John wasn't sure how long he stared at the impala, just mesmerized by the beauty that she was sitting there.
She looked exactly the same as he remembered. Black, gleaming, and just pure perfection. He'd always loved her and he was sure that if he managed to turn the engine on, she would purr just as good as she had before.
He remembered the first time he saw her, being driven into the shop he had been working at after coming back from Vietnam. He had noticed the car first, unable to look away, she was that beautiful that no mechanic could resist her. Even with a flattened front there was no doubt of the beauty within.
But then the drivers door opened and the real beauty came out; as graceful as a dancer, hand trailing over the door, and leaning against the side with a slightly sheepish smile.
"I got into an accident." she had said, laughing and the sound of her voice, the sound of her voice. Was like bells ringing, like the beginning notes of the classical music his mother had enjoyed listening to, like the promise of all that was good in the world.
He had been hooked, line and sinker, those very first seconds and he had to move fast because apparently so were the other men.
He didn't make a fool out of himself, barely. He didn't stumble over his words, because he barely got any out. By some miracle he hadn't dropped his tools on his foot as she leaned against her car watching him work. Whenever he would look up to her green eyes on him she'd smile and his stomach would spin in ways he hadn't thought possible.
He hadn't been scared when he was in Vietnam. He was terrified of this woman and nothing had even happened yet.
But what was most terrifying was if he let her go without even trying to have her in his life.
So he swallowed his pride, his senses, and everything in between and tried to talk to her. She found him funny, laughing as he spoke and of course her laughter sounded like bells chiming in the wind.
And by some miracle he managed to ask her out on a date, just as he finished working on her car.
By some bigger miracle she agreed and he had raced home to wash up and be presentable enough for what she deserved, barely able to remember all those lessons his mother had drilled into his head about manners that Vietnam shot right out of him.
Taking a deep shuddering breath John forced himself to stop thinking about the past, forced himself to push past everything and focus on what was right in front of him.
But when he remembered what that demon had said that Mary was...that Mary was...
He couldn't even think it without the threat of losing his lunch and sanity.
So he focused on the car, forcing himself to move closer to it. He couldn't stop himself from reaching out to touch it, flinching back as if he had been burned before he reached to touch it once more, fingers gliding over the cool metal.
He walked around the car, keeping his hand on it, stopping at the window to the backseat, just staring into that leather clad seating.
The amount of hours and nights they had spent in that backseat. The place where Dean was most likely-
He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, the nails in his other hand digging hard enough into his palm for it to hurt. The pain grounded him enough that he could try to focus a bit more.
He finally walked to the trunk and he reached for the hood, trying to open it. He knew that he needed a key to do it.
But he also knew a small trick to open it as well, remembering being taught this by her. He reached under the perch, feeling around for the latch and pressed hard on it and pushing it to the side. The trunk opened up and before he could chicken out he brought it open completely.
He wasn't sure what to expect once he opened it. Maybe a body, maybe some sort of blood and parts that showed that the car belonged to nothing more than a pair of demons.
Instead, all he saw was a mess of clothes, books, what looked like personal items, and other things. There were a few weapons in here, and yes, some were covered in blood, but it didn't look out of place of being a hunters trunk.
His hands were shaking a part of him noted but he reached in, starting to look through the things. He moved the clothes around, looking them over for anything of interest. They were all mens clothes and the only thing somewhat interesting about them was that some of them had flecks of blood on them.
He put the clothes to the side and kept looking.
He looked over the weapons but they also were deemed unimportant, run of the mill blades and guns. Nothing magical or demonic about any of them.
Underneath those was when things got a bit more interesting. There were a few books, old looking and heavy, written in languages he couldn't make out. Those were for Bobby to make heads and tails of.
He picked up some of the books and started to leaf through some of them, just to see if they had anything he could understand. He froze however when he got to the middle, it had been bookmarked and dogeared, showing just how many times they've gone to this page.
But most importantly...it had a picture of Mary pressed between the pages.
