Hey guys! Happy new year! Since all the people who reviewed this story asked for another chapter, here it is! What can I say, I'm a sucker for puppy dog eyes... hahaha. Thanks to Charmedp3123, SilverStorm06, friendly, Red Hardy (thanks for that great long review!), daisymaygirl1, winchester-angst and L'insomnie des etoiles (whew! did I get the spelliung right? sorry if i didn't) for reviewing. If you reviewed but I didn't mention you, thanks and I'm sorry I missed your name.
Anyways, this the second out of three chapters... hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural, Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Veronica Mars. Do I have to put a disclaimer for shows I only used as a reference? Just wondering.
Enjoy and please review! I'd appreciate it... Happy New Year!
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'Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way! Oh what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh! Dashing through the snow, on a –'
Dean scowled as the song reached his ears. He was really not in the mood to hear any Christmas songs as of now. Then again, when was he ever in the mood for Santa Claus and Rudolph and the sleighs and the snow and the gift giving that characterized Christmas? Winchesters didn't really deal with Christmas very well. It was for normal people, and well, they weren't exactly the Brady Bunch.
Still scowling, he reached for the worn shoebox on the seat beside him and grabbed the tape marked 'Metallica' in his scrawled handwriting. He removed it from its container and tossed it back into the shoebox. He then inserted it into the cassette player and sighed with satisfaction as the haunting sounds of 'Enter Sandman' replaced the Christmas tune in the Impala.
Unbidden, a thought entered Dean's mind.
What was Sammy gonna be doing for Christmas this year?
"Don't go there Dean." he muttered to himself quietly under his breath. His baby brother and Christmas were the two things on the top of his 'Not to be Thought or Talked About' list.
"Well it's too late for that. Besides, you're gonna have to face it sometime." his conscience whispered evilly to him. Dean sighed. Brooding was so not his thing. It was more of Sammy's. There goes that name again. Sammy. Sam.
Sammy was his baby brother. The one he held in his arms as he watched his home burn in flames all those years ago, hoping against hope that Daddy would come out with Mommy in his arms. Sammy was the chubby five year old who refused to let go of his hand when he had to go to school. Sammy was the kid who crawled into his bed during storms and huddled against his big brother until it went away. Sammy was the child who Dean looked after when Dad was gone or when he was sick. Sammy was the boy who looked up to his big brother, believing he could defeat anything and everything, be it demons or spirits or dragons and evil wizards. Sammy was dimpled cheeks and puppy dog eyes, forever his to protect.
Sam was the rebellious teenager who hated it when his older brother called him 'Sammy', or at least acted like he hated it. Sam was the fifteen year old guy who never listened to his father and always argued about anything and everything with him, be it about their weaponry, their hunts or who got coffee first thing in the morning. Sam was the eighteen year old boy, no, man, who left his family behind in order to pursue his dreams. Sam was the one who abandoned his family for a better future. Sam was the jackass who went to a place where he thought monsters didn't exist and where he believed his family didn't care about his dreams and aspirations so he was better off without him. Sam was anger and rebellion, forever... Dean himself didn't know.
Sammy.
Sam.
What a big difference two letters made.
Dean knew he was being unfair. Sam wasn't that bad, he reasoned to himself. Like everyone else, he had his good side and his bad side. Sam was a genius, to put it simply. He was really good at researching the things the hunted. He was great at exorcisms and things like that. He also had a way with people. Dean and John usually had to con people in order for them to talk but Sam had this quality that made everyone, male or female, just open up to him. Sam was caring, generous, kind, funny and helpful. Sam knew Dean better than anyone else. He understood his older brother and was someone Dean believed he could always depend on, no matter what.
Until two years ago.
Dean could still remember that night. Sammy had announced that he was leaving for Stanford, whether they liked it or not. Dean was fine with it. He was really proud of his brother though he never said anything. He was happy for Sam, wanted the best for him, wanted him to make the most out of life and the opportunities that came his way.
Then Dad just had to screw things up.
John wouldn't let Sam go, wouldn't let him go to college. Said that they needed him, claimed that they were close to finding the thing that took Mom away and started everything. Sam didn't believe him and he yelled that it didn't matter if they found the Demon; Mom wasn't coming back.
Big mistake.
John and Dean had known Mary, still remembered her. John had had 28 years of normal; Dean had had 4.
Sam had nothing.
Which was probably why, Dean thought, he always longed for normal his entire life. Longed to go to college and do what all normal kids his age did.
