Crossroads - Supernatural Rewrite

Devil's Trap

Kat watched Dean pace near the window, his phone pressed to his ear. His jaw clenched, and the muscles in his neck tensed like coiled wire. She knew that look. Something was wrong.

"They've got Dad." Dean said, his voice wavering slightly.

"Meg?" Kat asked, her stomach in knots. "What'd she say?"

"I just told you, Kat." His voice snapped sharper than intended, his hand trembling slightly as he ran it over his face, thinking of what to do next.

He grabbed the Colt, looking at it hesitantly before he slipped it into the back of his jeans.

Sam stepped forward, alarm sparking in his eyes. "What are you doing, Dean?"

Dean grabbed his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. "We gotta go."

"Why?" Kat questioned.

Dean didn't stop moving, throwing his jacket on in one swift motion. "Because the demon knows we're in Salvation, all right? It knows we've got the Colt. It's got Dad—it's probably coming for us next."

Kat's heart thudded in her chest. She moved toward Dean, catching his arm for a second. "Dean, just slow down—let's think about this."

Sam squared his shoulders. "We've still got three bullets left. Let it come."

Dean turned, voice low and fierce. "Listen, tough guy, we're not ready, okay? We don't know how many of them are out there. We're no good to anybody dead."

Dean's eyes flicked to Kat and something in them made her chest tighten. Rage. Fear. Helplessness. All of it boiling under his skin.

"We're leaving," Dean said again, final and unyielding. "Now."

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The Impala roared down the desolate highway, tires screaming as Dean took a turn too hard, the rear of the car fishtailing briefly before correcting. In the backseat, Kat gripped the door to steady herself, her mind racing.

"I'm telling you, we could've taken him," Sam insisted.

Kat shook her head,"We need a plan. They're probably keeping John alive—we just have to figure out where."

Dean's voice was taut with frustration. "They're gonna wanna trade him for the gun."

"If that were true," Sam said, voice low, "why didn't Meg mention a trade?" He hesitated, not wanting to say it. "Dad...he might be—"

"Don't." Dean barked, his voice cracking like a whip.

Kat took a breath, trying to will away the sickness curling in her gut.

Sam's voice came quieter, but no less firm. "Look, I don't wanna believe it any more than you. But if he is...all the more reason to kill this damn thing. We still have the Colt, we can still finish the job."

"Screw the job, Sam!" Dean shouted.

Sam turned toward his brother, anger and pain etched into every line of his face. "Dean, I'm just trying to do what he would want. He would want us to keep going."

"Would you quit talking about him like he's dead already?" Dean said, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "Listen to me—everything stops until we get him back. You understand me? Everything."

Kat watched them from the backseat. She wanted John back just as badly as Dean did. He was more than a mentor—he was the closest thing to a father she'd ever known. But the Colt...it was all they had. And John knew that. He wouldn't want them to risk it.