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Free Supernatural Fanfiction – Chapter Summary:

John’s return sparks tension and teamwork as the Winchesters hunt vampires and face evolving monsters.

Rating: PG-13
Contains:   For mild violence and supernatural themes

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX:  
Wingman

WE PACKED AND MADE OUR WAY TO THE CAR. John decided to take his truck, which may or may not have been stolen. He didn’t say. We didn’t ask. He said he’d lead and we’d follow in the Impala. He didn’t mind driving alone.

I found that a little strange, but Sam mentioned John had a truck before he died and preferred driving it alone. Maybe old habits die hard—even if you don’t.

Deadwood was only a few hours from Bobby’s, so we pulled into a diner for a late lunch. While we ate, we made plans for the vampire stakeout. John had narrowed the nest to a two‑mile radius. We split the area in half to cover more ground—John would drive the western side, and we’d take the eastern. Once we located the nest, we’d regroup.

Dean entered our cell numbers into his phone in case John found something or finished early.

Sam volunteered to go with John as backup, but he declined. Said he was old enough to scout some vampires. He wasn’t planning to take on a nest alone—he knew better than that. Reluctantly, we let him go.

We drove in the opposite direction in silence for a few minutes.

“I can’t believe you just let him go off on his own like that,” Sam finally said.

Dean stared ahead, silent.

“What did you do?” Sam asked.

“I turned on his GPS while I was plugging in our phone numbers,” Dean said quietly.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up for a moment, and then he pulled out his laptop. A few clicks later, he located John’s truck. Sam kept an eye on the location—if it stopped too long, we’d know where to investigate.

With the tracker active, we started our own search around the wooded area. After a while, Sam noticed something.

“Hey, check this out,” he said, turning the laptop. “He’s been sitting at this point for a good ten minutes now.”

We looked at the map.

“Think something’s up?” Sam asked.

“One way to find out,” Dean said. He pulled out his phone and called John. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited. It must’ve gone to voicemail—Dean shoved the phone back in his pocket and swung the car around.

“I’m assuming he didn’t answer?” I asked.

“No.”

A few minutes later, Dean’s phone rang. He scrambled to answer. “Dad? What happened… What do you mean?… Who’s the hunter?… No, but maybe Bobby does… Yeah, sure… Bye.”

Sam and I waited.

“Dad found the nest. Two other hunters got there just before he did. He’s helping them dispose of the bodies and said he’d meet us back at Bobby’s.”

“Who were the hunters? Did he mention names?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. “No one I’ve heard of—Gwen and Christian Balan?”

We both shrugged. I didn’t have much contact with other hunters. Sam and Dean usually kept their distance. I’d only heard names in passing. Hunters weren’t exactly social butterflies—too many of them died too easily.

“Maybe Bobby knows them?” I said.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, sounding doubtful.

We made it back to Bobby’s and told him what happened.

“Nope, never heard of them,” Bobby said. “But that ain’t too unusual. Not like many hunters use their real names when talking to folks.”

He had a point, but the atmosphere in the room stayed tense.

JOHN CAME IN AND STARTED TALKING about what he’d found. The vampires were using a hunting cabin for their nest. Gwen and Christian told him they’d been seeing lots of monster variations lately.

“What kind of variations?” Dean asked. If the apocalypse had anything to do with it, we were probably responsible.

“Well, their buddies are tracking some djinn that make you hallucinate while you’re awake instead of knocking you out,” John said. “They ditched the caves and are blending into society now. Harder to track. And all they have to do to kill you is touch you. Their toxins get in your system—next thing you know, you’re hallucinating your worst nightmares, and pretty soon you O.D.”

“That sounds pretty exotic,” Dean muttered.

“Yeah, they might need backup. They’re on their way there now. I told them to call me if they need a hand,” John finished.

Bobby voiced what Dean and Sam were thinking. “Since when did you start getting friendly with other hunters?”

John shrugged, popping open a beer. “Haven’t been around in a while, but it sounds like we need to nip these monsters‑on‑steroids in the ass before it gets out of hand. If that means teaming up for a few cases, then so be it. You can meet some decent guys when you team up once in a while.”

No one disagreed. Monsters evolving unchecked would be a disaster. We’d teamed up to stop the apocalypse. They’d met Bobby that way, too.

“Where are the djinn?” Sam asked.

“Cicero, Indiana.”

They started discussing whether the usual methods for killing a djinn would still work, and how to enhance the silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood. I felt Cas hovering around Bobby’s—maybe getting a read on John. I glanced at Dean. He seemed to notice Cas was nearby.

“I’ll meet him in the kitchen,” I whispered to Dean. He nodded and kept talking about the djinn as I slipped away.

I sent out a vibe that Cas could show himself. He appeared a moment later.

“Hey,” I greeted softly.

He nodded.

“So what do you think?” I asked.

He looked into the other room. “I need to see him.”

With that, he walked into the living room. Dean looked up immediately. I trailed behind.

“John Winchester,” Cas said.

John stood, watching our reactions. It was clear this new arrival wasn’t a threat.

“Who’s this?” John asked.

“This is our wingman,” Dean said. “Castiel.”

“This is Castiel?” John asked, eyeing him. “You’re scrawnier than I pictured.”

“This is a vessel,” Cas replied, unfazed. “My true form is approximately the size of your Chrysler Building.”

“Alright, alright, quit bragging,” Dean said, stepping next to me.

“I have some questions for you,” Cas continued.

John shrugged slightly.

“The day you got back—what happened?” Cas asked.

“We’ve been over this,” John sighed, looking at us.

“Well, recap it. So, you were dead, and…” Dean prompted.

“And, pow, I was in Southern Wyoming. Don’t know how. Don’t know why. I’ve got nothing to hide, guys.”

“Has he been feverish?” Cas asked Dean.

“Have you?” Dean asked his dad.

“No. Why?” John asked, puzzled.

“Are you speaking in tongues?” Cas continued.

“No. What are you… diagnosing me?”

Cas ignored him. “How much do you sleep?”

“A few hours a night. This is ridiculous,” John said, voice rising as he stood.

Dean stepped between them. “Alright, calm down. We’re just being careful. Didn’t you teach us that?”

John sighed and stepped back. “Fine.”

Dean looked to Cas. “Well?”

“He seems to be intact.”

“And?”

“And?” Cas echoed.

“Can you tell how he got back?”

“No, I can’t,” Cas said.

“Well, that was helpful,” John muttered, sitting back down. Cas glared at him for a moment.

“Then we’ll just have to keep digging,” Bobby said.

“I have to get back,” Cas announced.

“You’re leaving?” Dean asked.

“I’m in the middle of a civil war,” Cas replied. Without waiting for a response, he vanished. The air whooshed around us in his wake.

“Would’ve asked him to stick around for a beer,” John said, raising his own. He took a swig and sat back down.

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