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Story Notes:
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Author's Chapter Notes:

I'm a bit unhappy with how I wrote this story but it's an accomplisment for me to have even written and finished it so I'm happy because I really wanted to do the challenge even if it was a day late. It's 1,000 words without the title. 

It contains spoilers for season 2 and for those who don't watch Supernatural the Roadhouse is a hunters bar.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

                              Ghost cast


When they first met it's at the Roadhouse and adrenaline was still pumping in his veins after taking down a Wendigo. He sat in the barstool next to her, needing to unwind before returning to Sam and Dean.

"You're bleeding."

It's the first thing she says to him, casually almost like an afterthought. He looked down at his blood soaked shirt, his leather jacket zipped up over most of it and glanced over at her. Her hazel eyes gazed at him confidently, a grin perched on her face and he immediately knew she was a hunter.

He shrugged. "It's just a flesh wound."


She let him fuck her against his car because she's impatient and needed a quick fix. He doesn't cling to her afterwards so they watched each other pull their pants up in silence. This was how she liked it, quick and simple, she wasn't much for  cuddling and all that shit.

"What's your name?"

He asked her afterwards, standing close enough to feel his warm breath on her skin. She contemplated telling him her real name but quickly thought better of it.

"Janis Joplin."

He laughed, a deep throaty laugh that put a smile on her face.

"Your real name?"

She bit her bottom lip looking into his dark green eyes. What the hell.

"Linda Hawkins."

"John Winchester."


He doesn't see her again for six months and it takes him a while to remember her name. He found her at a bar in Wartburg, Tennessee while hunting a Rawhead in the area.  She was bent over the counter, talking to the bartender while a young girl no older than 8 or 9, about Sam's age with her eyes stood next to her. That's when he learned she had a daughter, Julia.


The first time they hunted together was out of conveyance. She left Julia behind to sleep in her motel after they killed the fucker and she meets up with John at his motel. He was mad because he hated her guts and thought she was reckless and she was mad because he's a jackass. They fucked again because they both want to. This becomes their thing.

He told her that he had two boys but she didn't say anything, just put her clothes back on and left.

"Sam and Dean."

She remembered their names because they're simple.


They hunted together every few months meeting at the Roadhouse or at Bobby's place usually leaving Julia behind.

"Uncle John."

Julia first called him that when he refused for her to come hunt a pack of vampires with them. He paused because it made him feel like he'd somehow weaseled his way into their family leaving his behind.


When Linda told him about Marshall she didn't know why.  They were having dinner at an old diner while hunting a spirit in rural Idaho when she just blurted it out. It wasn't a story much different from those most hunters have, a demon had carved up her husband while trying to take over their town with his friends. She'd been a hunter long since she met Marshall so took care of the problem but the demon that killed him got away.

"So you're looking for revenge."

"What's the point?" She laughed. "It's not going to bring him back."

John told her about Mary, speaking with a soft demeanor that she'd only seen when he'd talk about his boys. When he told her about the yellow-eyed bastard that killed her, he sounded like all the other obsessed hunters she'd met at the Roadhouse.


"John you're drunk."

He smiled when he heard her voice and he realized it had been almost a year since he'd heard it. The last time they had spoken, they'd argued and she'd told him that he was a jackass who she never wanted to see again and than pointed a gun at his genitals.

"Bobby told me it was your birthday."
"God, John-"

"I'm just calling to say happy birthday."

The line went silent and  he rocked in his chair a beer in his hand, keeping his voice low, the boys asleep in the bedroom next to him.

"You're a sad bastard you know."

He laughed. "Yeah I know."


They become whatever the hell they were again for a year before he found out that she was dying, that Julia died along with Marshall and she sold her soul for Julia's life.

He was mad at first and wanted to save her. It made her laugh. She didn't want to be saved.


When she called it was raining and he was at a gas station in Colorado. It startled him, because he could hear her softly crying against the phone.

"Good-bye John."

Panic rushed through him and he hurried out of the gas station to the Impala.

"Where are you!"

The line went dead and he cursed under his breath. He called again and it went straight to voicemail as Sam and Dean come out of the convenient store into the pouring rain. He jumped in the car waiting for the boys to follow suit.

"Where are we going?"

"Just get in the car Dean."


Linda death is slow and painful and she dies lying on a table with her guts scattered around, because the demon is a sick fuck that slowly cut her to shreds.

While she laid there dying her thoughts went first to Julia before they jumped to John and she wondered how things could have been if  the world was different, if she was different, if she could have really loved him.

 Her last thought is of Marshall.


John's death is fast and the yellow-eyed bastard lets him die looking at his boys. His thoughts went to Linda as he collapsed.

He thinks of her hazel eyes, her slick feisty tongue. He wondered if he loved her, if he was even capable of loving her.

His last thought is of Mary.



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