"Well, if it isn't Dean Winchester," a voice calls from inside the darkened hotel room.

"Yeah, and you are?" Dean asks, flipping the light switch.

A young man sits in a chair in the far corner of the room. His hair is brown and short, and he appears to be about eighteen, but there's something about his eyes that makes Dean nervous.

"You don't remember me." It's a statement, and Dean shakes his head to indicate he doesn't. "You killed my mother, a long time ago, in a motel room. You had a knife, and you stabbed her."

"Amy Pond," Dean sighs. "Listen kid,"

"Save it. You don't need to tell me that my mother was a monster, because she wasn't. You had no right to take her away from me."

"She was killing people," Dean says.

"Yes. She was. She did it to save my life."

"Listen, kid, I don't want to hurt you."

"You couldn't hurt me if you tried, Dean."

Taking the challenge, Dean pulls his gun and points it at the boy, cocking the hammer back as he does in one smooth motion. He pulls the trigger, and the gun clicks. He clears the chamber manually and squeezes the trigger again, but nothing happens.

"You see, hunter, there's quite a bit that you don't know about Kitsune. We're inherently magical beings. My family wasn't exactly knowledgeable, Dean. My grandmother never really taught my mother anything, and my mother killed her when she was young in order to save your little brother. Do you know what that is Dean? That's sacrifice." The boy stands, and with a word Dean is held in place.

"I really hate that trick," Dean yells. "You could give a guy a chance…"

"To kill me? No, Dean."

"Come on!"

With a flick of his wrist, the boy sits Dean in the chair, immobile and silent.

"That's better," he says, walking around the frozen Winchester. "I couldn't hear myself think through all of your self-righteous indignation. I know, I know. You're 'saving the world' whether it wants to be or not. What was it you said so long ago? 'I think the world's gonna die bloody.' Did you once think to work with a monster? Why yes, you did. What was his name? Benny? What made him so much more deserving than my mother Dean? Why did 'your' pet monster get a pass, but your brother's has to be, what do you call it? Ganked?"

Dean sits silently, unable to move and screaming inside.

The boy steps close, leaning in and looking closely at Dean's eyes. He sniffs Dean, and raises a brow.

"You were a demon," he whispers in Dean's ear. "Recently." He grabs Dean's arm, sliding his flannel shirt sleeve up. "No, no, no," he whispers. "You have the Mark," he drops Dean's arm. "Who's the monster now, Dean? Oh, and your God cleaned it up for you, but he left the Mark, didn't he? Supernatural detox."

"Nothing," Dean stammers, and the boy steps back. "Nothing made Benny better than your mother. I wasn't the same person when I killed her that I am now. Exploding Dick kind of changed my wiring, and the fact that Benny had my back every second taught me that not all monsters are…well, monsters. There were other lessons too, things that taught me not everything is black and white. There are shades of grey," Dean trails off, remembering how Loraine had died, Cass burning her from the inside out. That was back in the days of Eve. Eve was so easy.

"You're not human," the boy says.

"No. I don't suppose I am, just now, anyway." Dean stands, stretching, the Mark glowing faintly on his arm.

"Do you know what Dean? I forgive you. What you've become, the very thing you hate, that you've hunted your entire life, how could anyone ever manage to punish you more than that?" The boy snaps his fingers, and vanishes into thin air. His forgiveness of his only enemy, Dean Winchester, earned him his second tail.

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