So all these reviews and story alerts are making me feel better. I'm sorry for the delay. A lot has happened lately, and it's been somewhat…(grumble grumble complain complain you guys don't care you just want to story so here.)
Chapter 3: Double Trap
The first feeling that Bobby had that something was wrong was that John seemed a little nervous himself. Something was very off indeed, and if the sensation was bad enough that it rocked John's nerves, Bobby knew that it, undoubtedly, should worry him. John Winchester didn't get nervous.
"What do you think?" Bobby asked, his eyes scanning the empty barn. They were standing on a carpet of moldy hay, smelling sulfur and damp horse. There was a breeze from outside and the entire frame of the old, decrepit barn groaned in protest.
"I think it's too calm. They should have been here by now," John replied.
"Sorry boys, it's just me," the voice was that of a stranger—a tall broad-shouldered man of thirty or so, with ruffled blonde hair and small, impish features. John and Bobby both took a few steps back. "And you're still out of your league."
"We just came to talk," John said, taking a step back. The demon took a step forward the same distance, as though the two were attached by an invisible string. Another step back. Another step forwards. Just a few most steps and he would be inside the trap.
"Yes, yes, I know," the demon hissed, waving a dismissive hand. Bobby flew backwards into one of the stall doors, out cold. John kept his eyes trained on the demon. "It's not here—what we're both looking for."
"How did you know—"
"Please. The loose cannon hunter John Winchester goes through the trouble of letting a demon know he's in town and he doesn't make an attempt on my life? Come on now. Don't insult my intelligence. Especially not with the half-assed attempts at luring me into a devil's trap." With that, the demon's eyes flicked downwards and fell straight on the first outside curves of the devil's trap, and John knew that they were most royally screwed. He spared Bobby half a glance. He was stirring slightly. John's intentions were to stall, but the demon cut him off. "So let's talk, John. Obviously we can't let you all out of here alive—yes I did say 'all'. We know about your sons. Which brings me to my next point. Why I'm alone."
John felt a pang of fear, which was immediately quelled by his confidence in his son's abilities to obey strict orders, especially under the current circumstances. "I thought you guys were just arrogant bastards. But it doesn't matter—there's a few pounds of salt between you and my boys, and once I'm through with you here, I'll go after your friends the same way."
It was then that Bobby dragged himself off the floor, with an alarming amount of agility for someone of both his age and current physical condition. His hands groped desperately for the bucket that lay just out of reach and found the purchase of the handle within moments. With a grunt of effort he launched the bucket's contents at the demon, who shrank back instinctively and let out a bloodcurdling scream at the contact. He stumbled backwards, towards John, and directly into the devil's trap, where he curled into a ball. Bobby let the bucket drop and joined John with a satisfied grin.
"Holy water," he said proudly, shoving his hands in his pockets.
The demon took a few moments to regain his composure, shuddering almost convulsively in his partial fetal position. He let out an animalistic growl as his eyes flicked black and stayed that way. John watched with thinly veiled contempt.
"So what's the plan? Exorcise this one here and let the other's come find him?" Bobby asked.
"Let the others find me. Take your time, they're probably already done with your little boys," the demon hissed.
"Like I said, the salt—"
"John, you didn't let me finish. Your boys aren't at the motel room. They were trying to help their daddy find his little gun. They left the little safe box."
"You lying son of a bitch."
"Go back then. Check. You know I'm not going anywhere." There was such unrestrained superiority in the demon's voice that John thought about giving him a good kick in the ribs. Not because it would be particularly effective, but more for his own satisfaction.
"Go, John. I'll take care of this son of a bitch and catch up with you," Bobby's voice was thick with concern.
"Alright," John clapped him on the shoulder for thanks and fixed his most penetrating glare on the demon, almost a little upset that he didn't have the time to watch him suffer.
"John," Bobby called, just before John was around the open barn door. "Be careful. Ya idjit."
"Asshole," John smirked, and disappeared after his sons, still at least a little confident that the demon had been bluffing in one last ditch effort to save his own life. Such was not to be the case, for as John turned the corner and came upon their motel room he found the lights flicked off and the entire place looking quite deserted. With a glimmer of hope he inserted the key into the lock, turned it, and took a step into the dark and desolate motel room, which was completely devoid of any teenage boys, surly looking and dejected or otherwise.
"Dammit!"
Yes, yes that was a Dean and Sam, Bobby and John parallel. I like to think of them as quarrelling brothers. No Dean and Sam this time, sorry guys. Next chapter, I promise.