The Dark Horse
Title - The Dark Horse
Summary - What is a father supposed to do when he hears whispers that his fifteen-year-old son is tainted by the very thing that killed the love of his life? John Winchester uncovers the terrifying truth about his youngest son's cruel destiny and will stop at nothing to protect him from the truth.
Rating - PG-13
Part of 'The Dark Horse' series
Chapter Index
"The Dark Horse"
"Chapter Three: Sword of Damocles"
As I lay me down to sleep, that was always what Mary said before she went to bed. She'd whisper prayers to God or whatever was out there. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. It didn't matter if she didn't know what kind of God was out there. Mary always believed in some sort of divine intervention, whether it be God or not. She liked to believe it was the traditional God. If I shall die before I wake, those words caught in John's throat when he thought about her saying them in her sweet voice, I pray the Lord my soul to take.
After everything John figured out after her death, the most terrifying thought was that, perhaps, Mary was rotting away in hell. What if the Lord didn't take Mary's soul? What if years of saying that childish prayer didn't bring her salvation? It literally made John think that his charming God-loving wife was not given the most spectacular afterlife. The woman who would put her children to bed with grand stories about angels, who would make her oldest repeat the prayer with her every night before laying him down to bed - how could she not be in heaven?
When things got too rough, got too hard to handle, sometimes John found himself praying blindly. He didn't pray because he thought there was anything out there, but he prayed because it was what Mary would do in the situation. It made him feel close to her, made it feel like perhaps she was wandering around three of her most beloved boys to protect them from the evil.
So when he got the phone call from Ellen that Ben Seraph had stumbled into the Roadhouse three sheets to the wind and asking for the pain to stop, John told her to keep him there. Apparently, it didn't take a lot of convincing. One mention of the name John Winchester and Seraph was content to wait a month for the younger hunter to mosey on into the saloon.
John was packing up when he heard the knock on his motel door. He had completely forgotten that he left Joshua miles away from the motel in the dead of night with a very freaked out girl. When he opened the door to reveal a tired looking Joshua, a pang of guilt washed over him for several seconds.
"What the hell, John?" the kid questioned as he pushed his way through the threshold. "You left me out there with Mackenzie at two in the morning for what? To teach me a lesson?"
"Nobody said this job would be easy. You gotta learn that you can't go telling civilians that things go bump in the night."
"But we're the things that bump back!"
"It doesn't matter!" snapped John.
"Don't people have the right to know? I mean, how can you save people day in and day out and not advise them to be more careful because there are things that lurk out there?"
John didn't say anything. It would be easier to let people in on the know-how, tell them what slithered through the shadowy mists of life. Except, most people didn't want to know the things that went bump in the night. They would rather live in blissful ignorance for their whole lives and believe that the true darkness in the world couldn't touch them.
"Joshua, listen to me," he spoke calmly. "If you're looking for praise and recognition, you might as well just bow out now."
"That's not what I want! I want to warn people!"
"Look, Kid, that's noble. I get it, okay? But listen to me, people don't want the truth. They don't want to know what's really out there. Leave it be."
The kid looked about ready to protest. His lips twisted awkwardly on his face as though trying his hardest not to burst out what he really thought about the whole situation. Definitely, he crossed his arms over his chest but waited for farther instruction.
"I gotta meet a hunter," John said with a sigh as he turned back to his packing.
Sometimes, Sam and Dean were a lot to take in. Sam could be stubborn, defiant, and downright rude when he wanted to be. Dean could be loud, inappropriate, and too smug for his own good. Now, he felt like he had another son in Joshua who seemed to be a perfect blend of both his children.
"Where?"
"Nebraska. Look, I'm sending Dean and Sam back to Denver. So, I'll need you to come with me."
"Isn't that what I'm supposed to be doing anyways?"
Oh yeah, Joshua was already a freakin' Winchester in training with smartass remarks like that. John didn't know whether it would be appropriate or not to smack the kid upside the head.