John began yelling right back at Sam, telling him not to talk like that, telling him to forget about college because dammit he was staying with this family and he wasn't going anywhere. Dean had tried to separate them, tried to break it up, tried to stop the argument before things got out of hand and they would say things they would regret. They wouldn't listen to him though.
So he had gone up to his room to wait it out, thinking that they would settle on an agreement. Oh they did alright, it just wasn't one that he liked.
"Fine! Go to that college! But if you go, then you had better stay gone and never, ever show your face to me ever again!"
The moment he heard those words fly out of Dad's mouth, he prayed to God that he would take them back or Sam would argue about it. He wasn't much for praying really, but then it seemed like the time it was most needed.
But Dad didn't take it back. Sam just nodded silently and went to the room he and Dean shared to pack.
Silence reigned in their room as Sam began tossing things haphazardly into his bag. Dean didn't have to ask what happened, seeing as he already knew. By the time Sam was done packing, Dean already had the Impala warmed up outside their motel room.
Dean had then driven to the nearest convenience store and had told his brother to wait inside the car. He then rushed inside the store and began grabbing things from the shelves, anything he thought his brother might need. Soap, detergent, lasagna, M n M's,
Gatorade, Oreo, milk, heck even a six pack of Budweiser.
He then paid it (using legit money; no matter what he gave his brother, he always used legit money to pay for it) and rushed back to the car, shoved the bags into Sam's arms and had driven to the bus station. Sam didn't question his brother's actions, simply took it in stride and silently thanked him for his understanding.
When they had gotten there, Dean killed the engine. They sat in silence until Sam simply said,
"Thanks jerk."
To which Dean replied,
"Anytime bitch."
There were no 'I'll call you as soon as I get there's or 'I'll call whenever I can's or 'I'll keep you updated with what's going on's. Not even a simple 'I'll keep in touch, don't worry'. For some reason, they knew that no matter for how long one called, the other would not pick up. No matter how insistent one was in trying to contact the other, there would be no response.
Looking back, Dean was grateful, at the very least, that there were no goodbyes. Silence was fine; in Winchesterese, they meant 'I'll be seeing you." Those were fine.
Goodbyes he couldn't deal with; goodbyes meant forever.
So without a word, Sam stepped out of the car with his groceries and his duffel bag and walked to the waiting shed, where several more passengers were seeking refuge from the pouring rain.
Dean stayed there a while. He wasn't sure why; Sam was a big boy, he could take care of himself.
Maybe he was trying to memorize his brother's features before he left, seemingly for good.
Maybe he was just waiting in vain for Sam to turn back, to go in the Impala and tell Dean he had made a mistake, that he wasn't going to college.
Maybe he was just watching for no reason at all.
As though sensing his brother's thoughts, Sam turned to face his brother and gave him a small smile of reassurance. I'll be fine, it said.
At that exact moment, Dean saw something in Sam's eyes.
Slight fear and sadness of having to leave his family, no, Dean behind.
At the same time, he saw something that he realized he had seen everyday; he had just never recognized it for what it was.
Strength. Hope. A determination to make things go his way.
With that, Dean brought the Impala to life and left, his last image of his brother ingrained in his mind; A man with a small smile on his face who believed that despite everything, it was all gonna be alright.
Dean then went home. He sat in the Impala quietly for a couple of minutes then went in to find his father seated on the edge of the bed, head between his hands. He could see that the fight had completely gone out of his dad; all that was left was hopelessness and
regret and guilt.
Dean didn't say anything. What words could express the way he was feeling now? He could think of a lot of other things to say, everything between a quip and an accusation. Knowing that nothing he said would change what just happened, he simply settled for,
"He's gone Dad."
After that night, they never really talked about it. Until one night, John had had a little too much too drink and had begun rambling about his youngest son while his eldest sat beside him, trying desperately to help his dad.
He spoke of how he wanted to be the one to drive Sam to Stanford.
He spoke of how much he wanted to help Sam move in.
He spoke of how much he wanted to embarrass his son in front of all his new neighbors, classmates and maybe even some professors.
He spoke of how much he wanted to be there when Sam graduated, top of his class John was certain.
In essence, he spoke of how proud he was of his youngest son.
Dean's fingers clenched the wheel a little too tightly at the memory. He could still remember all that jealousy that had built up inside of him. Sam was the son who left. Dean was the son who stayed. And yet, John had showed more love and affection for Sam on that night than Dean had experienced from his father his entire life.
