Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, but by golly it would be a blast to just rent the men from supernatural for an evening or two wouldn't it! Just think of the stories I could write with that kind of incentive!

Hunted

John Winchester is hunted by more then just demons.

Chapter thirteen

His phone rang several times before a groan escaped his lips and his eyes fluttered open. His head hurt, he was stiff as hell and he was still tired. He put down the knife that was still in his handand reached into his pocket for his phone. By the time he got it out it had quit ringing. He set it on the bed without looking at it. The gun joined the knife and phone as he decided a shower would help.

John sat up on the edge of the bed and immediately regretted the action. The room spun around and nausea seized his stomach. His hands went to his head in a vain attempt to calm the throbbing pain. He slid from the bed, reached for the trash can, and vomited the contents of his stomach into it. Each convulsion from his stomach sent another throb of pain shooting through his head.

When he had nothing left in his stomach and the dry heaves stopped. He sat on the floor his back his against the bed, head in his hands and tried to make the room stop spinning. He was so weak he could barely keep himself upright. Why didn't Dean come help him? He should have heard his father's distress and come to help. "Dean," he called quietly looking at the bed normally occupied by his son. But Dean wasn't there and as the realization struck home he closed his eyes and laid his head back on the bed. It took him several minutes to recall where he was and why his son wasn't with him.

The EMT had said he had a concussion. John suspected he was right and it was playing hell with him. He reached for his bag and dug around until he found some extra strength Tylenol. Swallowing six of them without the aid of water he leaned back, closed his eyes, and waited for them to ease the pain that threatened to burst from his skull.

Some time later, using the bed as a crutch he climbed to his feet and leaning on the wall was able to make his way to the bathroom. He stripped his clothes off and turned the shower on to lukewarm. He knew if he made it too hot it would do more damage then good. He stood in the shower leaning against the wall just letting the water run over him. He suspected having been struck hard in the head several times in the past three days is what was causing his symptoms and making the concussion worse.

The last time he remembered being this bad off was back when Dean was fifteen and Sammy was eleven. He and Dean had been hunting a pack of werewolves. John had been knocked out almost from the beginning by the Alpha Male. He had been concentrating on killing two others in the pack and the Alpha had been able to come up behind him without his realizing it. Dean shouted at him, but it was already too late the creature had picked him up and slammed him into a large boulder.

The next thing he knew was waking up in the car on the way back to the motel. He couldn't remember what happened, but knew they'd been hunting something. He looked at Dean in the driver's seat. He looked so scared as he concentrated on driving the Impala back to town. "Did we get them?" he asked his son.

"Dad, thank God," he said looking at his father briefly then turning back to the road. "You scared the hell out of me, don't do that again. I'm taking you to the hospital, we're almost there."

"No, I'll be fine son, let's get back to Sammy." John said.

Dean looked at his father and for a second John had thought he was going to argue, but then he said, "Yes, sir." He was silent for a moment then he answered John's first question with a grin. "We wasted them all dad. There were five werewolves in the pack."

When they arrived back at the motel Dean had to help his father from the car and into the room. Sammy had taken one look at his father and demanded that Dean take him to the hospital.

He had no memory of large portions of those three days, but recalled that argument as if it had just happened. It was the first time Sammy had stood up to his father. Dean was helping support him as they entered the motel. Sammy had taken one look and at him and said, "Dad, we need to take you to the Hospital."

"No," John had said to his young son. "I'll be fine."

Sam had taken a good look at his father then and shaken his head. "No, you have a concussion.You know the symptoms, you taught us what they were.You need to see a doctor Dad, now."

"Sam, I'm not going and that's final. Just help your brother unload the car we'll talk about this after I clean up."

Sam had stood up as tall as he could and got right in his father's face. "You turn right around and get back in the car! We're taking you to the hospital. Dean can drive."

John remembered raising his eyebrows at his young son's nerve. "Excuse me?"

