Man vs Wild (Dean, ensemble, PG-13) 2/5
Title: Man vs Wild 2/5
Words: 2956
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama/suspense, preseries
Characters: Dean, John, Sam, Bobby
Warnings: Adult language
Summary: Victim of a prank, Dean gets lost in the woods in some podunk town. Unfortunately, he isn't alone.
A/N: Sorry for the long ass wait. Hope it was worth it. The Colt M1911A1 is what Dean carries and it was used by Marines so I figured John would use it too. There isn't much Sam in this story, simply because he's too young to hunt (though I know he was training) but I have tried to get him in there. Just a quick reminder. It's the summer of 1993. Cell phones weren't as popular yet and pagers were widely used. Oh how times have changed. Originally posted on July 29, 2009.
Previous Parts
Part Two
John heaved out a sigh, tossing the page he'd been studying on top of the mound of books that had proven useless to him. Nothing fit and it was about to drive him near insane. It couldn't be a wendigo; they didn't leave much behind, if any remains. He tossed away werewolf from the beginning because the cycle was all wrong. Besides, only one victim was missing its heart and it wasn't so much missing as it was torn to shreds. He was losing time, time he didn't have to begin with. The only thing he had to go on were the local sheriff's reports and they believed it was either a bear or a wild dog. While a bear could certainly do this kind of damage, he highly doubted that was the case. He didn't have much reason to believe it wasn't other than his gut telling him so. He'd been hunting long enough to know when something was more than it seemed. Unfortunately, he wasn't getting anywhere beyond that.
The Department of Fish and Wildlife had been called in and were due to arrive in two days. They would go into those woods and John could guarantee they wouldn't be coming out. His only saving grace so far was the sheriff's insistence that everyone stay out of the woods, especially at night. There weren't any new missing persons reports since he arrived but that didn't mean anything.
He'd been deciding about calling someone to bounce ideas and see what stuck. He knew Bobby wasn't too far away but he also knew his friend was on a hunt of his own. It was the reason John was here to begin with. Bobby had heard about the attacks from another hunter friend of his. He couldn't check it out himself so he passed it onto John. Bobby wasn't sure it was their kind of hunt or not but John said he'd check it out. So, he packed up the boys as soon as school let out and now here he was, two days in and still no answers. Giving in, he picked up the phone and paged Bobby, hoping the older man remembered to bring the damned thing with him. As much as John hated the contraptions, they sure came in handy. Dean was still begging him to get one of those cellular phones, but he hadn't relented yet. Speaking of Dean...
"Dean?" John turned and looked out into the living room. No Sam either. He didn't hear anything and that was never a good sign.
"Sam!" No answer. "Dammit." John was about out of his chair when the phone rang. Picking it up, he grunted into the receiver. "Yeah?"
"It's me. Got yer beeper thing."
"Page."
"Don't really give a shit what it's called. Near gave me a damn heart attack when it went off."
"You finish your job?"
"Would I have called you back so fast if I hadn't? On my way back now. You caught me gettin' a bite. What'cha need?"
"Could use an extra set of eyes. How far out are you?"
"Not too far. 'Bout 2 hours, I reckon. Less if I punch it. What's got your hackles up?"
"Not sure. Hell, it could be a damn bear after all."
"But you don't think it is." It wasn't a question. John knew it wasn't a bear. He just didn't have any other answers.
"No, I don't." He heard a sigh through the receiver.
"I'm leaving now. Try not to do anything stupid in the meanwhile."
John snorted when he heard the dial tone. Running a hand down his face, he remembered he needed to check on the boys. Three long strides and he was at the closed bedroom door. It was always a reminder that his boys were growing up and wanted more privacy. Well, as much as they could get staying at motels and shitty apartments. John knocked a couple times before opening the door. He found Sam on his bed, listening to Dean's walkman. It's no wonder he hadn't heard him call out. The kid's eyes were closed so John walked up and slapped Sam's foot to get his attention. He jumped slightly, removing the headphones.
