Battle Lines of The Heart

Blood On My Name

"It had to be an animal though, right? I mean what kind of person could do such a thing?" Claire could only stare in gruesome wonder at the state of the bodies on the tables in front of her while the mortician speculated.

"There are some pretty terrible people out there, doc. You'd be surprised." Joe answered casually from where he stood next to her. Claire had spent the better part of the morning trying to convince Joe that they should go after Winchester. He was killing the people who killed the monsters. Somebody had to be the one to bring him down. Joe had finally conceded but only if Claire promised to follow a set of conditions. First, she had to follow every order he gave her to the letter. Second, once they found him, she would let Joe and whatever other hunters he could find take Dean Winchester out. Claire had wanted to be part of the action but standing here looking at Winchester's handiwork, she was glad that she was going to be as far away as possible when it went down.

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Dean Winchester himself was a state over in Ouray, Colorado. Dean had skipped town as soon as he was finished, the buzz from his latest kill carrying him as far as the single diner this town had to offer. It was a little, ma and pop restaurant that served breakfast all day and advertised the fact that they had a public bathroom.

Keeping his hands well covered in his jacket pockets dean walked calmly through the doorway was immediately confronted with a kind looking waitress whose name tag read Susie.

"Can I help you?" she asked

"I sure hope so," Dean said amiably. "Can you point me in the direction of the restroom?"

"Of course! Right down the hall in the back, darlin. Second door on the right." Susie answered him sweetly, not noticing the tiny flecks of red on his cheeks or the mysterious dark stains on the cuffs of his jeans.

As soon as Dean got into the tiny and run down bathroom, he pulled his hands from his jacket quickly and plunged them under the water. The clear stream was as hot as he could get it and yet he still scrubbed furiously for nearly five minutes.

Now that he had made it far enough away from the scene of the crime, Dean felt completely drained. His very soul felt tired and all he wanted to do was curl up in a motel room bed and sleep for the rest of his miserable existence. The smell of blood that had clung to his nose ever since was slowly giving way to the scent of cooking food which no longer had the same affect on Dean anymore. His mouth didn't water, his stomach didn't grumble. He didn't want to eat. If Sammy was here he would have thought Dean was possessed for the strangeness of it.

Nevertheless, Dean knew he needed to eat to hunt, so he ate what he had to and nothing more.

If only the blood would wash off! Dean scrubbed harder but the orangish-red stain was stubborn. Dean growled getting more frustrated by the minute. He couldn't even get the blood off his hands let alone save his little brother. You know, the one he had promised his dad he would always watch out for. Look how well that turned out!

Dean let out a snarl and took a swing at the mirror. His reflection shattered and fell into the sink along with the broken glass.

Dean didn't bother to try cleaning any of it up. He walked out of the bathroom just as collected as he had walked in.
With his hands clenched tightly in his pockets again, Dean Winchester left the building, pointedly ignoring the shocked staring at him.