry, not even after his mother's death. Normally Dad just seemed to absorb all his sadness and push it down, becoming only slightly more short-tempered with each experience.

Sam was also keeping an eye on the figure across the room. There had been too many times in his life where his father's gloomy, depressed drunkenness had quickly flipped into a violent, self-hating rage that left him or Dean with bruises for a week. Dean wouldn't be back for several hours, so Sam knew it was up to him to keep a hold on the situation and placate their father until he either gave in to the drink and passed out or finished the handle and went looking for more.

He wasn't sure what happened on the werewolf hunt that had so demolished Dad, but it was seemingly something that was going to take a while to bounce back from. Sam knew better than to ask though and he hoped Adam did as well.

"You boys ought to be focusing on your work," Dad said gruffly without looking up or moving.

Adam's eyes went wide and he glanced at Sam before shamefully looking back down into his notebook. Sam also looked away, remembering that even six sheets to the wind, Dad was still a hunter and would always feel eyes on him.

A/N- Quick shout out to my wonderful reviewing friends! Thank you NoilyPrat, waitingforAslan, sh91767, Elliesamdeangirl, Ponygirlrunner25, EmilyAnnMcGarrett-Winchester, Claire and Reina Valeria Nox! Thank you all for supporting me and encouraging this story