A/N: This is my first Supernatural fic. It's AU but people are still hunters. I'm also scraping together the plot while I go, so bear with me. The title is subject to change. (and you all get bonus points and a real, genuine reply from me if you review! (and yes, pretty much every fic I write in any universe will start with a chapter called Welcome to the Jungle)).
Chapter One - Welcome to the Jungle
The radio was playing "Back in Black." It seemed that the radio was always playing "Back in Black" or "Enter Sandman" or "Sympathy for the Devil" or basically anything that had come out before 1990. Since there was only one radio station in town, there wasn't much anyone could do about it, especially since the radio was controlled by Lucifer Milton, who enjoyed waking up the town every hour starting at six with a loud shout of, "Good morning, Vietnam!"
It was the shout that woke Dean up. He blinked and shielded his eyes against the grey light filtering through the window. The soft sounds of snoring made him roll over on the couch to see his twelve year old brother, Sammy, curled into a ball on the floor around a fat bulldog and a whole litter of kittens.
As the radio kept playing, Dean realized he could smell sizzling bacon, frying eggs, and fresh coffee. He sat up and looked towards the kitchen to discover Bobby standing at the stove whistling along to the music.
Slowly, he remembered where he was. The night before, they had arrived in Cedar Grove, WA. Bobby and Ellen had given Dean the couch, Sam a sleeping bag, and their dad, John, the guest room. They were making a pit stop before they headed off to the Olympic Peninsula to deal with some Twi-Hards who had gone a bit overboard on the Cullen family cosplay.
Dean stood up and stretched before he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a mug from the cabinet.
"Morning Sleeping Beauty," Bobby said. At the kitchen table, Jo giggled. When they had arrived last night, Jo had promptly introduced Sam to all her new kittens with the enthusiastic statement, "I named them Fluffy, and Mittens, and Buttons, and Precious, and Venezuela because it sounds cool and there's a Z in it and my dad's teaching me how to make my own shells full of rock salt, and I think we should just put holy water in with the salt, but he says it doesn't work very well and he won't let me make the casings out of silver either, but that would just be three demons with one bullet."
The fluidity with which she could shift from ten-year-old girl with a soft spot for Disney princesses to a hunter-in-training was scary as hell. Dean could just see it – in a few years, he was going to be out on the road where he belonged, hunting down a wendigo or something, and then out of nowhere this bright and bubbly blonde girl with a princess dress and a shotgun was going to appear out of nowhere and kick it's ass before he got the chance.
"Dean, are you and Sam going to school with me today?" Jo asked, smiling up at him. He sat down across from her and took a drink of his coffee.
"Uh, no, princess, I think we're headed over to gank some vampires," he replied.
"Dean, about that," Bobby started. He sounded gruff and apologetic. Dean didn't know quite what to make of it.
"What's up?" he asked.
"We sent someone else out to Forks," Bobby said. "We sent 'em out about six hours before you boys got here."
Dean frowned. "You guys never mess up a communication," he said.
"No, we don't," Bobby replied. "But your dad lies."
An ugly silence fell over the kitchen. Jo glanced between Dean and Bobby with a worried look.
"Bobby," Dean said, a metallic edge creeping into his voice.
"I'm sorry Dean," Bobby replied.
"What do you mean you're 'sorry'?" Dean demanded, jumping up from the table and ducking out the back door. In the muddy spot where they'd parked the Impala the night before, there was now nothing besides trenches filled with brackish rainwater. Someone could've knocked Dean over with a feather.
He returned to the kitchen determined not to let the hollowness and the abandonment show. After all, John took off a lot. Most of the past twelve years had been Dean and Sammy in motels waiting for him. They spent a lot of summers in Cedar Grove with Bobby, and then later with Bobby and Ellen and Jo and Ash. But most of the time they were on the road with John or waiting for John. He'd never just left them somewhere without saying goodbye before.
"Bobby, did you make breakfast?" Sam asked, stumbling into the kitchen and scratching his head while he yawned.
"Sure did," Bobby replied, scraping the eggs and bacon and toast onto four plates and setting them at the table. "BOY!"
The bellow shook the house and called the dog. Moments later, Ash staggered into the kitchen and fell onto the chair next to Jo.
"Where're Dad and Ellen?" Sam asked, taking a drink of Dean's coffee. Dean snatched it back and gave him a bad look.
