Chapter Nine

"She's a hunter." At the disbelief on Sam and Dean's faces Bobby looked between the brothers. "What? You think all hunter's are like you two?"

"A hunter?" said Sam, his surprise at Bobby's assessment of Jane fading just a little, though he still found it hard to reconcile the idea of the traumatized woman who was sitting on the bed with the reality of hunting, "Are you sure?"

Bobby stared over Jane, seeing what everyone else did. A slim, pale woman battered and scarred and carrying round a world of hurt. Yet beyond this image he sensed there was more to her. It was there in her posture, in the tilt of her head, in the readiness he could detect in her body that told him that though her concentration appeared absorbed in the game she was playing, her own instincts were on alert and aware of everything that was going on around her.

Bobby pulled his gaze away. "Pretty sure, yeah."

Every instinct, every rational thought Dean had knew that what Bobby had said was true but he didn't want to believe it, refused to believe it and it was this denial that caused the following words to come from his mouth. "Have you seen her? The chick's a candidate for One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest."

"Like you're so sane," said Bobby, the gruffness in his voice taking on a sarcastic edge, "Have you forgotten what it is that we do? Christ most hunters I know either end up dead or in the nut house. And those that don't, get through the day by living on a diet of Jim, Jack and Jose and God knows what else. In case you haven't noticed this kinda life ain't normal. You'd have to be a little nuts to do what we do." His outburst over Bobby's tone softened a little. "Anyway I would have thought you two knuckleheads would've figured it out by now. You said it yourself, she has nightmares doesn't she?"

"Yeah…" Dean and Sam replied simultaneously, their voices low and questioning.

"And she drinks enough whiskey to put most people into a coma? That sound like anyone we know?"

Sam gave a barely there glance at Dean before he focused on Bobby. "Pretty much every hunter but that doesn't mean…"

"Look she could have ran but she didn't. How many people stay behind and fight the thing that's doing some major re-decorating on someone right in front of them. When people are scared they either freeze to the spot and get their innards splayed across the walls or they run like hell. They don't turn around and try and fight of the damn thing with a butter knife."

"But hunter? Really Bobby?" said Dean, his eyebrows rising up a little in skepticism.

"I never said it wasn't messed up."

Dean took a deep breath as he realized that he could argue and deny all he liked but it wasn't going to change the truth; Jane was a hunter and the sooner he accepted the truth of that the better. "Okay, so she's a hunter. How the hell does that help us?"

"It helps us because somewhere in that head of hers she knows what killed that girl. We just need to find out what."

SN*SN*SN

Jane heard the man called Bobby speak, his manner and voice gruff like sandpaper running over a piece wood. She also heard the affection that was masked within its tones and knew that Dean and Sam were important to him. The affection, she thought, was returned along with respect.

A father?

No. There was no resemblance, no shared mannerisms or a way of speaking that spoke of kinship.

An uncle perhaps? Or a close family friend? Someone who had helped raised them?

Yes, that made more sense. A bond like father and child and yet not. A relationship built where friendship and trust had to be earned and not expected just because you were blood.

"She's a hunter."

Hearing that word Jane felt a hammering in her head at the mention of it, a hint of panic that she tried to suppress.

There was no way she could be what he said. It wasn't possible. That person was brave and fearless.

Her?

She was afraid most of the time. Not of the shadows and the dark like most people. No, that was the easy part. That world she could at least cope with. No what she was afraid of was what was hidden in the daylight, in the faces that looked human but were not.

She knew what was out there. Knew that they were out there.

Always watching. Always listening. Always waiting.

It was why she did her best to hide. If she hid, then maybe, just maybe, they would never find her.

"She has nightmares doesn't she?"

Oh yes, she had nightmares alright. Terrible, terrible nightmares.

Images she didn't want came to her in her sleep. Images of blood and death and faces that she knew but could not remember. Faces that were tormented with pain. Faces that called her name. Screaming.

If these were her memories she didn't want them.

"And she drinks enough whiskey to put a person into a coma?"

She knew that she drank a lot. Knew that most people didn't need a drink to help them fall asleep. Knew that they didn't need to drink just to get through the day.

Some days were better than others and some days were a lot, lot worst and some days she didn't care which was which.

She only knew that between the pills and the bourbon she was able to keep the nightmares away. That the drink helped her to feel just a little bit like a normal person.

And normal is the thing she wanted the most.

"But hunter? Really Bobby?"

She heard the skepticism in Dean's voice and couldn't blame him for it. She doubted it also.

She couldn't be that. Couldn't be the person they kept saying she was. That wasn't her. She didn't want it to be her.

And yet she could not deny that she recognized that word. It flickered there in the back of her memory. A memory long forgotten, buried among all the fear and confusion.

She knew that word, knew the true meaning of it and all the implications that went with it.

A hunter fought monsters. Fought against all the terrible things that haunted her nightmares. Fought against all the things that people said didn't exist, even though they did. And she knew that as much as she wanted to deny it, as much as she wanted to run away and pretend that she had never heard that word, that that word applied to her. She was what they said she was.

"She's a hunter."