John Winchester (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} aka_elroy) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} utr_logs,@ 2008-07-28 22:08:00 |
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What: Going hunting
When: Early
Where: Las Vegas
Warnings: Winchesters getting midevil on some vampire ass.
John had woken up on the cold concrete floor of the casino bathroom. Besides the broken mirror, a cracked urinal and a cracked door there was nothing. Just him and zip for clues. He knew who'd taken her though and he wasn't going to let it slide. He'd upped the ante bringing in a vampire crew for muscle. Sign of a coward playing that way. Pulling himself to his feet John caught his breath, his head spinning from the move from the floor to standing. Checking his pocket he made sure he still had his car keys and wallet, wonder of wonders he did. His watch had broken during the fight though, and he didn't have any idea how long he'd been on the ground.
Glaring at his own reflection in the cracked mirror John stared at himself for minute, turning on a faucet and washing away the worst of the blood trickling down his face. Once he was done he looked back up into the mirror, aiming a punch at the image of his own face. How could he be so blind! He let vampires get the drop on him? What the hell was he doing?! Tearing the rest of the mirror off the wall he tore the faucet out of the counter and threw it. Pounding his fists against the granite surface he welcomed the numb pain, the nerve endings in his fists complaining loudly. Once he got his hands around Manning's neck there wouldn't be anymore pain.
Driving back to his house was a blur. Parking his Nova inside he shut off the engine, sitting behind in the drivers seat and staring out of the windshield. Took him a minute to realize his fingers were still tightly wound around the wheel. Dean would be here soon, he needed to get the gear prepped. Leaving the car, he walked into the weapons cage, opening the fridge with its canister of dead man's blood. Picking out four machetes he soaked the blades in the sticky red blood, loading up on silver rounds.
How in the hell long did it take to take a damn portkey?