"You don't get to drink this stuff, it'll stunt your growth," Dean said.
"I'll be fine," Sam promised.
"Mom's already at work," Ash replied.
"How would you know? You just got up," Dean said.
"Dude, I know everything," Ash replied, shaking out his mullet with a theatrical flourish. Dean winced slightly. Bobby and Ellen were the aunt and uncle he'd always wanted, and Jo was Ellen's daughter, so of course she was family as well. But Ash had just sort of…materialized out of thin air as far as Dean could tell. Bobby and Ellen had taken him in when he was about eight and for the past six years, he'd called them Mom and Dad. Dean had no problems with him, but he was sort of weird.
"And where did Dad go?" Sam asked, stealing a piece of Dean's bacon. Dean glowered at him, but allowed it since their dad's departure was going to piss him off.
"He went for a job in Texas," Bobby explained.
"Texas," Sam repeated blankly. He glanced at Dean, who was staring very intently at his eggs and bacon so he didn't have to see the disappointment on Sammy's face. "He's leaving us here?"
"For the time being," Bobby replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee and sitting at the head of the table.
"He's not coming back, is he," Sam said. The fact Sam didn't even question it cut through Dean like a knife.
"Of course he's coming back," Dean replied. "He always comes back."
"Yeah, because he's ditched us in motels," Sam said. "Now he left us here. He doesn't have to come back."
"Don't talk about your father that way," Bobby scolded. "Your daddy loves you boys very much."
Sam mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "sure he does," but let it drop.
"Does this mean you guys are coming to school with us?" Jo asked, her eyes lighting up.
"Wait, really?" Sam asked, his eyes lighting up. Dean's eye twitched. His baby brother was such a nerd, but he looked so excited about the idea of actually going to school that he couldn't find it in himself to say no.
"Yep, and we're about to be late," Bobby said. "Everyone grab your stuff."
Jo and Ash ran off to collect their backpacks and left Dean and Sam and Bobby in the kitchen in uncomfortable silence.
"Did he say when he would be back?" Dean asked.
Bobby sighed and stood up to do dishes.
"Bobby," Dean said.
"You boys need a proper education," Bobby replied. "You ain't no good to anyone if you're stranded somewhere because you didn't know how to budget your money well enough to pay for gas."
"Bobby," Dean said again.
"Go see if you can borrow one of Ash's notebooks, Sam," Bobby recommended. "I'm sure you'd hate to miss any of the notes you'll have to take in class."
"Okay," Sam said, jumping out of his chair and running away from the tense atmosphere in the kitchen. Dean heard him run up the stairs.
"You can borrow one of mine!" Jo exclaimed.
"Don't do it they're all covered in Disney Princesses!" Ash shouted back.
Bobby and Dean stared at each other and tried to ignore the kids upstairs. Even though Dean was only two years older than Ash, he felt like he was a competent adult while Ash was still just a kid.
"What did he say, Bobby?" Dean asked quietly enough that Sam wouldn't be able to hear in case he was eavesdropping.
Bobby sighed and rubbed his scruffy jaw and readjusted his hat.
"He said it wasn't healthy for you boys to grow up on the road," Bobby said. "He said he's a crappy hunter when he's constantly worrying about you boys. And it's not fair to you to ask you to raise Sammy by yourself while he's off killing things."
Dean gaped at him. "So he's – he's what? He's hunting by himself now?"
They had a rule. You never hunt by yourself. It just gets your ass killed. It was expressly forbidden by the Hunters' Council. Hunters who went out on their own died every damn day. Dean was sixteen now. He was pretty much John's partner these days. What the hell was he thinking running off by himself and leaving Dean in Cedar Grove with Bobby?
"Your dad's been hunting by himself since Bill died," Bobby replied. "And making you a babysitter. It's about damn time you boys got to have your own life with a better home than that damn Impala."
Dean stared at Bobby with hard eyes. "Did he decide to leave us here or did you make him?"
"It wasn't like that, Dean," Bobby said. Dean had a feeling it was exactly like that, but before they could get into a full blown fight, the kids returned to the kitchen.
"Here Dean," Jo said, offering him a bright pink spiral bound notebook with a picture of Rapunzel on it. Jo giggled. "She's got your eyes."
Sam and Ash burst out laughing while Dean's face contorted into utter confusion.
