Owning and operating his own gun supply business, allowed Caleb Rivers to lead a somewhat truthful life away from the prying eyes of the police that seemed to be constantly breathing down his neck. Despite the secretive hunting part of his life, it was nice to actually provide a legitimate license to police when, inevitably, they would knock on his door.
After losing his wife and unborn child to a demon some years ago, he had devoted his life to finding and killing all things that people only dreamed about. After getting his start with Jim Murphy and Bobby Singer, he felt confident enough to start taking on his own cases.
Meeting John Winchester and his two little boys a few months previously, was the icing on the cake. It was nice to hear the pitter-patters of little feet as they ran and tripped around his shop, laughing to their hearts content.
While he didn't agree with involving little boys on hunting trips, or leaving them alone in sketchy motel rooms, it wasn't his place to argue and he knew it. When he got the call from Jim that John was missing, he wasn't entirely surprised, and he wasn't surprised that John would jump at the chance to take a hunt that was both dangerous and far away from legit backup.
But Dallas was close to another job he had lined up, and it was also his hometown. It wasn't a stretch to drive about an hour or so away into one of the sleepy towns, and search out the new hunter and see what he came up with.
When he rolled into the backwoods town, the first thing he did was go to the scene of the crime, or the scene where John was conducting his investigation. Route 99, the highway that had seen many a death over the last several decades. All young men, all on the same stretch of blacktop over the last few decades. The cops hadn't yet been able to see a pattern, but Caleb knew much more than they ever would. Rolling up under an overhead bridge, he carefully got out.
One of the first things he learned when he was in the middle of training, was to always watch his back against anything that might sneak up. The latest death had long since been cleaned up, but he was looking for something that the cops would never be able to pick up. Digging in his pocket for his EMF reader, homemade, he methodically waved the contraption around the base of the bridge, and the accompanying side of grass that was on the side of the road.
Caleb's brow furrowed when he noticed a few tiny specks littered among the green and brown grass. The specks were red. Over the years since learning to hunt, a part of his job description was also crime scene investigator for the supernatural. Bending down, he scraped some of the rust-colored substance onto his hunting knife, and took a closer look.
Blood.
It did not surprise him to see it, but it did not bode well for the new hunter. Ignoring the dread that settled into his heart like a hurricane wave, he stood back up and put the knife back. His EMF was silent, but he knew that could change at a seconds notice. Taking another lap around the highway, he noted the lack of traffic. It was likely police had closed that portion of highway, especially considering the crime scene tape.
"What happened to you, John?" He murmured softly. The blood on the knife was stuck in his brain.
Resigned to the reality that he was not going to find anything worth noting on the bridge at that time, he turned and headed back toward his car. Stuffing his hands (and the EMF reader) in his pocket, he looked up when he noticed a figure standing not too far away from his vehicle. Trained to be on guard with anyone that unexpectedly came up to him, he tensed only a little, and made sure he had his weapons on him. The woman (or girl, more like), was not moving.
"Hello," Caleb said, moving ever so slightly toward her. The girl regarded him, but did not verbally say so.
"It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."
The girl did not move, but did not move away, either. Instead, she seemed to be contemplating the best move to make toward the stranger in her midst. Caleb, meanwhile, took another step toward her. A part of his instinct was telling him to be wary, but to be relaxed enough to allow the girl to trust him.
"He's dead." The girl choked on a sob, shaking her head slowly. "He's just dead." Her brown hair fell around her face, getting stuck in the torrential downpour of her tears.
"Who? Who's dead?" Caleb asked, finally closing the gap between them, and handing her a tissue.
The girl stared at him, before accepting the tissue. She blew her nose loudly, and dabbed at her tears. "He just…he just went over the bridge."
Caleb followed her gaze to the top of the bridge. It did not long to see the blood that had not been cleaned up, and the yellow crime scene tape securely in place. The latest death must have happened before he was able to get there in time. Shaking his head, he directed his EMF toward the spot she pointed at, but doubted it would be able to pick up much from the distance he was at.
"Your husband?" He scoured her fingers for a ring, but could find none.
"My…my boyfriend!" She wailed.
