Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. It's too bad really because I enjoy playing with it!

Hunted

John Winchester is hunted by more then just demons.

Chapter fifteen

John left Palo Alto and headed over to Lincoln, Nebraska. He was running short on consecrated rounds for his .45 and needed to see Caleb to get more. He took a long leisurely way around the state of Utah. He doubted if they had a B.O.L.O out on him, for the incident in the bar, but there was no real need to take any chances. He wasn't in a rush to get anywhere. Besides his son's would have heard of the incident by now and may be in the area looking for him. It was best to stay as far away as possible.

Not being in a hurry he quit the road early each night and used the time to earn extra cash to pay Caleb for the ammo. It was always a struggle to get the man to accept payment but if he had to he'd leave it somewhere in the house before he left. Caleb was a good man, and good at making the special rounds he needed. He was always coming up with new and inventive ways to kill the evil creatures they hunted.

Last time John was there he picked up some new rounds Caleb had designed that were made with consecrated iron and had holy water sealed into the hollow point. Those had really done a number on the black dog he'd hunted up in Colorado. It was always an adventure visiting Caleb too bad John couldn't stay longer then a day or two but he didn't want to put his friend in danger by staying too long.

It took him almost six days to get to Lincoln. He had stayed in Idaho Falls, Nebraska a few extra days to take care of a very nasty spirit that was haunting a now vacant lot. It had been nailing people to the wooden fence that surrounded the lot. It was an easy job, involving more research then work. Though digging up graves was not John's favorite part of this job it was often necessary. Like in this case. All he had to do was find the grave of the spirit, dig it up then salt and burn the bones. He did all of this without incident.

When he pulled up to Caleb's place he found the man was not there. This was not at all unusual since Caleb was a hunter as well as a munitions and weapons expert. John used the key Caleb kept hidden and let himself inside. He dropped his two duffle bags in the extra room and went outside to the garage where Caleb had a 1967 Ford Mustang that he was restoring. John worked on the car for several hours before he heard Caleb's truck pull into the driveway.

After a quick clean up he went out to speak with Caleb and found him still sitting in the truck. John knew right away that something was wrong. Walking around to the driver's side he opened the door and looked at his friend. Blood soaked the entire left side of his shirt. He was pale and his breaths were coming in ragged gasps. He looked at John and grinned, "Well, you're a welcome sight. I was beginning to wonder how I was going to get inside."

"Damn boy, you need to learn how to duck." John asked by way of reply.

John carefully helped his friend out of the truck and into the house. He was weak, barely able to stand and John wondered how the man had driven home in this condition. "Why the hell didn't you go to a hospital?" John asked as he lay his friend down on the bed.

Caleb didn't answer he was out cold. That was a blessing for the man because John was going to have to remove his shirt and clean up the wound. But before he did that he would have to get himself cleaned up and get Caleb's first aid kit. Like John, Caleb kept an excellent kit almost as good as a medic in the Marines. It should have everything John would need.

After cleaning up and retrieving the kit John carefully cut away Caleb's shirt revealing what looked like an axe strike. He had a deep gash that ran from his shoulder to his the center of his chest. He had lost a lot of blood but the bleeding seemed to have stopped. John had no idea how the man had driven himself home let alone got in the truck to begin with.

Since he didn't know what had caused the wound John cleaned it first with holy water and then saline solution and once more with holy water. When he finished he stitched the injury and after bandaging it he immobilized Caleb's left arm to keep him from reopening the wound. He would survive, but due to the amount of blood he'd lost he would be very weak for a few days. John would have to make sure he drank lots of fluids.

Digging through Caleb's medicine cabinet he found some vicadin and some antibiotics. He set the bottles down on the bedside table with a glass of water for when his friend was awake enough to take them then he cleaned up the mess.

When he was done John retrieved his laptop and sat in the easy chair next to the bed. John had always laughed at Caleb for having the chair in his room instead of the living room, but he wasn't laughing today. Today he thought the chair was in the right place.

Opening the laptop he began his search on the significance of November second. As it turns out November second is a holiday called The Day of The Dead or All Souls Day. It has been celebrated by many religions and cultures. Christians believe it to be a day of celebration and prayer that releases souls from purgatory and allows them to ascend into heaven.

Ancient Celtics believe the Day of the dead is an interval during which the normal order of the universe is suspended and the barriers between the natural and the supernatural are temporarily removed. This allows supernatural beings and the spirits of the dead move freely among men and interfere sometimes violently, in their affairs. The practice of offering sacrifices, usually of animals, but sometimes of humans, in order to placate the gods and frighten away evil spirits was commonplace in ancient times. Priests who carried out the rituals in the open air were called Druids, members of pagan orders in Britain, Ireland and Gaul, who generally performed their rituals by burning the sacrifices on bonfires.

