Choose Your Battles
K Hanna Korossy

They drove away from Chicago with both of them sneaking glances in the rear view, as if the werewolves and shifters and God knew what else that apparently ran the city were following them.

"What the Hell, Sam?" Dean finally burst out as they hit 55 and turned south.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, still disbelieving.

"No, seriously—what the Hell?!"

"I know."

Dean was shaking his head. "I mean, who do we even call about this? How does every hunter in the country not already know?"

Good question. They'd done a few hunts in Chi-town over the years, too—Meg and the daevas immediately jumped to mind—and they certainly hadn't had even an inkling that several of the most prominent families in the city weren't actually human. Sam knew his dad's journal well enough to be sure John hadn't had a clue, either, nor had they ever picked up rumors at the Roadhouse or any other hunter hang-out over the years. He wondered if—

"You think Bobby knew?" Dean voiced his thought.

And this was why they were hunting together, despite the still-unhealed Gadreel rift between them. Like it or not, they were hewn from the same rock, and Sam knew he'd never find that with anyone else, hunter or wife.

He shifted in his seat, considering Dean's question. Then straightened.

"Hey…You remember after that abiku hunt we had in Chicago, Bobby asking all those questions?"

Dean's brow furrowed. Mentions of Bobby no longer brought the sharp pang to the gut they once had, but Sam was asking about something from years back. Then again, Dean maybe didn't pay much attention to the things he thought unimportant—like anything that didn't have to do with hunting, food, music, cars, or women—but his mind was a lockbox for everything that did matter to him. "Yeah…Where we were hunting, who we met, if we heard about any other cases. That kinda stuff, right?"

"Right. You remember him asking questions like that about any other hunts?" Sam asked pointedly.

Seconds later, Dean's face cleared in realization. "Son of a bitch," he breathed, and Sam nodded.

They mulled that over a minute.

Dean canted his head. "So…if he knew, and he didn't do anything about it…"

Again with the thinking alike. "If Bobby had put the word out, or we did now, it'd be a bloodbath." David the shifter had mentioned five monster families, all of them apparently Mafia-big. Sam couldn't even imagine the death toll they'd be looking at.

"And it's not like they're hurting anything," Dean picked up the thread. "The dude doing all the killing this time was a freakin' human."

"What about poor Susan in the bar?"

Dean grimaced, no doubt also remembering the helpfully labeled bag of guts they'd found in the bar cabinet. "Fangs is dead, too." The maître d' he'd beheaded probably wasn't the only perpetrator, but they had no other proof of homicidal behavior. "They'd be stupid to crap where they live."

"And we can't kill 'em just 'cause they're not human," Sam said with a sideways glance. Dean had maybe been a little more aggro on this hunt, Sam guessed because of the Mark or the Mark's interaction with the First Blade, but Sam hadn't had to fight him on this as he had about Maritza the pishtaco.

Dean readily nodded. "I mean, we just helped rescue a werewolf."

"And left her with her friend the shapeshifter," Sam finished wryly.

"And Ennis is gonna be there keeping an eye on things," Dean said a little reluctantly. It wasn't like the kid had known about monsters for more than a few days.

But neither was it like he'd have much to do if the monsters behaved themselves. And Sam had left him their numbers in case they didn't. "Yeah. So…we leave it alone for now?"

"Guess so. We got us a Knight of Hell and Scribe of Heaven to fry."

Sam sat back in his seat, surprised at the realization of a familiar contentment, despite everything. "We live weird lives, man," he said with a small smile.

And didn't feel at all surprised to see its echo on his brother. "Amen to that, Sammy. Amen to that."

The End