Dean

The one issue that plagued Dean's mind over the next few days, was his inability to extend inwardly to protect himself. It was the one goal he wanted to desperately accomplish, but also the one thing that proved to be nearly impossible for him to achieve. It was not for lack of trying that he had not yet succeeded in harnessing its remarkable ability to fold within himself. The woman who first told Caleb and Bobby the meaning behind that fascinating power, also told them that the owner of the shield would only be able to keep those he loved safe. Those who he shared an emotional connection to.

That was the foundation of his power; the basis it stood on. The ability was important to Dean because it gave him the increased chance of keeping his family safe from the various things he hunted. However, it also stopped him short of either keeping two people safe at once, or keeping himself locked in the protective mist that enshrouded the person he was trying to reach. The woman told them that if Dean was able to effectively train himself to direct the shield toward himself, he would be able to utilize the power to benefit him.

The issue was focusing his mind around the idea of doing something for himself. Even though he tried to deny it, Dean knew that was the main problem. There was nothing in him that desired to keep himself safe as long as the ones he loved were guaranteed protection. That selflessness was ingrained in him, and had been from the moment he carried his little brother out of his burning home and then dedicated himself to making sure that Sam stayed safe throughout the remainder of his life. Being able to do something like that and have it help him, was not anything he found easy to do when he knew what it would take.

Washing a hand down his worn face while he sat at the kitchen table trying to work through the emotional mess in his mind at what was happening with his pointless shield exercises, he looked down at the heavy file that came from the coroners office. Even though Caleb told him that he would have to "think about" him accompanying his guardian on the hunt in Carthage, Caleb allowed him to participate in the initial phases of the hunt that included the exciting prospect of interviewing potential witnesses and even helping pinpoint the exact cause of death for one of the people who was found brutally slaughtered.

This part of the job was Dean's least favorite. Studying the all-too-important details related to the hunt was a skill he needed to pick up, but one he resisted with all his heart in favor of doing the physical stuff that no one else seemed to relish but him. Training his eyes to focus on the monotonous small text in front of his already tired eyes, was a burden for him when all he wanted to do was get his hands dirty with the ghoul and make sure it never harmed anyone again. First thing was first, and he knew they had to make certain that was what they were hunting.

Picking up the red pen his family used for circling important points of interest in one of their investigations, he could feel his brow furrow in confusion when he thought about the vague details surrounding the case. Apart from the fact that a ghoul hunt had been in Carthage the year before, there was nothing else for him to go on that certainly pointed to one. The chunks of flesh that had been torn from the unfortunate victim, could have belonged to any monster who took pride in that. The other thing that confused him, was the thought of the ghouls changing their pattern and hunting the living instead of the dead.

According to ancient lore that his family relied on to make their job easier, the ghouls favored the darkness of cemeteries. Instead of feeding on the living people of which there were plenty, they liked to snack on the corpses of those who died and were buried. Having a ghoul differ from that pattern was what kept him less than one hundred percent sure Caleb was right, and this was another problem with those monsters. When he thought about his guardian confronting something of that magnitude, he could feel his body buzz with that energy that only radiated from within from his shield. Supposing he should be happy the shield served at least one important purpose, he bowed his head and kept looking through the obits of the victim and the brief statement from the sheriff.

The sort of horrific brutality that was inflicted on at least one of the victims who was recovered, was hard for the sheriff to speak of. Reading through his words that Dean could almost hear him say for himself, he knew to take it seriously. Through the trained knowledge he had of what to spot when he was scanning through the reports and obits, he was able to ascertain that the kind of violence that was happening throughout Carthage, was something they needed to look into. The only uncertainty was what further involvement he would get to have in the job.

There was good reason for his family to be overprotective when it came to exposing Sam and Dean into the violence of the hunting world, but Dean also realized that he would never get the knowledge he needed without being shown it. Through everything that happened to them, he thought he proved himself capable of handling himself in dangerous waters. Squeezing his eyes shut and then popping them open, he could feel the familiar twinge of excitement when he remembered the local job he would soon be embarking on that was right next to their town. Local hunts were always the ones that Dean was promised the chance to investigate, and he was not questioning that during the morning when his mind was rapidly shifting into the "zone" that let go of everything else to focus his concentration on the important job.

