THE FAMILY BUSINESS: Saving People, Hunting Things | Chapter Four
Genre: Pre-series, Injury Recovery, Humor
Cast: Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ash, Jo Harvelle, Ellen Harvelle, Rufus Turner, others
Rating: Teen and Up | Warnings: None
Word Count: 3,572 (this chapter) | Total Chapters: 5 | WIP
Story Art: By author unless noted otherwise.
Also on: AO3
Author's Note: Apologies! For anyone still reading this story, my endless apologies for taking so long to update this story! Believe it or not real life really did get in the way in the past year! This chapter is extra long for this story. I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading, Lisa
Dean twisted the longneck bottle between his palms. It was good to be out of the house and not at a hospital. A night at The Roadhouse was just the ticket to itchy feet and ragged thoughts. And another week of PT had gotten his legs into better fighting shape than they’d been. Plus, he was two weeks ahead of schedule. By the end of the week he expected to be out of the chair. He could already use a cane for short trips like to the bathroom.
He couldn’t wait to get out of the butt-wheels as Ash trippingly called them. “Just for ya, bud,” Ash tossed another batch of printouts in front of him. “And,” Ask sat and tipped his bottle toward the juke behind them, “wait for it.” He smiled and wiggled his brows as the familiar and beloved strains of Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song screamed across the bar. “Had Ellen put some in just for your listening pleasure!”
Dean gave him a nod and tipped his bottle to Ellen. “So, what’s all of this,” he pulled the new material Ash laid out for him on the scarred table.
“These, my man,” Ash shuffled through one of the stacks and pulled out one sheet, “are some possible names for you,” he pulled out another stapled batch of papers, “and these are some of the people that I know that you know, that are looking for hunters.” He leaned in toward Dean, “Trained hunters.”
Dean looked over the paperwork that Ash had tossed in front of him as the hacker babbled on about the hunting school. Looking over the list of names he found himself nodding at the names he recognized. He was a little surprised at how many he knew.
“So,” Bobby’s voice cut through his thoughts, “I think this could work.”
Dean snorted again, “For the last four days you guys have been yammerin’ about this and I gotta tell ya,” he looked at Bobby, “and no disrespect, but I don’t see it.”
Ash grinned, “Now, see, I have to admit I was kinda hopin’ you would say that!”
“Say, what?”
“You talkin’ about that damn fool training idea,” Ellen’s whiskey burnished voice interrupted Ash as she slid into the booth.
“See!” Dean pointed to Ellen and shot her a brilliant grin, “At last! Someone who’s got sense!” He tipped his beer in salute to her before taking a deep pull from it. “Thank you, Ellen! Now, talk to these two,” he jerked his thumb at Bobby and Ash.
“It’s not a damn fool idea,” Ash said sounding offended, “it’s not any more foolish than hunting alone or having some other hunter on your territory who’s an idiot.”
Ellen nodded with a slight frown of thought, “He’s got a point there, son.”
“Com'again,” Dean spat as his shoulders drew back, “two seconds ago,” he looked at her narrowly, “you were on my side.”
“And I still am,” Ellen smirked, “hunting alone is dangerous.” She tipped her beer at him, “I think we can all attest to that.”
“Dean!” Ash pushed a sheaf of papers that he’d culled from the pile, “Look at the numbers. They do not lie, my friend.” He shoved the first page in front of his friend, “Numbers of possible earnings. Real money. And you’re not breaking anyone’s bank either,” he gave Dean a knowing nod, “that’s important, too, since most of these guys do this without making a dime, you know that better than most.”
Dean’s brows arched slightly and then furrowed as he read. He peered up at Bobby and then over to Ash, “These for real?” He passed the page to Ellen who pulled her glasses from the top of her head to look them over. She frowned as she read and finally let out an impressed huff.
“If these are realistic,” she handed the page back to Dean, “and Ash is not careless when it comes to the dollars, then,” she nodded, “I’d say you could have a winner here.”
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” Dean muttered and let out a long sigh. The sound of splintering glass pulled everyone’s attention toward the other side of the bar as fists began to fly. Dean was starting out of his seat before he remembered that he’d be able to do nothing in his current condition. He fell back with an exasperated sigh.
“HEY! IDIOTS!” Jo clanged the bell that was hanging from one of the wide pillars at the corner of the bar, “knock it off!”
