The Family Business

Preface

The sun was at the highest point in the sky, the heat waves turned the ground dry and warm in the middle of an empty field in Lawrence, Kansas. The day had the total prospect to be normal, but weird tents to happen at the most unexpected times. Slowly, a man tried to escape from the suffocating underground; his dirty hands waved frantically in the search for something to hold on to, until his calloused fingers dug into the ground and propelled him outside. He gasped for air, only to be received by dust floating in the hot air of summer; but that didn't stop him from taking his breaths as if he was in the cleanest mountain. Breathing hot air was better than not breathing at all.

With the remaining strength he had he crawled out of the confining hole. To say he was tired wasn't enough, he was exhausted. The man tried to shield his eyes from the blinding sun, soon enough he was on his feet, taking in his surroundings. He realized he was in the middle of nowhere, but he could see a road a few meters away. With all logic he decided to follow the road, he had to reach a town one way or another. He had been walking for at least twenty minutes when he finally caught the sight of an old pick-up truck driving behind him. He stood aside and waved with the hope of some help.

"You okay there man? Looks like you've been through Hell", the boy in the car asked as he took on his dirty clothes

"Yeah, I was- I", the man tried to clear his raspy throat, "I was attacked, they took my car", he hesitated for a second, doubting of his lying skills, "I was trying to find a police station, been walking for about twenty minutes, but I think I'm miles away"

"Town's is a few miles ahead", the boy nodded, "I'll take you there man, you're going to have a heatstroke out here"

"Thanks", the man climbed up, "I appreciated it"

"Don't mention it", he started up the car once again. "Name's Steve by the way"

"John", the man shared after a few seconds

"Well John", Steve reached out to the small cooler he kept between the seats to grab a bottle of water, "Drink up, sun's a bitch out there. We're starting summer after all"

"Summer", John mumbled as he tried to count in his head, "July?"

"June", Steve corrected, "I think the sun affected you a bit"

John remained silent for the rest of the trip. He had died on July, he was sure of it. He remembered it clearly as if it had happened yesterday. Yellow eyes healed his son, and in exchange he gave up his soul, his life. He was killed. But when?

"What's the date?"

"What?"

"The date", John repeated

"June sixth", Steve hesitated, but the look on John's face told him he wanted specifics, "2015".

He counted a few times in his head as if to magically change the result, "Nine years", John mumbled darkly as he looked away.

Steve watched the man from the corner of his eye. His mood had changed in a second, he had suddenly become sad; he could've sworn he saw moisture on his eyes.

"Yo, man, you okay?", but John didn't reply, "We're here"

John Winchester climbed off the car and thanked the helpful boy. He walked off as fast as he could to the opposite direction of the police station. He had to get away, or he feared he might pour his guts on the street. Nine years. The realization hit him like cold water. He'd been gone for nine years.

Whatever happened to his boys? Did Dean killed Sam like he had ask him to? Did Sam kill Dean instead? He hoped they were both alright, that they had, for some miracle, killed the yellow eyed demon. He realized that his boys, if they were alive, weren't boys anymore. They were men, probably married.... what if he had grandchildren? What if? The what ifs were killing him.

What kind of men had his boys grown up to be?