"She what?" he asked, looking down at the notebook.
Jo didn't elaborate and Bobby shepherded them out to the car. After the three kids were loaded in the backseat, Bobby stopped Dean with a hand on his shoulder.
"Look, kid, you can be as pissed as you want at me or your dad or whoever, but you're staying here and that's final," Bobby said. His tone promised Dean pain if he pitched a fit, so Dean wrenched open the car door and sat in the front seat. He didn't like this plan. Not a bit.
Cedar Grove was a unique town. The entire 5,000 person population was made up of people who had experienced the supernatural in some way. Half the town were hunters, especially since the Hunters' Council had made Cedar Grove its headquarters in 1974. They ran dispatch from the city to hunters all over the country. The rest of the town's population was formed by people who had been possessed, or haunted, or run afoul of any of the other nasty creatures that went bump in the night and wanted a safe place to stay. The local school – serving ages 5 through 18 for general education – also offered classes to anyone who wanted to be a hunter. Those classes were mandatory for the high schoolers, but optional to anyone else.
Dean knew all this as Bobby parked the car in front of Truman Elemiddhigh. But Dean was already in the field. He had beheaded a vampire, he had exorcised a demon, he had teamed up with a golem and a very confused rabbi's grandson to gank an un-dead Nazi. He didn't need to take any damn classes in the subject.
The halls were full of people checking their lockers. Jo and Ash immediately ran off to their classes and left Dean and Sam with Bobby and the hordes of people their own age. It wasn't something either Winchester was used to.
"We've got to go to the main office," Bobby explained, steering them down the hall to the painfully sterile front room. The secretary glanced up when they walked in and her bright eyes drifted from Bobby to Sam to Dean and then back to Bobby.
"These are the Winchester boys?" she asked.
"Yeah," Bobby agreed.
"Right, well, as their legal guardian, you're going to have to fill out the enrolment paperwork before-"
"Legal guardian?" Dean repeated, giving her an incredulous look.
"Closest you've got," Bobby replied, taking the paperwork. To Dean's dismay, Sam seemed completely fine with all this.
"And boys, Principal McLeod would like to meet you before you go off to class," the secretary said. She gestured to a door on her left and smiled at them to indicate they should go in.
Dean groaned and followed ever-eager Sam into the principal's office. He was pretty sure he'd be spending a lot of time there if they actually had to stay in Cedar Grove for longer than a week.
Principal McLeod was in her late thirties with bright blue eyes and auburn hair swept up into a tight bun. Her office was just as white and sterile as the receptionist's. Dean was instantly distrustful of her. She was smiling at them, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.
"You two must be Sam and Dean," she said. Dean wondered if she was going to ask them to sit. She didn't. "Welcome to Cedar Grove. Now, because of your…sporadic…education thus far, we've had to assign you to the easier classes until we get the opportunity to judge your skill sets."
"Sammy doesn't belong in the remedial classes," Dean said instantly. "Kid's probably smarter than you are."
"Dean," Sam groaned, looking like he wanted to strangle him. "The easier classes will be fine for now, Principal McLeod. But in the high school levels, are there AP classes?"
"AP classes?" Dean asked.
Principal McLeod looked just as surprised as Dean. "Um…yes, we do offer a few AP classes," she said. "What about you, Dean? Do you have any interest in AP classes?"
"I like hunting," Dean replied. "You know, saving people, hunting things. Not sitting in classes."
"I see," Principal McLeod said, her smile thinning. "Well, let's just start with some easy classes and see where we end up. I think Rachel will have your schedules. It was nice to meet you boys."
"Yeah, you too," Sam said in that annoyingly genuine voice of his. Dean managed to not roll his eyes and followed Sam back into the secretary's office.
"Here are your schedules, boys," the secretary said, handing them two sheets of paper. "Your locker assignments and combinations are on the bottom so that they're easy to tear off and throw away. Wouldn't want anyone getting into your stuff, now would we?"
Dean faked a smile at her and accepted his piece of paper. He shoved it into his pocket and gave Bobby an annoyed look. Bobby ignored him.
"I've got English first," Sam said, sounding excited. "I wonder what book we're reading."
Bobby looked up from his paperwork. "You boys go to class. I'll be back to pick you up at two thirty."