He remembered watching an episode of Veronica Mars that night, after putting John to bed with a bucket at the side just in case. There had been nothing else to watch and that Veronica chick looked pretty cute. He didn't remember much of the episode; just one line actually.
"Take it from someone who knows. The one who sticks with you is the one who cares the most."
It had stuck with Dean long after the episode had ended. If that were so, did that mean Dad cared more than Sam? Because he had always thought that if it came down to it, Sam would be the one who would stay and John would be the one to leave, to pursue the Demon on his own, leaving his two sons in the dust.
But Sam had left.
So did that mean John cared more? But didn't tonight's little episode show just how much John prized Sam above Dean? Wasn't Sam the successful, genius one? Or did John love them equally? If Sam and Dean's places had been exchanged, if it had been Dean who left, would John ramble about him to his youngest? Why did John care more if they were always butting heads? Why did John care more when Sam had been the one who left and Dean, the loyal one, had been the one who stayed? Why--
His thoughts were cut short by the sound of AC/DC'S Back in Black. Still keeping his eyes on the road, Dean reached for his cellphone lying on the shotgun.
"Hello?"
"Eleven-two-eighty-three. It's me, Caleb."
"Hey what's up?"
"Just wanted to tell you something. That poltergeist you guys are hunting? The one near Cleveland?"
"Yeah?"
"You guys were right. It's Mrs. Shephard's husband. Apparently, he was savagely murdered by a bunch of drunken kids back in 1928. I'd appreciate it if you were the one who told your dad."
"Thanks for the heads up. And why don't you tell him yourself?" Dean asked curiously, although he was willing to bet anything that they had gotten into a disagreement again.
Caleb grunted. "We, ah, had an argument. Nothing important, just business. I just wanna let John cool down first before I talk to him again."
Dean grinned. Typical. "Alright, I'll make sure he knows. Thanks Caleb."
"Anytime."
"Oh and Caleb? Merry Christmas." Dean had no idea why he said that. It just came out of the blue.
Caleb was silent for a second or two. "You okay son?"
Dean laughed. "I'm fine Caleb."
The older hunter snorted. "Well then in that case, Merry Christmas to you too."
Next thing Dean heard was a click and the dial tone.
"What on earth possessed me to say that?" Dean wondered. Merry Christmas. Why wasn't it called Happy Christmas? Why not Joyful Christmas? Or maybe Joyous Christmas? Why was he suddenly sputtering utter and total crap?
Dean chuckled to himself. This was probably the effect of Christmas on people. Made them crazy. Made them think happy thoughts.
He could still remember the Christmases he spent with Sammy. It wasn't much, but they always scrounged up enough money on their own to afford gifts wrapped in newspaper and hot chocolate on Christmas morning. When they were younger, the gifts they exchanged were usually toys or the occasional second-hand comic book. Six year olds and ten year olds buying guns and knives wasn't exactly a good idea. As they grew older, the gifts turned to weaponry and ancient charms. Guns and knives and blessed charms. Ah, the good times.
Dean sighed. Sure, he couldn't help being jealous of Sammy from time to time. It was normal, seeing as almost all siblings had it. Just because he envied him didn't mean he wasn't happy for him. He was proud of his baby brother, of all of his accomplishments. Sam deserved his full ride and he most certainly deserved to use it. He deserved to make the best of the blessings that came his way.
God knows the Winchesters didn't get much of that.
He wondered what Sam was doing this Christmas. Probably getting the normal Christmas he had always wanted. Complete with Christmas tree, hot cocoa, bundle of presents wrapped in shiny wrapping paper and if he was anything like his older brother, a chick on his arm who he would kiss under the mistletoe while carols played in the background.
The Hallmark Christmas.
He just hoped his brother was happy. It was all he wished for this Christmas. Oh, and if Santa was feeling generous, he would like to see his baby brother, if only for a couple of minutes this Christmas season. But if Santa was feeling exceptionally generous, a hot young blonde waiting at their next stop would be a cool Christmas present too.
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'Joy to the world, the Lord has come! Let earth receive her king! Let every heart prepare Him room. Let heaven and nature sing, let heaven and nature sing.'
Unknowingly, John did the same thing as his eldest. He scowled at the music that was currently blaring through his truck's speakers. Reaching out, John turned the knob until it reached a station which wasn't playing Christmas carols. Although, it wasn't playing good music either. Some punk rock or emo or whatever music kids these days listened to. John was quite thankful Dean wasn't one of them.
Christmas, for a lot of people, was a happy time. Friends and family. Gifts. Snow. Carols. Santa Claus and his Twelve frickin Reindeers. Frosty the Snowman. Christmas Tree. Mistletoe. Hot Chocolate.