Hand shaking he touched the plastic of the picture, fingers stroking over her face. Obviously someone else had taken it because it showed three people. He recognized the child, he'd know that child anywhere, grinning and wrapping his arms around Mary tightly, leaning into her as best as he could but also trying not to jostle her.
Because Mary was also holding onto another baby who was staring up at the camera, or whoever was holding the camera, in wonder. She was holding the baby close to her, one arm wrapped around it and the other holding onto Dean to keep him from falling.
He quickly checked the timestamp of the picture, it was ten months after the both of them had disappeared from his life. And the fact that the baby looked to be between two and three months.
He had another son.
He flipped it over instinctively, staring at the words written by someone. Mary, Dean, Samael.
Sam. Dean.
He had two sons.
He had two sons.
A choked sound escaped him and he put the picture back, not wanting to risk ruining it. His hand came to cover his mouth as he tried to compose himself.
His two sons were raised in hell, one born in hell.
And alone for a majority of the time if the demon had been honest with them because Mary was-
He closed his eyes and put the book back into the truck, gripping the edges of it to try to ground himself.
Gently moving the book to the side John kept looking through it, not sure of what else he was going to find. His fingers ran over the sides of the truck, stopping when he realized he could dip them in.
A false floor at the bottom of the trunk, hidden by everything else on top. Meaning, something big. He slid his fingers under the catch and slowly started to lift it up.
Only to be pushed away from the car and thrown to the ground hard enough for all the air to escape him, head slamming against the floor so that his vision swam. Groaning he moved to get up, stopping when he felt a boot being pressed down against his chest.
"So you're John Winchester." a female voice spoke, pressing down harder onto his chest to keep him in place. "You are one unlucky son of a bitch."
John forced his eyes to open, staring at the short blonde haired girl above him. She smiled back down at him, eyes completely black.
"Hi, I'm Meg." the demon told him. "And I'm here to get a bigger reward from the boys than they previously thought."
She grinned at him. "I'm not going to kill you, don't worry." she mock assured him. "That's for Sam and Dean to do. I'm just here to get that." she motioned with her head back towards the impala.
When John moved to get up she pressed him down harder, threateningly against his ribs. "You're not taking the car-" he managed to gasp out.
"I'd like to see you stop me." Meg told him patronizingly. She looked up when they heard Bobby and Ellen coming out. "Oh look, more victims."
The both of them had their guns trained on her, not that they would do any good against a demon.
"I don't want to-" she stopped herself and thought. "Okay, yes, I would like to kill all three of you." she corrected herself. "But I can't, Sam and Dean called dibs and as their auntie I have to honor their wishes." she sighed. "And you can stop right there." she added, aimed towards Bobby and Ellen.
"You're not going anywhere." Bobby said lowly. "Not until-"
"I don't care." Meg said, finally lifting her foot off of Johns chest and going towards the impala. When the three of them moved to grab her, or do something, Meg reached into her pocket and pulled something out.
It was a small vial of blood, simple and useless but at the same time, priceless .Ellen froze at the sight of it.
"Sam gave me this in case I needed to get out without spilling blood. Told me not to break it either." Meg said. "I'm guessing that means this is something important to you."
"So either you stop pissing me off." Meg said. "And I'll give this to you. Or I'll just swallow it and whatever it is, you're never going to get it."
Meg twirled the vial between her fingers, whistling as she walked to the impala, taking out a set of keys from her jacket. She smirked at the three of them, John had managed to stand up, rubbing at his chest.
"I want to talk to them." John managed to get out, his voice rasping. "The boys...Sam and Dean."
Meg laughed at him, turning on one foot to leer at him. "They'll come for you." she told him. "Trust me they'll come for you soon enough. They want your blood."
Climbing into the driver's seat of the impala she turned the engine on, revving it, keeping the door open. She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, thoughtful.
"Sams alive by the way." she told him. "You know, after you guys stabbed him with a demon killing knife." She didn't turn her head as Ellen moved towards her but she did let the vial drop to the ground, destroying it with the heel of her boot before she immediately got floored the pedal, dirt and gravel flying as she drove away.
Just as Jo stumbled out of the house, shouting for her mom and awake.
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