The men paid her no heed as they careened passed the u-shaped structure and came startlingly close to the table where Dean and Ash were sitting. Both men were stocky and seemingly evenly matched but the dark-headed one definitely seemed to have either brute strength or a hotter temper giving him the edge over the blond. Dean rolled his chair over to the side of the booth and loosened one of his arm rests as the blond on the receiving end of a resounding uppercut landed him to the right of the wheelchair. Unperturbed, his dark-headed attacker came after him only to be stopped when Dean took his feet right out from underneath him.
“The lady said to knock it off,” Dean growled as the man looked up with eyes wide with shock. He started to sit up with his fist drawn back. Dean brandished the metal chair arm, “Ah-ah-ah,” he cocked a brow at the miscreant, “it’s time for you to be leavin’,” Dean nodded curtly, “you’re disturbing my peace.”
The man snorted as he pulled himself up to his feet, “You’re a gimp! You got lucky!”
Ash groaned as he sat back in the booth and pulled his papers toward him. Dean looked at the man through narrowed eyes, “I took you down without standing up and without breaking a sweat.” He tilted his head to study the idiot in front of him, “You sure you want to try this again?” From the corner of his eye, he saw the blond getting up. “I suggest you stay where you are,” Dean pointed to him without turning, “your friend, here, is about to leave.”
As the dark-headed ‘idiot’ threw a punch aimed for Dean, his solar plexus met the stainless steel of reinforced bar of the wheelchairs armrest. As he doubled over trying to get his breath the distinct ratcheting sound of a shotgun being primed rumbled through the now silenced bar.
“Bobby,” Dean said quietly, “would you see these two out?”
“With pleasure,” he slid out of his chair and took the winded one by his upper arm. He called out to another hunter, “Cutty! Gimme a hand, yeah?”
Bobby hustled his charge to the door and unceremoniously pushed him out, “Git! Do NOT come back here!”
Cutty was a Roadhouse regular. He and Bobby had known each other a long time. He’d started toward the fracas and as Bobby called out to him he smoothed his cap back on his head, stood to his full six foot height and strode over to pull the blond up from the floor. The man kept his head down as Cutty clenched his hand around the man’s arm and dragged him out the door repeating the same warning that Bobby had just issued to his partner. As both men stumbled into the dark, he and Bobby readjusted their caps and came back in to fresh beers waiting for them.
“Nice work,” Ellen gave each man a nod as they took their beers. She took her daughter around the waist and led her behind the bar. The rifle was uncocked and set in its usual place.
It was another few seconds before the bar resumed its usual hum of chatter and clinking glasses. Bobby slid back into his seat and Cutty folded his lanky frame onto the bench seat and joined them. Dean replaced the arm of his chair and took a slow pull on his beer. He caught the two older men watching him.
“What?”
Ash cleared his throat and let out a soft snort.
Dean’s brows furrowed, “What?”
“That was Righteous,” Ash saluted him, “you took out that asshat without leaving The Chair.”
Dean snorted dismissively, “He was an ass, Ash.”
Ash pursed his lips and shook his head, “No.” He shoved the papers back in front of Dean, “You’re just that good at what you do. You’re a warrior in the best sense and that’s not me blowin’ sunshine up your ass. You were meant for this, to do this training. Call it fate or whatever, but this is your shot at making a living and still doing what you do best.”
Dean took a gulp of his beer and noticed the smirk on Bobby’s face. He looked down at the papers strewn over the table and back up at Bobby.
“Yeah?”
Bobby readjusted his cap and rifled through the papers, pulling one out and shoving it in front of Dean. “It’s a good idea. You’re good at it. There’s definitely a need…”
“Is this the hunter training,” Cutty asked interrupting.
Dean’s eyes snapped up at him, “How,” he glowered at Ash, “You didn’t…”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Cutty continued, “I gotta nephew who wants in and I can’t train him,” he slapped his leg, “gamey hip. The boy’ll get himself killed if he goes out on his own. And his Daddy’s useless in the field.”
Dean looked narrowly at Cutty, “And you’d pay?”
“Damn right, I would!”
“Me?”
Cutty looked into Dean’s questioning eyes. He could see the almost hope in the young hunter.
