Deadly

two - edited

Twenty minutes later, I was seated across from Dean in a booth, beer and chicken wings in front of me, beer and a burger in front of him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, watching me cautiously.

"I think so," I replied shakily. "I mean, I- I just saw- I don't know what I just saw."

"Would you like me to give you the talk?" he tried to say seriously, but the laugh he was holding back was clear.

"I don't think I'm in the mood for bullshit." I replied without thinking.

Dean's eyes widened, a smirk playing on his lips. "Alright, princess," he pushed his food to the side and leaned forward, drinking his beer. "I'll be straight with you, then. All those 'bullshit' stories that scared you when you were little aren't bullshit. Monsters exist, and you just saw a ghost."

"How?" I asked, my voice quiet.

"No idea," he said, leaning back in his seat. "If you figure it out, let me know."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I."

A silence fell over us. We sat, staring at each other, waiting for the other to speak first.

"Any questions?"

"Yeah," it was my turn to lean forward, my elbows placed on the scratched, worn down wooden table. "Who was that guy?"

"The one who shot the girl?"

"Yeah."

"A hunter."

"What's that?"

Dean smirked, leaning forward to mimic my pose. "Oh, sweetheart," he almost laughed. "You're in for a wild ride."

I narrowed my eyes slightly. "Let me be the judge of that."

--

It took an hour for Dean to explain what a hunter was, and how he got into the life he lived.

"Why couldn't your dad believe it was a house fire?" I asked curiously.

Dean shook his head a little, drinking from the beer bottle. "He saw her before she, uh, went up in flames. House fires don't put you on the ceiling."

"Oh, right," I drank from my own bottle, moving my head back and forth to the song that was playing in the bar. Within the hour, Dean and I had downed multiple beers, and while he seemed fine, I was slightly buzzed.

"You alright, princess?" Dean chuckled.

"I'm great. I'm fantastic. But we're not talking about me," I finished another bottle, and Dean motioned for the bartender to bring us some more. "So what about your brother?"

"What about him?"

"Where is he?"

Dean shrugged. "Stanford, last I heard. After a couple years, he wanted out. He went back to school. 'Guess I don't blame him."

"Why did you keep hunting?"

"There was more for me to do, I guess. Just because he was done didn't mean I was."

"So you hunt alone now?"

"Not alone," he scoffed as more alcohol was placed in front of us. "Remember the guys in the bakery?"

"Oh, right, right," I giggled quietly, grabbing another bottle. Dean watched me as I chugged half of it down, whistling when I set the half-empty bottle on the table.

"Alright, princess," he laughed, standing up and offering me his hand. "I think you've had enough. Let's get you home."

"No. I want to hear more."

"You can hear more tomorrow. I think you've had enough for tonight." He led me out to his car, helping me in before getting into the drivers seat.

"You promise? I want to hear the rest of the story."

"Yes, I promise. Here," he handed me his phone, telling me to put my number in it. I did as I was told, handing it back to him when I had finished. "I'll call you tomorrow."