Disclaimer: If you recognize it from Supernatural I don't own it. I'm just playing with it!
Hunted
John Winchester is hunted by more then just demons.
Chapter Thirty Three
John drove away with his heart in his throat. He had nearly gotten his boys killed. It was Sammy who had saved them his quick thinking had once again saved them all. It was Dean who had picked up his father and practically dragged him from the room. He was supposed to be the one to protect them. He hadn't even done that, instead he had put them in one of the most dangerous situations they had ever faced. They had survived, barely. His boys were hurt and in pain. He wanted to be there, to help them. He couldn't. He wouldn't.
John picked up the phone. He called Jim Murphy, "Jim, this is John."
Pastor Jim could hear the pain in his friend's voice, "What's wrong John?" he asked.
"I need you to call Dean," John said.
"Why what happened?"
"I made a mistake," John said quietly. "I met with them."
"And… what happened are they angry with you? Upset?"
"No, they're hurt. Badly hurt," John said. "We were attacked. My God Jim… It almost killed them."
"What about you," Jim asked. "Are you okay?"
"No."
The one word answer chilled Pastor Jim. "John, what do you want me to do?"
"Just call them, make them come to you," John pleaded. "I need you to fix them for me." Jim could hear the turmoil in John's voice, the pain and the anger. "I can't do it. It will kill them if I'm with them… Please Jim."
"Okay John but what about you?" Jim asked. "Where are you?"
"Chicago," he said and Jim could hear the weakness in his voice. "But I'm leaving now. So are they. Get them to come to you. I trust you. Please help them."
"I will. I promise, but what about you John?" Jim asked. "Where are you going?"
"I don't know yet," John told him. "I'll think of something."
"Just be careful."
"Jim… Thanks." John hung up the phone and drove out of the city.
He hurt. He accepted the pain it was his due and it kept him awake as he drove. He had no conscious thought about were he was going. He made no effort to see to his own wounds. He knew they were bad, but he had deserved each strike of the creature's invisible claws.
He could still hear his son's grunts of pain as the diva's attacked him. Dean. His oldest son was hurt bad. He could not get the picture of Dean curled in a ball of pain out of his head. Dean, the boy who never showed pain, never showed emotion. He had been forced to watch his son's torture even as he was given the same treatment. It was pure luck that there wasn't a third demon. If Sam had been likewise attacked they would all have died, torn to pieces by something they couldn't even see.
He drove until he was low on gas then he stopped at a full service station and had the attendant fill it up. John ignored the man's inquires about his injuries. He paid for the gas and continued to drive. He crossed the border into Iowa, then Nebraska and then finally Colorado. He had no idea how long he'd been driving or how many times he'd stopped for gas never getting out, never answering the questions of the concerned attendants. He simply drove.
His phone rang and he ignored it. He hurt. He ignored it. The sun rose and set again. A fever began and raged. He ignored it. He ignored everything because he had to make all of this stop. He had to destroy this damn evil son of bitch before it killed his boys or worse took them alive. He had to find a way.
He knew where he was going now that he was almost there. He could only hope the reception he received was not as bad as the argument they'd had when he left the last time.
It was late when he pulled up in front of the old cabin. He was home. John could see the light on in his office. He was probably sifting though a pile of newspapers cutting out stories that interested him. John smiled he should teach the man how to google. It was a lot easier and much more efficient.
The front door of the cabin opened and he came out onto the porch, shot gun in one hand, flashlight in the other. John opened the door of the truck and slid out. His feet touched the ground and a slight groan escaped his lips before he could stop it. He closed the door and leaned on the truck working up the energy to go further.
Light flashed on his face and he heard his old mentor's voice. "John?" he said. "Is that you?"
"Daniel," John said. "It's…" He wanted to say more, but suddenly the ground started to spin and his legs became weak.
He heard Daniels voice, but it was distorted as though he was hearing it though ear plugs, "John, what the hell happened?"
John was suddenly sitting on the ground and he had no idea how he'd gotten there. He couldn't seem to focus on anything much less his friend. He groaned as he Daniel opened his jacket and looked at the mass of bloody claw marks that marred his chest.
"Damn boy, I thought I taught you better than this," was the last thing John heard before he fell into darkness.
A/N – Please read and review. I know this is one of the shortest chapters I've written in a while but please read and review. I'll post again soon. Promise.