For John, it was a time he would never be able to spend with his beloved wife, Mary. It was a time he would never be able to sip her delicious hot cocoa, another time he wouldn't be able to hear her lovely voice belting out 'Twelve Days of Christmas', another time he wouldn't see her wandering through the halls of their home hanging decorations everywhere.
Never did he regret disobeying his uncle by going to the grocery to pick up some things for the house rather than go to Uncles Jeff's house and fix his car which he insisted was still salvageable while John knew it was beyond repair. Never did he regret it because it was on that day he met Mary.
She was so beautiful, hair as bright as sunshine and eyes as blue as the sea. Somehow, he knew she was the one for him. He never really believed in the whole 'love at first sight' concept, believed it was a cliché the entertainment industry marketed in order to get people to watch their films. Seeing her had changed his mind though. As he got to know her, he saw just how amazing she was. Sweet, funny, kind, caring, loving, with an aura around her that just made him feel warm and loved and safe. Not only that, but she never put up with any of his crap, never let herself get pushed around.
Strength. It was a trait seen in both her children..
A few months later, they were married and she was pregnant with their first child, a son they named Dean Alexander. It was a rather difficult pregnancy but Dean proved to be one of the most agreeable children ever born on God's green earth. He was Mary's son, through and through.
Four years later came Samuel Francis, Sam or Sammy for short. It was an easy pregnancy, although when Sammy was born, he proved to be the opposite of his big brother. Rather fussy, troublesome and naughty, although no one had the heart to condemn him; one look from his puppy dog eyes and you were enslaved for life.
Things were different now.
Dean was now an excellent hunter. Loyal, strong, dependable. He liked to think that he was a badass, a bad boy who attracted danger and women. Daring, reckless, flirtatious, cheeky. John knew it was just the exterior. Caring, warm-hearted, generous, loving, helpful. Dean was all these things and more. He hated chick flick moments, hated being weak and showing emotion, which John knew, regretfully, was partly his fault. He was great with cars and loved his Impala to death. Overprotective too, when it came to his baby brother, his reason for living. Sammy.
Sam was now at Stanford, full ride. Studying to be a lawyer. He was a genius, to say the least. He loved anything that had to do with research and studying and was great at Latin. In fact, his researching skills surpassed even John's. While his brother had a badass exterior, Sam didn't pretend, didn't put up any masks or walls to conceal himself. He was who he was and you just had to deal with it. Stubborn, hard headed, just like John. He too was caring, warm-hearted, generous, loving and helpful. He just showed it more than his older brother. John knew his son was just like Dean, loyal, strong, dependable and an excellent hunter.
He just couldn't say his son was loyal, not after he left his family like he did.
He knew Mary would have ripped them a new one if she had been around to witness their fight. He was pretty sure she did, and was pretty sure she was very upset with them. He liked to believe Mary was watching over them all the time. He didn't know if it was true but it made him feel better. It was good to have something to believe in, other than yourself and your guns and knives and your sons.
He knew his son hadn't really betrayed them. He didn't blame Sammy for wanting to leave. In fact, he was really proud of his son. Full ride to one of the best universities on the country? What father in his right mind wouldn't be proud? However, when Sam broke the news to him, it was with a tone of defiance, of anger.
"I made it to Stanford Dad. Full ride. And I'm going, whether you like it or not."
He must have really done a number on his boys, if Sam was automatically expecting bad news when he told his dad that he had scored a full ride to Stanford.
He was happy for his son, absolutely. Was proud of him, damn straight. But right at that moment, all he could think about was that Sam was leaving.
He was going to be alone.
Vulnerable.
Exposed.
At danger and at risk.
He always knew that the Demon was out there, he knew it was after Sammy, why he had never figured out. But he knew that it was out there and if it was after Sam, it would be best if he stayed with his family, with Dean who would watch over him like a hawk, with John who would rather die than bury one of his sons. It wouldn't be good to let Sammy be on his own, not when something was out to kill him. He could never tell Sam that though, he didn't want to scare Sam. He would have to tell Sam something else to convince him to stay, against his will or not.
He would just have to settle for being the man who would destroy the fragment of the relationship they still had and squash Sam's dreams.
Ever since Sam had hit puberty, he and John had never really been on good terms. They always argued over everything, big things and small things. John suspected it was because they were too much alike. Stubborn and never backing down from a fight.
Do you what it's like, to feel possessed? Not possessed by a spirit or a demon.
