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CHAPTER THREE

An hour later, Molly had made sure Sherlock was secured in the motel room next to Sam and Dean, the door and window salted (much to his confusion and irritation). Molly had gone out to retrieve food from the diner along with Dean. They were sitting at the counter, waiting for their orders.

"Not sure how much I trust you," Dean said, eyeing Molly suspiciously.

Molly sighed and gave him a smile. "Isn't that the Hunter's way?" She looked down. "I'm not a demon, I'm not evil. I promise you."

Dean shook his head slowly. "Just seems like a big coincidence. Running into a Hunter randomly."

"Former Hunter, technically," Molly corrected him. She kicked her feet, as they didn't reach the floor due to the height of the stool she was sitting on. "I retired when I went to medical school."

"Hunters don't retire," Dean snapped darkly.

Molly nodded. "I know. I had to give it a try. I made a promise."

Dean's expression darkened further. "Hunters don't keep promises."

Molly bit her lower lip and looked down. "I know. That's why I'm still here." Molly could feel the feelings of regret and loss flooding her.

"Who did you promise?" Dean's voice was surprisingly gentle.

"My Dad," Molly replied. She could feel the corners of her mouth curve up in a small smile. "He was the one who taught me to hunt. But then... Something went wrong. One time. We were up against a demon." She could feel the tears prickling her eyes.

Dean nodded, understanding. "Dad dies, makes his daughter promise to quit the life with his last. Could be a movie."

Molly closed her eyes tightly to fight off the tears. She shook her head. "I'm the one who died." Taking a steadying breath, she looked up at Dean. "I didn't know what happened. Demon came at me. I woke up days later and I was fine."

Dean nodded slowly. "Cas said you had the Mark of Heaven."

"I didn't know about that," Molly murmured. "Not until he mentioned it. I guess... Souls that have been in heaven are always marked by it."

Dean sighed, muttering under his breath, "Geez, my soul's probably got more notches than my bedpost."

Molly crinkled her nose. "Huh?"

"Nevermind," Dean said quickly. "How were you brought back?"

"You of all people should know. Hunters are a really self-sacrificing lot." Molly let out a small, sad laugh. "Truth is, I didn't know what he had done until Bobby called me a few years ago. Wanted my dad's research on Crossroads deals. To help you get out of yours."

Dean's hands tightened into fists. "Your dad made a deal?"

Molly nodded. "They'd bring me back in exchange for my dad. He got a year."

Dean made a noise low in his throat. "Must be the Hunter Special."

"He never told me," Molly murmured. "Like I said, I didn't know until Bobby was looking for information on Crossroads deals. I hadn't read his journals. When- it- happened, I woke up and suddenly Dad wanted me to go off to school. He told me he was sick... And..."

Dean scowled. "Didn't tip you off when he got torn apart by wild dogs?"

"He shot himself," Molly snapped angrily. "The day before the contract was up. He said in his journal... He'd tried to find a way out of the deal that kept me alive. When it didn't work, he'd let them take him, but on his own terms."

"Sounds like a smart guy." Dean shivered visibly. Molly did not know much about Dean Winchester's history, but she did know about his time below. Clearly, he was remembering being taken by the Hounds.

The dark moment passed quickly as Dean looked up at Molly. "So what's the deal with you and tall, dark and pompous?"

"Oh." Molly could feel her cheeks becoming hot at the abrupt change in topic. "It's... Complicated."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Doc, nothing you could say is more complicated than my own life."

Molly worried her lower lip for a moment. "He's a genius detective who consulted for Scotland Yard until an equally genius psychopathic criminal named Jim Moriarty decided to make him his arch-nemesis, framing him and threatening to kill his friends unless he committed suicide. He then committed suicide himself so Sherlock couldn't force him to call off his assassins. But Sherlock had anticipated this and got me to help him fake his death. Now we're travelling around the world, dismantling Moriarty's criminal network and hoping we can find proof of Sherlock's innocence."

Dean stared blankly at Molly for far too long. Molly squirmed underneath the look. After what seemed like eternity, Dean nodded. "Well, all right then."

The waitress set two bags of food onto the counter, which Dean and Molly paid for before getting up and heading towards the door. Dean paused for a moment before turning back to face Molly. "So, you helped him fake his death and left your life behind to follow him." He furrowed his brow. "So I've got absolutely no shot, huh?"

Molly's eyes went wide. "Wha- Oh-oh... Ah..."

Dean smiled winsomely. "Molly, you are a vast improvement on every other English person I've ever met."

When Dean got back to his motel room, he found Sam laying on his bed, his laptop open. Dean reached into the bag from the diner and pulled out a plastic container, holding it out to Sam. "Brought you the froofiest salad they had. How are you feeling, Sammy?"

"Better than if you had patched me up," Sam replied, taking the salad. "Been finding all I can on our new neighbours."

Dean threw himself down onto his bed and pulled a greasy bacon cheeseburger out of the bag. He took a big bite. "Anything interesting?" He asked, mouth full.

"There's not a lot on Molly Hooper," Sam replied. Pathologist at St Bartholomew's Hospital in London, like she said. Left last year under some pretty dicey circumstances. What's interesting is Sherlock."

Dean swallowed. "It say he dead?"

Sam's brow furrowed as he looked over at his brother. "How did you know?"

"Molly was telling me about it," Dean replied, taking the flask from his pocket and taking a drink. "He faked his death because some criminal mastermind-"

"James Moriarty," Sam supplied.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, he framed him and tried to kill his friends or something... I dunno, she kinda rambles."

Sam shook his head slowly. "Why would she be up front about that kind of thing? She doesn't even know us."

"We're Hunters, Sammy." Dean laid back in bed, taking another bite of his burger. "What are we going to do? Run to the police in England to tell them about their not-dead detective?"

"Okay, fair point." Sam nodded. He closed up his computer. "Do you really think we should trust them?"

Dean shrugged. "If we don't, what do we got? An angel that's not up to full strength and..." He looked around. "Yeah, other than that I've got nothing. So if Little Miss Hunter Doctor and Columbo want to give us an assist ganking this puppy, I'm inclined to take them up on it."

Sam put his computer aside. "That's a change from you pointing a gun at her."

Dean looked away. "Yeah, well... I talked to her. Her story sounds not only legit, but pretty damn familiar."

Sam pushed his hair out of his face. "Okay, so she's all right... But what about the supposed to be dead, supposedly crazy genius?"

Dean paused for a moment, pursing his lips. "Well, him I might have to gank too. Dude's already working my last nerve."