Dean felt the old hunter’s eyes assessing him, taking in what he saw, the damaged man that was wheelchair bound. He could feel heat flush over his neck as Cutty’s gaze raked over him. “Well, son, you been in this game since you’re a tyke. Now, I don’t wanta talk bad about your daddy, his attitude leaves a lot to be desired. He’s secretive, doesn’t want to share or collaborate, but he trained you well. You been on your own now for a time and,” he waved his beer bottle up and down his body, “you know the danger of hunting alone, and you’re still here to tell the tale.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Lemme finish.” Cutty took a swift gulp of his beer and his gaze narrowed on Dean, “Look a man that can stay alive the way you have,” he looked over and gave the hacker a nod, “Ash called it, Dean,” he locked onto the young hunter, “you’re a warrior. You’ve got skills. And you can hold your own. Why not pass it on and make a little legit cash.” He put his bottle down, “And we need young’uns like yourself that are smart and strong. Maybe it can get us out of the shadows and, hell, I don’t know, get the respect we’re due for doin’ like we do.”
Dean’s brows arched slightly listening to Cutty. He was a little ashamed of the warm feeling the man’s words put in this chest. Smart and Strong. Strong, yeah. Smart? That’s Sammy.
“And I rest my case,” Ash’s brows bounced as he tipped his beer to Dean. He shook out his mullet, “So, now, quit trying to convince us that you’re not good enough to do this. Just believe us when we tell you that you are good enough.”
Ash’s relentless prodding continued as he pushed page after page in front of him. Finally, Dean leaned his elbows on the table and looked Bobby straight in the eyes, “So, I guess I’m doing this, then.”
Bobby gave him a nod and grinned around the bottle as he took another swig, “I guess you are.”
Cutty gave Dean a congratulatory slap on the back and handed his empty to Jo who’d brought a fresh round for the entire table. She looked from Ash to Dean, “You’re gonna do it?”
Dean’s eyes snapped up at the excitement in her voice. He gave her a curt nod and a small smile, “Winchester Hunting School, at your service.”
Jo let out a throaty chuckle. She handed him a fresh brew, “I want to be your first.”
“Well, darlin’,” Dean grinned, “that ship’s sailed …”
“Idiot,” she back-handed his shoulder, “I meant your first student!” She rolled her eyes as she collected the empties, “Get your mind out of my pants, wouldjya, Winchester!” Turning from the table she ran into her mom and leaned in and whispered, “He’d gonna do it. The school and I’m going to be the first to sign up!”
“Over my dead body!”
Dean whirled around to face Ellen. He thought of her almost like a surrogate mother. Her words cut his new confidence to the quick. “Ellen, I…” any words caught in his throat, “I would… wouldn’t let, uhm,” he forced himself to smile, “she’s just yanking your chain.”
Ellen took in the sliver of pain that skimmed into Dean’s eyes that was gone before she could blink, “Oh, hon,” she clapped a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I think the school’s a great idea. And there’s few better than you to train would-be-hunters into actual hunters, but not my Joanna Beth.”
Dean nodded slowly, “I understand. I get it. It’s okay. I know you wouldn’t want anything to happen to her.” He dipped his head as he turned back to the silenced table. “So. A name?”
“I’m signing up for the school,” Jo announced to her mother and there was no doubt or hesitation in her voice, “I’m of age. I don’t need your permission and if there’s few better than Dean, then why shouldn’t he teach me!” She stripped off her dishtowel apron and shoved at her mother, “You can’t keep me a little girl forever!”
Ellen grabbed Jo by her elbow and pulled her back, “I am not losing you to some ghost or creature or whatever it is that’s going to come between you and living!”
“Jo,” Dean said quietly, “you don’t want to do this.” He spun his chair around to look between the two most important women in his life, “It’s a terrible life. Do…do something good. Do something fun, make some money. Be safe.” It nearly killed him to tell her not to hunt. He knew how much she wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps. He gave a small smile to Ellen, “M’sorry.” He spun his chair back to the table and quietly took a sip of his beer. The silence in their little corner of the Roadhouse had never been so completely void of sound.
“Damn,” Bobby murmured as he looked at the devastated look in Dean’s eyes. He looked up at Ellen and saw fear in every line of her gently aging face. His eyes slid to Jo who nearly vibrated with fury.
“Ellen,” he adjusted his cap, “she’d gonna hunt whether you say so or not. Let her be safe. Let Dean help her.” He looked from Dean to Ellen to Jo, “You trust him, donchya?”
“Of course!”
“Then trust him with Jo.”