Dean grumbled his way out of the office and realized he should look at his schedule. Like Sam, he had English first. He bid goodbye to Sam and headed up the stairs to room 218. The room was half-full already and a bearded teacher was scribbling notes on the board.
"Hi, can I help you?" he asked, smiling at Dean.
He looked hungover, Dean decided. He figured he could accept that.
"I think I'm supposed to be in this class," he said, holding out his crumpled schedule.
"Ah," the teacher said. "Well, I'm Mr. Shurley, but everyone calls me Chuck. We're not reading anything too horrifying right now, just The Grapes of Wrath. Why don't you have a seat there, next to Charlie?"
"Which one's Charlie?" Dean asked, surveying his new classmates. The few who were there were sleeping on their desks. One kid – who looked sort of like an anthropomorphic teddy bear – was reading the assigned book. Dean wasn't sure if he was catching up or reading ahead.
"Charlie!" Chuck called.
A startled, petite redhead looked up from her desk and pulled off her oversized headphones.
"Yeah?" she asked.
"That's Charlie," Chuck said, shooing Dean down the aisle. He fell into the desk next to Charlie and drummed his fingers on the table.
Charlie pulled her headphones back up and went back to scribbling in her notebook. Dean didn't pay much attention to it until class had started and Chuck started lecturing them about symbolism in Steinbeck's work and the hopelessness of the Joad family, whatever the hell that was about. Dean glanced over at Charlie's desk. She was still writing furiously, bent almost double over the paper like she was trying to keep anyone else from reading it. If she was just taking notes, Dean couldn't understand why she would be so secretive about it. But even though he hadn't read The Grapes of Wrath, he was pretty sure that no one was "tastefully caressed" and no one "carded his hands through Legolas's silky elfish locks."
"Are you writing fanfiction porn in class?" Dean whispered.
Charlie gave him a sharp look. "It's not porn," she said. "It's an epic love story."
Dean swallowed a laugh.
"Charlie, Dean, care to share?" Chuck asked with a plaintive smile. Charlie tensed up immediately. Dean had been forced to read a passed note in front of the class before, but he was pretty sure Charlie would die of embarrassment if Chuck made her read her "epic love story."
"No sir," Dean said.
Chuck nodded and went back to his lecture while Charlie breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thanks," she whispered. Dean nodded. It would've been his fault if she got in trouble anyways. It was the least he could do.
After class was over and Chuck had leant Dean a copy of the book to read, Dean figured he should try to find his locker. He found it without too much difficulty and stuffed his jacket and new book inside. When he closed it, he discovered he was being stared at.
The kid staring at him was about his age with strikingly blue eyes and a gaze that looked like he was searching Dean's soul.
"Can I help you?" Dean asked.
The kid pointed at the locker below Dean's. "That's mine."
Dean nodded and ducked out of the scrawny, awkward kid's way. He was subjected to math next, which was his least favorite thing besides reading. He was good at hustling pool, but most of his math experience came from counting cards and he was pretty bad at that. Bobby kept trying to teach him during the summers he spent in Cedar Grove, but the lessons had never stuck.
In his math class, he found himself partnered with the anthropomorphic teddy bear from his English class who turned out to have a Louisiana drawl and was named Benny.
Benny wasn't much good at math either, and by the end of the period they had decided it was going to be them against the system and for fuck's sake, they were going to kick its ass.
After math, he had to go to his science class. Benny and Charlie were both in his class, as was the awkward kid with the locker below his. Science grew on him quickly, because they'd been in the room for about two minutes before their teacher heated up a test tube full of something and dropped a gummy bear inside. Instantly, a horrible screaming noise that recalled a dying banshee filled the room. Everyone winced as bright white and purple flames shot out of the test tube.
"I'm never eating gummy bears again," Charlie whispered, looking horrified. "They were vessels of happiness and rainbows, but if they scream like that."
Dean and Benny nodded in agreement.
After science, it was time for lunch. Dean didn't have a sack lunch or any lunch money and, frankly, lunch had been the worst time in every school he'd ever been to. He looked around the cafeteria and realized that the lunches had to be staggered because only the high schoolers seemed to be there. Benny and Charlie had both disappeared back to their lockers after chemistry was over, so he was by himself. He sat down at an empty table and tried to figure out what he was supposed to do with himself for forty minutes. He decided to spend it observing his schoolmates. The table in the center was packed with people, seemingly centered on the awkward kid with the locker below his, and three other people all with equally blue eyes. With a frown, he realized they all had the same eyes as Principal McLeod.
