Hunters Anonymous
K Hanna Korossy

Dean was almost back to the car when he stopped. He took a breath, head dipping, and gripped Baby's roof. The Mark's influence was like a fifty-fold shot of adrenaline, and it ebbed the same way, leaving him shaky and unsure what had just happened. There'd been a fight and, he glanced over his shoulder, oh, yeah, an ax. One he'd managed to bury in a park bench instead of the two morons who'd tried to use it on him.

And Claire. Watching him from the RV window like he was a lion waiting to pounce on her.

She wasn't wrong. And not just because she'd set him up for this little ambush.

He dragged his free hand down his face, then let go of the Impala. Barely wobbling as he made his way back to the bench—good for him—and wrenched the ax free to toss it aside. The wood was split and splintered, but enough remained that he could sit. The discomfort was far less than he deserved.

He heard the RV door but kept his eyes bent to the grass in equal parts weariness and wariness. Claire crept closer a few steps, still mistrustful—you and me both, sister—and silent.

"Sit down," Dean said, more growl in his voice than he'd intended. He tried to dial it back. "I'm not gonna bite."

She joined him tentatively on the bench. Then, after long, awkward seconds, muttered a half-petulant "sorry."

Dean snorted at that, giving her a sideways glance. "Yeah. Lot of that going around." He shook his head. "If Sam'd been with me and your buddies had gone after him, this would've ended a lot bloodier." He straightened slowly, and could feel her tense next to him.

The first touch of genuine remorse hit: besides being, sorta, Cas's girl, she was also still really a kid. A kid whose only father figure he'd massacred. A really mixed-up kid with no one to turn to except the guy wearing her dad's face.

Dean sighed, unclenching fists that had tightened without his notice, and turned to look at her full on. "My dad died for me, too."

Whatever she'd been expecting, that wasn't it; the surprise on her face made her look even younger.

"I was dying, and he made a deal with a demon to save my life."

Her gaze fell away from him. Shame maybe, or, God help him, sympathy.

It made it easier to say the rest. "Life's not fair. I learned that early on. But…we've still got choices, and we're responsible for 'em." He thought of the Mark, and Sam's desperate expression in the midst of the carnage in Randy's house. Tell me you had to do this.

She glanced up at him, face twisted with pain.

He didn't even have to try to soften his voice. "And you've still got folks who care about you. I'm not talkin' about that douche Randy." She opened her mouth to protest, and he quickly continued, "I know he didn't deserve to die, okay? I know that. But he didn't deserve what you gave him, either. Cas—I know it's hard, but he's tryin', and he really does care. That social worker of yours seemed pretty worried about you, too. And me and Sam…" Dean cleared his throat. "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't wanna call, but you can if you need to."

Halfway through the sentence, his phone started ringing, like a mistimed cue. Dean fished it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. Sam. Of course. Mouth ticking upward, he slipped it back into his pocket. Sammy could wait a few minutes.

She followed the movement with her eyes, then they jumped back up to his face. "Like you have Sam," she said quietly.

He blinked. There wasn't anyone else out there like Sam. But he just nodded.

She echoed him. "Yeah. Okay." And maybe her shoulders were a little straighter, her expression less trapped.

He cleared his throat again. "You need a ride anywhere?"

Unbelievably, she smirked at him. "No offense, but you killed my friend and I tried to return the favor—I kinda don't think we're there yet."

Dean huffed; he was actually starting to like this kid a little. "Right. Okay then." He pushed up off his knees and stood.

Claire copied him, then hesitated. "You, uh…you don't have to tell Castiel what happened, do you?"

Yeah, definitely hope for her yet. He gave her a small smile. "Hey, what happens…" He glanced around. "…in the park, stays in the park."

Claire looked relieved. She started back toward the RV, then stopped. "Thanks." Her voice was almost too soft to hear.

Dean didn't know for what: not telling Cas? The pep talk? Not killing her pals?

Not like it really mattered, he figured as he returned to his car. The fact that a girl who'd hated him enough to put a hit on him was actually thanking him now was mind-blowing no matter the reason. He didn't quite share Sam's belief there was hope for him yet, but at least maybe he still had something going for him.

Like you've got Sam.

Well…exactly.

Speaking of, Dean pulled his phone out with his keys, and hit redial.

"Hey. So, get this…"

The End