"Where's your brother?" Sam scrunched his face, in annoyance or confusion, he wasn't sure.
"Thought he was in there with you." John looked at his watch.
Shit.
----------
Dean had followed the tire tracks for 15 minutes before they split off into another direction, thus creating quite the dilemma. The optimist in him said both had to lead back to the road eventually, but then he remembered he wasn't much of an optimist. He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious. It could've been just a few minutes or it could've been 10 or more. He wasn't the best at math but even he knew a truck could travel a lot further in a couple minutes than he could on foot. A lot further. His shoulders slumped. The only thing keeping him from freaking out was the fact that it was still light out. Once night fell, he was pretty much fugly bait. Looking behind him and then back at his two choices, Dean bit his bottom lip and chose the tracks to the right, silently wishing they'd never come to this town.
----------
John was putting on his boots when Sam sat down at the kitchen table. He grimaced at the photos, turning his head quickly back towards his dad.
"Where're you going?"
"To find your brother and beat his ass."
"Thought you told him to be back before it got dark? It's still light out." Everyone always thought Sam wasn't listening. John would have to remember not to make that assumption again.
"Gonna get dark real quick. Besides, we don't know this town and they don't know us. Dean's been twitchy lately. You know how he gets."
Sam sighed. If there were ever an ambassador for ADD, it would be Dean.
"Can I come?" John tucked his Colt M1911A1 in the back waistband of his jeans and slipped on a jacket before turning to Sam, a concerned look on his face.
"No, I want you to stay here in case he gets back before I do. If he does, tell his ass to stay put."
John was halfway out the door when Sam spoke again.
"If he's grounded, can I have his walkman?" He didn't bother answering that. Part of him wanted to be pissed at Dean for being gone so long but he couldn't ignore the bad feeling in his gut. Yeah, it was still light out but Dean should've have been back by now. They didn't know a soul in this town but that didn't mean Dean hadn't found trouble. Or more likely, trouble had found him. Some things were just easier when both boys were younger. Keeping out of trouble was one of them.
----------
Another twenty minutes in, it had started to lightly rain. It wasn't much longer before it began pouring down upon him. Dean remembered learning about Murphy's Law at some point in school and figured today was a shining example. The ground was starting to get saturated, the deep grooves left by the tires turning to mud and eroding. It didn't matter. Dean knew these weren't the right tracks. The more he thought about it, he realized these tracks were too big, the tread too deep. The truck that brought him here had regular truck tires. The tracks he'd followed were larger, off-road probably. He'd made the wrong choice and now his breadcrumbs were melting back into the ground. His shoes were soaked through, his shirt was clinging to him uncomfortably, and the gel he had put in his hair was running into his eyes. He blamed the burning sensation behind them on that because Dean Winchester wasn't a baby and he sure as hell didn't cry when he got a little lost in the woods. But he was more than a little lost. This wasn't like some stupid family movie about a boy and his dog lost in the woods that magically make it out alive through sheer determination and obscene wilderness skills. For one, Dean didn't have a dog and he hoped he didn't run into one out here because chances were it was wild and hungry. Second, he knew jack shit about surviving in the wilderness. He did have one thing, though, and that was determination. Mostly to get out of there, find those assholes, and kick their asses properly.
Turning around and taking in his surroundings, Dean pushed his wet hair off his face. Time for a haircut, he thought absentmindedly. He hadn't been paying close attention to the terrain, another mistake. He was making lots of those today. He could make out the basic path he took and started back without further hesitation. Not for the first time that day, Dean wished he'd brought his gun.
----------
John shoved his hands in his pockets as he made his way down the main road toward the center of town. It had started to rain shortly before and had settled into a steady downpour. John didn't care about the rain. He had other things on his mind.
He never was fond of the backwoods places. All towns had their secrets and ways about life, some just weren't as appealing as others. He'd been through towns that scrutinized your every move and others where he was barely a blip on their radar. He preferred the latter but sometimes you just couldn't avoid being noticed.
