A Prayer Answered
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own the Winchesters or their world, or I'd make Dean my love slave. I only own Kyra.
Rating: K+ for language
Characters: Dean, Kyra Singer (OC)
Description: Second story in Kyra Singer saga, set pre-series. After Kyra's first time having someone killed on her watch, her faith in her path as a hunter is running low, but an unexpected phone call turns everything around.
A/N: Just a one-shot from Kyra's POV that goes back to the beginnings of Dean and Kyra's relationship. After all, they have a pretty complicated history, and I've barely scratched the surface of it yet. Enjoy!
The tears I'd been holding back for the last hour finally slipped out as I turned off the water to the motel shower and wrapped myself in a towel. I'd figured out the identity of the ghost haunting Jason Phelp's house…I'd told him I would call him when it was safe to go home again…I'd salted and burned the bones without a hitch…but the police cars and the body bag being wheeled out the front door by the paramedics when I drove past the house told me that I had failed. Sure, the ghost was gone, but I was supposed to save him and I didn't.
As I dried off and pulled on my tank top and shorts that I usually wore to bed, I couldn't stop myself from punching the wall, feeling even more like a failure when my fist didn't leave so much as a dent in the sheet rock. The feeling dredged up memories of my family, and I quickly pushed them back—it had been eight months since Tulsa, just over six months since my first hunt with Bobby, and I'd never had anyone die after I'd started working a job…until now, anyway.
Every bit of certainty, the sense that I was doing what God wanted me to do, the idea that I was saving people was crumbling under my feet, and I sat on the edge of the bed and put my head in my hands—there was a hollow victory in keeping the sobs at bay, even while the tears fell faster and my heart felt like it was breaking into pieces. It had been a long time since I'd actually prayed, but the need to overwhelmed me as I closed my eyes.
"God, please…I don't know what the hell I'm doing here…I'm trying to help people, to save people, but…is this what you really want for me? I wanna do the right thing, but I'm not sure what that is anymore. I don't know if I'm supposed to be a hunter…can you just…give me a sign? Let me know which road to take?"
For some reason, I felt calmer after I prayed, and I was finally able to dry my tears. After I washed my face, my head felt a little clearer, and I grabbed my journal and sat at the desk to write down notes from the hunt. It didn't take too long, and when I finished, I laid down on the bed and grabbed the remote to turn on the TV. There probably wasn't anything good on, but I was hoping for a distraction from the disaster of my night, even if it only came from bad acting.
I flipped through the channels aimlessly, finally settling on a documentary about the ancient Greek gods. My head was starting to hurt, so I turned the volume down and got more comfortable, settling myself under the covers.
Naturally, as soon as I had really gotten comfortable and my head stopped hurting, my cell phone started ringing in my jacket pocket from across the room—dammit, who would be calling me right now? I had talked to Uncle Bobby just before I got in the shower, and I didn't keep in touch with many other people. It took about five seconds to get up and fish the phone out of my jacket…the number was unfamiliar, but that was normal in my line of work, and I answered before it could go to voicemail.
"Hello?"
"Hi, is this Kyra?" a somewhat familiar male voice asked.
"Yes…who is this?" I asked, curious.
"It's Dean."
Blind shock hit me for a moment. I hadn't spoken with Dean since he and John left me at Uncle Bobby's to start my training…John called me every few weeks, but this was definitely a first.
"How'd you get my number?" The words tumbled out, and I winced at the blunt question.
"I got it out of Dad's phone. I dunno, I just had this feeling, like I needed to call you…why, is this a bad time?" He sounded a little unsure, and that struck me as strange.
"No, it's just…" I heaved a sigh, running my free hand through my hair as I walked back over to the bed and laid back down. "I'm just having some issues right now…I just wrapped up a ghost problem, but a guy died on my watch."
"Oh." There was a pause, then his voice turned soft. "You know it's not your fault, right?"
"That's what I keep trying to tell myself, but it ain't helping," I muttered, rubbing my eyes as the tears built up again.
"You wouldn't be human if you didn't kick yourself in the ass," he said simply, making me chuckle in spite of how depressed I felt. "No matter how hard we try, we just can't save everyone, Kyra…keep your head up, it'll get better."
"I don't see how," I replied quietly.
"Okay, you're right, it won't get better—but there's always gonna be more monsters to hunt and people that need saving, and hunters are in pretty short supply, ya know?"
"You're right, Dean," I said, and I couldn't help but smile.
"I'm always right," he stated, and I swear I heard him grinning. "But speaking of, I'm getting ready to hit the road for Mena, Arkansas…a Boy Scout troop disappeared in the woods, but I dug into the history and they definitely weren't the first. Sound like your idea of fun?"
The invitation in his voice was clear, and it only served to shock me even more. Not only did he call out of the blue, but he actually wanted to hunt with me? Some part of me started wondering if this was really Dean—was it some creature impersonating him, or did he get his brains scrambled on a hunt?—but some deeper instinct threw that idea out the window.
"Count me in…I'm in Georgia right now, so it'll take awhile to get there."
"No big rush, I'm in Wisconsin," he said smoothly. "I'll see you there, then."
"See ya," I echoed. The call ended just then, telling me he'd hung up, and I sat there thinking about that conversation, my spirits much higher than they'd been five minutes ago. It was probably the most bizarre thing that had happened to me since I started hunting…Dean had no real interest in me, that had been obvious since we met, especially since we'd had no direct contact since I first arrived at Uncle Bobby's house…so why, in all this time, did he choose now to call me? A smile crept across my face when it hit me…this was a sign.
"Thanks," I whispered into the empty hotel room, my eyes skyward.