"Don't stare too hard or they'll notice you exist," Charlie said, sitting in the seat next to him. He jumped. Within moments, Benny sat down across from him. They both had school lunches and by unspoken consensus handed him a portion of their food.
"I'm fine," he said.
"Don' be stupid," Benny replied. "We both live on the town's good graces. We can recognize a lost cause when we see one. So what'd you run into that got your ass stuck here?"
"Town's good graces?" Dean asked.
"Well, you know how Cedar Grove collects all the people who run into anything spooky?" Charlie explained. "When we're orphans or foster kids or whatever, they stick us in the dormitories with the expectation that we're going to grow up and work for the Council for three years."
"Like the way soldiers can go to college if they serve for however many years," Benny added. "But you're really new, aren't you."
"Uh…sort of," Dean said. "I've been in the life since I was four."
Charlie and Benny exchanged wide-eyed looks.
"Since you were four?" Charlie repeated.
"I mean, back then I mostly just took care of my little brother while our dad and his partner hunted things," Dean explained. "But I've been to Cedar Grove before."
"Whoa, so you're, like, a legacy hunter?" Charlie asked. "Cool. Are you living in the dormitories?"
"No," Dean said. "And I'm not gonna be here very long. Just until my dad gets back."
"Oh," Charlie replied, sounding disappointed. "That must be nice. Having your dad come back for you."
Benny gave her a sympathetic look that she missed because she was staring at her food.
"So who are the blue eyed people who look scarily related to our principal?" Dean asked.
"The Miltons," Benny replied with a growl. "There's about a thousand of them and their dad's the priest."
"Isn't the principal's name McLeod?" Dean asked.
"She's the oldest," Charlie piped up. "And she was married, and then divorced, but she kept her ex-husband's last name."
"And half the Miltons are adopted, but no one can really remember which ones except for Uriel and Raphael because it's obvious," Benny said. "Father Milton tends to take in the 'good kids.'"
Dean frowned and glanced between his two companions. "And neither of you qualified?"
Benny just laughed while Charlie rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, Catholic priests don't really like adopting lesbians with criminal records," Charlie said.
"That's shitty," Dean replied.
Charlie shrugged. "I'd rather live in the dormitories. No one yells at me when I'm hogging the wi-fi."
Dean didn't really care either way about the internet, but nodded. Lunch passed quickly and Benny and Charlie went off to their next class, leaving Dean to fend for himself in social studies. It was about comparative religions and his teacher didn't like him straight off the bat.
Fortunately, after that he had his first hunter class. It was in the gym, which had been dressed in wrestling mats. He was the only one still wearing civilian clothes. Everyone else was dressed in exercise attire, including Charlie, who was now wearing a green shirt that said "Keep calm and roll initiative" and yoga pants with her long red hair pulled up into a ponytail. She gave Dean's jeans, boots, and flannel a once over.
"Henricksen's going to kick your ass," she said.
Dean didn't know who Henricksen was, but didn't really care. "Let him try," he said.
Charlie stared at him like he'd just spoken sacrilege, but didn't say anything.
Henricksen turned out to be their instructor. He clearly meant business and had a whistle slung around his neck. He narrowed his eyes at the class and noticed Dean's improper dress.
"Plaid," he barked, glaring at Dean.
"Whistle," Dean replied.
A few people snorted and quickly stifled their laughter behind their hands.
"The next time you show up in my class, you will be wearing appropriate attire," Henricksen commanded. "Or there will be consequences."
"When you're hunting, do you really pause to change into your sneakers?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrow.
Henricksen bristled and directed his attention elsewhere.
"Bradbury," he said.
Charlie jumped to attention. "Yes sir!"
"Why don't you and your partner show our new recruit what we do in this class," Henricksen said. Charlie groaned softly and stepped forward. She was joined by a girl about her size with dark hair and electric blue eyes that immediately identified her as a Milton.
This suspicion was confirmed when Henricksen barked out his orders. "Milton, vampire."
The Milton girl nodded and immediately changed her posture to be more predatory.
"Do I have to?" Charlie asked, looking scared.
Henricksen just glared and blew his whistle.