Dean was a good kid. John knew he never went out of his way to cause trouble, but somehow Dean managed to find a lot of it lately. John wasn't stupid. He vaguely remembered what it was like being a 14 year old boy. And didn't it make me feel all that much older using the phrase "when I was your age...". But the truth was, things were different. A hell of a lot different. John wished more than anything that he could give Dean and Sam normal lives but it was much too late for that now. They couldn't afford the same luxuries and Dean's hormones were going to be the death of him. He remembered a time when Dean used to be a quiet kid. Hell, he still was sometimes. But Dean had a mouth on him, that was for sure. Eventually, it'd come in handy - when he learned to control it. Until then, it set John on edge. The more he thought about it, the more pissed off he got. He knew what he told him, but dammit, Dean knew not to be gone so long. He should be focusing on the hunt. Dean knows that. John swore. If he found him out behind the store looking at skin mags again he was going to kick his ass.
----------
Over an hour later, after asking around the entire town center, John was in a panic. No one had seen Dean and just as he was about to head back to the market, hoping by some higher power that Dean would simple show up, some teenager had meekly approached him. He'd seen the kid in the market with a few others when he was asking the cashier if she'd seen Dean earlier. He remembered asking them if they'd see his son, but got all negative replies. What the kid had to tell him had John feeling murderous. They had left his boy out in those woods.
"We just meant to scare him! Honest, sir, we went back to get him but he was gone."
Of all the stupid... John had a better time understanding monsters and demons than he did humans. He knew they didn't know what the hell they were doing, leaving Dean out there as a joke, but that didn't stop him getting in the kid's face and grabbing his collar.
"You listen to me, and you listen good. You're going to tell me exactly where you left my boy and if I don't find him like you left him - you don't want know what I'm capable of."
If he wasn't so spittin' mad and terrified right then, he would've enjoyed the look on the kid's face; a cross between crying and pissing yourself. You don't mess with family, God dammit. He all but ran back to their place, throwing the door open as soon as it was unlocked and causing Sam to jump from the couch.
"Dad?" John didn't answer, instead tore through his notes trying to find anything that told him what he was dealing with. "Dad? Where's Dean?"
John didn't look up but manages to respond. "Missing." Sam's eyes widened.
"What do you mean 'missing'? Dad!"
"Dammit, Sam! I need to think!"
"Screw your stupid hunt! Where's my brother?" John scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration.
"He's out in those woods, lost with whatever's out there. Where the hell's the phone?"
"But you said - you said he couldn't help. Why would he do that?"
"He didn't." John growled, finding the phone under a pile of loose paper. He dialed Bobby's pager again, not sure what good it would do if he was on the road. He left him a 911 message and slammed the receiver back down on it's cradle. "Fuck!"
He needed to think. What time had he talked to Bobby? Drive faster, Singer, or I'm leavin' without you.
Fifteen more minutes of tearing through useless research, John finally heard the roar of an old engine pull up. He opened the door before Bobby was even out of the car, swearing he could've kissed the man for being true to his word and getting there in under 2 hours.
"Dean's missing. Some God damn punk kids tossed him in the woods as a prank." John threw over his shoulder, heading back to the kitchen. Bobby followed close behind, a curse passing between his lips. He figured the 911 page was John just being impatient. A bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Shitty luck seemed to be synonymous with the name Winchester. With them not knowing what was out there made all that much worse. If they had an idea, they might know Dean's chances better. He gave a slightly weary glance towards Sam. The kid had known the truth almost 2 years now but that didn't mean Bobby was any more comfortable talking about certain things in front of the young'un. Never mattered much with Dean. Should have. There were a lot of things he wished were different for these boys, but now wasn't the time to be thinking about that.
"Hey, kiddo." Sam nodded a hello, coming up behind John and leaning on the refrigerator. "How long he been missing?"
"A couple of hours. Maybe three."
"Get any further on that research?"
"No." John gripped the back of the chair so hard his fingers turned white, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "God dammit!" He cursed, punctuating it with a hard fist to the table. Behind him, Sam winced and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. Bobby gripped his friend's shoulder in an effort to calm him down.
