Hunter Unknown

The Story Goes On

Same warning as the previous chapter. Some content may be deemed disturbing or mature. Readers are cautioned.

I had never shown anyone the marks that proved I had not hallucinated all those years ago. Dean sat in silent awe before gently touching one of the scars with his finger and looking at me as though to ask if it was okay. He took my hand and turned it over in his, examining the scar and feeling the raised edges. I continued talking as he did so.
"I don't know how, but I knew what the angel wanted me to do. It was like we had some sort of telepathic connection or something, I don't know." I threw some things in a backpack as the angel disappeared. It returned and told me to run out to the tree in the backyard and not to look back. It told me to wait for it there.
As I walked through the kitchen to the back door, I saw my mother lying on the floor with her eyes hollowed and smoldering. I am not sure what I felt, but it was not sorrow.
Once I was standing under the tree in the cover of darkness, I turned to see my house engulf in deep orange and red flames behind the angel who walked towards me. The flames where not that of a fire just started, but a raging fire that had been burning much longer. The angel stood before me and placed some things into the bag I was holding limply beside me. 'Run and don't look back. Keep walking and don't stop until you are far away from here. I will be back to help you as much as I can.' the angel told me before disappearing again with no further explanation. I watched the flames only a brief moment longer before starting my journey.
My eyesight was filled with the red and orange glow of heavenly vengeance as I placed my earthly hell further behind me in its fitting flames. I didn't stop that night until I reached a field surrounded by thick pine trees. I lay in the field and watched the stars until I drifted off to sleep. When I awoke I stayed in the field a bit longer still under the high of new found freedom, adrenaline, and endorphins.
As I continued my hike into the unknown the angel appeared by my side again. It told me it was sent to save me because I was special. Because I was one of a certain kind of people who had a job to do, a heavenly duty. It told me I was to be a hunter. It described what that meant and told me what I needed to do.
"As you already know I spent a year studying mythology, folklore, the Bible, weaponry, and self-defense. Within that same year, I had taken on a hand full of small hunts to test myself. As time past, the angel visited me less and less.
Like I told you before, when I was fifteen I took on a bigger hunt. By this time I had fake ID's and the lot. I told you about the old pickup I drove and how I found my camaro on that hunt. It was no where near what it is now. I got it to a garage, they let me keep it there while I worked on it. This guy, Lorenzo, he helped me. He was a decent guy. Anyway I paid them for storage, tools, and the assistance. When I drove it out of the garage it was still a mess, but it didnt matter. I've spent a lot of time fixing it up."
"So what happened to the angel?" Dean asked.
"Well, the last time I saw it; it told me it would try to help me as much as it could, but that there was someone else who needed its help. But there's more that you should know-or well, that I need to tell you."
Okay was all he said in reply.
"I haven't really shared this with anyone and I'm not sure I have admitted it to myself either. The night terrors that I um suffer from, they-I have-I guess some type of PTSD and-"
"I thought I knew messed up childhoods, but I can see why you'd have nightmares." Dean spoke up this time.
"Dean, that's not the only thing- there's another reason. I had been on an actual hunt, the kind that take days of hunting and weeks of investigating beforehand. I hadn't slept in three days, so when I finally closed the case I needed a break. I saw a motel with an empty parking lot while driving and pulled in. I figured I would rest up there and head out by the next night. The place was in the middle of nowhere, a real Bates motel feel to it. I should have known better, but I was so damn tired.
I went into the office and asked the man at the desk for a room, he gave me a key and I found the room. I placed my bag by the door and went straight to the bed. As I began to remove my gun, but before I got a chance to kick off my shoes there was a knock on the door. I knew, somehow- I fucking knew not to walk over there and open the door. Everything told me not to, but I was so tired and so out of it. I went to the door and looked through the peephole; seeing it was only the guy from the desk, I asked him if there was a problem. He told me that he had given me the wrong key and that he had been fixing the bathroom in my room. I told him it was fine, but he insisted that he only needed to come in for a minute to tighten a coupler on one of the sink pipes. I shouldn't have done it- but I opened the door.
Before I knew what was happening he- I felt something hit me in the side of the head and- it was the wrench he had been holding to corroborate his claims. He pushed me- he pushed me backwards onto the bed. He was- I tried to wrestle him off of me, but he kept pinning me down.
I remembered my gun was still in my waistband so I- I don't know how but I got my arm free and reached my gun. I didn't even think about it- I shot him in the side of the head and rolled him off of me. His eyes never went shut- he just stared at me.
My ears rang and his blood-it was sprayed all over my face. I grabbed my bag and ran to my car. Between the sleep deprivation and sudden rush of adrenaline, I was completely out of it. I grabbed a jug of kerosene from the trunk and I just- I poured it all over the room and the body, but it wasn't enough for me. So I poured it down the walkway in front of the other rooms too. Then I got cans of oil and poured them out. I must have dumped some form of flammable liquids in every room. I busted down the doors half of the time not bothering with each room key.
I took all of the cash from the office and a revolver from under the desk before dumping stuff in there too. I lit match after match until I was satisfied, then threw the box in for good measure. I left the place just like I had left my childhood home, engulfed in flames of justice. I don't regret it not one fucking bit, but I still can't forget it. It should have been over then, but that pig- that son of a bitch still tortures me. I was sixteen years old then.
