Supernatural Series Rewrite- Season 1

Devil's Trap- Part 4

You ended up back at a cabin and Dean was attending to your wounds. Sam was lining the windows and doors with salt. You hissed in pain when the alcohol touched your wounds.

"Sorry, sweetheart." Dean grimaced, taking out the glass and sewing the wounds that were deep. You took the bottle that he was using and took a large swig of the alcohol, giving it back to him.

"How are you, Sam?" You asked, looking at the younger brother.

"I'll survive. You don't think we were followed here, do you?" Sam asked, standing up.

"I don't know. I don't think so. I mean, we couldn't have found a more out-of-the-way place to hole up." Dean said, finishing his work. He put your shirt back down and you sighed, looking at Dean who put away the supplies.

"Thank you, Dean, for this." You said.

"Glad I brought the gun, huh?" He smirked lightly but you rolled your eyes.

"Don't push it." You muttered. Just then, John walked out of the bedroom that Dean put him in to rest.

"You guys did good." You looked at him but narrowed your eyes. Something was still off. He would be furious that you wasted a bullet.

"You're not mad at us?" Dean asked, confused.

"Why would I be?" John shrugged. Yeah, he was possessed.

"For using a bullet."

"Mad? I'm proud of you. You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you watch out for this family. You always have." John smiled.

"John, I just want to say that you've always been a great father to me and I'm lucky to have you. Your sons are lucky to have you." You smiled sickly sweet.

"I try to be." John smile. You looked at Dean and his eyes widened when you gave him a certain look. This wasn't John and you think Dean realized that. Sam didn't seem to realize that but at least Dean did. Just then, the lights started to flicker and you bit your lip. The demons were here for their leader.

"Sam put lines of salt in front of every window and door. They found us." John ordered.

"I already did," Sam said.

"Check it," John ordered. Sam nodded and left the room.

"Dean, you got the gun?"

"Yeah," Dean said, kind of distant.

"Give it to me."

"Dad, Sam tried to shoot the demon in Salvation. It disappeared." Dean said, taking the Colt out of his jeans.

"This is me. I won't miss. Now, the gun, hurry," John ushered. This wasn't John though and you and Dean knew it. "Son, please."

"He'd be furious," Dean muttered, backing away from John. He took your waist and put you behind him, backing you up as well.

"What are you doing, Dean? Give me the gun." John ordered again.

"He'd be furious that I wasted a bullet. He wouldn't be proud of me; he'd tear me a new one." Dean glared at the man in front of you. Dean raised the Colt and pointed it at John, cocking it.

"You're not John." You said in the same cold voice from earlier.

"Dean, it's me." John tried again.

"I know my Dad better than anyone and you ain't him." Dean glared.

"What the hell's gotten into you?" John rolled his eyes.

"What the hell's gotten into you?" You glared at John.

"Stay back," Dean growled. Sam picked a perfect time to come back into the room.