𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛[𝙳.𝚆]

083

We watch as a beat up, rusted mustang parks next to another rusted oldie. A man in a black leather vest steps out the mustang and just by looking at him, I knew he was a vamp.

My eyes flit over to the barn entrance when it opens, narrowing them slightly when another man steps out with shoulder length black hair and a t-shirt. From the way he was covering his face with his hand to avoid the sun rays, it was safe to say he was one too.

"Son of a bitch." Dean says as they both get inside and close the barn door behind them. "So they're really not afraid of the sun?"

"No, direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn. The only way to kill them is by beheading." John explains.

"They do sleep during the day though, but they can still very much wake up and kill us. So, at least that part of 'the lost boys' is true." I tell them, smacking away a dead branch that's digging into my arm.

"So I guess walking right in's not our best option."

"Actually, that's the plan." John smirks.

"You wanna walk right into a nest with two rookie vampire killers?" I ask, pointing over at Sam and Dean.

"Hey!" Dean exclaims.

"I'm just stating the facts." I shrug.

"They can handle it." John says surely. I sigh and nod, standing up from where we're all crouched together behind some dead bushes and trees. My legs tingle from staying in that position for so long so I try shaking them out. "Well, let's get going then."

I lean on John's trunk as he pulls out his arsenal. It's definitely more organized than the Impala's arsenal, I'll give him that.

"Dad, I've got an extra machete if you need one." Dean says, holding up a small machete. I smile at him. If only he did. John pulls out his much bigger machete and inspects it.

"Think I'm okay. Thanks."

Show off.

"Wow."

"Well, I need one." I smile, pushing myself off the truck with my foot and walking the few steps to the Impala's trunk. "Guess it's a plus having an extra of everything, huh? It's like I never left." I smirk, plucking the machete from his hand, eyes never leaving Dean's.

"Yeah." He replies quietly. My eyes look past him to Sam, feeling his eyes on me as well.

"Sam..." he looks down, focusing his gaze on wrapping a holster belt around his waist. I sigh and back away with a nod of understanding.

He wasn't ready to speak to me yet. I get it. I did lie to him. Numerous times.

"So...you boys really want to know about this colt?" John asks. The three of us look at him. I was surprised he actually listened to me.

After the fight between him and Sam, I carefully suggested that he at least try to fill them in on everything. They only had a right to know. In order for them to not go in on this mission blind, they had to know the importance of the colt.

"Yes, sir." Sam says after exchanging looks with Dean. John looks at me hesitantly and I nod for him to continue.

"It's just a story...a legend really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter. Back in 1835, when Halley's comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samual Colt made a gun...a special gun. He made it for a hunter—a man like us, only on horseback." I clear my throat expectantly. His eyes flicker over to me. "Or a woman."