Authors Note: Thanks everyone for your reviews and to everyone that has been reading without reveiwing ... i appreciate you all reading my stuff :-) I wrote this during work yesturday and i wanted to post it before i left but i didnt get the chance so here it is this morning. Hope you enjoy :-)

Chapter 12. John's crime

John wasn't sure how long he had been stuck down in basement but he knew that he was definitely late getting back to Missouri's. The small window near the roof of the basement had told him a while ago that it was no longer daylight, leaving the moonlight his only lighting. So if she hadn't been worried about him before then she should be by now. Every once and a while his phone would ring out. There was someone out there that wanted to get a hold of him and that person wasn't giving up.

So far the spirit hadn't shown itself yet and John was getting kind of worried. Not that he was all that enthusiastic to see what the maniac wanted with him but he was worried that the spirits absence meant that Mike was in trouble. He had come to Lawrence to protect the guy and what a great job he was doing so far.

He had managed to sit up leaning against the pole so he wasn't lying down anymore but after sitting on the concrete floor for who knew how long his ass was starting to go numb. This time alone had given him the chance to think. Actually thinking was just about all he could do right now.

The boys were at the forefront of his mind. They were going to be worried when he didn't call tomorrow like he promised he would for Dean's birthday. But then a thought occurred to him. What if they weren't worried? He had broken that many promises over the years and had left them for days without contact before, sometimes longer. The thought that they might not even think something was wrong had him more worried than he'd like to admit. He knew it shouldn't be this way. Jim and Mac and even Bobby had given him warnings about the way he handled things sometimes but John didn't like people commenting on his parenting skills. It got his back up and Caleb had never seemed to grasp that because out of everyone that kid never seemed to back down if he thought John was doing the wrong thing by the boys. Nothing had changed now that Caleb was an adult himself, he just seemed more determined to be Dean and Sam's voice although they were all starting to realize that Sam didn't need someone else to voice his concerns. That boy came in loud and clear all by himself. He hoped they were doing okay … all three of them.

He tried to shift a little without causing to much pain in his sore wrists. Maybe someone would come to take a look at the house since it was on the market. He hadn't heard any noise come from upstairs since he had woken up and he was starting to wish that the spirit would just come back and tell him what the hell he wanted.

John of all people should have known to be careful what you wish for because just as the thought had crossed his mind Carlson appeared in front of him wearing an evil satisfied smile on his face, looking at John like he knew him and he couldn't think of any time that he had met the man. He didn't look familiar at all.

Carlson looked around the room for a moment and smiled before turning back to John, the smile still plastered to his face. John waited silently as Carlson walked slowly towards him. He stopped just in front of John and knelt down on one knee so that he was eye level with the hunter. John almost flinched at Carlson's piercing blue eyes as he gazed into John's. He could feel hatred coming off the spirit in waves but it was more than your average crazy ghost. This person really hated John for something. What that something was, John had no idea.

"Hello John."

John didn't exactly like the how close the spirit was to him but couldn't exactly do much about it so settled for a glare. "Carlson."

"You know who I am John?"

"I know who you are but I don't know you," John clarified.

Carlson sneered. "That's funny John because we had a mutual friend."

John started at the use of the past tense. Did that mean that he had already exacted out his revenge on the mechanic. "Mike?"

Pursing his lips Carlson nodded. "Well yes now that I think about it."

John frowned. Carlson hadn't been talking about Mike. "Cat got your tongue?" Carlson questioned when John didn't say anything.

"What the hell do you want Carlson?" John was starting to get annoyed with the smug smile that was on the spirits face and after having been tied up in his old basement for as long as he had, he wanted answers.

"That's simple John." Carlson stood up from where he was kneeling in front of John and stood back.

The oldest Winchester rolled his eyes. This ghost couldn't ever seem to give him a straight answer. "And that would be what?" he asked. "Revenge?"

"See I figured you weren't all jarhead and no brains." Carlson laughed at his own joke and began surveying the room again as if he was just having a friendly conversation with an old friend.

"Okay ..." John drawled out. "You want revenge on Mike for what, starting a business without you. Man, that's history and he never agreed to start the business with you in the first place. That was an agreement between your father and his. He never agreed to it."

Carlson looked momentarily surprised at what John said. He hadn't expected the ex-marine to know as much as he did about the situation. It wasn't long before he recovered and felt rage building inside him again. "That's not how it went down!" he raised his voice and John watched him warily as he started to pace. "Mike was just like everyone else!"