"Dad," Sam had shrieked at him. "Have you even looked at yourself in a mirror? You have a concussion. You are the one who told us how dangerous they could be."

"I know I do Sam," John replied. His head hurt and his son yelling wasn't making it better. "But it's not that bad. We can handle this. Now Do as I said. That's an order son. No more argument."

Sam had turned to his brother who was standing there holding up his father in complete shock at his brother's sudden outburst. "Dean, tell him!"

"Sammy, he won't go. We'll just have to do the best we can." Dean had replied. "Help me get him to the bed."

John was both proud of the way his son had stood up to him and upset about it at the same time. Of course he had no idea that it was only the first of many arguments they would have. But at the time he was proud of the boy that had taken guts.

For three days he had drifted in and out of consciousness and his boys had taken care of him and done a great job. He remembered thinking Sam had been right. He should have gone to the hospital. He sure wouldn't have been much help if something had attacked them.

Now, as he stood in the shower he realized he should once again take his young son's advice but he knew he couldn't take the chance. He really didn't think this was as severe as the last time, since he hadn't actually been knocked out.

He finished his shower dried off and stumbled back towards the bed. He was tired and weak, but he did feel a bit better. His head didn't hurt quite as much as it did earlier either. He decided that where ever he was he should stay for a few days. He got dressed and walked to the office and paid for a two more nights stay. He stopped at the vending machine on the way back to the room and picked up a few bottles of Gatorade. He knew he wouldn't be able to eat anything yet, but he had to keep from getting dehydrated.

When he got back to his room he took a few more Tylenol and lay back down on the bed. The short trip to the office and back had sapped what little strength he had left. He wondered what his boys were doing. Pastor Jim had told him they were on their way to Toledo Ohio to look into some strange deaths.

They had finished the job in Pennsylvania and he knew it had been a demon that brought down that plane. The biker demon had told him that much. It terrified John to think of the danger his boys had been in just coming into contact with the demon. Let alone exorcising it. A demon, what the hell were they thinking going after something like that?

He felt a lump under his back and pulled the offending object out from under him. It was his phone. He looked at the display which said one missed call, one voice message. Flipping open the phone he looked at the number for the missed call. It was Jerry Panowski again.

John dialed his voice mail and listened to the message.

"John, I just wanted you to know you should be proud of your boys. They found out the thing that took down theplane was a demon. Damn, it still freaks me out, I mean a demon? Well anyway. They were able to figure out that it was trying to kill all the survivors from 2485. Those boys of yours got onto a plane they knew was going to crash if they didn't stop the thing. And they did.It tried to take the plane down, but yourboys stopped it andsaved all the people on the plane. Well… I just wanted you to know. Again I owe you Winchesters more then anyone can ever repay. Thanks, and when you see your boys, tell them thanks again from me."

John replayed the message twice more, completely unable to believe what he had just heard. The fact that Dean had gotten onto an airplane was nothing short of a miracle. It went way beyond that when you considered he knew the plane was going to crash if they couldn't stop the demon.

John knew why Dean was afraid to fly. When he was five and Sammy just over a year old they had gone to the airport to pick up Pastor Jim. They had been staying at his place while he was away at a conference. Dean was getting a real kick out of watching the planes take off and land when suddenly one of them had crashed into the runway bursting into flames as it flipped over several times before coming to a stop. After that getting Dean to even enter an airport was a struggle that John had finally decided wasn't worth the effort. It had never really mattered since they drove most everywhere anyway.

Pride for his son swelled in John. The boy had faced one of his greatest fears and was able to accomplish a near impossible task while doing so. When John thought of those boys performing a ritual exorcism on an airplane full of people as itwas about to crash it scared the hell out of him. He wanted to ring both their necks, but he was still proud of them.

John fell asleep thinking of his boys and the pride he had in their accomplishments.

A/N Please read and review and don't worry… John is going to make it Palo Alto in the next chapter. I promise. I know ya'll just can't wait until I have him looking down at Jessica's grave for the first time.