Disclaimer: I do not own John or his boys, but it would be sooo much fun to just play with them for a while!

Hunted

John Winchester is hunted by more then just demons

Chapter Ten

Jim Miller was a mean son of bitch. The way he treated his son was completely despicable. No child deserved to be treated the way Max Miller was. John watched from his truck as the man yelled at the boy who had been cleaning the garage. John wasn't close enough to hear all the things he said, but the father punctuated each word by throwing something at the boy.

If John hadn't known that Max was nearly the same age as Sammy he would never have been able to tell from looking at him. He looked malnourished and drawn. Even from this distance he could see the boys eyes were sunken and red rimmed as though he spent a lot of time crying.He was obviously neglected and abused. This man, Jim Miller, seemed to go out of his way to hurt his own son. John just didn't understand people like that.

John knew he was far from the perfect father. Hell, he was probably a pretty poor excuse for a father himself. He had made plenty of mistakes, but he had never, ever struck his boys. There were plenty of things he should have done differently with them but had never intentionally hurt his children.

With one final tirade at his son which ended with him screaming "I wish you had never been born," Jim Miller got into his car and drove away. John put thetruck in gear and followed. He glanced at Max as he drove by the house. He was standing there in the garage with his head hung low arms at his sides, a picture of misery. Briefly John wondered why the boy didn't just leave. He was over twenty years old and should be in college somewhere away from his abusive father.

John followed Jim Miller to a bar not far down the road and waited to be sure he went inside. After he was confident Miller was not coming right back outhe left and drove over to the Miller's old home where Max's mother had died in the fire. No one was currently living in the home and a realtor's for sale sign decorated the lawn.

The neighbor across the street was outside working on his lawn when John drove up. He watched John as he got out and looked over the outside of the house. John noticed his scrutinyand decided to walk across the street and speak with the man.

"Hello," John said, "I was wondering if you could tell me about that house. I might be interested in buying it."

"Sure," he replied, "What do you want to know?"

"How long has it been empty?"

"This time about three months," the man replied.

"This time?"

"Yeah, since the Miller's left around twenty years ago no one has stayed very long. A couple of times the people living there just got up and left right in the middle of the night too."

"Why, is it haunted or something?" John asked with a chuckle.

The man laughed, "I don't think so, no one's ever died there that I know about."

"What about the Miller family. How long did they live there?" John asked.

"I'm not real sure they already lived there when I moved in twenty years ago."

"So you don't know if they had any problems when they were living in the house?"

The man sighed the said, "I don't think they had any problems with the house."

"You don't sound too convinced." John replied.

"It wasn't the house it was that family. I had to call the police on them eight, maybe nine times."

"Oh, noisy neighbors," John said nodding knowingly at the man.

"No, it was that kid, the Millers son."

"What was wrong with him?"

"His father was what was wrong. He used to beat that poor child senseless, even breaking bones a few times. In all my years I've never seen a kid treated like that."

"That's a shame."

"Yeah, the police wouldn't do anything about it either. I still think about that kid from time to time and I hope he's okay."

"I hope he is too," John said, "I appreciate you speaking with me about the house, but I have to go."

"You bet, hope I didn't turn you off buying it. I think you'd make a good neighbor."

"I'm just looking right now, but who knows." John replied as he left. He was seething inside as he got in the truck. Jim Miller needed a lesson and Johnwas readyto give it to him. He went back to the bar and went inside.

It was a small bar. The three coin operated pool tables were taking up most of the floor space. A long mahogany bar stood on one side of the room with bar stools spaced across the front. A few tables dotted the corners of the dimly lit smoke filled room. A juke box lit up the far corner and filled the bar with music Dean would have liked. He probably could even name the band and song playing now. It was something about someone being dazed and confused.

John grinned when he spotted Jim Miller at one of the tables shooting pool with another man. This was going to be more fun then he'd had in a very long time. He walked to the barand ordered a beer as watched as the Miller brothers finished up their game. Jim won the game and the other guy walked around and put the coins in to drop the balls. He racked them and nodded to Jim to go ahead and break.

John finished his beer ordered another and wandered over to the pool table. He placed his coins on the table and nodded at the men. Then he stood back and watched as they played their game and Jim won again. John smiled grabbed his quarters and began the game that would earn him some extra cash.

Two hours later John was over two hundred dollars richer and these two jackasses didn't even realize it. They continued to drink and play getting progressively worse with each drink. John however was still sober having only consumed three beers since he arrived. He had just intentionally lost a game allowing Jim to win. It was then that the opening he was looking for came, not from Jim, but from the other player, his brother, Roger.

"You better start playing better than that or your wife is going to have your hide for loosing all your money," he laughed drunkenly.

John's eyes glittered at the perfect opening as he racked the balls. He looked up at Roger with a sad face that didn't require any acting and his voice actually broke when he spoke, "My um… my wife died in a fire a long time ago." He was surprised at how difficult it was to actually say the words to a stranger.

Jim looked up at John and said, "Really?"