"Get your gear together. We're leaving in an hour," John snapped with a stern glare to let the boy know he didn't enjoy the sarcasm.
Walking out of the motel room, he made his way next door to where Dean and Sam were most likely still sleeping. He rapped his knuckles gently on the wood but got no response. There was no muttering, groaning, or feeble attempts to get out of bed. Knocking louder, he heard his oldest swear and the mattress creak.
The door jerked opened. Dean stood there with blurry eyes and hair sticking up in every direction possible. An annoyed look was plastered across his face. His Metallica t-shirt was twisted on his torso as he casually leaned against the doorframe.
"What?"
John glanced pass Dean to see his youngest son sprawled across the bed farthest from the door sound asleep. The covers were half off as his bare feet peeked out from either side. Sammy's chest moved rhythmically up and down as soft snores escaped his lips.
"We're moving out. You and Sammy are going back to Denver."
"Why?"
Running a hand through his growing hair, Dean let out a long sigh and John knew exactly what was going through the kid's mind. More than anything, Dean hated being left out. He wanted to join his father in the good fight and battle all forces of evil. Except, Dean couldn't with Sam around. It was his job to watch out for his younger brother, and John would be a liar if he said it didn't break his heart a little.
John would love to go hunting with Dean all the time and leave Sam behind to take care of himself. Hell, Sam was fifteen and capable of staying home alone for several days. Dean had done it more times than John cared to even think about. Sammy was the baby though, and John couldn't bring himself to leave the kid alone. Especially not with all this talk about how he was special - or whatever.
"I got a contact who wants to meet up with me."
"A contact? What about?"
Dean wasn't usually one to play twenty-one questions. He'd usually go with the flow of things. Except, it was early in the morning and John was ditching him yet again. John understood the frustration, the fact that the kid felt like a baby-sitter instead of a respected son. It was out of control, John knew that better than anyone. Sammy couldn't be left alone though - that was John's mantra about the situation.
"The thing that killed your mother."
It wasn't often that John was candid about Mary and the thing that killed her. It took him years to even tell Dean what he saw that night. In fact, he still hadn't told Sammy. He just expected Dean to fill in the details, because the kid was better at communicating with Sam than he was. Plus, retelling the tale to one son was enough to last him a lifetime.
"Do you know what it is?"
Fear was evident in Dean's voice as he stepped outside the motel without socks or shoes. Closing the door softly behind him, Dean stood anxiously in front of his father for information. It was a rarity that John would talk about Mary let alone when he'd talk about that monster that ruined their perfect family.
"I'm not 100 percent positive yet, Dude," John replied heavily. "That's why I need to go meet up with this guy."
"I can come with you. Sammy'll be fine for a few days."
"Nah, I need you to look out for your brother."
Disappointment was crystal clear in Dean's features as his green orbs shifted behind his father. John didn't have to turn around to know that Joshua Harper was packing up his things into his car.
"You'll let Cousin Oliver go with you though, huh?" questioned Dean as his chin jetted forward.
"No, Dean, I'm not. I'm gonna drop him off at a buddy's while I talk to my… informant. He's going to have no part of this," promised John.
"You'll tell me all about it when you get back?"
John knew there was no way in hell that he could tell Dean all about it, not with Benjamin Seraph involved. Too many questions would arise, and John didn't want his boys to have anything to do with that sociopath. As far as they knew, they didn't have an uncle.
"Who else would I tell? You're my dude, Dean."
A faint crack of a smile graced the younger boy's face. Dean nodded his head as he stared up at his father. John hated lying to the kid more than he hated lying to anyone else. Dean had always been there for him, taken care of him when he was too screwed up after a hunt to take care of himself. The kid always looked out for their family, protected them, was there for them. It wasn't fair not to be completely honest with him.
Reaching a hand out, John clasped his hand onto the back of Dean's neck. Pulling the kid forward, John gave him a brief hug that consisted of only two quick pats on the back. Breaking the contact before Dean had a chance to respond, John gave a weak smile.