"Like Biggs? And that single mother what the hell did she do?" John questioned. He knew that trying to make sense of someone else's madness never really worked out, especially when you were dealing with vengeful spirits. But as he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon he didn't have much else to do.

"Biggs was a little asshole and she was no better. I was never good enough for them, always the butt of their jokes." Carlson ranted. "Do you know what its like to always be the nerd John? To always be picked on relentlessly, to have no friends?"

"And that constitutes murder?"

"They made my life a living hell and Mike was no different. He never gave me the time of day. I know he thought I was a weirdo …. He … he thought I was a geek. He proved that when he went against our agreement for the garage." Carlson got a crazed look in his eyes. "And don't worry John. He will pay for that. Just like all the rest."

John just stared at the crazed lunatic in front of him not sure what to say. Not sure that anything would suffice. He was sure that nothing was going to stop his thirst for vengeance.

"But …" Carlson turned around in a circle and made a point of looking for something. He stopped and smiled as he saw something that had obviously taken his interest. He walked over and picked up something. "This should do the trick." Carlson commented offhandedly more to himself than to John and then turned back to his prisoner and smiled.

He walked back over to John and held up his find. It was hard to see at first but using the minimal moonlight that was filtering through the small window John saw the long gardening pick that had obviously been left by the previous owners.

"Planning a little gardening?" John quipped, trying to cover up that he had tensed as soon as he had seen the gardening tool. John was positive of one thing and that was that things were definitely not looking good.

Carlson placed the pick on the floor and leant on it like a walking cane as he cocked his head to the side in contemplation. "Where was I? Oh yes but … Nothing that any of those people had done to me even compares to what you did John."

John's eyebrows narrowed at this new piece of information. "What are talking about?"

"You don't know? Well …" Carlson's explanation was cut short by a shrill ringing sound coming from John's jacket pocket. Carlson smirked. "Shall we see who it is?"

John shrugged. "I'm a little tied up right now."

"Allow me." Carlson bent down close to John again and extricated the ringing cell phone from John's jacket and turned it so that he could see the flashing screen. After looking at it for a second he held the phone up for John to see. John didn't know whether to be relieved or worried.

"So who's Caleb?" Carlson questioned before shrugging his shoulders and throwing the phone over his shoulder. John winced when he heard the phone crack on the concrete floor of the basement, the ringing stopped. "Doesn't really matter does it? No-one is going to be able to help you John."

"What the hell do you want?" John growled. He was getting tired of the mystery.

Carlson laughed but John couldn't see anything humorous at all about the situation. "Oh John … haven't you even wondered why you're here of all places?" Carlson asked gesturing around them to the old Winchester home.

John remained silent. He had no doubt that Carlson would continue without any prompting and he wasn't disappointed. "You took something from me John, something very special."

"I don't even know you."

"As you have told me but the thing is it's a small world." Carlson's eyes hardened all of sudden getting a very dangerous glint in the blue irises.

"You really want to know why you are going to die John?" he asked and then continued on before John had a chance to reply. "I'll tell you why. If it wasn't for you Mary would still be alive and for that you are not only going to die but your going to suffer."

John's eyes widened. Mary had not been what he had been expecting. What did this guy have to do with Mary? John closed his eyes in grief that only her name could conjure up, made even worse by the fact that he was sitting in the home that he had once shared with her.

John opened his eyes and stared into the hate filled eyes of the psychotic spirit in front of him. "What the hell does she have to do with any of this?" John asked with a dangerous tone.

"She was all that mattered. She was the only one that was ever nice to me. She was the only one that listened when I spoke and didn't laugh at my ideas." Carlson told him getting lost in the memories.

John glared at the spirit but in the back of his mind he knew that if anyone was going to get on this psycho's good side it would have been Mary. She didn't have a mean bone in her body unless people she cared about were threatened. So there was no doubt in John's mind that if Mary had known this man that she would have made him feel special when everyone else in his life had treated him like dirt.

"I had plans John. I was going to marry her. She was the love of my life and then you came along and stole her from me, making her the mother of those bastard sons of yours. She was meant to have my children, not yours."

John's eyes sparked with rage. "Leave her boys out of this; they were her world and if you knew her even a little you would know that!"

"And then even that wasn't enough … you killed her John and took her away for good!" Without warning Carlson scooted back with the garden pick in hand and swung it down on John's leg, the steel pick imbedding itself through John's calf, the tip of it sticking out of the back of his leg.

"Agghh …" John yelled as the pain in his leg cut through him. He automatically went to bring his hands to his leg but was stopped short but the bindings connecting him to the support beam. "Fuck!"

