Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Winchester men, nor do I own Supernatural.
Denton wiped his double edged blade clean, removing all traces of blood that had been spilled that night. Its well worn blade once again reflected back the full moon's light as it attempted to make its way across the warehouse floor. The hunt had been a rough one requiring the seasoned hunter to pull from his many years of experience, but in the end the vampire was dead, beheaded at that. He was quite pleased with his victory and thought he'd pulled it off impressively in front of John's boys, heck he'd even saved the boys much to their embarrassment and relief, if they would dare to admit it.
"It's like I said," the old hunter gloated as he leaned over and winked at Dean, "We gotta kill them all, every last one of them, until there ain't any Supernaturals left."
Dean, though grateful for the rescue, wasn't quite sure he liked the old hunter, even if he had teamed up with his father years earlier. First of all, his pride just didn't like having to get bailed out, and then, on top of that, the old man was rubbing his nose in it! While the humiliation itself didn't exactly thrill Dean, he reasoned it wasn't what was really bothering him either. No, it was more than that. Something just seemed off. This vampire slayer seemed almost a bit too eager to kill. Of course he was clearly justified to end its miserable existence when the blood sucker was holding Dean at bay while attempting to drain Sam of his blood. Hell, Dean would have done the same thing if he could have. Even now he had the overwhelming desire to take a whack at the headless corpse for trying to hurt Sam. And while Dean reasoned that he and Sam were always glad to kill the evil that lurked on their hunts, somehow, Denton seemed a bit over zealous, almost delighting in the blood and gore itself and not so much in the reason for it. Even Sam seemed to feel a bit uncomfortable and exchanged a look with Dean which clearly expressed his thoughts.
Dean decided that it was time to part ways and began his Thanks and See ya around speech when he noticed Sam's face beginning to tighten, a pained expression splashing across it. Dean knew the scenario all too well as he watched his brother begin to struggle with the onset of a vision.
"Damn," Dean muttered under his breath and as he tossed a glance cautiously over to Denton. His mind became bombarded with his concern for Sam and the fear of Denton's reaction to the situation.
Dean began to try to usher Sam out to the parking lot, anywhere, where they could ride out the damn thing without detection. Unfortunately, the vision was coming on too fast.
Sam began to shake, his hands quickly rose up against his temples while his jaw clenched. He moaned, then cried out and began to sway, stumbling down to his knees.
Knowing he could no longer hide Sam's vision from Denton, Dean chose to help Sam down and ride through the pain. Dean gently eased Sam's landing, placing his arms under his younger brother as he guided him down.
"Easy, Sammy," Dean offered sympathetically, knowing Sam could neither hear him nor find comfort in his words. Still, Dean needed to offer them. His love for his brother could make him do no less.
"What the…," Denton called out staring in disbelief as the scenario revealed itself before his very eyes.
Dean glanced up while still attempting to help Sam work through the pain of the vision.
"Son of a bitch," Denton stated accusingly, clearly familiar with what was going on. "He's ONE of them!"
Dean glanced up at the old hunter, half in anger and half in fear. Crap. This was the last thing they needed. Of all people, why the heck did Sammy have to go 'supernatural' in front of Denton.
"Shut up!" Dean demanded as the old hunter laughed out loud and approached Sam and Dean.
"Your brother's one of them. Unbelievable! Right under your nose! You hunt them clear across the country your entire freakin life, and yet you miss the one standing in front of your face!" Denton exclaimed in disbelief as he continued. "John Winchester, you hypocrite!" he hollered as he raised his fist up in the air shaking it while cursing the fallen warrior.
Sam continued to tremble as the vision continued; his eyes remained fixed and darkened, his body rocking back and forth attempting to survive the stress as the vision continued toward its conclusion.
"Back off!" Dean declared with venom in his voice.
"Sam?" the worried sibling questioned, hoping to help Sam recover quickly, fearing that Denton's advance would bring trouble with it.
Just as Dean feared, he saw the old hunter raise his weapon and aim it directly at Sam.
"DON'T!" Dean growled in a deep, threatening voice as he rose and stood protectively between his brother and his threat.
"He's a Supernatural, Dean. You know it and I know it!"
A chill ran down Dean's spine as all his fears were realized. The killer standing in front of him had just tried and convicted Sam.
