Of Purpose and Potential

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Note: So, I gave a lot of thought to where Anna would picture herself and where her family would see her future going. Considering some of the tidbits the show has given us about how Dean and Sam look at kids involved in hunting (like in Freaks and Geeks in season eight), I always thought Anna would be guided away from hunting in  almost as many ways as she's guided toward it. But I also don't feel that doing something other than hunting fit her character. So this is an idea I toyed with a lot and I eventually decided that this story is something that would inevitably happen. Anna is sixteen.


Of Purpose and Potential

The bunker was quiet when Anna and Dean got home and went their separate ways. It had been a long day at school dragging her heavy backpack around, and Anna dropped it in the doorway to the kitchen first chance she got.

Leaning against the doorframe, she took a deep breath and tried to relax. But her fingers twisted anxiously in her curly hair, and her feet bounced against the cold floor.

Anna needed to talk to her brothers. The problem was, she didn't see the conversation going her way. Sam, especially, was going to throw an absolute fit when he heard her announcement. And Dean? Anna had no clue what to expect from Dean.

Her faith in him had her believing he would be cool about this whole thing. After all, Dean had done the same damn thing when he was her age. It would be plain hypocritical if he faulted her.

Dean tended to be hypocritical about her life choices, though. He tended to want her to "do better" than he'd done, whatever that even frickin' meant.

She could and would call him out on his shit. But the fact of the matter was, Anna wanted Dean's approval. She wanted him to be okay with this.

Stepping over her discarded backpack into the kitchen, Anna kicked her shoes off and let them rest on the floor by the counter. Sam would give her shit for it, but after tonight, Anna thought, he would have bigger grievances with her and the shoes would be easily forgotten. The thought made her dreadfully uncomfortable and she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Turning away from the fridge where she had been headed to make herself an iced coffee, Anna snatched the hightops off the ground and headed back out of the kitchen, being sure to grab her backpack out of the doorway on her way.

She passed Sam in the hallway where their bedrooms were, and felt guilty when she answered his greeting with a smile and a 'hey,' as if nothing were wrong. Because something was wrong, but it was wrong because she knew she was going to really disappoint him in a couple of hours. He didn't seem to pick up on her indirect dishonesty, though, and passed by without another word said. Anna wondered if she should have had a real conversation with him as it might be her last chance for a while. If she knew her brother-- and she did-- Sam was likely to stay upset over the coming conversation for days, weeks, maybe longer.

Anna opened her bedroom door, dropped her bag by her desk, and threw her shoes across the room both because she could and because she was troubled. It didn't make her feel better. It just reminded her that she was a teenager, and an angsty one, and that maybe she wasn't ready to leave school and be out in the world. Especially the world of hunting, monsters, and life or death situations. As much as she wanted to shrug this off for her own benefit, the thought stuck in Anna's mind. It stayed there for the next half hour as she tried to do her math homework-- though to what end she didn't know. If tonight went as planned, she wouldn't be in school much longer. Why bother with homework?

The evening slowly approached, and Anna heard the bunker door screeching open and signalling Dean's arrival. She didn't know where he'd been-- hopefully getting coffee among other things because they were almost out and Anna couldn't survive a school day without... She caught herself there and shook her head. She couldn't survive a day without coffee. School wouldn't be an issue after tonight.

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