We were standing in the front of the restaurant waiting for a table, when a man walked over to us. It was Bobby Singer. He shook everyone's hands, and then turned to me.
"How ya doin', kid?" he asked.
I didn't know what to say, usually when other hunters were around, my dad had been talking to them, and everbody ignored me.
"Uh, I'm okay," I said quietly.
"Winchester keepin' you awake nights with his snoring?" Mr. Singer grinned, and Mr. Winchester gave his shoulder a light shove. Sam and Dean chuckled.
We were shown to a table towards the back of the restaurant. It looked like a log cabin, with wooden walls, and lots of deer heads and taxidermied animals decorating the walls. The light fixtures were made with deer antlers. There was a huge fish tank along one wall.
I sat next to Dean this time. The menu had some pictures, but not a lot. I couldn't find anything that looked like the word 'spaghetti'. I turned to Dean and put me hand on his arm.
"Uh, what, uh, what kinds of stuff do they have?" I asked quietly, feeling myself blush.
"Oh, this is a steakhouse so they've got a lot of steaks and burgers. Do you like steak?" He leaned over and pointed at the photos of different types of slabs of meat.
I shook my head. "We didn't have it that often and Dad usually got it for himself. Iz had trouble chewing it, so she never got it, and so I didn't either."
"Hmm, well, they've got shrimp, do you like seafood?" Dean pointed to another photo.
I shook my head again. "I never had it before. Do they have spaghetti?"
Dean looked through the menu. "They've got fettucine alfredo and linguine with clam sauce."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Fettucine alfredo is thick noodles with a white sauce made with cheese, and linguine is another type of thick noodle. I think the clam sauce is made with tomatoes." Sam looked at me, "They've also got Pasta Primavera, that's pasta with a lot of fresh vegetables."
"Do any of those sound good, kiddo?" Dean asked.
"Um, I guess I'll try the first one, the fetta-"
"Fettucine alfredo? You can get it plain or with chicken." Sam glanced at the menu.
"Just plain."
Dean ordered for me, and I sat quietly as the men talked and drank the beer that they had ordered. I was used to sitting quietly, that was what my dad expected. I looked around at all the decorations, trying to count how many animals there were. The ceiling had exposed beams, and some of the taxidermied animals were up there.
"So, you're taking her to Murphy?" My attention was brought back to the table with Mr. Singer's question.
Mr. Winchester shifted and looked at me. "Yeah, after I help a friend out, we'll be stopping by for a visit."
Sam looked uncomfortable, and I could tell he was watching me. I tried not to feel sad or scared about it.
"He's a good guy, he'll find something suitable," Mr. Singer said, "He oughtta know plenty of people, what with him havin' the church and all."
"That's what I'm counting on," Mr. Winchester took a long drink of his beer.
"He's got two dogs, Zan, and they're really nice. Do you like dogs?" Sam looked at me.
I shrugged. "Don't know much about them, we never had pets or nothin'."
"The dogs are really sweet, they love kids. They'll probably end up sleeping on the bed with you!" Sam smiled at me.
The waitress appeared with our food and began to pass plates out. The fettucine alfredo sauce was very rich, I had never had a meal like it before. I couldn't eat very much of it, and sat quietly after I felt full. I looked around the restaurant as I listened to the men talking.
I stood up and stepped away from the table, and felt a hand on my arm. I stopped and turned. Dean had his hand on my arm, and everyone had stopped talking and was looking at me.
"What are you doing?" Dean asked.
"Oh, I was gonna, uh, go look at the fish tank," I said, blushing. My dad had never paid attention, or cared, if I walked away.
"Not supposed to go wandering off by yourself," Mr. Winchester raised one eyebrow.
"Oh..." I remembered that that was one of the rules he had told me when I first went with them. "Sorry," I looked down at the table.
"I'll go with you," Dean said, getting up.
I turned to him when we were standing in front of the tank. "You don't gotta be with me, I'm used to doing stuff on my own."
"We're just keeping you safe," Dean said easily, "Hey, look at that big one, man, he's ugly!"
I watched the fish for a long time. Dean got bored and turned away from the tank, looking around the restaurant.
"You want to go sit down now?" he asked after a few minutes.
I glanced at him. "Um...I want to stay here," I said hesitantly. I liked watching the fish, something about the way they moved through the tank was calming to me.
"All right, another couple of minutes." Dean put his hands in his pockets. He nodded to someone that walked by us.
Dean pulled on my sleeve. "Let's go sit down now."
I glanced at him again. "You can go, I wanna stay."