"Hurt a little bit?" Carlson smiled and wiggled the head of the pick around still imbedded in John's leg, causing John to grit his teeth. He wasn't going to give this maniac the pleasure of hearing him in pain.

"That's the least of your worries John. There is more where that came from but first I want you to sit and think about what you have done."

John panted through his clenched teeth and glared up at Carlson. "You're a crazy son of a bitch." He gritted out.

Carlson just stood up and smiled down at his handy work and wiped his hands on his pressed suit pants. He chuckled and then stood back. "See you in a bit John … for round two." And with that Carlson disappeared into thin air.

John banged the back of his head into the support beam and closed his eyes in frustration, breathing heavily. His leg hurt like a bitch. He could feel the blood dribbling over the side of the entry wound and from the exit wound to make a little pool on the floor. He tried to move as less as possible because he knew the less he moved it the more likely the blood loss would slow or stop and the pain was bearable.

His thoughts went back to what Carlson had unloaded on him. He blamed John for taking Mary away from him. John was willing to bet that Mary didn't have a clue what Carlson's plans had been. She had probably just been polite and kind like she was with most people. She had always been willing to give people a chance. And man had she adored those boys. They were everything to her and her to them, especially Dean since he had been older.

Thinking of the boys made him open his eyes and look for the phone. It was hard to see in the almost dark room but he was sure he could see it sitting a couple of feet away from him. It was most likely broken. Caleb had been trying to call him when the phone had been broken. Hopefully that was signal enough. The only thing he was worried about was that it was Dean's birthday which meant the psychic would most likely ring or stop by to visit with the boys which meant if Caleb was looking for him he probably had the boys with him as well. With Carlson's feelings about his sons he really didn't want them anywhere near this place but he had a sinking feeling that it was already too late. Where there was trouble those three were bound to find it. Caleb liked to joke about them being the three musketeers, his favourite childhood book that Mac had introduced him to when they had first met. John snorted. "More like the freaking three stooges." He jokingly rasped to himself.

John shook his head. That was unfair. Caleb and Dean were already terrific hunters and Sam was well on his way to becoming an excellent one him self, if he'd listen to orders occasionally and in John's current predicament he didn't think that he was quite the person to be picking on their hunting skills. He just hoped that if anything came out of this that Carlson's fixation on him gave the boys enough time to get rid of the spirit and save Mike.

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"Damn it!" Dean cursed and chucked Caleb's cell phone in the middle of the seat. As soon as the gas tank was nearly on empty Dean had pulled into the first gas station and told Sam to fill it up and pay while he and Caleb changed. Caleb's clothes had still been uncomfortably damp and Dean had been wearing sweat pants when they had raced away from the motel and he really wouldn't be comfortable going on a hunt wearing sweats. So off came the sweats and on went the Jeans. Both hunters were a lot more comfortable once they were on their way.

Caleb had taken over the driving when they left the gas station and they were making good time thanks to Dean's driving skills. They hadn't been pulled over once yet, despite the impossibly fast speed they had been traveling at.

Caleb glanced at Dean's frustrated slouch in the seat next to him. "What's the matter?"

"I'm not sure. It didn't ring out this time. I got cut off halfway. You think something happened to his phone?"

Caleb glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Sam was asleep with his head on the grocery bag he had chucked in the back. "I dunno, but it can't be anything good."

"I hate this. I knew he shouldn't have gone there alone. I told him." Dean rubbed the palm of his hand into his tired eyes. He was starting to get a headache again and he just knew that it wasn't a good sign.

"Why don't you get some sleep? We'll be there before you know it." Caleb suggested, knowing that he was wasting his breath.

"Are you kidding? Besides someone's gotta keep you company."

"Lucky me," Caleb replied sarcastically.

"Hell yeah, I'm a joy to be around."

"Oh yeah … a joy."

Both Caleb and Dean smiled at the humor. It was appreciated on both ends. Once again the car fell silent except for the low sounds of some random song playing on the radio.

Caleb glanced at Dean once again. The boy was looking down at his hands obviously thinking too much. That could be a scary thing. "We're gonna find him Deuce." Caleb spoke up. "I promise."

"I'll hold you to that." Dean smiled. He really, really hoped Caleb was right about that.

So now we know why the psycho has taken John back to his old house. Next chapter the boys will be in Lawrence and John will have some more quality time with our resident psycho :-). Let me know what you thought coz i love to hear what you think ... see you soon :-)