Startling a little in his seat when he heard the pound of footsteps echo through his sensitive hearing, he put away the file he was perusing and looked toward the front door where he could hear someone moving. Reaching for his gun when he automatically considered it to be someone who might pose a threat to them, he released his stance when the person burst through the door with an energy that put his to shame. Grinning when he saw his friend thunder over to him, he tucked his gun behind him and reached over to painfully punch him in the arm for scaring him.

In the kind of world Dean lived in that was often unpredictable and scary, it was rare to have any personal connections with people who would most likely end up either dying, or betraying them. Through his bond with his family, he learned to appreciate the beauty of having friends. Even though some hunters might have considered that kind of closeness to be a threat because of their unsure hunting background. For Dean's family, they operated under a different code that enabled them to forge bonds with people.

Although Dean was able to understand those who preferred to live a more nomadic lifestyle, he knew the value of not shutting himself off from the world. Their good friends the Harvelle family was one of them. For as long as Dean could remember much, he and his family made the annual trip to Nebraska to see those people who never failed to bring a smile (or a laugh) to his face when he needed it. Ellen with her sweet motherly nature, and Bill with his joking attitude that was able to ease even the most tense situation.

The other friend Dean was fortunate enough to have lived a little closer to home. Throwing his friend a dirty look that came off entirely the wrong way when they both dissolved into laughter at their antics, he pushed the case toward his friend's eager eyes. Matt Dawson was the child of a hunting family like he was, and was one of his closest friends because of their shared experiences in the life, and also because of their close age. The thought of embarking on a new adventure with his friend, was what made all of the confusion and pain surrounding his shield, fade a little.

If there was anyone who held the power of making him forget some of what he was grappling with, it would be his partner in crime. Standing up when the excitement of abandoning the house for awhile got to be too much, he stretched his sore muscles that had not yet been able to recover from the strenuous workout the night before. Dean did not miss the quick look of concern that adorned Matt's face before he shrugged and bowed his head to look through the case file centered around the illusive ghoul Dean was hoping he could help hunt.

"Dude, this place sounds like a friggin' mecca for supernatural activity," Matt remarked, tearing his eyes away from the horrific details to stare at his friend.

"I know," Dean said, casually leaning against the counter while he waited for him. "Caleb hunted the same thing about a year ago."

Matt tucked the pages of the file back inside the folder and closed it. Unlike him, Matt was intent on both the hunt and the before part that Dean usually despised. It was both frustrating and awe-inspiring to watch Matt work the different parts of his brain to come up with the same result. Making sure his gun had enough rounds in it to hunt whatever he was going to be hunting, he also made sure he had his knife with him. Without any of the weapons he needed to stay alive, he knew the outcome would likely be very different.

Even though he enjoyed hunting with his family and getting to experience everything from the patient guidance of his guardian, hunting with Matt was a completely different experience. At fifteen, Matt was three years older than him and had already been on some of the hunts Dean wished he could go on. In a big way, Matt was like a mentor to him who also just happened to be one of his best friends and the person who always teased and kidded him like he was a brother.

"Which is what?" Matt asked, tossing Dean a candy bar, which the kid eagerly caught.

"A ghoul," Dean replied around a mouthful of chocolate.

"How could you possibly pick that up from the crappity stuff that was in the report? It could be anything that mauls and chews."

Dean supposed Matt had a point about the validity of the hunt being a ghoul problem. Finding the missing pieces of the puzzle and combining them to fit the picture was always the toughest part for him. In theory, he had every reason not to believe it was a ghoul and every reason to believe it was something else. His head ached from too many questions pounding through his brain at that quick speed. It only made him want to escape from the house that much faster. Upstairs, he could hear his brother get himself ready to come down for the morning. Especially with knowing Matt was there.

"It's just a feeling," Dean answered. "What are we hunting today?"

"We," Matt answered dramatically. "Are hunting the scariest monster of them all, Dean."

"Uh-huh," Dean replied, unconvinced. "Which is what? The invisible hairy man?"

With the type of hunts Matt was known to engage in, he knew to expect any one of those options. Part of the reason why Dean liked to do hunts with Matt, was because the nature of the jobs always promised to challenge him in everything he thought he knew. Suppressing the shudder that threatened to pass through him when he remembered the last excursion they went on that almost resulted in their deaths, he made a beeline for the case of extra ammunition he would need. Behind him, he could see Matt roll his eyes as though he thought his concern was unnecessary.

