Time ofr another update. let's hope nothing bad happens to the boys. Johyn, I don't care about so much, but Sam and Dean? Anyway, hope everyone likes it :)
Running a hand over his weathered face, John knocked on the door of the motel room. "Who is it?" a familiar voice called from inside. The tone annoyed John more than anything else, but he figured that his oldest son was just stressed. After what had apparently happened to Sam, the hunter couldn't blame him.
"It's me, Dean, open up."
"Who's me?"
"Dean, I'm not kidding. Open the door."
"What's the password?"
"Dammit, Dean, I said open up!"
"Don't throw a hissy fit, I'm coming." The door was pulled open with great force, causing it to squeal on its hinges. "Man, dad, you were the one who told me to be sure about a person's identity before opening the door. Remember my top priority? Take care of Sammy?"
"Dean, move. Just let me in the room." John pushed past his son and gazed around the empty room, confused. Sam was nowhere in sight. "Where is he?"
"Who?"
"Sam. Where's Sam? You said he was in trouble, Dean, you told me he was hurt bad, now what happened?"
"Oh. That." Dean closed the door, locking it, and ushered his father into the room. "There was an explosion. We were fighting a werewolf and the warehouse it changed in just blew up. I pulled Sam out of the fire, and I gave him CPR, and he came back, but he was weak."
"So you took him to a hospital?"
"No," Dean smirked, grabbing a coil of rope from the bed nearest the door and approaching his father, who was still surveying the room, "I put him out of his misery. I stabbed him, dad. In the heart. Several times. And he screamed, oh, he screamed so loud. You wanna know what I did after that? I slit his throat. I slit his wrists. And then I pulled him out into a field to rot."
John turned, terror in his eyes, his face drawn and pale. He saw the rope in Dean's hands and tensed, his eyes sharp, but no longer panicky. "You're not my son."
"Not all of him," Dean replied, still smirking, "just the part you raised with your own brand of tender, loving care. I'm your perfect little soldier, dad, but I've finally decided to go AWOL."
John reached for the pocket of his jacket, but Dean was faster. He grabbed the knife he'd taken from the car. Taking the blade in his hand, he whacked his father over the head, sending the older man tumbling to the ground.
"Ow!" Dean drew his hand away from his lap as if he'd been burnt. A thin line of blood ran across his palm, dripping onto his jeans. "Sam, I think we have a problem."
Sam glanced away from the road and moaned. It had happened. "Try calling dad again," he suggested, "maybe it's not too late. Maybe he cut his hand some other way."
Dean nodded, though it was obvious that he didn't believe a word his brother had said. Slowly, he took the phone in his good hand and dialed the number. He put the phone to his ear and waited, chewing distractedly on his lip.
"Dad, it's-" Fear dawned in his eyes and he nodded slowly, pushing the button for speaker phone and laying the phone on his lap.
"Let me guess," the harsh voice chuckled from the other end, "Psychic Boy had another wonderful vision? Figures."
"Where's our father?" Sam asked, stepping on the gas and silently urging the tiny blue car he'd taken to go faster.
"Oh, he's right here with me. He says hi, by the way. Or, at least, he would, if he could talk. See, I slit his throat, and-"
"That's a lie," Dean snapped, his softened eyes hardening to their old intensity for a brief moment, "you want to torture him first. Sam saw it."
"You still believe him? What is it with you and this blind faith you seem to have in the people that surround you. They don't need you, they'll all leave you, so why depend on them like that? Sam's lying. He just told you what you wanted to hear so he could avoiding watching a failure like you breakdown again. He-"
"We know where you are," Sam interrupted as his brother shuddered I the seat beside him, "and we're not going to let you kill our father."
"Spoken like a true favorite child," the evil voice sneered, "well, if you must come rescue him, could you at least wait until me and daddy can have a little heart-to-heart? See, I've got some stuff I've been waiting 27 years to tell the man, and now that I have the chance… oh, I do believe he's waking up. See ya, boys."
The phone clicked, and fell silent. The brothers just stared at it for a moment, taking it in.
"He'll let him live," Dean muttered, wrapping the bottom of his white shirt around the bloody slash on his hand, "I wouldn't kill dad. Never. I couldn't. I love him too much to do that. Right?" He looked at Sam for confirmation, but the younger man wasn't paying attention. He was too busy wondering how fast the small blue Toyota could go.
The last time this happened to him, Sam thought to himself, staring fixedly at the road stretching out ahead of him, he killed seven women. He tried to kill me. He glanced back at his brother. He'll kill dad if we give him the chance, and he knows it. Deep down, even the good one knows what the evil one's capable of. And it scares him.