𝘖𝘶𝘳 𝘋𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 - 𝙎𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡 (ON HOLD)

Three

John could tell by the amount of unread text messages and voicemails from his oldest son that Dean was getting angry from his lack of communication. Occasionally, he sent them info about a new case he wanted them to handle and nothing more. Dean asked questions sometimes and John never responded. He wanted his mind here, in this town, as he was getting closer and closer to finding Zoey. When he unlocked his motel room door, and flipped on the light, John was met with a trashed room. The lamp was knocked off the table, chairs were flipped, the mattress was off the bed, all the drawers were open, and his clothes were thrown all over the floor. What caught his attention was the wall full of photos and clues that were torn down and missing. Corners of the papers stuck to the thumbtacks were the only thing remaining. He slammed the door shut and picked up the one sticky note that was stuck to the wall. The message was simple, a threat: 'Stick to hunting ghosts.'

John pulled out his cell phone, dialing Tom, as he stormed up to the front desk, flashing his fake badge, demanding to be shown the security camera footage from the afternoon. He was getting closer.

~ SUPERNATURAL ~

Case after case, Sam grew increasingly angrier towards his absent father. It was bad enough he had his older brother running around, doing all of his work for him without a complaint, but now his girlfriend was dead. If Sam hadn't left with Dean, hadn't accompanied him in tracking down their father, maybe he could've been there to protect her... maybe he could've gotten her away, safe, alive. The anger towards his father, the anger at the thing that killed his mother (and now Jess), kept him fueled, alert, it all kept him going. At first, he wanted to be there for his brother, help him, then get back to school. Clearly, the universe had other plans. He spent years telling himself that he was out, that he was done, that Dean would be the only one carrying on 'the family business.' But now, after everything, after the dangerous chases they've been on, getting even more ridiculously challenging... he had to stay. For mom, for Jess, for Dean, for Zoey where ever she may be.

"What are you thinking about so hard over there?" Dean's voice, and a wadded up napkin hitting him in the face, dragged Sam out of his thoughts.

"Nothing."

"Sammy-"

"Dean, I'm fine."

"Really?" Dean let out a sarcastic laugh, running a hand down his face, "Could've fooled me. Sammy, you've barely said anything this entire month."

"I'm just tired." Sam shrugged off his concern, staring out the window of the fast food restaurant.

Before Dean could get out another word, Sam stood up, "I'm gonna go wait in the car."

Dean watched him exit, watched him walk to Baby and get in his usual spot in the passenger seat, watched him close his eyes and rest his head against the window, watched the way his jaw clenched shut in anger. That's all he seemed to be able to do these days. He couldn't talk to him. He shut down immediately. Jess's death hit him hard, Dean knew that, but it seemed like something else was wrong.

A week ago, when Sammy discarded a collection of his old books from the trunk of the car is when Dean noticed the obvious red flag. A huge red flag.

No matter how old Sam was, he was always curled up in shotgun with his head down in a book. Not so much these days. And that fucking terrified Dean more than any monster he had ever faced.

~ SUPERNATURAL ~

John spit out the blood that pooled in his mouth all over the concrete, rubbing his hand over the corner of his split lip with a grimace. His heart was racing, he was sweating, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he stared at the man who was tied up tightly with a bloody, bruised face. No matter how much he threatened, how much he hit the man, he still hadn't gotten any answers as to why he trashed his motel room. John stood up straighter, his split knuckles throbbing in pain as he grabbed his gun off the floor and aimed it at his first lead on this case.

"Who are you? What's your name?"

The man chuckled, lifting up his head to meet John's gaze, "Give it up, man. I'm not saying anything. Do whatever you want."

"Why?" John seethed, gripping the gun in his grasp tighter.

"Simple. I don't have anything to lose."

"What about your life?" John raised his eyebrows, "You really wanna die?"

"I got nothing left to live for."

"Look, you know who I am. How? Who're you working for?" John sighed, angry and impatient.

"Not a who. They. And I don't know who you are... I was just following orders." The man slumped, groaning, "Let's hurry this up, huh?"

"Who?" John yelled.

The man flinched, "I don't know their names."

"What do they pay you to do?"

"All kinds of things." The man closed his eyes, "That's all I'm gonna tell you. I don't know why you're here and I don't care. Just fucking do it already!"

John reached into his back pocket, pulling out Zoey Jone's missing flyer, unfolding it, shoving it in the man's face, "You seen this girl, huh? Know where she is? She's here, in this town. Tell me!"

"Never seen her."

John, not getting the answer he so desperately wanted, hit the man across the face repeatedly. The man coughed up blood, muttering, "Go... to... hell."

"You first." John said, taking a step back and raising his gun. He pulled the trigger, watching the bullet rip through the man's skull and brain. Blood splattered everywhere and the man went limp. John cursed, seething, kicking and throwing things around in the abandoned room. Why? Why couldn't things go his way just this once? Why couldn't he find Zoey?!

A few hours later, after cleaning up the place, and getting rid of the man's body, John sat in his motel room and saw a new voicemail from Dean. Guilt took over as he listened to his son's voice. His missed his boys. Things weren't working out here. They needed his help. He made up his mind. He was gonna check on them and head straight back here to continue investigating.

Little did he know, he'd be joining the man he just killed today in hell sooner than he thought.