Supernatural one shots

John Winchester-Woman in black

(Omg we hit part 100 y'all! Thank you so much for all your reads, and votes! Here's a longer one shot for ya, with a less ass holey John!) 

(Warning: Mentions of pedophilia and mentions of rape)

1992 Butt Fuck Nevada

Winchester. A name that struck fear into the hearts of monsters. Creepy crawlies who hurt the innocent, who believed they had the right to do anything they wanted. The minute they stepped out of line, they signed a death certificate. Because no monster escaped John Winchester. None. It wasn't his fault he was like this. It was the filthy world around him that molded, and shaped him like a damn piece of clay.

The squeaky faucet hacked and rumbled to life, the cool water running through John's blistered hands, providing relief to the burning skin. It had been another long day of digging up graves to salt and burn. Sometimes he felt like he was suffocating in this world, but he knew he had to keep going. He didn't want any family to endure what he and his boys had.

Sam and Dean. His boys. He loved them both with everything he had. He knew he didn't show it often, but when it came down to it, if he didn't have his boys he would be dead by now. They were with Bobby right now, while he finished up this hunt. At ages eight and twelve, they were too young to come hunting with him. Dean though...He was getting there. It was incredible how badly he wanted to follow in John's footsteps.

John heaved a long sigh and grabbed a towel, dabbing his hands dry and looking up to meet his reflection. He hated what he saw. A shell. The shell of a man he had lost a long time ago. He scowled and mumbled to himself before turning away, walking back to the main room of the shitty motel he was in. It was well past midnight, and John new sleep was half way to Timbuktu by now, with no intentions of paying him a visit.

Running his calloused fingers through his long hair, he decided to go for a walk. Maybe the fresh air would do him some good. He hastily grabbed his leather jacket, tossing it over his beat up tank top, and speed walking out the door. He suddenly felt as if the tiny motel room were suffocating him, the cracked walls closing in until he needed to get the hell out.

He walked for a while. Honestly, he lost track of time, walking just to walk, no sense of direction or anything. He was lost to the world, no one spared him a second glance, which he was more than grateful for. He enjoyed being invisible. It was nice not having everyone breathing down his neck all the damn time.

"Help!"

John froze in his tracks, head snapping in the direction the cry had come from.

"Somebody help me plea-!" The second cry was muffled, by what John could only assume was a hand. Hunters instincts on high alert, he found himself running to the scene. More muffled shouts and punches sounded, making John pick up his pace.

The blows kept landing, but something dawned on him. He wasn't hearing those cries anymore. Instead, it sounded like several different people were grunting and scuffling. He rounded the corner, and what he saw made him come to an abrupt halt.

The victim, by the looks of it a young girl, was cowering behind a dumpster, watching as a figure, wailed on four beefy looking men. It seemed as if someone had beaten John to the scene, and was doing a damn good job of kicking ass. John quickly moved to where the young girl was hidden, crouching beside her.

"Hey, hey you alright kid?" He asked, doing his best to keep his voice soft. He knew he didn't look like a damn teddy bear, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare the girl.

She flinched and snapped her head over to him, wide brown eyes frantic. "Y-yea...I think so..." She mumbled, and turned to look down the alley. The alley in which she was almost dragged into.