"Drive careful on the way back. Watch out for your brother."
"I always do, Dad," Dean replied as he rolled his eyes. "Take care of yourself, will ya?"
"Listen, don't give Sammy anymore advice on the opposite sex," he said lightly. "I don't need two sex-crazed teenagers under my roof, okay?"
A bark of a laugh escaped Dean's lips as a smile twisted onto his face. The kid was brutally honest and had no problem letting his dad know that he got some - as though he loved to brag about the act. He'd make sly comments, quirky remarks, and generally loved to tell Sam that he needed to get a move on before he was a sixty-year-old virgin.
"I take offense to that," Dean replied with a wide smirk. "Plus, Sammy's too much of a gentleman to just get the deed done. He came home completely embarrassed the other night because he got to second base."
"Second base, huh? I remember the first time I got to second base."
"Seriously, Dad, I don't want to hear about your excursions in the storage closets or behind the bleachers of your old high school… again. That's enough to traumatize a kid."
"Like I want to hear about my son's excursions? Please, Dean, don't flatter yourself."
"Come on, you know you live vicariously through me," Dean said with a wink.
John chuckled deeply as he grinned at his son. He could faintly hear Sammy stumbling around the motel room. The door would open at any second, and the last thing the youngest Winchester would want to do is walk in on this conversation.
"What'd Sam say about it? Please tell me he didn't go to you for more advice."
The question wasn't one he should be asking Dean, but John knew the kid had all the information on the subject. There was no way in hell that Sam would ever tell him anything or even acknowledge that the situation ever happened.
"He asked me if it was all right that girls handle the package differently."
The door wrenched open suddenly as the oldest Winchesters tried to cover their laughter. Sammy glanced from between his father to brother with suspicion written clearly across his face.
"What's going on?" questioned Sam.
"Nothing, Sleeping Beauty," Dean managed to say with a straight face. "Go comb your hair or something, Princess."
Sam turned to his father expectantly. There was no words exchanged, but rather a sharp look that clearly said he wasn't budging until someone told him what was going on.
"You and Dean are going back to Denver while I meet with a contact about a hunt," John put it plainly.
"Whatever," sighed Sam.
John refused to have Joshua drive to the Roadhouse. The main reason being that John didn't like riding shotgun. He hated riding in a car at all unless he was the one driving. It was a stupid thing, but that's the way it was. When Dean was learning to drive, he let the kid behind the wheel. He didn't like it at all, but he put up with it for the greater good. The only person John ever felt comfortable driving with was Mary. She was the only one who could get him to be calm and collective in the passenger's seat.
When the Camaro parked outside of the old Roadhouse, the kid looked over at John in disbelief. It looked like a dodgy place, so John could understand Joshua's concerned glance. It seemed like a place for rough biker boys and not college boys who decided to go into hunting.
Upon entering the bar, a few patrons glanced their way. Several completely ignored John and glanced over at Joshua. John felt the kid's shoulder bump his. Glancing over at the bar, John caught sight of Ellen leaning across the bar and helping a teenager with her homework. It took him several seconds to figure out that the teenager was little Jo. She didn’t look so innocent anymore, and she was obviously going through her awkward stage. The girl shifted uncomfortably on the barstool as though she wasn't quite sure what to do with her newfound gangly arms and legs.
"John!" Ellen greeted with a smile.
"Hey, Ellen, how've you been?"
"Oh, same ole same ole. You know me, I'm just that gal who serves beer and keeps radio tabs."
"Joshua, this is Ellen Harvelle and her daughter Jo. Ladies, this is Joshua Harper." John gestured between the three. "Jo, I give you permission to physically hurt him if he tries anything."
John winked at the thirteen-year-old girl who giggled and shot Joshua a bright smile. She literally bounced off her stool and immediately attached herself to the older boy's side much to his displeasure. With a shake of the head, John headed towards the back of the bar. In the corner, hidden under the shadows, sat Ben Seraph sipping a glass of alcohol. Sliding into the booth across from the man, John let out a low chuckle.
