A/N: Just a very short drabble talking about Dean's thoughts and feelings about being a hunter. Please be gentle with me as I'm new to Supernatural and this is my first fic around it.
Always a Hunter
Dean sat on the edge of the uncomfortable bed which was situated in the corner of a cheap, crappy motel room. Sam had gone to sleep a couple of hours previously, leaving Dean alone to his thoughts and to watch the large raindrops tap continuously against the window. Flashes of lightning lit up the jet black sky, causing purple and pink shades to dance across the heavens.
He sighed loudly, inhaling the distinct smell of must, decay and the slight trace of dirt. But this for now was all he could afford. The many credit cards he'd got stashed away in the car were maxed out, so few of them were any good now. In actual fact, Dean wasn't sure exactly where they were. All he was sure of was that they were in a small town outside Connecticut, just off the highway.
It had been two weeks since they'd investigated anything supernatural. Things seemed to have gone quiet for a short period, but he knew that wouldn't last. Demons and ghosts were out there everywhere and no matter how many hunters banded together to send all those beings back to hell, more would come. More people would die, and so more angry souls would be born, not wanting to let go, afraid to face death and take the Reaper's advice.
Dean was tired now, very tired, but he just could not sleep. He placed his dark head on the soft pillow and watched the haunting shadows swirl on the ceiling, every now and again dissolved by the flashes of lightening. Thunder rumbled.
The thick sheets warmed Dean considerably as he rolled over, wrapping himself up tightly in them. He glanced over at Sam, watching the back of his head for a moment and listening to him snore lightly. Thankfully the dreams had become less lately. Those terrifying dreams that woke Sam in the dead of night. He'd still mumble in his sleep and call out occasionally, but things seemed to have calmed down. Dean was thankful of that.
Images of his mother would not let him sleep. Dean tossed and turned, but for some reason all he could think of was his mom. How he missed her. Never a day went by when he didn't miss her. And now that his dad was gone too, all he had left was his dear Sammy. His younger brother had been pulled into a life of hunting, constantly putting his life at risk to destroy evil, but what kind of a life was that? Both Sam and Dean were young men who should have been out dating, attending college or working to make a living.
A hunter's life meant no bonding with people. And how long can you do that for? Every time the Winchester brothers stopped in a new place to investigate a new case, they got close to someone, whether it be as a friend or a little more than 'just a friend'. But nothing could ever go beyond that. Each and every person had to be left behind as the boys hit the road once more. Dean had flirted with many women and had a good time, but deep down he knew that he wanted to settle down sometime; fall in love, get married, have children. How could he possibly manage that as a hunter?
On the other hand, he couldn't see demons take over, destroying lives for their own amusement. His mother had died, and his father, through them, and he couldn't stand back to watch more innocent people lose their lives and those they loved. This was the life that Dean knew. His younger years had involved watching over Sam when his dad had gone away for weekend's at a time. Then his teen years had been a process of learning from his dad's experiences and training for the hunt.
Dean's eyes closed, but he could still see the faint flashing behind his tired eyelids and hear the rumbles in the distance. He felt torn; torn between what his should do and what he wanted to. His dad had prepared him well for the hunt, but now, after nearly dying and being close to death but then healed, he wanted to return to normality. Return? He'd never been normal in the first place. Sam was the only one who had tasted normality with his aspirations of attending Law school. What would Dean have done if there had never been any hunting? He really had no idea because this was all he knew, apart from some good chat up lines and the entire discography of Metallica and Black Sabbath.
As Dean's thoughts began to drift away, getting more and more distant as his mind slipped away into the dream world, he knew one thing would always be certain no matter how much he tried to fool himself otherwise: he, Dean Winchester would always be a hunter.