Possessed by your own anger and self-righteousness.
It was how he felt every time he fought with his youngest. Words flew back and forth, words not meant and words regretted.
So at that moment, when Sammy told him of his plans to go to college, it was so easy to fall back to the old habit of anger and self-righteousness and words not meant and words regretted.
They began to yell, to scream, to try to reason rationally at one another. Dean had tried to stop them but it was no use; a few minutes later, he went to his room, where John was sure he heard everything.
The battle of wills raged on.
Sam wanted a normal life; John wanted to keep him safe.
Sam wanted to leave; John wanted him to stay with his family, where he belonged.
Sam wanted to leave hunting behind forever; John wanted him to continue hunting since it meant he could keep an eye on him.
It didn't help that Sam didn't think they would find the Demon anymore. In hindsight, if John placed himself in Sam's shoes, he would have said the same thing. Without pictures and stories from Dean, Sam would never have known his mother. But then, it had only been adding fuel to the fire. It had made John even angrier.
Out of the blue, a voice roared furiously,
"Fine! Go to that college! But if you go, then you had better stay gone and never, ever show your face to me ever again!"
John remembered himself panicking. Who said that?! He didn't want Sam to hear that! He knew that after this argument, after all their arguments, after the years of hunting and broken dreams, he knew what his baby boy would choose.
It took him a second to realize that it had been him. Those words had flown out of his very own mouth.
Do you understand now, what it's like to be possessed?
"Fine." Sam growled quietly, storming to is room to pack what little he had. A few minutes later, Dean stormed out of his room, heading towards his Impala.
Some minutes later, Sam walked out too, not even pausing for a goodbye.
When he heard the roar of the Impala's engine, a sign that they had driven away, John sat at the edge of his bed and put his head between his hands.
What had he done?
Let's see John, a sarcastic little voice in his mind said, you drove away your son, you destroyed your relationship with him, you crushed your eldest's hopes of having a whole family, you have damaged your family seemingly beyond repair and oh yeah, this is the best part, it said evilly. John could just imagine it grinning evilly too while rubbing its hands together.
Here's the kicker John, you ready?
You screwed up.
John had shaken his head morosely. "I just wanted to keep him safe. I just wanted to keep my family whole." he had whispered softly, no one but the carpet and the motel beds and the crappy television to hear him.
Half an hour later, Dean returned. Dean didn't come back in immediately, John surmised he was gathering himself, putting a stopper on all his emotions.
Or maybe, a much nicer voice in his head said, he's helping Sam out. Maybe Sam's staying. Maybe he's not going to college. Maybe you didn't screw up so bad after all.
Then his eldest walked in.
Alone.
He stood there for a few minutes, which seemed like eternity. He had an unreadable expression on his face. John could see that he was struggling with what to say.
Then Dean said three words, three simple, powerful, heartbreaking words which shattered all hope in John's body.
"He's gone Dad."
Dean walked back into his room, and all hope left John Winchester's body.
"I miss my son."
John was startled by this thought. Oh bravo, for some reason he can hear his Mary say to him, partly in amusement, partly in exasperation, you've realized you miss your son. That certainly took some time.
It wasn't just that though. He missed Sam from the moment he walked out their dingy motel door.
He wanted to see his son.
For the past two years, he had missed his son, sure. But he hadn't wanted to see him, hadn't wanted to get into another argument, hadn't wanted to open old wounds. Now though, he had a sudden urge to drive in the opposite direction to California.
Suddenly, his phone rang. Keeping an eye on the road, he reached for his cellphone and flipped it.
Dean.
"John Winchester." John rumbled in his deep voice.
"Eleven-two-eighty-three. It's me Dad,"
"I do know how to read called ID son."
Dean chuckled, "Better safe than sorry. That's why we devised that whole 'eleven-two-eighty-three' thing remember? Caleb just called. Wanted me to tell you that the spirit is Mrs. Shephard's husband who was savagely murdered by a bunch of drunken kids in 1928."
John nodded. "Thanks. I'll see you later."
"Yeah. Oh, and Dad?"
"Yes?"
"What in the hell are you listening to?"
"I'll see you later Dean." John stressed, Winchesterese for, "You know damn well what this music is and you should know better than to annoy your father."
"Alright." John could hear the amusement in his son's tone and could just imagine the grin that matched with it.
John ended the call and his eyes flickered towards the radio again. Alright, maybe just this once.
For Mary.
For Dean.
For Sammy.