Immediately, the Milton girl went on the offensive and attacked Charlie the way a vampire might. Dean was pretty sure a real vampire wouldn't be as easily enticed to attack. These days, with the blood banks and the Teen Paranormal Romance section in Barnes & Nobles, volunteers weren't that hard to come by.
Nonetheless, Charlie tried her best to defend herself against the vampire attack. Henricksen blew his whistle when the Milton girl had her teeth dangerously close to Charlie's neck.
"And you're dead," Henricksen said. "Who can tell us what she did wrong? Winchester, perhaps?"
"Went out alone," Dean replied. "Vampires by themselves are pretty easy. The fast partner plays bait and the sneaky one sneaks up behind and ganks 'em."
Henricksen blinked at him for a moment. Before he could shout at Dean or order him into calisthenics or something, the gym door burst open and the awkward kid with the locker below Dean's skidded in, slipped on the wrestling mats, and fell gracelessly to the floor.
A few people snickered.
"Milton," Henricksen said with disdain.
"What?" the Milton girl fighting against Charlie and two other people in the crowd asked in perfect unison.
"The one on the floor," Henricksen said.
The awkward kid scrambled to his feet and rearranged his oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. "Yes sir?" he asked, looking very much like he didn't want to be there.
"What is my rule about tardiness?" Henricksen asked.
"Be on time or don't be here at all," the kid quoted, staring at his feet.
"Exactly," Henricksen said. "But today I might just have a use for you."
The kid's head snapped up and he stared at Henricksen in horror. Dean got the immediate sense that he was used to being a punching bag. If Benny was right and there were about a thousand Miltons, he had to wonder where this kid ranked on the totem pole. He thought it probably wasn't very high.
"Winchester, do you think you know a lot about werewolves?" Henricksen asked.
"I know enough," Dean replied.
"Fine then," Henricksen said. "Milton. Werewolf."
The awkward kid shot Henricksen an evil glare the moment Henricksen was looking away. Dean found himself giving their clearly vindictive instructor the same look. He had a few inches and about sixty pounds of muscle on the kid. It would take him no effort at all to break the guy and that was a bad thing to do to normal people.
Charlie and the Milton girl backed away from the front of the room, leaving Dean and the awkward kid front and center. Henricksen blew his whistle and for a moment, Dean was pretty sure the kid wasn't going to actually attack him.
He was very wrong.
But he wasn't fighting like a werewolf, Dean realized as he ducked a gut punch. He was fighting like an angry little brother. It was the same sort of fight Sammy gave him whenever Dean had to remind him he wasn't big enough to take on the creepy-crawlies by himself.
Dean wasn't sure if they were actually supposed to hit each other in the sparring matches, but suddenly a compact and surprisingly strong fist connected with his lip. He recoiled and knocked the awkward kid's legs out from under him, dropping to the mat next to him with a knee on his chest. On instinct, he pulled the silver knife out of his boot and pressed it to the awkward kid's throat.
The awkward kid didn't look scared, to his credit. There was a fire in his unnaturally blue eyes that seemed to be daring Dean to do it, to waste him right then and there because it would be preferable to whatever the hell was waiting for him when they got out of school.
Henricksen was blowing his whistle but Dean didn't really register that fact until Henricksen grabbed his wrist and pulled the knife out of his hands and manhandled Dean to his feet. He pulled the awkward kid up as well and glared at both of them before he handed Dean his knife back.
He kept glaring while he pulled out his clipboard and started scribbling on it.
"Dean Winchester – violation for having a knife in sparring classes," Henricksen muttered. "Castiel Milton – violation for unprovoked genuine attack and unexcused tardiness."
"Are you serious?" one of the other Miltons asked.
Henricksen ignored him and turned back to Dean and the awkward kid who was apparently named Castiel. "You'll both be serving detention today after school."
Dean accepted his detention slip with as much composure as he could.
"What happened?" Charlie whispered as Henricksen started lecturing them on proper form when it came to running the fuck away.
"I won," Dean replied, wondering what she was getting at.
"Do you always keep a knife in your boot?" she asked.
"My dad gave it to me," Dean said, realizing that it probably wasn't an answer that she was looking for. But to him it made perfect sense. His dad's closest proxy of fatherly love was gifting his sons with weapons, so of course Dean always kept the knife in his boot. And he planned to continue that trend now that John had evaporated on them.
He glanced back at Henricksen's lecture and realized it was going to be a very long week.
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