"No, dude. That's so last year! Anyway, it's some water demon that's been terrorizing some of the locals."

"Water wraith?" Dean guessed, knowing how ferocious those suckers could be.

"Nah. I think it might be something else," Matt said, already inching toward the door.

Before Dean or Matt could do so much as take one step further in the direction of the door that would guarantee the child some freedom from the stubborn thoughts clinging to his mind, Sam bounded down the stairs. Watching his brother with his best friend was a sweet thing to behold. Sometimes, Dean wondered if Matt only came over to the house to see Sam instead of him. For whatever reason he had, Dean was glad Sam had someone else to talk to about the stuff that was undoubtedly on his mind. Giving Sam a smile and shake of his head when he caught him staring, he picked up his bag that was already packed, and once again headed toward the door.

Dean wished Sam could go with them; it would give them some time together after the stressful events of the last few days. When he paused by the front door, he could hear Sam quietly inform Matt of something he was sure was his new knowledge about the supernatural. Matt's frown of sympathy was a dead giveaway to that suspicion in Dean's mind. The battle within his brother's mind was a constant one. On the one hand Sam wanted to train. On the other extreme side, he wanted to be as removed from that life as he could.

"See you later, Matty," Sam giggled. He was the only one able to call Matt that without being punched for it later.

"See ya, Sam. Try not to get into too much trouble while we're gone."

As if that would be a possible endeavor. When Dean said as much, Sam characteristically stuck his tongue out at his brother before being set down by Matt. When Sam came over to hug him, he could see the fear written in his expression for him. Even though Sam understood Dean knew what he was doing because of the training he received at an early age from his family, that unease was still very much a part of his brother. Doing his best to give him his best approximation of a smile, he hitched his bag up higher on his shoulder and punched Sam.

Turning away from him to go on the hunt with Matt, he could see Bobby in the corner of his eye as he mentioned something to his brother about going downstairs to train. Much like Caleb served as Dean's instructor in the supernatural world, Bobby was the one who elected to take Sam under his wing. In so many ways, Dean was glad Bobby was making up for lost time and was now spending extra time with them that had been sorely missed. Almost missing Matt's truck in the mental fog he was in, he glared at his friend when he shook his head as though he could not believe how inept Dean was.

Leaning back in his seat, he waved at Sam who joyfully waved back. It appeared to Dean that his earlier fears were now gone to be replaced with the thrill of learning something new from Bobby. Leaning forward to turn on the silent radio when the truck cleared the driveway and began the drive out of the secluded neighborhood and out into the busier traffic, he felt his mouth drop open in horror when he heard the unthinkable music that blasted through the speakers.

Matt had the nerve to look surprised at his reaction. The jerk. Turning off the offending music as quickly as he could, Dean rummaged through the CD's that were scattered all through his glove box. If he was going to endure a long drive over to the next town to help Matt on the hunt, there was no way he was going to suffer because of his questionable taste in music. Finding something that passed for decent music, he threw Matt's earlier CD out the window. Ignoring the outraged look on his face, he turned up the volume on the acceptable sound.

"I can't even believe you," Dean said, looking at Matt as though he didn't even know his friend at all.

"What's wrong with what I had-"

"It was rap music. Honestly, Matt? You just lost your best friend privileges."

Matt had the gall to look shocked at words, but the seriousness of the conversation quickly lost its potency when Dean offered him a smile that let him know that even if he despised his friend's musical choices, nothing could really come between them. Staring at the overcast sky that served as a marked reminder of the upcoming school season he was not looking forward to, he switched his thoughts to the upcoming job he and Matt were going on. At nearly fifteen-years-old, Matt looked old enough to pass for someone who could get the information he needed for the job. Although Dean knew one of his older hunting buddies would help with the identification red tape, Matt would mostly be heading this trip by himself.

"So how are you, man?" Matt asked, once the silence in the car stretched on for too long while they drove down the interstate.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, heaving a sigh.

"I mean, Sam knows about everything. It has to be upsetting for you, right?"

Dean shrugged. "He's handling it okay-" He started to say, not wanting to bring the focus on him when his brother was the one paying the price.