"You gonna to deck me one again?"
"I can't believe you brought your kid. What ever happened to your never come near my kids shit you laid on my uncle when Mary passed?"
Seraph jutted his chin, so reminiscent to Dean, towards Joshua. Hell, the guy looked like a much older, much more haggard Dean. He had the same dirty blonde hair and shade of green eyes. He had the same style of clothing and the same posture. His glassy eyes stared at the young man with almost a longing. Clearing his throat, John brought the attention back onto him.
"That's not my son."
"So you're turning into Jim Murphy who takes in all the stray puppies and beaten kittens. Real cute, John."
John didn't say anything at the comment. His mind is too busy trying to figure out how the hell Seraph knew the pastor. Jim sure as hell never mentioned anyone named Douglas Hale or Ben Seraph. He never mentioned knowing Mary either, but John never told his friend his wife's maiden name.
"How'd you know Jim?"
"Jimmy Murphy? Well, the good ole pastor was hellbent on finding out what happened to his big brother. Started investigating, nearly got himself shot in the process. Decided to join in on hunting since it's such a promising career and all."
The words were bit out with cynicism, sarcasm, and John didn't like it one bit. Jim Murphy had taken his broken family in, showed him the reigns, and continued to protect his children. The pastor had been John's best friend for years, had been a surrogate uncle to Dean and Sammy. Seraph had no right to talk about Jim like he was some kid who got in way over his head.
"You sure seem chatty for someone who usually talks with his fists," snapped John.
"Yeah, well, I've been anxious to talk with you for awhile now. It's funny, you know, Winchester, how you've become this enigma. I never thought I'd live to see the day you would be uttered in hushed whispers like some sort of saint."
Scoffing, John leaned back in the worn leather seat. Sure, he made quite a name for himself in the hunting community. Hell, he knew some hunters even admired him in some sort of twisted hero-worshipping way. He didn't care for the attention that he sometimes got. It wasn't like being recognized was his top priority, although it had saved his life a couple of times.
"I know all about you, Winchester. It's funny how some jock from Valparaiso, Indiana has become a renowned hunter. I mean, you have a Dad who's an ex-Army man, fought in World War II, got all fucked up in the process. So, Mommy had to bring home the bacon and take care of the family. Little Johnny then gets average grades and is a star athlete in both the baseball and cross country teams. Then Johnny goes off to war, finds himself a pretty girl, settles down, has 2.5 kids with the white picket fence and the annoying dog. Then one day, John finds his wife pinned to the ceiling of his six-month's nursery bleeding from the stomach. In the next minute, Johnny snaps and becomes a notorious supernatural hunter." Seraph smirked as he leaned his elbows on the table. "I've actually thought about writing your life story and making millions. It's quite the tale."
"How the hell do you know that's how Mary was?"
A bitter chortle escaped Seraph's lips as though the whole situation was comical. John had never wanted to strangle the living daylights out of anyone before. How could he laugh about Mary's death? His own sister? Had he not cared for her at all or had he completely lost his sanity?
"It's your fault she's dead, you know? You led her into this false sense of security. Mary thought that you were her knight in shining armor who could protect his family. So she slowly stopped keeping the protection up around the house."
"My fault?" barked John loudly. "My fault? Where the hell were you and your uncle? You didn't check up on us, you didn't keep in contact. Shit, Seraph, you could have told me the truth about everything! I should have known!"
John heard his blood pumping in his ears, could feel pure anger coursing through him. The audacity of the man sitting in front of him. The smartass was content at throwing around the blame and taking none of it himself.
"The hell, Winchester, you wouldn't have believed me or Mary. What was I supposed to say? 'Hey, brother, we're demon hunters so remember to keep the fuckin' doors and windows nice and salted. Don't forget to carry silver and iron around with you!' Don't even pretend you would have accepted it."