Dean heard the sigh that left Ellen’s lips. He resisted the temptation to look at her or Jo. He didn’t blame Ellen for wanting to keep Jo safe. He just never imagined thinking that she didn’t trust him would hurt so much.
He felt a hand on his arm. He knew it was Ellen’s before he even glanced over.
“Dean,” she let out a soft sigh as she sank into the chair next to him, “I trust you. I do. I just,” she let out a ragged breath, “I can’t lose her, you know that, right?”
Dean gave her a tight lipped nod. “I’ll do everything I can to help her, you know that.”
Ellen nodded and sucked in a deep breath, “I do.” She gave his arm a motherly pat and squeeze, “Forgive a worried mother.”
“Always.” Dean gave her a small smile. “She’ll be fine.” He looked up at Jo, “She’s smart. Fast. Good shot.” He looked back at Ellen, “She’ll be fine.”
Ellen nodded and slapped her hand on the table, “Well, I certainly put a damper on things, huh?”
“You couldn’t’ave done any better if you were plannin’ it,” Bobby groused.
Ellen pushed her hair back and tied a ponytail holder around it, “So, we need to name this school of yours, hmm?” She gave an encouraging smile to Dean, “You know, I can help you out with the books, ordering supplies and such.”
Dean’s brows rose in surprise, “That’d be great, Ellen.” He gave her a shy smile, “Thanks.”
“You’re my boy, too,” she gave his arm another squeeze, “I just lost my mind for a minute.” She turned toward her daughter who was still standing looking a bit shell-shocked, “Well, Joanna Beth, don’t just stand there. Get these boys something to drink!”
Ash took the bull by the horns and got them back on track, “All rightey, folks.” He pushed a single sheet of paper to the middle of the table, “First things first. The school needs a name. I was thinking something really catchy that people could remember.” He slapped another sheet of paper down for all to see, “How about The Real Ghost Busters.” His brows bounced as he spun the paper towards Dean, “Catchy, huh?”
“No.” Dean pushed the page back to him. Bobby covered his mouth to hide a smile. Cutty chocked back a chuckle.
Ash’s brows folded in confusion, “Not catchy? Really? Look, the logo is great!”
“No,” Dean covered the picture with his hand, “no it’s not catchy. It is not going to be the name of any school I’m going to have anything to do with.”
Cutty broke in, “It’s cute, Ash, but this is serious business. It needs a serious name.”
Ash frowned and nodded, “Okay, okay.” He swept through another batch of papers, “Just remember, people remember cute.” He shrugged, “Maybe it’s better for the actual service and not the school. Yeah,” he murmured mostly to himself. “How about this then,” he slapped the page down in the center, “Winchester's Institute for Supernatural Exterminators.” He gave Bobby a nod and a wink, “We are WISE,” he bounced his brows ignoring the groan that came from Dean, “How’s that for serious, Cutty?”
Dean grimaced, “We are WISE?” He shuddered, “Dude! Seriously?” He muttered a bit under his breath but still audible enough to hear snippets of ‘wise’ and ‘exterminators’ with a distinct timbre of annoyance.
“You’re kidding, right,” Bobby muttered as he turned the page over and grabbed a pen from his pocket, “WISE, that bit’s funny, but the whole thing? What a mouthful. How about something real simple.” He scratched quickly across the page and slid it over to Dean when he finished.
Ash snorted as he peeked at the page. “No, nu-nu-no!” He grabbed another piece of paper, “It needs to be something unique, something people will remember!” He thought for a moment. He swept his hand through the air, “Venatus Academy for the Special Game Hunter.” He looked over at Bobby with a self-satisfied grin, “Hmm? You see? That’s a name they’ll remember!”
Cutty snorted, “Assuming that the would-be hunter even knows basic bastardized Latin!” He looked at Bobby’s paper, “I like this. Simple. Easy to remember. It’s got Dean’s name on it, it’s a sign of integrity.”
Dean carefully took the page Bobby had written on and started to sketch as the others bandied around various other names. When Ash offered Supernatural Exterminators again, he looked up briefly and just said ‘no’ and resumed sketching.
“Whataya got there, son,” Bobby asked as Dean furiously shaded and then quickly wrote something under the picture. He turned it to Bobby.
“I like Bobby’s name with one change.” He watched the man’s expression for approval or not. He saw Bobby’s brows raise slightly before he squinted at him in his usual way.
