𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛[𝙳.𝚆]

081

A month and a half.

A month and a half since I've seen and talked to Sam and Dean. A month and a half of riding around with John Winchester, trying to figure out a way to stop and track down the demon. Let me just say, he's not as fun as the boys. All work and no play.

I honestly had trouble figuring out how Sam and Dean dealt with him all their lives, especially Dean. Never talking back, always following orders, watching out for both of them. I don't know how he did it. Riding with John gave me a perspective I'm not sure I wanted to see.

I decided to stay for the big fight, give John a hand whether he liked it or not, because this was personal now. I needed to know if this demon was truly my father. I never mentioned any of it to John, because he'd probably kill me on the spot, but instead told him that he needed all the help he could get—that I was too invested in killing the demon now to back out.

He brought me up to speed on everything he knows. From the Colt, to the omens, to the targets—how they are all children on their six month birthday. Finding a way to kill the damn thing was our main concern. With the colt being nothing but a legend—no proof that it really exists—we had to look for another solution.

"Johnny! You'll never guess what I found." I start, barging into the cabin with a raised article. He turns away from the papers taped to the wall to look at me with his usual scowl on his face.

"What did I say about that nickname?" He questions irritably.

"That you love it. Anyways, I got news, and I don't think you're gonna like it." I walk over to him and hold out the article I printed out. "It was front page in the Colorado newspaper." He stares at me for a moment. I gesture for him to take it already and he does, eyes still on me, narrowed slightly. Slowly, he looks down at it and reads.

Daniel Elkins, well known in the hunter community for killing vampires, was found mauled in his home. I liked him, mostly because he never attempted to kill me—which was a smart move—but also because he killed the creatures I hated the most.

I always blamed vampires for being the reason my family was dead. If that hunter didn't think we were vampires, I'd still have a family. Don't get me wrong, if that man was still alive, I'd kill him again in a heartbeat, but still, vampires made my skin boil with anger.

"Son of a bitch." John says under his breath.

"Yeah. And from what it says—from it looking like an animal attack, yet signs of robbery—I'm placing my money on vampires." He looks up at me and tosses the paper onto his desk.

"We're going." He moves over to his side of the room and starts packing up his things. My eyes follow his movements, feet still rooted to the ground.

"Maybe I shouldn't go on this one, John." He stops moving and looks at me.

"Why not?"

"Elkins was a respected hunter. People looked up to the guy. Don't you think there'll be others trying to figure out what happened to him?"

"You'll be fine. From what I gathered, nobody has figured out you're actually alive. If there's other hunters there, I'll just say we're family. Now, pack your stuff and let's go before it gets too dark." He orders as he starts to take down all his notes and research off the walls. I roll my eyes at the sound of his familiar demanding tone, but listen nonetheless.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark. Everything is more fun when you can't see." I wiggle my eyebrows, chuckling.

We get to Elkins' house up in the canyon by around midnight, only to find we've been beaten there. The familiar sight of the black Impala makes me groan tiredly as we drive by it.