"What happened to him?" Caleb had trained his voice to remain calm, and not get too overexcited.
She shook her head again, dabbing at her eyes and nose at the same time. It was obvious that whatever it was, it had been traumatic for the young girl who was now staring him down. Waiting for her to speak, he took another look around the highway, and noticed more blood splatters at the base of the bridge.
"He…he had his own issues to deal with, you know? I guess his…his guilt was too much for him."
Caleb arched an eyebrow; that was unexpected. "His guilt?"
She nodded, choking back another sob, before simply walking away. Not able to say anything to call her back while he tried to decode her cryptic message, he could not shake the feeling that this woman, as innocent as she appeared to be, was possibly hiding something. She certainly gave him enough food for thought to contemplate. Shaking off the sinking feeling he had about his friend, he took his knife out and looked at the blood again.
It was dried blood; it was not from the recent death that took place. Running his index finger over it, he tried not to think about what that must have meant for his friend. Neither he or Jim was willing to think about the possibility of Sam and Dean losing the only parent they had left. With a deep sigh, he finally returned to his car, and put the bridge and the strange girl, in his rearview mirror.
Finding a reasonably priced motel was not hard in a small town in Dallas. Pulling into the first parking lot with a neon 'vacancy' sign, he opened up the glove box and pulled out a small tin box that housed his many illegal credit cards. One of the less fancier parts of hunting was the illegal activity he had to conduct for his safety. Credit card fraud, oddly enough, was the one thing that made him vaguely uncomfortable. Choosing the latest card he had received in the mail, he slipped it in his pocket.
Once he had gotten a room, he went through the familiar process of warding the room against supernatural evil. A salt ring was always the first precaution he took, followed by a few sigils, and some weapons he put within easy reach in case something tried to sneak up on him in the night. Once that was done, he sat down on the creaky bed and pulled out the few pieces of information he had on the case. The strange girl now on the top of his list, and the contacts Jim had that he gave to John.
Adapting a flawless persona to get willing cooperation from the people he contacted, was second nature to him. Most often, he took on the personas of famous rock stars or actors. It was usually hilarious to see the looks on people's faces when they figured out where the inspiration for his name came from. Flipping through his list of contacts to call, he settled on the name at the top of the list. The mother of the man who died. The boyfriend of the young girl.
"…I am so sorry for your loss." Caleb listened to the grieving mother on the other end. The conversation had gone well so far, and now all he had to do was attempt to get an interview with her. "Do you mind, Mrs. Ellis, if I could stop by and ask you a few follow up questions? It's routine, especially in an undetermined death." Caleb listened to the woman hastily agree to meet with him later that day. "Great. Thank you so much."
Standing up once he had secured his coveted appointment, Caleb shrugged on his leather jacket, and stepped out into the cooler-than-normal mid-afternoon air. Striding across the parking lot, he spotted the main office, and lazily made his way inside. There was no one there, apart from the employee who was dozing across the room. Glancing down at the first desk near the front door, he thumbed through the log book that was open for all the world to see.
Leaning down, he fingered through the different names on the list. There was only one he was looking for. He truly did not know what he would do if he found more conclusive evidence of his worst fear. Stopping at the last name on the list that was highlighted in green as a new tenant, he shook his head in disbelief. He knew the alias John had used; it was a name they had gone over as one that was not too discreet, and would not likely attract attention. He had been there.
Caleb's legs suddenly felt weak, as though they were made of the consistency of Jell-O. Having everything he needed, including the room number for where John had been staying, he stealthily slipped out of the small office and walked the short distance to the motel room on the second floor of the outside landing. John's room appeared to be empty from the outside looking in, but he was not taking any chances. Using his lock pick, Caleb gently eased the door open and slipped in.
On the surface, there was nothing out of the ordinary. The room was messy, typical of a hunter who was in the throes of researching, and there was moldy food that indicated John had not been in the room in at least a few days. That was the biggest takeaway from the search inside the room, and it made Caleb's heart sink. Bending down, he took a look at the cheeseburger that now had flies perched on it. Shaking his head, he straightened up, and noted the protective salt ring, and open research books.
