Thanks for all the lovely reviews. I know I have to work on a lot of aspects of the story. But I just got to say that I was sort of rushing it. Hopefully this chapter will come out better. A/N I do not know what happened with the paragraphing either!
Disclaimer- i own nothing
A/N: Please forgive any wrong details. I've lost my copy of the SN series 1 so I can not really remember. I am just guessing! Feel free to correct any mistakes. Just rememeber that they are not intentional.
Chapter 2
John Winchester slammed the door, hearing the bang with a certain satisfaction. He slid the key in the lock, turned it and threw them on the nearby table. He dropped the brown
bag he was carrying onto the bed. A smell of tacos rose from it. Johns stomach growled but he ignored the urge. He was worried about his children. He had received a voice
message a few days ago on his cell. Something about a plane with seven survivors.
Originally, it had not sounded like anything interesting. John had simply changed his outgoing message, diverting all possible jobs to his oldest, Dean. He was too busy with his
current hunt to worry about any other small fish. John was going after the biggest fish (so to speak) in the demonic sea. However, he was not heartless. He had researched the seven
"survivors" of the plane crash. He had been worried when they had started to die. Something was going on. He had sent his kid into the middle of it.
"What kind of father are you?" he admonished. He rubbed his hands through his hair. Sighing, he crossed the small room and sank onto the bed. Even in the dim light he could see
The standard motel print on the wall above the queen. Often, he wondered if some shop sold them in bulk for a buck a piece. That would explain why John had spent at least two
nights of every week for the past twenty years staring at the same poster.
Shaking his head, his thoughts flew back to his sons. He had laughed when he heard of the fake agents breaking into see the plane wreckage. It was typical Dean. It was typical
Sam. He reached for the remote. He flicked on the television. He was just grateful for the background noise. John Winchester hated to admit it but he was lonely and afraid. He had
heard nothing from his kids in the past day. He had been checking his voicemail non stop. He hoped he would hear Deans sarcastic voice bitching at him and boasting about their
latest success. Nothing had came. John had been close to ringing his children to check on them. However,he stopped himself every time when he was half way down his calls log. If
he called them, he would let them back into his life. This was something that he could not afford. He was in serious danger right now. The kind of danger every parent shielded their
parent from. John was no different. "crashed..."
Johns ears pricked up to the sound of the newscaster. He reached for the remote and quickly turned up the volume. The woman was standing in front of a blue screen. She was
blonde, petite and pretty. Exactly Deans type.
"Rescue operations are still going on. So far things are not looking good. The official figures released are that there are only 4 survivors thus far. This is another in a
series of crashes for the doomed airline. We will keep you posted as the story unfolds. But here it is again-Flight 886 has crashed 40 minutes into the flight in Wyoming .
Phone this number..."
John did not hear anymore. It was the cursed flight. It had crashed. John calculated mentally. This was the seventh in a series of crashes. This was related. Dean and Sam had failed.
Suddenly John did not care very much about the bigger picture right then. His boys had to be in trouble. His gut instinct told him that. He also knew that the boys would be as close
to that plane as they could possibly get. He had raised them. Thatwas what he would do. He was up, keys in hand and making mental calculations. He was not far from Wyoming.
He could make it in a couple of hours. He needed to make it in a couple of hours.
XxxXxXxXxxXxXxxxXXxXxxXxXxXxXxXX
A few hours later.
"Good God." John breathed as took in the debris in front of him. People were searching across the vast area the wreckage had landed. It was strangely quiet. Their heads were
bowed as they concentrated with their work. It had taken John less time than he thought to make it there. Speeding was not a crime, he reasoned, unless he got caught. Talking his
way into the crash site, for John, had been like child's play. "Flash a smile and talk the talk" as he liked to call it. Here he was- two long hours and sixteen excrutiating minutes later.
The stars in the night sky twinkled deceptively above them. John searched. He shifted through the wreckage slowly. He was getting desperate. He had checked the official lists of
the rescuers. Neither Sam nor Dean (nor any of their alias' were on either lists). JOhn knew that they were here though. He knew his kids were under the wreckage somewhere,
waiting for him to come and get them.
XxXxXXxXxXxXxXXxXxxxXXxXx
John was struggling to see. The dim light of the moon was fading and so was his hope. He needed to find his children. He needed to save them. If they were not found soon,
logically, there would be no hope. It was getting cold. He was freezing. He shivered. He lifted a fallen suitcase. His heart jumped as he uncovered an outstretched hand.
"I am coming. Hang in there." John pushed the debris off with renewed fervor.
"Sammy..."