Chapter 23
It had killed John to say the truth aloud to Bobby, and then even worse to say it again to Dean. When Ellen first showed him the e-mail, he managed to remain stoic, his face a mask of blankness. But then he and Ellen packed their things and started driving off, and he had time to think about what this really meant.
He was never going to see Sam, his youngest son – ever again.
The thought was enough to rip through his hardened features, and cause a couple of tears to slip past his guard. And as he kept his eyes on the road ahead, he made the choice to call Bobby.
Bobby went silent upon receiving the news, and John wished he was able to remain silent. But presenting the truth with his emotions behind his words caused his armor to crumble, and his blank face turn into one of true anguish.
Ellen kept her eyes on the landscape rushing past them out the passengers' window. This seemed like a family matter, but she's had the pleasure of getting to know Sam over the last few months – and he really was a great kid, with a supportive and loving family to back him up – no matter how small and fractured it was.
After John had broken the news to Bobby, the phone was passed to Dean.
And John couldn't hold back anymore. The moment he heard his eldest sons' voice, he broke into silent sobs – not caring if Ellen was there to witness his moment of weakness. She could shove it, as far as he was concerned.
But the news was hardest on Dean, John knew. It was hard on everyone, sure – hard on himself because he had to save this innocent child before he was torn apart by demons, meaning he wouldn't reach Sam in time before he…changed.
It was hard on Bobby, because he's known Sam since the kid was about five. He and Dean would prance around his Salvage Yard as kids like they owned the joint – and in no time at all was Bobby then called their 'uncle'. He was their Uncle Bobby growing up – but once the boys made it out of High School the boys stopped calling him 'uncle', he didn't take it personally, he knew they hadn't stopped caring about him as if he were an uncle; just like he wouldn't stop caring for them as if they were his sons.
But this crushing news was definitely hardest on Dean.
When John would go away on hunts, Dean would be there to take care of Sam always. From the moment Dean carried Sam out of their burning home where their mother died to now – Dean knew Sam has always been his responsibility.
So of course John wasn't surprised when Dean didn't take the information well. He was actually expecting worse, which was why when he hung up on Dean he turned his phone off. He wasn't in the mood to hear about what a bad father he was.
But the moment he got off the phone with Dean, he quickly pulled himself together and mopped up his face. He had a job to do, and didn't need anyone else to see how vulnerable he was at the moment.
Now John and Ellen were approaching the house in Minnesota after having driven all night long, and not uttering a word to each other.
It was clearly an abandoned house, John noted as he slowed the car to a crawl in front of the black house with white plastic tarps on the windows, and a space where the front door should have been. The wood planked floor that made up the front porch was albeit caved in; some of the steps that lead up to the porch were even missing. The house itself was black clearly from a fire that occurred years ago, but no one has bothered to rebuild it.
Definitely too shady, and a bit off the grid, John noticed as this house seemed to be the only house in a few miles - it was surrounded by open fields. If anything sketchy were to go down in this town…this would be the ideal house to do it in.
John stopped the car in front of the house, and pulled his flask of holy water from his duffel bag in the back seat, and placed it in the front pocket of his leather jacket.
"You sure about this, John?" Ellen asked in a shaky voice, clearly worried. Her eyes remained fixed on the two shotguns lying on her lap.
"Definitely not." John replied honestly before sighing deeply and opening his door and stepping out into the morning air.
Ellen swore to herself as she opened the passengers' side door and stepped out of the car as well, before slamming the door shut behind her. Once out of the car, she slung one of the guns over her shoulder, and held the other one out in front of her carefully.
John led the way up the steps, onto the porch carefully with Ellen behind him with her shotgun out and cocked at the ready.
Once they were both on the busted porch with little problems, other than the constant creaking that sounded every time they shifted their weight – surely announcing their presence, John stuck his head through the threshold into the house to get a quick look.
He sighed, but kept his guard up regardless upon seeing three people in what looked like the living room area. The room was definitely singed and unsound – the walls black from the severe burns, and what was once probably a hardwood floor was now a mess of jagged pieces of black, and dark brown wood and some rusted nails.
It looked as if the living room were a battlefield.