“It’s not necessary,” the old hunter said gruffly, “this is your deal.”
“Our deal,” Dean insisted. He nodded to the paper, “Whataya think?”
Bobby nodded and put the page in the center of the table, “I like it.” He smirked as he looked at the man that was like a son to him, “I think you’ve thought about this a lot more than you let on, hmm?”
Dean shrugged and dipped his head as he scrubbed at his stubble, “A little bit. Yeah.”
Ash picked up the paper with a low whistle, “This is awesome, man! I will fear no evil, so cool!”
Bobby took the page back and scribbled on it, “I like this better.” He scratched out Dean’s addition of ‘Singer’ and moved it to after ‘Winchester’.
Dean didn’t hide his surprise, “Winchester-Singer Hunter Training?”
“Mm.” Bobby adjusted his cap as he always did when he was making a decision.
Dean held his gaze as Ellen reached passed him to take the drawing, “Thanks, Bobby.”
The older hunter shrugged one shoulder, “It’s the way it should be.”
“Good drawing, Dean,” Ellen said as she titled the page to look at it straight on, “excellent insignia.” She gave Dean a quick one armed hug, “I think we have a Hunter’s School.”
Dean took a sip of his now warm beer, “Now all we need are students.”
End, Part Four
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Thank you for reading... I would adore hearing what you thought! Comments are a writer's currency!
Cast: Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ash, Jo Harvelle, Ellen Harvelle, Rufus Turner, others
Rating: Teen and Up | Warnings: None
Word Count: 3,572 (this chapter) | Total Chapters: 5 | WIP
Story Art: By author unless noted otherwise.
Also on: AO3
Author's Note: Apologies! For anyone still reading this story, my endless apologies for taking so long to update this story! Believe it or not real life really did get in the way in the past year! This chapter is extra long for this story. I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading, Lisa
Dean twisted the longneck bottle between his palms. It was good to be out of the house and not at a hospital. A night at The Roadhouse was just the ticket to itchy feet and ragged thoughts. And another week of PT had gotten his legs into better fighting shape than they’d been. Plus, he was two weeks ahead of schedule. By the end of the week he expected to be out of the chair. He could already use a cane for short trips like to the bathroom.
He couldn’t wait to get out of the butt-wheels as Ash trippingly called them. “Just for ya, bud,” Ash tossed another batch of printouts in front of him. “And,” Ask sat and tipped his bottle toward the juke behind them, “wait for it.” He smiled and wiggled his brows as the familiar and beloved strains of Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song screamed across the bar. “Had Ellen put some in just for your listening pleasure!”
Dean gave him a nod and tipped his bottle to Ellen. “So, what’s all of this,” he pulled the new material Ash laid out for him on the scarred table.
“These, my man,” Ash shuffled through one of the stacks and pulled out one sheet, “are some possible names for you,” he pulled out another stapled batch of papers, “and these are some of the people that I know that you know, that are looking for hunters.” He leaned in toward Dean, “Trained hunters.”
Dean looked over the paperwork that Ash had tossed in front of him as the hacker babbled on about the hunting school. Looking over the list of names he found himself nodding at the names he recognized. He was a little surprised at how many he knew.
“So,” Bobby’s voice cut through his thoughts, “I think this could work.”
Dean snorted again, “For the last four days you guys have been yammerin’ about this and I gotta tell ya,” he looked at Bobby, “and no disrespect, but I don’t see it.”
Ash grinned, “Now, see, I have to admit I was kinda hopin’ you would say that!”
“Say, what?”
“You talkin’ about that damn fool training idea,” Ellen’s whiskey burnished voice interrupted Ash as she slid into the booth.
“See!” Dean pointed to Ellen and shot her a brilliant grin, “At last! Someone who’s got sense!” He tipped his beer in salute to her before taking a deep pull from it. “Thank you, Ellen! Now, talk to these two,” he jerked his thumb at Bobby and Ash.
“It’s not a damn fool idea,” Ash said sounding offended, “it’s not any more foolish than hunting alone or having some other hunter on your territory who’s an idiot.”
Ellen nodded with a slight frown of thought, “He’s got a point there, son.”
“Com'again,” Dean spat as his shoulders drew back, “two seconds ago,” he looked at her narrowly, “you were on my side.”
“And I still am,” Ellen smirked, “hunting alone is dangerous.” She tipped her beer at him, “I think we can all attest to that.”