By the time I was seventeen I gave up hope in people and learned the only people who'd be there for me was Jack Daniels and his friends. I'm fucked up Dean. I've been doomed from the beginning. I don't regret a damn thing I've done, but I don't get it. I still believe there's a reason, but damned if I know what it is."
Dean looked pissed, I could tell by the way his jaw was clenched to the point where I feared his teeth might break from the force.
"That's not even the best part! Here lately I have completely lost it. You know how I sleep at night? I don't. Instead I drown myself in alcohol and pills until I can't feel a damn thing- until the nightmares and fear lose all meaning. There's something wrong with me though, Dean. Whatever it is, is strong. I can't control it, it's like it's fighting it's way from the inside out. I can feel it burning inside- feeding off of my fear and missing self control. It's driving me insane!
I drink to be numb, but the more numb I feel the more it surfaces and I can't fucking take it anymore! I'm tired of fighting it, but I'm scared to let go because I don't know what it is or what might happen if I do. Maybe I'm just crazy-maybe that's it- I'm a damned loon! I'm tired, Dean. These past few months have been great, but they've also been the worst. I dont know what to do anymore. I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't." I ran my hands through my hair fighting off tears that threatened to spill over the rim of my eyes. There's a first for everything I guess.
"You should have told us sooner. Why are you telling me all of this and not Sam, you too are like the friggin Olsen twins." He admonished in true Dean style.
"Because Sam's doing enough worrying already, over you. And I know Sam has been through his share of shit, but I thought- I thought maybe you'd get it because-because of the mark." I told him honestly.
"I do. I get it."
"I've started to have different kinds of dreams." I admitted. "I get glimpses of things, they don't mean anything usually. There just phrases with no context, or images of something before it happens, but never anything useful."
"You're having visions?" Dean asked in disbelief.
"I guess. Sometimes I can sense things or know things that I shouldn't. It's like information just somehow finds its way into my mind and I can't stop it anymore. I used to be able to, but not anymore. I just needed to tell someone- I needed you to know that. I don't want Sam to know. I don't want him to worry or try to fix me."
"When did this all start? The visions and stuff?"
"Before you guys ran into me. I got over all the shit that has happened to me and by the time I was eighteen I had myself on a routine. I moved through the motions like a robot and you know what? It worked. For awhile that is. It all started after my Twenty-third birthday. It started out slowly, the nightmares, then the sensing things, and now it's like my own brain or something is attacking me. I could make stuff happen too. I won't let myself even try anymore, but it was like if I focused hard enough on something, I could send this energy into it or something. I don't know- I just don't know, Dean. You should have shot me when I told you to."
Before I could stop myself I began to cry. Dean hugged me and thankfully didn't let go. I cried the type of cry that makes you forget why you are crying. No thoughts swam in my mind. Everything was silent for once, as my body knew only how to cry. My agony was hushed, but the amount of tears that fell could have filled barrels.
Eventually the tears ceased, but my body was racked periodically with involuntary intakes and releases of breath. My eyes were open, but I saw nothing. My brain didn't register anything nor did my body know how to do anything but pump blood through my veins and air to my lungs. I fell asleep curled against Dean, holding on for dear life or for sanity's sake, neither one of us acknowledging the moment.
For once my sleep was peaceful, surrounded by warmth and the oddly comforting smell of mint, leather, and musk. I didn't dream, but awoke to being placed on my bed and Dean turning to leave.
Unsure if I was truly awake or in a dream state; I, in a panic, reached out my arm and grabbed Dean's shirt. With blurry eyes and weak from pouring out my secrets, I mumbled "please stay" pathetically. I was afraid of what might happen if this apparition of Dean left, I was scared to face the usual cold, tormented 'sleep' of every other night before. My eyes closed again, but I knew he was moving my desk chair over closer; to sit in front of my night stand with the chair angled slightly toward the door. He was absent-mindedly doing what he always did, acting as a guard from possible intruders. Although he didn't know it, he was also guarding me from the tormentors of my subconsciousness.
I was once again awoken, this time by soft unhappy grunts and stirring. I opened my eyes and saw that Dean had, in fact, brought me to my room and stayed. He was stretching his protesting muscles and joints, sore from sitting in the wooden desk chair. I didn't say anything, I just lay there first observing him then letting my mind wander to the conversation of that night before, which I was beginning to regret. Poor Dean has enough on his plate, with the mark and with whatever he and Sam are doing without me.
"You okay?" Dean asked more quietly than usual. I chose only to nod in response, unwilling to test out my voice just yet. "Sam will be up soon." I knew what he meant by this. Dean was pointing out that Sam would most definitely think something was up if he went to find Dean only to see him leaving my room. I began to sit up in bed letting Dean know it was okay to go. When he opened the door I quietly called, "Dean", and as he turned to look over his shoulder I murmured, "thanks for not leaving.". I looked down at my hands in slight embarrassment. I never would have thought I'd get all sappy and break down in front of anyone, let alone a Winchester.

Don't worry guys this is not turning into a Dean+Eli (or whatever you prefer to call her) romantic fanfic.

Or is it?

No, but seriously it's not.

Yet. ;)

No, really calm yourselves.