Author's note: For the E/O Challenge and the word of the week was "pry". Still angsty. No new episode this week either, to lighten the mood.

Disclaimer: I love everyone associated with Supernatural, but I claim nothing but my passion.

Word count: 100.

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He Hated Losing

Dean awoke as the Impala stopped outside.

Disregarding the late hour and an exasperated Dean! from their babysitter he ran downstairs, where John caught him in an embrace.

Dean inhaled deeply against his chest – and cannoned backwards in alarm!

"What's the matter?"

John usually had to pry his fingers away.

"Dad, you smell… of graveyard-dirt, violence, hatred, death …scary."

John stiffened.

He'd made his first supernatural kill tonight, but Dean's wide-eyed fear threw ice-water on his fire-fuelled thirst for vengeance.

The road he was on would make this smell familiar to all of them.

But he couldn't, wouldn't, walk away.

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