"Are you a hunter?"
It's the first thing that popped out of his mouth after seeing the charm bracelet circling her wrist. Neither he or Sam ever suspected Mom of being a hunter. They always thought — believed, really — that hunting became the Winchester way of life after her death. Did Dad know? He didn't think so. If he did know, well, he took the secret with him to the grave.
"Why?" Mary demanded in that tone that always made him squirm as a kid. It was Mom for you'd-better-tell-me-what-I-wanna-know-and-right-now. "Why do you want to know if I'm a hunter?"
Invisible bars closed around Dean. Crap, how'n hell am I supposed to answer that? Wasn't like he could tell her his name was Dean Winchester and he was hers and John's son. He already got his ass handed to him once by her. Twice in one night? No thanks.
He darted a look to where Not-Dad patiently waited for her to return. He definitely didn't want to get into a fistfight with Not-Dad. He'd seen older Dad beat the ever-loving crap out of guys twice his size. He finally settled on a part of the truth he could tell her without it getting him into any trouble. He hoped.
"Because I'm a hunter," he said. "Like you."
She was only slightly mollified by that answer, however.
"Why are you following me?" Her eyes — the same shade of green as his and Sammy's — narrowed. "What do you want?"
"To help you."
"Help me?" One brow tilted. Another Mom look. "With what?"
"I'm not sure," he admitted with a grimace. "My, uh, contact, was kinda vague. Said I needed to come here and stop something before it happens. Didn't specify what."
Silently, he added, because angels are allergic to straight answers.
"And you think that I'm involved?" She shook her head. "How?"
Again, he settled on giving her an answer as close to the truth as he could manage.
"I think whatever I'm hunting is after you and your boyfriend."
That's what I'm meant to stop, he realized as a crowd of teenagers walked by the alley, talking, and laughing loudly. Dean swore he heard one of them mention American Graffiti. He needed to get home. Like yesterday. First, he'd stop the son of a bitch after Not-Mom. Then he'd worry about going Back to the Future.
"Why?"
He shook his head.
"I dunno."
He suspected, though. And if it's who I think it is? His fists clenched. Well, I'm gonna gank the son of a bitch.
Because if he could kill him here in 1973?
November 2, 1983, would never happen.
Mom won't die, Dad won't become obsessed hunting what killed her, and Sammy and I won't end up so screwed up.
He needed to find Daniel Elkins.
Why?
Because there was only one way to kill this thing: the Colt.
A/N: Hello, all. Hope this finds you well! This is tagged to 4x03.