"But I did. After Mary… look where I am. I believe."
"You know, in any other circumstance, I probably would have loved you as a brother-in-law," Seraph admitted with a swift change of subject. "I mean, when I read that police report about how you nearly killed a guy when you were seventeen. Man."
Seraph whistled and leaned back into the bench. A smug smirk graced his features. John couldn't figure the guy out. He seemed neurotic, unstable, psychotic. Hell, pick any type of adjective that fits the profile of a crazy person and that was Benjamin Seraph.
"Don't remember, Winchester? You and some friends were at a concert. You went to find a girl that wandered away from the group. Found her pinned down by some strung out dude. You pounded him into the ground, landed him in the hospital for a good month," Seraph explained. "You’re a guy who treats a lady right. I like that about you. You're also not afraid to beat a jerk to a bloody pulp. I like that about you as well."
"Where is this all going, Seraph? What the hell kind of mind game are you playing?"
John leaned back into the leather and wanted nothing more than to leave. He could remember that night, remembered being arrested and covered in another guy's blood. His mother had rushed into the police station crying her eyes out as the whole situation slowly unraveled itself. It was labeled as self-defense in the end, nothing appearing on his permanent record. Seraph must have done some heavy duty searching to find the report.
"Just letting you know I know all about you, Winchester. I know all about your boys too, my lovely nephews that I've never met. Dean seems like one hell of a guy. He's starting to build his own reputation in the hunting world. Sammy, on the other hand, is some kind genius who's veiled in hushed whispers. Nobody knows too much about him." Seraph leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I know better though. I know all about Sammy's little business with Yellow Eyes and his psychicness."
John could feel his heart pound wildly against his chest, threatening to burst free. He'd heard the rumors from demons before. To hear them from his estranged brother-in-law was another thing. Seraph was seriously unhinged, and John didn't want to think about what the hunter may do to his youngest son.
"Sammy's not psychic. Sorry to burst your bubble."
"Come on, Winchester. I know about Sam and the others. I'm not stupid."
"Sam's not psychic," John insisted sternly. "I would know."
There was a glint of something that John couldn't recognize in Seraph's eyes. It was nearly impossible to think that Seraph and Mary were siblings, impossible to even consider the fact that they were related in any way, shape, or form.
"Mary was, you know," Seraph said nonchalantly as he pulled out a cigarette and a lighter from his leather jacket. "Assumed Sammy would be one too. I mean, the same thing happened to both of them, right?"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
No. He could remember the words Abaddon said to him nearly a year ago. She said Mary and Sammy had been touched by some freak named Azazel, made them special. He never believed that demon, never believed she was telling the truth. Sure, Mary had nightmares and would wake up in a cold sweat. She wasn't psychic though. She couldn't be.
"She had a magical touch, Winchester. Didn't you ever notice it?" Seraph chuckled as he puffed out a ring of smoke. "She called Doug one day, said she could do things she never done before. It was shortly after she turned twenty-two. Said she could heal a cut, ease a headache, make a wilted flower rise again."
The words were faint as John's mind raced. He could remember as clear as day how Mary could give a few squeezes of his shoulders and make the most massive migraines disappear. She could make Sam and Dean stop crying nearly instantly, immediately knowing what they needed of her. The flowers either inside and outside the house were never wilted or limp. They were always in full bloom. He could remember Dean getting scratches, cuts, and bruises and Mary being able to sooth the kid with a soft kiss to the boo-boo.
"Ah, you do remember, huh, Corporal?"
"So you're saying that around the age of twenty-two, Sammy's going to heal crap?"
"Nah, it's different for everyone. Met a couple who had death visions, others who could read minds, even one who could deep-fry a person in half a second," Seraph said with a glint of excitement lacing his words. "Some of them need to be put down like the dogs they are while others are actually beneficial to hunters like us."
"You go anywhere near Sammy, and I will kill you."