'On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a partridge on a pear tree. On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me two turtle doves and a partridge on a pear tree...'
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Three Days Later
Two dirty, exhausted and tired Winchester men walked into Room 324 in the Super 8 Motel. They had just finished hunting the incorporeal sonovabitch, Alex Shephard, down. It should have been a simple salt and burn, except for the simple fact that he was buried a few feet away from his property and while Dean had been trying to set his remains on fire, he was tossing Dean around from side to side like a rag doll. Thankfully, John had shot a lot of rock salt into the bastard and had managed to set the corpse on fire before Dean was harmed any further.
It didn't help that the Shephards' property was unkempt and had not seen the work of a gardener, heck even a caretaker in decades.
Which was why John and Dean were dirty, smelly, exhausted and longing for a hot shower. Hopefully the motel had enough hot water for the both of them.
Highly unlikely.
"You go first," John said, waving is hand in the direction of the bathroom. "I'll get the weapons out of the trunk. We should do some inventory and cleaning. We haven't in a long while."
Dean was grateful his dad was letting him go first but he groaned inwardly at the thought of having to clean all their weapons despite their aching muscles. Sighing, he took a clean change of clothes from his duffle bag and headed to the shower, hoping that the warm water would work a miracle for his tired body.
Half an hour later, Dean opened the door and exited the bathroom, a cloud of steam and warmth following him. John looked up from his work to see his son wearing a fresh change of clothes and looking more relaxed.
"Your turn."
John nodded. "Your turn to clean the weapons." he replied, gesturing to the piles of weaponry lying around them. Guns, knives and ammo of every kind surrounded them. To an observer, it looked like chaos. But to the Winchesters, it was highly organized and they knew exactly where each weapon was at a particular time.
Dean sat down at the edge of the bed and began to polish the knife his father had been working on when he had entered the room. It was pretty relaxing and it was a way for him to get his mind off things and just unwind. It was a strange way of unwinding but the Winchesters weren't the most ordinary people you would find in the United States of America.
Another half an hour passed by as Dean moved from polishing knives to wiping guns. He barely even noticed John exit the bathroom, let alone the small smile on his face when he saw how engrossed his son was in his work. Deciding not to disturb him, John grabbed a chair and began to help his son with their ammunition. Every type of ammunition was listed on a sheet of paper, their amount and if they needed to buy some more.
Three more hours went on in silence, the only sounds that could be heard were the reloading of the guns and the breathing of the Winchesters. Dean enjoyed this time spent with Dad, when they weren't hunting and when they were just spending some time together. True, it wasn't like going to a game or to a park to spend some time with him but for Dean, it was enough.
John was enjoying it too. He hated having to yell at his sons and to give them orders but he had to for their safety. It was nice to be able to stay with Dean in a peaceful silence. It was rare since most of the time, they were hunting with John barking out orders or if ever there was a silence, there would be a tense silence on the rare occasion that they had a disagreement.
Dimly, they could hear a car pulling up into the motel's parking area, followed by the sound of a car door being shut. It wasn't surprising that they heard it. Being a hunter automatically meant that you needed keen senses. Although they noticed the sound, they didn't really give much attention to it. They figured it was just one of the motel's customers.
A few minutes later, they heard footsteps, slow jogging at first, then it picked up speed as whoever was running began jogging up the stairs at a much faster pace. Again, they noticed it but didn't pay it much mind. It was just another of the Super 8 Motel's patrons.
What they didn't count on was for the footsteps to stop outside their door.
A knock on the door broke the silence.
John and Dean exchanged a look of wariness and slight worry. They weren't expecting anyone and how exactly, were they going to explain their arsenal.
Let's not panic, John's eyes said. Let's see who it is first before making any assumptions.
Dean nodded. Have a weapon just in case we have to knock the sucker out, he communicated silently.
They each grabbed a weapon, John a knife and Dean a handgun.
John cautiously approached the door and looked out of the peephole.
He was in for the shock of his life.
What on earth is he-- he thought. It seemed like his body had acquired a mind of its own because before he had even registered what he was doing, his left hand had already dropped the knife, which fell silently on the carpeted floor, luckily missing his foot, and his right hand was already reaching for the doorknob.
Dean's eyes widened. "Dad!" he whispered urgently. What on earth was he doing?
A second later, the doorknob clicked and John swung open the door.
"Sam?"
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There you go! Updates will come in the next few weeks... school's about to start so I can't promise how soon... Happy New Year! Please review! (Am i starting to sound like a broken record? i think i am. I'm sorry!)