John just looked at the fool with blazing eyes because he couldn't say anything. He rubbed his beard with his hand. He didn't realize it would be this difficult to say what he needed to say.

"Hey," Jim said putting up both his hands, "I didn't mean anything by it. It's just, my first wife, she died in a fire too."

Taking a deep breath and releasing it heavily John nodded and said, "Sorry, I'm still a bit touchy on the subject."

"Yeah, I know how you feel. My Suzy, she died in my son's nursery. The Damn kid was six month old. If she hadn't gone in there then maybe she would still be alive."

"What about your son?" John asked.

"Thatkid is alive it's his fault I know it is. I was able to save the good for nothing brat, but I couldn't help his mother. I couldn't reach her." Jim was becoming more animated the more of the story he told. Anger was rolling off him in waves.

John's mind flashed back to the night Mary died as his eyes watered with unshed tears. He understood what the man was talking about, but he didn't understand how he could possibly blame the child. "How could a six month old child be to blame for a fire?" John asked.

"It was after him. It had to be. That's why it was in the nursery."

"What was after him?"

"I don't know, what ever it was that killed Suzy."

"I thought she died in a fire?"

"Yeah, but first it pinned her to the ceiling and cut up her stomach!" He practically shouted, "It wanted the boy. It should have taken him and left my Suzy."

John was finding it more and more difficult to speak, but he knew he had to finish this. "What was it? Did you see it?"

He looked at John, terror evident in his inebriated stare and replied, "No. I never saw it. But it was there. I could feel it."

The man hurt, John understood his pain and could sympathize, but he would never understand his obvious loathing for his son. How could he blame the child? John had come into the bar with the complete intention of beating the shit out of the man. But it wouldn't do any good. He was already broken. Instead he nodded at the man and told him, "It wasn't your son's fault. You should cherish him, not hate him, he's all you have left of your wife." It was something he truly believed and he followed that rule everyday of his life. He wished the man would take his advice, but one look at his face and he knew it wasn't going to happen.

In an instant the look on Jim's face contorted from fear to hatred and he lunged at John who easily sidestepped out of his path. The man went staggering past John and hit the wall behind him. Shaking his head and turning around he attacked again. John quickly moved again and the man when sailing into his brother who was knocked to the floor by the impact. By some miracle of fate Jim was able to keep his feet. He turned to John, his anger quickly turning to rage and approached more slowly ready to fight.

John was not a patient man at the best of times and this was not the best of times so he had exactly no patience left. Seeing that the man was not going to stop John took action to ensure that he did. Taking a step closer he let the man have it with a very solid right hook that took him square on the chin and laid him out cold on top of the pool table.

John looked at the man's brother. He was backing up and shaking his head as an indication that he didn't want any part of the fight. John left quietly before the bartender called the police.

He got in his truck and drove back to the house the where demon had attacked the family. It was late now and pretty dark outside. He drove around the block and parked. Stepping out of the truck he went to the weapons compartment at the back and pulled out the things he was going to need. A rosary blessed and dipped in holy water, four small bags prepared for just such an occasion and a small bottle of holy water.

Having no street lamps in the area made sneaking up and into the house easier. Just before he entered he gripped the rosary in his hands bent his head and recited a Latin prayer of protection. Then he slipped the rosary around his neck, picked the lock on the back door and entered the house.

He wasted no time especially knowing anything in the house would attack as soon as it realized what he planned to do. The home was empty removing many of the weapons poltergeists normally use to attack. He started at the north wall since it was the closest to him. He kicked a hole in the wall and dropped the first of the purifying bags into the hole. Moving to the east wall he gave it the same treatment.

Out of nowhere wind blew fiercely inside the house followed by a piercing screech that moved with the wind. John went quickly to the south wall and punched a hole in the wall the screeching grew louder as he pushed the bag into the hole. He turned to the west wall of the home but before he could reach it the drapes from the window were torn down and wrapped around his legs knocking him to the ground. The ceiling fan above him swirled at an alarming rate until the whole until fell from the ceiling and crashed down on him as he tried in vain to free his legs. He was picked up and slammed against the wall several times.

Blood dripped in his eyes making it difficult to see as he tried to keep from hitting the walls face first. He wiped away the blood reached for the knife hidden in his boot. He slashed the drapes wrapped around his legs and bolted for the wall. The knife was pulled from his hand by an unseen force just as he punched the wall. He pushed the final purifying bag into the wall and dropped to the floor shielding his eyes. The knife hit the wall where his head had been just seconds before and then a blinding flash of white light lit the house briefly silencing the wind and screeching permanently.

As an added precaution John went to each room of the house and performed a ritual blessing sprinkling holy water on each wall in the home. When he was done he left the house, climbed into his truck and drove away from the latest place that took his blood and sweat as payment for destroying another evil bastard.

A/N Okay, here you go, another day another chapter. I hope you liked it. Please let me know by reviewing it! Besides reviews help me write because then I know ya'll are enjoying the story so please read and review.

Thanks again!