"Take it easy, John. We'll find him. Just need to keep our heads."
"That's easy for you say, Bobby! That's not your boy out there!"
That statement cut to the bone. Sure, Dean wasn't Bobby's son but he cared about the boy just the same.
John didn't need to look at Bobby to know he'd said something wrong. "Ah hell, Bobby. I know. Alright, I know. I just- I gotta find him. We don't know what's out there. He could- Shit." John scrubbed a hand over his face before putting them both on the table, head hanging.
"We'll get him back, John. Dean's a pretty resourceful kid." One side of John's mouth quirked up, knowing damn well how true that was, but it faded quickly. As resourceful as Dean was, he'd never faced anything like this. No, they needed to leave and they needed to do it now.
"We'll take whatever we think we'll need."
"John-"
"The sun's already starting to set. We go, now." John's voice was firm and Bobby knew they didn't have time to argue. He simply nodded and went to get his gear from his trunk.
"Dad?" John turned and looked at his youngest. He knew Sam was scared and a good father would do more than put a .45 in his hands, but it was all he could do at the moment.
"You lock all the doors, Sammy. You put down salt lines and you stay put. Understood?" Sam reluctantly took the gun from John's grasp.
"But-"
"No buts, Sam. I don't have time for this, just do what I ask. Please." Sam's eyes widened slightly. Please wasn't really in John's vocabulary. He and Dean got orders, ones that were expected to be followed, but never please. The seriousness of the situation hit Sam hard and he clutched his dad's gun to his chest.
"Yes, sir." John sagged slightly, in relief.
"Good boy."
"You'll bring him back, won't you, dad?"
"Yeah, Sam. I'm bringing him back." He just hoped to whatever higher power was up there that that didn't end up a lie.
----------
Swift legs ran through the forest brush, harsh breaths escaping Dean's parted lips. The second he'd heard the crack to his left he was moving, his first instinct being one of panic. He didn't know where he was going and it didn't matter. He was already more than lost. But now the sun was going down and so were his chances for survival.
End Part 2
Words: 2956
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama/suspense, preseries
Characters: Dean, John, Sam, Bobby
Warnings: Adult language
Summary: Victim of a prank, Dean gets lost in the woods in some podunk town. Unfortunately, he isn't alone.
A/N: Sorry for the long ass wait. Hope it was worth it. The Colt M1911A1 is what Dean carries and it was used by Marines so I figured John would use it too. There isn't much Sam in this story, simply because he's too young to hunt (though I know he was training) but I have tried to get him in there. Just a quick reminder. It's the summer of 1993. Cell phones weren't as popular yet and pagers were widely used. Oh how times have changed. Originally posted on July 29, 2009.
Previous Parts
Part Two
John heaved out a sigh, tossing the page he'd been studying on top of the mound of books that had proven useless to him. Nothing fit and it was about to drive him near insane. It couldn't be a wendigo; they didn't leave much behind, if any remains. He tossed away werewolf from the beginning because the cycle was all wrong. Besides, only one victim was missing its heart and it wasn't so much missing as it was torn to shreds. He was losing time, time he didn't have to begin with. The only thing he had to go on were the local sheriff's reports and they believed it was either a bear or a wild dog. While a bear could certainly do this kind of damage, he highly doubted that was the case. He didn't have much reason to believe it wasn't other than his gut telling him so. He'd been hunting long enough to know when something was more than it seemed. Unfortunately, he wasn't getting anywhere beyond that.
The Department of Fish and Wildlife had been called in and were due to arrive in two days. They would go into those woods and John could guarantee they wouldn't be coming out. His only saving grace so far was the sheriff's insistence that everyone stay out of the woods, especially at night. There weren't any new missing persons reports since he arrived but that didn't mean anything.
