The Runt of the Litter

Change Is The Only Constant

Note: It's done! So sorry I'm a bit late, my loves <3 I babysat this morning, so I didn't get to work on this until the afternoon.

I appreciate all the love these last few weeks. 

This week's chapter fills two requests. One for petrifyingpietro and one for an anonymous reader, both of whom are just such kind souls.

Psst... @Mmiller13 happy saturday. i hope the weekend is making adulting a little bit more fun <3

Quick trigger warning: this chapter doesn't focus on an eating disorder, but there is some disordered eating behavior in here. Please don't read if it will trigger you. I can send you the scenes without that content if you want to read the chapter but can't read about that topic.

I hope you all are living your best lives-- you're lovely humans, and you all deserve the world <3

In this chapter, Anna is fourteen.

Change Is The Only Constant

When she was thirteen, Anna got her very own handgun. When she was fourteen, Dean took it back.

And that was just the beginning.

They'd moved into the bunker about a month ago. The whole fiasco with the djinn had happened. They'd taken some time to settle in.

When Anna had asked, after a couple of weeks, whether they were going to get back to training or not, Dean had sat her down for a very annoying talk.

"Sam and I were talking about it, and there's just no reason you should be hunting right now. You know, we can keep working on self defense. But, with this place, you're gonna be safe."

"I don't want to stop training, Dean. I want to be a hunter. I am a hunter. I hit every bottle last time we went shooting, remember?"

"Yeah, Anna, I remember." Dean rubbed a hand down his face and looked at her with a weary but confident expression. "Training's on pause," he told her. "Sam and I are gonna keep workin' on this thing with Kevin-"

"But Kevin's not even that much older than me."

"He's eighteen now," Dean contradicted. "And he's not shootin' or learning hand-to-hand either. He's... researching."

Anna leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "But I know what I'm doing out there, right? You said I was getting better."

"You are, kiddo. But that's not the point. Point is, you don't need to be workin' on this crap anymore." He paused for a minute, inhaled, and said, "I'm taking your gun back."

Anna looked up with a combination of hurt, surprise, and anger in her eyes. "Uncle Bobby gave me that."

Dean looked regretful. "I know, Sweetheart. It's still yours. I'm not- I'm not taking it, taking it. You just– You don't need it right now. I'll let you hang onto Bobby's flask, okay?"

She hadn't really been given much choice. So she'd let Dean take her gun, and she'd stopped asking about training. For the time being, at least.

Then the boys had run out to help a guy named James who Anna vaguely remembered meeting when she was eight or nine. They came back with the news that James was a witch now.

It had been a long week at the bunker. Sam had officially announced that he was enrolling Anna in public school. High school. Classes would start in a month.