Dean shook his head. "Uh-uh, Zan, c'mon, come sit down."
"I don't need a babysitter!" I said hotly.
He raised his eyebrows. "I'm not babysitting you. C'mon, Dad's calling us back to the table."
I turned to look- Mr. Winchester had stood up and was beckoning us to come over to him. I followed Dean over.
"Are you finished eating?" Mr. Winchester asked, "We're going to go."
"Yessir," I picked up my jacket from the back of the chair and put it on. We left the building, and Dean followed Mr. Winchester and Mr. Singer in their trucks.
It took a long time to get to the forest where the funeral was going to be. Sam and Dean opened their trunk and got some things out. Sam handed me a small flashlight.
"Stay close," he said to me. We walked through the woods, following Mr. Winchester and Mr. Singer, until we came to a clearing. The pyre was set up, and there were several men standing around.
I stood between Sam and Dean as a couple of men spoke about Caleb and what a good hunter he had been, and shared stories about hunts and experiences they had had with him. Then someone lit the pyre. I saw some of the men passing around flat silver flasks. Dean and Sam took drinks from them and passed them on.
The pyre had caught and had been burning for a while. Some of the men were talking in low voices. Dean stepped away to hand someone a bottle.
A man walked up. "Your father screwed up one of my hunts," he loomed over me.
"S-sorry," I said, putting my hands in my pockets. I felt nervous, and stepped closer to Sam.
"Hey, back off, she had nothing to do with it," Dean came over.
"And when I tried to talk to him about it after, he roundhoused me, fuckin' dick-"
"Stand down," Mr. Winchester was there suddenly, and he got in front of me. Dean stepped in front of me slightly too.
The man looked down and muttered something, then turned and walked away.
Mr. Winchester turned and looked at me. "Are you okay?"
I nodded.
"Watch her," Mr. Winchester turned to Sam and Dean, "and watch everything. The mood's a little off tonight, and I'm not sure why."
A few minutes later, there was a swirling breeze, and then a man in a long gray coat stood there. It was Solomon LeStrange. I heard the murmuring get louder for a moment.
Solomon LeStrange tossed something into the fire, and it made the flames jump higher and they became multi-colored for a moment. I gasped at how pretty it looked.
"What the hell," someone grumbled.
"What are you doing here?" a loud voice rang out. I couldn't tell who had said it.
"I knew Caleb, he was a fine hunter, I have come to pay my respects," Solomon LeStrange took his hat off. His silver eyes glinted in the light of the pyre.
"What's next, you gonna saw the corpse in half? Do a coupla card tricks?" a voice jeered.
"As I said, gentlemen, I have come to pay my respects, that is all," LeStrange said evenly, looking around. A lot of the men wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Well your kind ain't welcome!" A man wearing a camouflage coat shoved his way over to stand in front of LeStrange. He got right up in the magician's face, thrusting his chest out.
"Everyone is allowed to be here," Mr. Winchester spoke up.
"No they ain't," the man insisted, taking a swig from a square bottle filled with brown liquid, "I don't associate with magicians or witches or any o' that filth. They all need to be wiped off the face o' the earth."
"You are hunters, you use weapons to do your job. I use the elements of nature, and energy, to do my job," LeStrange spoke in a reasonable tone.
The man glared at him. "Don't try and equate what you do with what I do! You ain't nothin' more than a cheap carny trick!" he leaned forward and spit on the ground. There were mutters of agreement in the background.
"Hunting isn't black and white, there are shades of gray. Not everything supernatural is necessarily bad," Mr. Winchester said, "Haven't you ever worked with a psychic before?"
"That's different, an' I don't associate with supes, any of 'em," the man said, "and he ain't welcome here."
"I am sorry you feel that way," Solomon LeStrange said, "I will take my leave now." He lifted his cane, and then disppeared in a whirl of wind and leaves. A shower of multi-colored sparks fell from the pyre.
"Good riddance," the man grumbled, glaring at Mr. Winchester. "Didn't know you associated with that trash."
"He's helped out before, just like Missouri Mosely has helped me. I don't have prejudices against people just because of their abilities."
"It ain't abilities, it's all tricks. I'm surprised that you fell for it, Winchester. 'Specially after what happened to your wi-"
"Shut your mouth," Mr. Winchester's voice was an angry rumble. He stepped close to the man. "Don't talk about what you don't know."
Men were starting to grumble around the pyre. It felt very tense and angry. I started to feel nervous.
"Hey, I got a gallon o' moonshine from my cousin, who wants some?" A man's voice rang out, and someone else whooped loudly.
"Pass it around, boys!" There was raucous laughter.