He'd been deciding about calling someone to bounce ideas and see what stuck. He knew Bobby wasn't too far away but he also knew his friend was on a hunt of his own. It was the reason John was here to begin with. Bobby had heard about the attacks from another hunter friend of his. He couldn't check it out himself so he passed it onto John. Bobby wasn't sure it was their kind of hunt or not but John said he'd check it out. So, he packed up the boys as soon as school let out and now here he was, two days in and still no answers. Giving in, he picked up the phone and paged Bobby, hoping the older man remembered to bring the damned thing with him. As much as John hated the contraptions, they sure came in handy. Dean was still begging him to get one of those cellular phones, but he hadn't relented yet. Speaking of Dean...
"Dean?" John turned and looked out into the living room. No Sam either. He didn't hear anything and that was never a good sign.
"Sam!" No answer. "Dammit." John was about out of his chair when the phone rang. Picking it up, he grunted into the receiver. "Yeah?"
"It's me. Got yer beeper thing."
"Page."
"Don't really give a shit what it's called. Near gave me a damn heart attack when it went off."
"You finish your job?"
"Would I have called you back so fast if I hadn't? On my way back now. You caught me gettin' a bite. What'cha need?"
"Could use an extra set of eyes. How far out are you?"
"Not too far. 'Bout 2 hours, I reckon. Less if I punch it. What's got your hackles up?"
"Not sure. Hell, it could be a damn bear after all."
"But you don't think it is." It wasn't a question. John knew it wasn't a bear. He just didn't have any other answers.
"No, I don't." He heard a sigh through the receiver.
"I'm leaving now. Try not to do anything stupid in the meanwhile."
John snorted when he heard the dial tone. Running a hand down his face, he remembered he needed to check on the boys. Three long strides and he was at the closed bedroom door. It was always a reminder that his boys were growing up and wanted more privacy. Well, as much as they could get staying at motels and shitty apartments. John knocked a couple times before opening the door. He found Sam on his bed, listening to Dean's walkman. It's no wonder he hadn't heard him call out. The kid's eyes were closed so John walked up and slapped Sam's foot to get his attention. He jumped slightly, removing the headphones.
"Where's your brother?" Sam scrunched his face, in annoyance or confusion, he wasn't sure.
"Thought he was in there with you." John looked at his watch.
Shit.
----------
Dean had followed the tire tracks for 15 minutes before they split off into another direction, thus creating quite the dilemma. The optimist in him said both had to lead back to the road eventually, but then he remembered he wasn't much of an optimist. He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious. It could've been just a few minutes or it could've been 10 or more. He wasn't the best at math but even he knew a truck could travel a lot further in a couple minutes than he could on foot. A lot further. His shoulders slumped. The only thing keeping him from freaking out was the fact that it was still light out. Once night fell, he was pretty much fugly bait. Looking behind him and then back at his two choices, Dean bit his bottom lip and chose the tracks to the right, silently wishing they'd never come to this town.
----------
John was putting on his boots when Sam sat down at the kitchen table. He grimaced at the photos, turning his head quickly back towards his dad.
"Where're you going?"
"To find your brother and beat his ass."
"Thought you told him to be back before it got dark? It's still light out." Everyone always thought Sam wasn't listening. John would have to remember not to make that assumption again.
"Gonna get dark real quick. Besides, we don't know this town and they don't know us. Dean's been twitchy lately. You know how he gets."
Sam sighed. If there were ever an ambassador for ADD, it would be Dean.
"Can I come?" John tucked his Colt M1911A1 in the back waistband of his jeans and slipped on a jacket before turning to Sam, a concerned look on his face.
"No, I want you to stay here in case he gets back before I do. If he does, tell his ass to stay put."
John was halfway out the door when Sam spoke again.
"If he's grounded, can I have his walkman?" He didn't bother answering that. Part of him wanted to be pissed at Dean for being gone so long but he couldn't ignore the bad feeling in his gut. Yeah, it was still light out but Dean should've have been back by now. They didn't know a soul in this town but that didn't mean Dean hadn't found trouble. Or more likely, trouble had found him. Some things were just easier when both boys were younger. Keeping out of trouble was one of them.
