He liked to be busy.
No doubt about that.
But he also valued calm.
Garth sat on the hood of his car in lotus position, his palms resting on his knees, facing down to ground himself.
Every hunter he'd ever met had their own way of dealing with things.
It was a quick way to oblivion, but it was also an easy way to end up dead long before you should be, even in this life.
He took a long slow inhalation through his nose, filling the bottom of his lungs before breathing out through his mouth in one fluid movement.
It seemed to help.
Ridding his body of negativity.
The sound of distant traffic on the road a few miles back from his parking spot, the lonely moan of the wind through the trees, the fragrant breeze that gently suggested pine, water, earth.
He let all these sensations wash through him.
He knew the other hunters laughed at his methods, he saw the looks Sam and Dean gave each other when they saw him practicing tai chi or meditating.
But that was their opinion, their state of mind, and he had no control over how others perceived him, he only had control over how he perceived himself.
How would they have dealt with his day, he wondered, shifting a little, regaining composure.
He liked them well enough, but he worried.
Mostly he worried about their egos.
They truly believed that they were the centre of the scales on which the Earths fate balanced.
He watched them carry that weight with them, watched them fight the beast alone, blinded by their own self importance.
They didn't see the way they were played.
Didn't realise that if they died tomorrow the world would keep turning, the beasts would still run and the hunters would… well… hunt them.
The world was so much bigger than heaven or hell, but no one could tell them that.
He hoped one day they'd realise.
We're all just pieces on the board, small pieces. there are bigger pieces than us, but they still have to play the same game.
With one last cycle of breathing, Garth brought his hands together in prayer and bowed his head slightly.
Sliding down, he brushed off the seat of his pants and stretched, his joints popping, then made his way to the trunk.
Inside, wrapped in a tarp, was a body.
He pulled it back a little and took a shuddery breath.
An angelic face rested there.
A childs face.
Her head, in fact.
He'd already removed it from the body.
It wasn't often a nest turned a child, but when they did they awoke a creature with an insatiable blood lust.
Didn't make beheading a golden haired little girl any easier though.
Sometimes, he thought, as he dragged the body from the car and picked up his shovel, sometimes a drink or two might just hit the spot.