"Whoa, Winnie, calm the hell down. Even if Sammy became one of those murderous, deep-frying freaks, I could never kill the kid. He's Mary's and no child of Mary's could be anything but pure."
John's mind was spinning, the wheels churning in over mode. It had taken him years to accept the fact that Mary had been a hunter in her life once upon a time. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind, made it seem as irrelevant as possible. Except now, Ben Seraph was sitting across from him and saying that Mary had been touched by something evil - touched by something that he'd been told touched Sammy. It was all too much to process let alone accept.
"That yellow-eyed sonofabitch killed my parents, killed my sister, and killed my uncle. I want revenge, Winchester, just as much as you do. So let's say you ditch your stray puppy and we hunt this sucker down?"
The offer was tempting, nearly as tempting as the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden. Seraph, whose puffs of smoke snaked through the air, was deceitful. He could not be trusted, and John knew that. The enticement, however, was too alluring to pass up. Seraph knew more about Yellow-Eyes, Azazel, than anyone else John had ever been in contact with.
"Why should I trust you?" questioned John.
He snapped his gaze towards the bar where Jo was bouncing excitedly on the barstool and talking animatedly to Joshua. The boy had a soft smile on his face as he watched the blonde spread her arms wide and giggle. He could remember the last time he saw Jo. The girl had been in tears and questioning why her dad wasn't coming home again.
Bill Harvelle loved hunting. He grew up in the environment after the death of a family member - John never knew the details. It seemed like nearly all the hunters he met had started out because of a loved one's death. John never needed to know the specifics of hunters, because he didn't want to retell his sob story. He just needed to know he could trust them.
The obsession Bill felt, the drive to keep hunting ended up in his death. Bill could never stop hunting, never stop moving despite the fact that he had the perfect wife and daughter. Sometimes, John would wonder if his life of hunting would be the end of him. He had the perfect children. He could rebuild his life with the boys and save his family from anymore heartbreak. Except, knowing the threats that were out there made it impossible to just cease his mission.
In that moment, sitting in that booth with Benjamin Seraph, John knew that this hunt would end badly. Seraph couldn't be trusted to watch his back. If John was honest with himself, he couldn't be trusted to watch the guy's back either. They had a common goal but different ideals. There was no relationship between them. John didn't like the guy one bit, and the feeling was mutual. How could they possibly work together?
"You don't," Seraph decided to say. "I watch my back and you watch your back. I'm not risking my neck for you. We merely share information and figure this out together. Then, after that bastard is dead, we go our separate ways. We go back to hating each other and pretending we don't know one another."
"Fine. What do you know? What happened the night your parents died?"
"Mere never told you?" A smile crept its way on Seraph's face.
"She said there was a fire and how you two just barely got out."
"Heard my mother scream. Jumped out of bed and ran towards Mary's nursery. I walked in to see my father grabbing her out of the crib just in time before it burst into flames. I looked up and saw my mother pinned to the ceiling while bleeding from the stomach. I was handed Mary, and I hauled the ass out of there," he explained dryly. "How about you?"
John blinked. The words caught in his throat as he idly watched Seraph stab his cigarette into the wooden table. The older man sounded so detached, so indifferent about the whole situation. John couldn't understand it. How could Seraph show no emotion while talking about his parents dying?
"Fell asleep downstairs watching a war documentary. I heard… Mary scream," John forced himself to talk as steadily as possible. "Went into Sammy's nursery and nothing was there. I looked up and that's when… Mary… she…"
"Pinned to the ceiling with a gash across her stomach?" supplied Seraph.
"Yeah." John licked his dry lips. "That's when the fire started. Just… burst from around her. I grabbed Sammy and heard Dean yelling for me. I stopped him before he could enter the room. I gave Sammy to him, told him to get outside as fast as he could with his brother. I… I tried to save Mary, but she was… I ran outside and grabbed the boys just before the glass shattered. I, uh, looked up at the house. Saw a dark shadow standing in the flames just watching me and the boys. I knew that something wasn't right… that it was… so wrong."