But in the middle of the room was a new looking blue floral recliner chair – and sitting in the chair looking completely relaxed sat a middle aged woman with long dark straight hair that went down to her midriff. She wore a black business suit, over a white shirt and black pants with her right leg crossed over her left one. Her thin face instantly went to John's the moment he peeked into the room, and a wicked smile formed over her features.
Behind the woman were two well built men also in black suits, John assumed they were body guards. But who was this woman, and why did she need protection?
"You can come on in, John Winchester." The woman said as her blue eyes instantly bled black.
John walked into the house carefully, keeping his eyes on every possible threat in the room. He looked from the woman in the chair, to the two men behind her over and over as if silently evaluating their strengths and weaknesses.
"Where's the boy?" John asked instantly, focusing solely on the woman now.
"Jeremy? Aw, c'mon John…you know what they say about all work and no play." The demon teased with a playful wink.
"Where is he?" John asked again, this time with more force in his tone.
"That's how you want it then?" The demon asked a little more seriously, "Fine then…but I promise you…this isn't the boy you're looking for."
John swallowed his emotions as they threatened to suddenly burst to the surface. "I know."
"You do?" The demon asked looking relatively surprised before looking a little disappointed, "And here I was hoping Sammy would eat his heart out."
"Don't make me ask again." John threatened in a deep voice.
"First show me the Colt." The demon demanded, all playfulness suddenly gone from her tone.
With little hesitation, John pulled a colt revolver from his waistband and held it out in the open for the demon in front of him to get a good glimpse. Her serious look suddenly turned to one of displeasure, and almost anger.
"That's a nice gun…" she spat with her beady black eyes now fixed on John, "But I want to see the Colt, John…the Colt."
"What are you talking about?" John asked with wide eyes.
How did she know this wasn't the real Colt? Meg sure didn't a little less than a year ago. No one was supposed to know what the gun looked like.
"I know what the Colt looks like, John." The demon quipped back venomously, "I've been around for a while. Now, I'm done fooling around. Give me the Colt, or watch me kill the boy!"
The demon snapped her fingers, and suddenly another man in a black suit entered the room holding what appeared to be a rope – but what caught John's eye was at the other end of the rope. The other side of the rope was looped and knotted into an awful looking leash, placed around Jeremy's neck. The little boy walked behind the demon, stumbling a little, but otherwise looking relatively unharmed – no matter how terrified he looked.
The boy had dark brown hair cut into a bowl cut just above his eyes. His red and blue horizontal stripped shirt was caked with dirt and blood, while his jeans had impressive holes over his scraped knees.
The man came to a halt at the woman's side, making the kid stop next to him – standing between the man and the woman.
Quickly, John dropped the fake gun in his hands, and with an eye roll he withdrew the real Colt from the back of his waistband.
"That's better." The woman said with a pleased smile on her face, "Now, hand the gun over to the one holding the leash."
"Give me the boy first." John demanded stubbornly.
"Fine." The woman said lazily as she fixed the demon holding the leash with a pointed look.
The demon nodded curtly before tossing the end of the rope toward John who caught it easily as he whispered kind and encouraging words to the young Jeremy. He then reeled the boy in closer to him gently as he screamed on the top of his lungs. "ELLEN! NOW!"
Suddenly Ellen was in behind John with her shotgun out and at the ready as she pulled the one from her back in one slick movement and tossed it to John who caught it as reflex.
Ellen then blasted the woman in the chair full of rocksalt as well as the demon that once held the leash.
Once John was cocked and ready, he fired his own rocksalt rounds into the other two demons that only had time to make half a move before the demon they were assigned to protect was shot.
Even though they were out for the count, John and Ellen continued to shoot the rocksalt into the demons until they were out of ammo.
John and Ellen both swore in unison once they were empty, and quickly grabbed the boy before rushing back to the car – knowing they didn't have much time before the demons woke up.
But they made it with the boy and the Colt.
But John knew the demons wouldn't let this go so easily. They would be back after him soon, and they weren't going to be happy.
Oookay, this chapter's in the bag. Haha.
But things are gonna go downhill pretty fast for our boys. This isn't gonna go down so smoothly.
Lets just say...I'm REALLY excited to write the next two or three chapters. :)