Matt shook his head but refrained from responding while he maneuvered his car off the too busy highway, and onto the more peaceful country roads that covered the next town. If nothing else that came from the trip, Dean was given the chance to spend time with his friend and not have to worry about so much other than the hunt. Staring at the rural setting that became more pronounced the longer they drove into the heart of the rolling hills and lakes, he wondered what new monster would be responsible for the string of deaths in the area. Winding his arm behind his head, he reclined his seat a little.

"It's funny, dude. I asked how you were, and you automatically go to how Sam is. It's okay to, you know, think about yourself once in a blue moon. Hell, just ask me, I do it all the time."

Dean could not help but smile at his comment. "I don't doubt it." He paused, wondering how much of himself he could get to be honest about how he was coping with having Sam know so much of the ugliness that went on in their lives. "It kills me, Matt, but I can't mope and cry when Sam needs support."

That one sentiment was what he knew to be true about the situation they were in. His own feelings on the subject of Sam knowing so much about their family, meant nothing to him when Sam was the one who was the most deserving of that sympathy and support. The truth of the matter was he sometimes wondered how he would be able to reconcile himself to the idea of Sam doing what he did, and training for it. If there was anyone he trusted to do the job, it would be Caleb and Bobby, but even their meticulous eye for detail in that department, would never make him feel so secure that he would be willing to forgo all of his misgivings.

Matt nodded slowly, his eyes downcast as he focused on the driving. His friend was an only child, but was still able to support his friend in the only way he knew how. Hunting was a distraction for both of them when their real lives often proved to be one nightmare after another. The twelve-year-old thrived ever since settling into the new routine he had with his family, but the danger that came with their hunting life, never gave him that keening sense of peace he longed for. Saving the world, hunting the uglies that terrorized people, it was all he knew.

"That's almost exactly what I said after my parents died. People came up to me and shoved casseroles in my face. Offered me support I didn't know how to respond to. I kept telling them, "you don't understand. I don't need the food and the looks. I just need my parents back. I just need to support them even when they're not around anymore."

Matt's parents died the previous year after succumbing to their injuries sustained from a rough hunt. Matt's family were friends of his family, and that was how the two became best friends in the first place. Dean could remember experiencing that perpetual sense of loss and sympathy for his friend that he could remember sensing from his own family after his father died. There was nothing that could have eased the burden of that pain, and so Dean tried his best to be there for him and offer him a place to stay without having to go home to an empty house. It was an offer Matt hesitantly declined after making up the excuse he had a hunting buddy his parents knew.

Not able to keep his eyes off his friend when they filled with tears over the memory of his painful loss, he tried to figure out what he could do that would ease that torture. For him, he knew he was lucky he did not hold any memories of his parents like Matt did. In a way, the loss was made that much harder by not having any solid foundation to remember them by, but it also made it easier when he took into account that he did not have a clear picture of them to mourn. Rolling his eyes at the thought of what he would do for his best friend, he took out his rock music and replaced it with the rap crap Matt seemed to favor.

When the pounding crescendo of the music reached a peak point, he could feel the grin stretch across his face when he saw the look of shock on Matt's face that his friend was willing to disregard his own perilous views of music for his benefit. Wincing when he heard the lyrics and the beat that was foreign to him, Dean tried to withstand it for his friend. Turning up the volume when they were in the company of a loud semi truck, he could hear Matt quietly rapping along with the lyrics. Joining in, even though he felt ridiculous for doing so, he could see the happiness on his friend's face.

"Who are we going to meet up with?" Dean asked, once the third song on the CD finished playing. The brief few seconds of silence that accompanied the break, was bliss to Dean's ears that seemed intent on punishing him for his transgression.

Dean was not familiar with too many of Matt's hunting friends. The one friend he met before, was Matt's friend Jefferson. He was a nice guy and was the epitome of a professional while they conducted the hunt for the werewolf. Thinking back to that time when he was entrusted with hunting something as dangerous as that, made him wonder what Caleb had to be worried about with him hunting something like a ghoul. A ghoul, in comparison, was like a puppy dog. Shaking his head, relegating the issue to the back of his mind until later, he turned his head to look at Matt.

"It's a guy my Dad knew. His name is Joshua."