Mr. Winchester stepped close to us. "I want you to take Zan back to the motel," he said quietly, "I think the atmosphere is not going to be suitable for a little girl, very shortly."
"All right," Sam said. He took my arm. "Come on, Zan."
I walked between him and Dean back through the woods. I felt too wired to sleep, even though it was late. The tension at the pyre had gotten to me, and I felt wound up and tense too.
Sam was surprised to find me still awake when we finally pulled into the parking space. "You were so quiet back there, I figured you fell asleep!"
When we went into the room, Dean went straight to the small fridge and pulled out 2 beer bottles. He handed one to Sam and went to sit down on the sofa, putting his booted feet up on the coffee table with a sigh. "Some of those guys are assholes," he said, picking up the remote, "I'm glad we got outta there when we did."
"Yeah, it was starting to feel ugly," Sam commented, "Zan, you should get ready for bed, it's pretty late."
"I'm not tired," I walked over and sat next to Dean, who was flipping through the channels.
"Can I watch a movie with you?" I asked him.
"Sure-" he started to say, but then I saw him looking across the room at Sam. He sat up and said, "Actually, no, you should get to bed, it is late."
"I—I don't want to go to bed!" I burst out. Being around all the angry men earlier had made me feel nervous like I did when my dad was in an angry mood, and I was just waiting for him to start in on me.
Dean raised his eyebrows. "Well, uh, Zan-"
"What's wrong?" Sam came over to the sofa, looking at me.
I turned to him. "N-nothing's wrong, I just don't wanna go to bed, I won't be able to sleep!"
"You should try-"
"I don't wanna fucking try!" my voice was almost a yell, and suddenly I felt like crying. Dean drew back, looking shocked.
"You've never done this before," Sam said quietly.
"SO?" I glared at Sam.
"Zan-" Dean started to say, and I felt a hand on my arm. I was still turned towards Sam, and feeling the touch startled me, and I moved quickly, jerking my arm away. My hand hit Dean's other arm, and it knocked into his bottle, making the beer spill all over his shirt.
"Dammit!" Dean swore, sitting forward and shaking the liquid off of his arm. He slammed the bottle down on the table and I flinched.
"Get to bed!" he snapped, glaring at me.
I stared at him, and then tears filled my eyes, and I ran over to the sofa bed. I got out my pajamas and changed into them, even though I could barely see through the tears pouring down my cheeks. I laid down in bed, shaking and crying, and trying to stifle the sounds in the back of my throat.
Dean had gotten up and changed his shirt, and then cleaned up the spilled beer. I heard him talking to Sam quietly for a couple of minutes.
"Zan," Sam said.
I opened my eyes. They were both standing by the bed.
"Uh, sorry, kiddo," Dean shifted uncomfortably, "I didn't mean to yell at you like that."
"S'okay," I said, trying to gulp back a sob, "I de-deserved it."
I sat up. Sam reached towards me and I flinched back with a gasp. I saw he was holding the tissue box.
"What's got you so on edge, huh?" he asked, his voice gentle, "We're not going to hit you."
More tears filled my eyes. "I—I yelled an' cussed an' was dis-disrespectful an' sp-spilled your beer, I know I got a ass-kickin' c-coming."
"No ass-kicking, Zan," Dean said.
Sam sat down on the edge of the bed. "No," he said simply, and put his arms around me. I leaned into him and started to cry harder.
After a couple of minutes I felt the bed give behind me, and a hand on my back. I turned to look at Dean.
"S-sorry, D-dean," I sniffled.
"Hey, no, I'm sorry," he said quietly, and he reached for me. I flinched as his hand came near me, and I saw his face change from apologetic to upset. He looked guilty. He pulled me in for a hug, and I rested my head on his chest for a moment.
"Try and get some sleep," Dean patted my shoulder and let me go. I wiped my face off one more time, and then laid down in bed. They stood up, and Sam leaned down to pull the covers up.
I listened to them talking as they watched a movie, and fell asleep eventually.
I woke up in the morning between Sam and Dean. I remembered having a nightmare about the Black Dog, and Sam coming over to comfort me. I couldn't stop crying, and I wouldn't let him go, so he carried me over to the other bed. Once we laid down, I quieted, and fell asleep curled up against his side.
Mr. Winchester was in the other bed, on top of the covers, fully clothed. I wondered if he had stayed to take care of the pyre once it had burned down to ash.
I got up and used the bathroom, then I went over to the table and sat down, picking up the papers that I had been working on. I told myself I was gonna finish the lines before we left today, and I started writing.