----------
Another twenty minutes in, it had started to lightly rain. It wasn't much longer before it began pouring down upon him. Dean remembered learning about Murphy's Law at some point in school and figured today was a shining example. The ground was starting to get saturated, the deep grooves left by the tires turning to mud and eroding. It didn't matter. Dean knew these weren't the right tracks. The more he thought about it, he realized these tracks were too big, the tread too deep. The truck that brought him here had regular truck tires. The tracks he'd followed were larger, off-road probably. He'd made the wrong choice and now his breadcrumbs were melting back into the ground. His shoes were soaked through, his shirt was clinging to him uncomfortably, and the gel he had put in his hair was running into his eyes. He blamed the burning sensation behind them on that because Dean Winchester wasn't a baby and he sure as hell didn't cry when he got a little lost in the woods. But he was more than a little lost. This wasn't like some stupid family movie about a boy and his dog lost in the woods that magically make it out alive through sheer determination and obscene wilderness skills. For one, Dean didn't have a dog and he hoped he didn't run into one out here because chances were it was wild and hungry. Second, he knew jack shit about surviving in the wilderness. He did have one thing, though, and that was determination. Mostly to get out of there, find those assholes, and kick their asses properly.
Turning around and taking in his surroundings, Dean pushed his wet hair off his face. Time for a haircut, he thought absentmindedly. He hadn't been paying close attention to the terrain, another mistake. He was making lots of those today. He could make out the basic path he took and started back without further hesitation. Not for the first time that day, Dean wished he'd brought his gun.
----------
John shoved his hands in his pockets as he made his way down the main road toward the center of town. It had started to rain shortly before and had settled into a steady downpour. John didn't care about the rain. He had other things on his mind.
He never was fond of the backwoods places. All towns had their secrets and ways about life, some just weren't as appealing as others. He'd been through towns that scrutinized your every move and others where he was barely a blip on their radar. He preferred the latter but sometimes you just couldn't avoid being noticed.
Dean was a good kid. John knew he never went out of his way to cause trouble, but somehow Dean managed to find a lot of it lately. John wasn't stupid. He vaguely remembered what it was like being a 14 year old boy. And didn't it make me feel all that much older using the phrase "when I was your age...". But the truth was, things were different. A hell of a lot different. John wished more than anything that he could give Dean and Sam normal lives but it was much too late for that now. They couldn't afford the same luxuries and Dean's hormones were going to be the death of him. He remembered a time when Dean used to be a quiet kid. Hell, he still was sometimes. But Dean had a mouth on him, that was for sure. Eventually, it'd come in handy - when he learned to control it. Until then, it set John on edge. The more he thought about it, the more pissed off he got. He knew what he told him, but dammit, Dean knew not to be gone so long. He should be focusing on the hunt. Dean knows that. John swore. If he found him out behind the store looking at skin mags again he was going to kick his ass.
----------
Over an hour later, after asking around the entire town center, John was in a panic. No one had seen Dean and just as he was about to head back to the market, hoping by some higher power that Dean would simple show up, some teenager had meekly approached him. He'd seen the kid in the market with a few others when he was asking the cashier if she'd seen Dean earlier. He remembered asking them if they'd see his son, but got all negative replies. What the kid had to tell him had John feeling murderous. They had left his boy out in those woods.
"We just meant to scare him! Honest, sir, we went back to get him but he was gone."
Of all the stupid... John had a better time understanding monsters and demons than he did humans. He knew they didn't know what the hell they were doing, leaving Dean out there as a joke, but that didn't stop him getting in the kid's face and grabbing his collar.
"You listen to me, and you listen good. You're going to tell me exactly where you left my boy and if I don't find him like you left him - you don't want know what I'm capable of."
If he wasn't so spittin' mad and terrified right then, he would've enjoyed the look on the kid's face; a cross between crying and pissing yourself. You don't mess with family, God dammit. He all but ran back to their place, throwing the door open as soon as it was unlocked and causing Sam to jump from the couch.
"Dad?" John didn't answer, instead tore through his notes trying to find anything that told him what he was dealing with. "Dad? Where's Dean?"