Walking toward the back of the room, Caleb did not know what to make of the oddity of the motel room. There was no concrete evidence that John was hurt, but plenty of evidence to suggest that he had abandoned the motel room. The rotten food indicated to him that he did not plan on being gone long, but something had happened. Not wanting to think of what might have happened, Caleb looked up when something caught his eye.
A large section of wall had been cleared to make room for the vast amount of research that now occupied it. Stepping closer to the maze of articles that now adorned the space, Caleb glanced carefully at the papers that were from the local newspaper. They were all connected to the case John was investigating. The deaths on Route 99, and the young men who had fallen victim. Impressed at the pattern John was able to establish, Caleb took a piece of motel stationary, and wrote down the names of the young men who had all met an untimely end on the highway. Thirty in all.
One notable piece of information caught Caleb's eye: "What the hell?" The murders had all involved men, and all had been young fathers. Connecting the dots in his frazzled brain, Caleb took down some of the research, and made for the exit. It was when he was passing the bed that was a mess of sheets and blankets, that he noticed the object he had missed on his first walk-through. John's journal. His pride and joy since getting into the life.
John never went anywhere without that thing. It was glued to his side. Picking up the thin journal, he perched on the bed and began leafing through it. There were a few chapters that dealt with his wife's murder, and the latest hunt he had gone on. From looking at the pages, Caleb knew John had gotten further in the hunt than Caleb had given him credit for.
" ! #$%^&* it," Caleb murmured under his breath, seeing the gravity of the situation outlined on the pages.
When he stepped out of the motel and went down the brick steps, he saw something on the cement that made his heart stop: blood. It wasn't enough to attract attention, but just enough that Caleb was able to pick it up. Bending down, he touched the spot lightly with his fingers, it was still wet to the touch. The stain didn't seem to lead anywhere, not further down the drive, not even into the forest on the other side of the lot.
" ! #$%^&* it," he muttered, running a hand over his face, as he forced himself to walk back to his own motel room across the lot.
"Unko Jim?" Dean asked, after lunch had been served. "Is Daddy lost?" His wide hazel eyes were downcast as he voiced that question. It broke Jim's heart.
"No, Dean," he reassured him, even though he was almost certain Dean could see right through his lie.
"That's not how Daddy feeds Sammy," Dean noted, watching Jim attempt to feed Sam some of the baby food John had given him.
Jim looked up, a smile playing around the corner of his mouth. "Oh, really? How does your Daddy do it?"
Dean took the airplane-shaped spoon from Jim, and imitated airplane noises while he steered the spoon into a mesmerized Sam's open mouth. Grinning victorious, Dean handed the spoon back to Jim, satisfied that he had taught him something about Sam that he hadn't known.
"Do you want to finish feeding him?" Jim asked, seeing how attentive Dean was to his brother, and how much pride he took in that.
"Sure!"
Dean eagerly took the small bowl from Jim. "I can tell Daddy that I helped feed Sammy."
"That's right," Jim nodded.
With a quiet sigh, he put the boys in the living room with a cartoon movie, and went out into the kitchen where he could still see the boys, but conduct his search for their father without them knowing.
His first order of business was to call Caleb and get an update on where he was and what he had found so far. "Caleb?" He asked, when he had finally gotten him on the phone. "What's going on?"
"I found that journal he uses in his motel room. After I left, I noticed some blood splatters on the cement outside."
Jim's heart sank faster than a stone into his stomach, as he leaned against the counter. "Was it significant?"
"It was enough for me to notice it. I'm going to go see the people he was helping right now, figure out when he last communicated with them."
"Alright. Let me know."
Jim got off the phone, more emotionally exhausted than he had been when he had gotten on. The search for John had taken a turn that he hadn't been prepared to handle at all. It was terrifying to imagine the evils of this world taking yet another life.
Looking out at the boys as they watched their movie, he felt a deep pain circulate in his chest as he gazed at them, as they unknowingly faced losing another parent in less than a year.
It was too cruel for him to even contemplate. He prayed that their little hearts would be spared the pain of such a loss.
AN: Thank you for all the reviews in the last chapter! I truly am enjoying going through these old chapters, and editing things and even adding more detail. I'm so glad I found this series again, and I can't wait to continue it!