"It's a demon."
Looking up at the man across from him, John was slightly taken aback that Seraph wasn't at all affected about the recount of his sister's death. How could anyone be so mechanical and withdrawn?
"I know," whispered John.
"Upper level demon too, I mean it would have to be because of the yellow eyes. I'm thinking it's a first hierarchy demon - would have to be. We ain't lookin' at no legion level."
John didn't know too much about the hierarchies of demons. It never really seemed that important until that moment. Seraph knew exactly what he was talking about. Hell, John was beginning to think Seraph knew more about demons than Bobby Singers and that was saying something.
"Azazel," John uttered softly.
"What?"
"Azazel. He's the demon we're looking for."
"How the hell do you know that?"
"Call it a lucky hunch."
If Seraph was suspicious or wanted more Intel, he didn't let on. He merely nodded as he lit up another cigarette and inhaled deeply. The arrangement the two had going on was one John appreciated. There was no double guessing, no questions. It was just facts and hunting. With that mentality, John could get through the hunt with Seraph.
"Gimme a couple of days. I gotta make sure the boys are all set for awhile."
"When do I get to meet my nephews?"
"Meet them? Are you insane? I'm not letting you within twenty miles of my boys," snapped John as Seraph looked slightly taken aback.
"Why not?"
"Why not? You've got to be kidding me, Seraph. I've heard the kind of shit you pull on hunts. Gordon Walker mean anything to you? You nearly got the kid killed, you jackass. I'm not letting you go near my boys, have you infect them."
"Well, damn if you aren't you all dark and twisty and cynical."
"Gimme your cell. I'll call you once I have the boys settled with something."
Digging into his pocket, Seraph produced a thick, leather-bound journal. Flipping to the back of book, he ripped out a sheet of paper and messily scrawled down a phone number. He folded it before sliding it across the table.
Without saying goodbye, John made his way over towards the bar where Jo was talking about how Danny and Rick were busting some sick ghost's behind a few towns over. Apparently, it was one evil sucker, and they wouldn't be back for a few more days.
"Hey, sorry to break this up, but we gotta head out, Joshua."
Jo's smile faded as she looked longingly up at the kid. Her curls bounced around her head as she nodded in defeat.
"Thanks for keeping me company, Jo," Joshua bid goodbye as he stood up. "I'll come back and talk to you again, okay?"
"Promise?" she questioned hopefully as he snorted.
"Frat boy's honor," commented Joshua as he made some weird hand gesture that John could have sworn was from Star Trek.
Shaking his head, John led the kid out of the Roadhouse and towards the small Camaro. Joshua chuckled as he hauled his body into the passenger's seat.
"Cute kid," he remarked with a smile.
"Yeah, she's real sweet," John replied as he started the engine.
"Reminded me of Audrey a little. She has the same blonde hair and bubbly personality."
John didn't know how to respond to that. Whenever Joshua would mention his sister's name, he had this far away tone in his voice as though he were daydreaming. John respected the kid's memories and didn't push him to say anything much. Little bits of information John could take, but he knew that he didn't need to know anything. Slowly, he was starting to warm up to Joshua.
"We gotta talk," John whispered as he cleared his throat, "because the next couple of days, weeks, aren't going to be what you might think they will be."
"What do you mean?"
"We can't hunt together for awhile. I gotta thing to do, but I'm gonna set you and Dean up on a hunt or two. When Sam finishes the semester, then he can join you two. It won't be for long, but I gotta do this."
John could feel Joshua's eyes on him, but he ignored them. Instead, he reached down and flicked on the radio station as Johnny Cash's voice filled the air. Officially, for now at least, the conversation was over with. They'd pick it up later after they crossed the state border or something like that.
Author's Notes - I'm terribly sorry about the horrific wait for this chapter. I've been extremely busy personally and with classes. Once April rolls around, the updates should be posted regularly. I do hope this chapter was worth the wait and that you all enjoyed it. Special thanks to Shannon for editing.