Chapter Text
Ellen slapped a couple of ice packs and a shot of whiskey on the bar. Dean murmured a thanks and she just smacked him up the head, "What were you thinking letting a vamp go? What were you thinking let a vampire loose when Gordon Walker had been shadowing you? That guy is six kinds of crazy when it comes to fangs!"
Dean brushed a hand against the bandages binding his ribs, he thought they were only cracked, but he was in too much pain overall to tell. "She hadn't eaten a person in two years. I don't kill what isn't killing, you know that." It was simple line, but it was one that had caused him and his dad to go their separate ways. If it isn't killing, Dean don't touch it. That left plenty of things that needed to be ganked, but John felt once a monster always a monster.
Dean rarely took a partner, preferred just trusting himself, but it did lean to more injuries than he would care for.
Ellen sighed, "Boy, you are going to be the death of me, let alone Bobby." She threw some left over pain meds on the counter and Dean tried to give her a winning smile - it caused his lip to start bleeding again.
He swallowed the pills with his Jack Daniels and asked for a burger. Ellen told him it would be up in ten and he made his way to a table. He couldn't help but notice the other hunters giving him dirty looks. Gordon had already been spreading word that Dean had let a monster go, and others were talking, rumours, stories of him freeing some others. He wished Sammy was with him, but he was in his first year of law school and had moved in with his girlfriend Sarah. In undergrad he had been with a sweet girl Jess, but he had decided to switch to the east coast for law school and had met art curator Sarah and was just sunk. They were a good couple and the times that Dean had hinted at Sam hunting with him had been rebuffed. Dean tried to not let it hurt.
Jo brought the burger over and dropped it on the table. She glared at him, "You let monsters go?"
"Only if they ain't really monsters." he tried to reply calmly, easily. She huffed and walked away. Ellen was more sympathetic to his personal code, but Jo was young and filled with tales of her heroic father.
Dean ate in silence, wanting to be out of the bar as quick as possible, he knew he couldn't handle a confrontation.
It was only as he was wiping his mouth, that he noticed how quiet the bar had gotten. When he looked up it was empty, dead silent, except for a man sitting at the bar, looking dead at him.
Dean automatically reached for his gun, but the guy smiled, "Hey Dean-o, you won't need that. Everyone's fine, just wanted to have a chat with you, all personal like." The guy was fairly nondescript, average height, average looks, but Dean could tell there was power under the skin. He still reached for his weapon. The guy sighed and sprinkled salt over his skin, touched the iron fixings on the bar and gave a quick slice with the silver blade Ellen kept by the beer, "We good?"
Dean relaxed a fraction. He didn't trust this guy, but at least he wasn't a demon. "What do you want?"
The guy shrugged and ate some M&Ms, "Just to chat, been keeping an eye out, hearing things, seeing things. You aren't a usual hunter."
Shit, Dean thought, this is either going to be really good or really bad. "So?"
"So, I am here representing an unusual collective and we have a job offer."
"If it's a hunt, why are you just asking me? Plenty of good hunters out there." Dean shifted his shoulders, wanting to be as ready for anything as his sore body could handle. He blinked and the guy was sitting beside him. He blinked again and all his pain and injuries were gone.
"There, now you can focus better. We don't want you for a hunt." Dean wondered what had the power to fix his injuries with just a snap of his fingers.
"As I said, it's a collective. We have a house, we need a caretaker."
Dean snorted, "I ain't no gardener." He shifted away from the smaller man.
"Not that sort of caretaker. The house is sort of a safe house, if you would. Lenore is currently a guest." Dean looked back at the man. "I see that got your attention."
"Maybe" was all Dean added.
The guy put a wad of cash on the table and a business card on top of it.
"We need someone who knows lore, who can hunt, but also understands that not everything that goes bump in the night is completely bad." The man stood up. "The job would let you settle in one place for awhile, build up some cash and keep your skills honed. If you are interested show up in the next three days. If not, burn that card, salt and bury the ashes. We can't have just anyone finding us."
The stranger winked and the bar came back to life. Dean looked at the cash, it was at least 500 dollars. He then picked up the card, which had a bunch of different symbols embossed on it, including the anti-possession symbol he had tattooed into his skin. Briefly an address could be seen.
Dean hummed, looked like he was heading towards the west coast.