John even found a reference to the Day of the Dead having been reputed to be the day Satanism broke from Christianity and Paganism creating a new religion. John wasn't sure how any of this, if any, was going to work into the pattern that was forming on the demons attacks. He had only just scratched the surface on the research for The Day of the Dead.

Caleb's slight moan attracted John's attention away from the computer. He set down the laptop, stood and went to his friend as his eyes slowly fluttered open. "Welcome back," John said.

"Did I go somewhere?" Caleb asked.

"Not this time," John replied. "What the hell were you after?"

"Zombie."

John helped Caleb sit up so he could take the medicines and drink some water. "How did you let a zombie get this damn close? The things are slow as hell."

"Didn't," his friend replied weakly. "The Shit head that animated it did."

"You're slipping Caleb."

Caleb shook his head weakly in denial. "It was a freaking girl."

Caleb took the first two pills from John and struggled to get them down with the water. He coughed several times, but was finally able to get them down. "When are you going to start to realize girls can be just as dangerous, hell the can be more dangerous then men."

"You know I can't hurt a girl."

"That attitude is going to get you killed one day Caleb, but… I understand." John replied quietly. He did understand, he knew why his friend would not strike a girl, ever. He had watched his father kill his sister in a drunken rage with just one blow. There hadn't even been time for Caleb to react let alone stop the man.

John helped him take the two remaining pills then lie back down. It didn't take long for his friend to fall back to sleep. For the next few days John slept in the recliner keeping a close watch over his friend. On the third day after his return Caleb woke feeling better though he was still weak and very sore. He was able to get up and move around with only a little discomfort.

They were down in the basement where Caleb stored and worked on all his weapons and munitions. "Hey John," Caleb said, "I forgot to tell you I spoke with Dean last week."

John's gaze went immediately to his friend.

"You'll never guess who they defeated up in Toledo." His friend was grinning at him.

"Who?" John asked curious.

"Bloody Mary."

"What?"

"Yeah, Bloody Mary. Hell even I thought she was just an urban legend."

Caleb told John what Dean had told him about Mary Worthington a.k.a. Bloody Mary.

"So where ever the mirror when Mary went." John said

"Yeah."

"How did they pin her down to her own mirror?"

"I don't know. I guess one of them called her to it, but whatever they did it worked."

John smiled. His boys were good, very good. "Where are they now?" he asked.

"They were in St. Louis when I talked to him. One of Sam's college buddies was in trouble and they were trying to help."

"You know you can't tell them where I am right."

"I know you don't want me too, but I gotta tell ya John I disagree with it. I think those boys can help. You trained them well."

"No, not with this one. It's too dangerous."

Caleb didn't argue. They went upstairs to the living room where John sat down with his laptop and Caleb started sifting through his many newspapers circling articles and making notations. They'd been at their separate tasks for about thirty minutes when John let out an agonized scream. "NO! Oh God, no!"

Caleb turned to his friend he was pale as a ghost his breath coming in gasps as he repeated the same phrase over and over. Caleb stood and went to his friend's side, "John, what's wrong? Come on man talk to me." He got no response. Caleb turned to the computer screen to see what had set John off. Caleb breath caught in his throat. Oh shit. He needed to find out what happened, maybe get Sam on the phone to talk to John. This was not good.

On the computer was a composite drawing of Dean. The story began: Dean Winchester who was the suspect in several brutal slayings was killed today…

"John, hold on, I'm going to get Sammy on the phone. Find out what happened."

Caleb called Sam, but it wasn't Sam who answered. "Hello?" Said a very familiar voice, one that he should not be hearing. He sighed, "Dean, is that you?"

"Yeah, what's up Caleb?"

"I just read about you getting killed in St. Louis. What happened?" Caleb watched John for any sign that he was paying attention to the conversation he was having, but his eyes never left the computer's screen. His shouts were down to a low whisper as tears ran unchecked down his face. Caleb wouldn't have thought it possible, but John was getting even paler then he was before.

"Shape shifter."

"Shit," Caleb said as John slid from the chair to the floor. "Dean let me call you back okay."

"Sure."

Caleb hung up and went to John. His eyes had never left the computer screen even though he was now sitting on the floor. He slammed the laptop shut and got in John's face. "John, look at me." Caleb shouted. When John's eyes were looking at his Caleb told him. "It wasn't him John, it was a shape shifter. I just spoke with him. Dean is alive. He's not dead. DEAN IS ALIVE!"

It took a few minutes for what Caleb said to sink into John's terrified mind. Then, finally, almost in a whisper he said, "He's alive? How?"

"It was a shape shifter John. It wasn't him. It just looked like him."

John closed his eyes and lowered his head to his chest, "Thank God."

A/N Hope you enjoyed it and sorry it took so long to post. I've been working for 12 days straight and decided to take yesterday off from writing, but I'm back. Please read and review!