John didn't look up but manages to respond. "Missing." Sam's eyes widened.
"What do you mean 'missing'? Dad!"
"Dammit, Sam! I need to think!"
"Screw your stupid hunt! Where's my brother?" John scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration.
"He's out in those woods, lost with whatever's out there. Where the hell's the phone?"
"But you said - you said he couldn't help. Why would he do that?"
"He didn't." John growled, finding the phone under a pile of loose paper. He dialed Bobby's pager again, not sure what good it would do if he was on the road. He left him a 911 message and slammed the receiver back down on it's cradle. "Fuck!"
He needed to think. What time had he talked to Bobby? Drive faster, Singer, or I'm leavin' without you.
Fifteen more minutes of tearing through useless research, John finally heard the roar of an old engine pull up. He opened the door before Bobby was even out of the car, swearing he could've kissed the man for being true to his word and getting there in under 2 hours.
"Dean's missing. Some God damn punk kids tossed him in the woods as a prank." John threw over his shoulder, heading back to the kitchen. Bobby followed close behind, a curse passing between his lips. He figured the 911 page was John just being impatient. A bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Shitty luck seemed to be synonymous with the name Winchester. With them not knowing what was out there made all that much worse. If they had an idea, they might know Dean's chances better. He gave a slightly weary glance towards Sam. The kid had known the truth almost 2 years now but that didn't mean Bobby was any more comfortable talking about certain things in front of the young'un. Never mattered much with Dean. Should have. There were a lot of things he wished were different for these boys, but now wasn't the time to be thinking about that.
"Hey, kiddo." Sam nodded a hello, coming up behind John and leaning on the refrigerator. "How long he been missing?"
"A couple of hours. Maybe three."
"Get any further on that research?"
"No." John gripped the back of the chair so hard his fingers turned white, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "God dammit!" He cursed, punctuating it with a hard fist to the table. Behind him, Sam winced and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. Bobby gripped his friend's shoulder in an effort to calm him down.
"Take it easy, John. We'll find him. Just need to keep our heads."
"That's easy for you say, Bobby! That's not your boy out there!"
That statement cut to the bone. Sure, Dean wasn't Bobby's son but he cared about the boy just the same.
John didn't need to look at Bobby to know he'd said something wrong. "Ah hell, Bobby. I know. Alright, I know. I just- I gotta find him. We don't know what's out there. He could- Shit." John scrubbed a hand over his face before putting them both on the table, head hanging.
"We'll get him back, John. Dean's a pretty resourceful kid." One side of John's mouth quirked up, knowing damn well how true that was, but it faded quickly. As resourceful as Dean was, he'd never faced anything like this. No, they needed to leave and they needed to do it now.
"We'll take whatever we think we'll need."
"John-"
"The sun's already starting to set. We go, now." John's voice was firm and Bobby knew they didn't have time to argue. He simply nodded and went to get his gear from his trunk.
"Dad?" John turned and looked at his youngest. He knew Sam was scared and a good father would do more than put a .45 in his hands, but it was all he could do at the moment.
"You lock all the doors, Sammy. You put down salt lines and you stay put. Understood?" Sam reluctantly took the gun from John's grasp.
"But-"
"No buts, Sam. I don't have time for this, just do what I ask. Please." Sam's eyes widened slightly. Please wasn't really in John's vocabulary. He and Dean got orders, ones that were expected to be followed, but never please. The seriousness of the situation hit Sam hard and he clutched his dad's gun to his chest.
"Yes, sir." John sagged slightly, in relief.
"Good boy."
"You'll bring him back, won't you, dad?"
"Yeah, Sam. I'm bringing him back." He just hoped to whatever higher power was up there that that didn't end up a lie.
----------
Swift legs ran through the forest brush, harsh breaths escaping Dean's parted lips. The second he'd heard the crack to his left he was moving, his first instinct being one of panic. He didn't know where he was going and it didn't matter. He was already more than lost. But now the sun was going down and so were his chances for survival.
End Part 2