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Hunted

John Winchester is hunted by more then just demons.

Chapter Thirty Five

Jefferson had come back a week after he'd left. After examining John he had removed the stitches from his chest and given him a salve to rub onto the wounds. Then he had told John one more week of bed rest and he could begin the exorcise routine that would help him build up his strength and stamina. Three weeks of bed rest was almost more then John could handle. It was a good thing that he had been drugged and unconscious for most of the first two weeks.

John did not like being idle and he didn't like being confined to a bed, but he had given his word and his word was his bond. Some how Jefferson had connived a way to get John to promise he would stay in the damn bed for at least another week. John suspected the man had used drugs to do it. He was sneaky like that.

To keep himself sane John began reading through Daniels extensive library of books and texts. The books covered the gauntlet of all things supernatural. Daniels library had always intrigued John as much as Pastor Jim's had. Bobby too was developing quite a collection of texts on the subject, though his filing system left a lot to be desired.

It was in one of Daniels books that John first read the legend of 'The Colt'.

…In the eighteen hundred and thirty five with Haley's Comet over head, Samuel Colt made a special gun for a special hunter. It was powerfully made with the combined magic of the comet, the power of Christ and the aid of supernatural powers. With the gun he made thirteen bullets. The power of the gun, together with the bullets could be used to destroy anything supernatural…

"Daniel, Bobby," John called his friends over. "Take a look at this," he said showing them the passage in the book he'd just read.

Bobby took the book from him and held it up so both he and Daniel could read it. "John, if this gun still exists…" Bobby said.

John nodded. "If it does and I can find it I could beat the demon," he said and for the first time in a very long time he was filled with hope. If he could get his hands on this gun then maybe, maybe they could end this battle.

"It puts a whole new meaning to the saying; God didn't make all men equal, Sam Colt did." Bobby told him with a laugh.

Daniel was silent as he read the text and didn't comment when John and Bobby were talking. "John," he said finally. "You think this gun will work on the demon that's after you and your family?"

"It say's it will destroy anything," John replied. "I don't see any reason why it wouldn't work on the demon."

"We need to find out if it will." Daniel said.

"And we need to find the gun," John replied. "It doesn't matter if it will kill the demon if I don't have the gun."

Daniel nodded. "Yeah, but there's no point in even looking if the gun won't work on it," his friend told him. "We need to do more research on the gun itself."

"You're right," John told him. "But let's keep our eyes out for this gun too."

John continued to pour over Daniel's books. He also continued his daily internet searches keeping his eye out for signs that the demon was going to strike again and other unexplained events. It was during one of his searches that he found signs that he had not seen in over sixteen years.

It was in Fitchburg, Wisconsin. Children were becoming sick and the illness was spreading from sibling to sibling from youngest to oldest. Only the children in the families were getting sick. Doctors thought it was a new form of Pneumonia but John suspected it was something completely different something much more sinister. He suspected it was something that had escaped him all those years ago.

The memory of the incident brought back those the feelings of guilt and terror. He remembered shamefully the incident that had very nearly cost him the lives of his children.

At the time he'd thought his oldest son capable. And he was, under normal circumstances, his children would have been fine. It wasn't the first time he had left Dean to take care of Sam while he went hunting. But it was the worst time and the results of that decision had haunted him and his oldest son ever since. How could he possibly have known there were two of them? He had taken the precaution of leaving his son's in a motel in a town forty miles away from the one he where he was hunting he thought they'd be safe. He was wrong… again.

He remembered the conversation he'd had with his son just before he left. "All right, you know the drill Dean, anybody calls you don't pick up," he'd told his son. "If it's me I'll ring once then call back. You got that?"

"Uh, huh," Dean had answered glibly. "Don't answer the phone unless it rings once first."

"Come on dude," he had replied. "Look alive this stuff's important."

"I know. It's just we've gone over it like a million times and ya, know I'm not stupid," Dean had told him.

"I know you're not, but it only takes one mistake you got that?" he had replied, not knowing that sentence… that remark had been the downfall of the relationship between him and his oldest son. "All right, If I'm not back Sunday night?" he continued without realizing his folly.

"Call pastor Jim," Dean said.

"Lock the door, the windows and close the shades," he said. "And most important?"

"Look after Sammy."

"If something tries to break in?" Again in his ignorance he had set his son up to fail. Dean was ten and while he'd had regular weapons training since he was five he was still only a child. He should never have been put in that situation. He wasn't ready for it.

"Shoot first and ask questions later."

"That's my man," John had replied and he had forgotten that it wasn't true. That Dean really was just a child. At least he was until the night John had returned. After that his son had grown up fast.

Sam seemed to have no memory of the incident at all. But for Dean it was the catalyst that had changed the relationship between father and son. After the incident with the shtriga Dean had seemed to turn from his son to his little soldier and John, not realizing at the time what was happening, had allowed it to continue. From that day on Dean looked at his father differently and John had no idea how to get the old Dean back. But he knew, in his heart, that it was his own fault. He had put too much responsibility on his son and Dean had not been ready.

He remembered coming back a day early after destroying the shtriga he'd been hunting. He had opened the door to the motel room and the sight that greeted him had haunted him for years afterwards.

Dean was standing at the door to the bedroom with the shot gun in hand. It was cocked and ready but his son didn't take the shot. The moment John looked in the room he understood why Dean hadn't fired. Sam was to close to the shtriga, if Dean took the shot Sammy would likely have been hit along with the shtriga.

"Get out of the way," he shouted harshly at him, too harshly. John had emptied his clip into the shtriga forcing it out the window and away from his sons. He dropped the empty gun on the bed and picked up his youngest child holding him close while tears had filled his eyes. "Sammy, Sammy, are you okay?" He yelled.

"Dad, what's going on?" Sam had asked in a sleep filled voice and relieved the dread that had been flowing through him in waves. God it been close. He had almost lost them both, because surely the creature would have turned on Dean as soon as it was finished with his brother.

"What happened?" he asked Dean as he rocked his little boy in his arms.

"I just went out, just for a second," Dean had admitted.

John's fear and anger had come out at the one person who was least to blame for the whole thing. "I told you not to leave this room. I told you not to let him out of your sight," he had yelled at Dean. All the while knowing it was himself he was angry with not his son. After all Dean was only a child and children made mistakes. But not nearly as many mistakes as John had made while trying to raise his children.

John had packed up the boys and taken them to Pastor Jim then come back to kill the second shtriga, but it was gone by the time he got back and even after a week of searching John had found no evidence of where it had gone.

And now, if he was correct the Shtriga was back and he was in no condition to hunt it. But he knew who else would like to kill the creature and so he sent his son a text message with the coordinates for Fitchburg, Wisconsin trusting that he and his brother would take care of the creature once and for all.

A/N – Well, if you liked it please review and let me know. Oh, and thanks for all the wonderful reviews!