"He's gotta die, Dean. It's only a matter of time till he goes dark side. Just like them," he finished, gesturing toward the decapitated vampire. "Do it now or you'll live to regret it," warned the determined hunter.
Dean's eyes grew black as he quickly drew his gun and aimed it directly at Denton.
"He's NOT one of them, and sure as hell isn't gonna die!" Dean corrected the old hunter with an alarming confidence. "Now you grab your gear and get the HELL out of here before I do something you'll regret!"
The old hunter eyed Dean briefly, considering taking him on, but finally lowered his weapon realizing time might provide a better opportunity to take the Supernatural out without confronting his older sibling.
"Your Dad had a lot of gall hunting when he was raising one as a son," quipped the old hunter with an eerie almost evil laugh. "But mark my words," Denton threatened, narrowing his eyes and pointing his finger at Dean as he stood protectively guarding his sibling, "This ain't over. Either you take him out or I will the next time I see him."
Dean bit his lip as Denton turned and walked away with an overconfident swagger. He could tell Sam was still down and out of it behind him, and he was desperate to get to the kid and help him through it, but he didn't dare take his focus off of Denton-not until the bastard was no longer a threat.
Denton finally disappeared out through door of the warehouse, slamming it shut behind him.
If hatred and rage could be a poisonous mixed drink, Dean surely would have poured one for the old hunter and made him lap it up off the floor. By the end of the confrontation, Dean was visibly shaking. It had been close, too close. Sammy had been tried and condemned to death while totally unable to defend himself, and Dean, well, Dean had come close to killing a man, not a possessed man or a shapeshifter in the form of another person, but a regular, albeit warped man. It frightened Dean on all kinds of levels as he swept his hand across his face and attempted to refocus. Sam.
Dean whirled around to check on his brother.
To his surprise Sam was looking back at him with fear in his eyes.
"The vision?" Dean asked assuming what his brother had seen had something to do with his obvious distress.
"I donno, Dean," Sam answered casting his eyes downward and shaking his head. "Maybe I am a freak."
Dean shook his head. "NO, Sam, you're not!" he countered, his anger at Denton burning through his veins. "Gifted? Maybe. But freak? 'Supernatural'? No. Hell, no! He's off his rocker, Sam. Hell, he's not even on it to begin with! Guy's screwed up. You got that?" he questioned, his eyes desperate for his younger brother to agree.
Sam nodded hesitantly. Dean was mad, pissed more like it. But Sam could tell that Dean's anger was based on his concern, and that he was just being protective. It wasn't aimed at him. His use of the word 'gifted' was debatable, but the perspective was well received- If Dean thought he was a freak, he'd let Sam know. If Denton thought he was a freak...screw him.
"You just stay as far away from him as you can, you got that?" Dean commanded.
"I intend to," Sam softly replied.
"Can you get up?" Dean questioned turning his attention on his brother's well being and wanting to get the kid the hell out of Kansas.
Sam nodded and began to raise himself up with the help of his brother's outstretched hand.
Dean noted that Sam was entrenched in thought as he rose and stood statue-like without saying a word.
"You good?" Dean questioned wanting to know what had brought his normally talkative sibling to silence.
Sam nodded, rubbing his right temple with his fingers.
"Yeah," Sam answered, still clearly deep in thought.
"Wanna talk about it?" Dean asked gently, his big brother senses telling him his younger brother was no where near the vicinity of good.
"About Denton?" Sam questioned thinking his brother's focus was there.
"I was thinking more of the vision," Dean responded.
Sam nodded. Dean knew him, sometimes better than he knew himself, and he wasn't surprised he'd picked up on his trepidation.
"It was a bit interrupted." Sam offered, eyes searching Dean's, clearly holding back."
"And," Dean prodded.
"And it was weird," Sam finally put out, his eyebows dipping in concern.
"Weird, how?" Dean answered feeling the need to brace himself for what might be coming if he was reading his brother's visual cues right.
"I was in it," Sam stated with a hint of despair.
"Well, that's new," Dean stated flatly, not really sure what to make of his brother's statement.
Reading Sam's distressed features, he realized there had to be more to the story.
"What were you doing?" Dean asked cautiously.
Sam glanced away briefly, unable to look his brother directly in the face.
Dean gently grabbed his arm to steady his distraught sibilng and to encourage him to answer.
"Dying, Dean," Sam finally answered before returning his sad gaze to his older brother.