“Dean!” Ash pushed a sheaf of papers that he’d culled from the pile, “Look at the numbers. They do not lie, my friend.” He shoved the first page in front of his friend, “Numbers of possible earnings. Real money. And you’re not breaking anyone’s bank either,” he gave Dean a knowing nod, “that’s important, too, since most of these guys do this without making a dime, you know that better than most.”
Dean’s brows arched slightly and then furrowed as he read. He peered up at Bobby and then over to Ash, “These for real?” He passed the page to Ellen who pulled her glasses from the top of her head to look them over. She frowned as she read and finally let out an impressed huff.
“If these are realistic,” she handed the page back to Dean, “and Ash is not careless when it comes to the dollars, then,” she nodded, “I’d say you could have a winner here.”
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” Dean muttered and let out a long sigh. The sound of splintering glass pulled everyone’s attention toward the other side of the bar as fists began to fly. Dean was starting out of his seat before he remembered that he’d be able to do nothing in his current condition. He fell back with an exasperated sigh.
“HEY! IDIOTS!” Jo clanged the bell that was hanging from one of the wide pillars at the corner of the bar, “knock it off!”
The men paid her no heed as they careened passed the u-shaped structure and came startlingly close to the table where Dean and Ash were sitting. Both men were stocky and seemingly evenly matched but the dark-headed one definitely seemed to have either brute strength or a hotter temper giving him the edge over the blond. Dean rolled his chair over to the side of the booth and loosened one of his arm rests as the blond on the receiving end of a resounding uppercut landed him to the right of the wheelchair. Unperturbed, his dark-headed attacker came after him only to be stopped when Dean took his feet right out from underneath him.
“The lady said to knock it off,” Dean growled as the man looked up with eyes wide with shock. He started to sit up with his fist drawn back. Dean brandished the metal chair arm, “Ah-ah-ah,” he cocked a brow at the miscreant, “it’s time for you to be leavin’,” Dean nodded curtly, “you’re disturbing my peace.”
The man snorted as he pulled himself up to his feet, “You’re a gimp! You got lucky!”
Ash groaned as he sat back in the booth and pulled his papers toward him. Dean looked at the man through narrowed eyes, “I took you down without standing up and without breaking a sweat.” He tilted his head to study the idiot in front of him, “You sure you want to try this again?” From the corner of his eye, he saw the blond getting up. “I suggest you stay where you are,” Dean pointed to him without turning, “your friend, here, is about to leave.”
As the dark-headed ‘idiot’ threw a punch aimed for Dean, his solar plexus met the stainless steel of reinforced bar of the wheelchairs armrest. As he doubled over trying to get his breath the distinct ratcheting sound of a shotgun being primed rumbled through the now silenced bar.
“Bobby,” Dean said quietly, “would you see these two out?”
“With pleasure,” he slid out of his chair and took the winded one by his upper arm. He called out to another hunter, “Cutty! Gimme a hand, yeah?”
Bobby hustled his charge to the door and unceremoniously pushed him out, “Git! Do NOT come back here!”
Cutty was a Roadhouse regular. He and Bobby had known each other a long time. He’d started toward the fracas and as Bobby called out to him he smoothed his cap back on his head, stood to his full six foot height and strode over to pull the blond up from the floor. The man kept his head down as Cutty clenched his hand around the man’s arm and dragged him out the door repeating the same warning that Bobby had just issued to his partner. As both men stumbled into the dark, he and Bobby readjusted their caps and came back in to fresh beers waiting for them.
“Nice work,” Ellen gave each man a nod as they took their beers. She took her daughter around the waist and led her behind the bar. The rifle was uncocked and set in its usual place.
It was another few seconds before the bar resumed its usual hum of chatter and clinking glasses. Bobby slid back into his seat and Cutty folded his lanky frame onto the bench seat and joined them. Dean replaced the arm of his chair and took a slow pull on his beer. He caught the two older men watching him.
“What?”
Ash cleared his throat and let out a soft snort.
Dean’s brows furrowed, “What?”
“That was Righteous,” Ash saluted him, “you took out that asshat without leaving The Chair.”
Dean snorted dismissively, “He was an ass, Ash.”
Ash pursed his lips and shook his head, “No.” He shoved the papers back in front of Dean, “You’re just that good at what you do. You’re a warrior in the best sense and that’s not me blowin’ sunshine up your ass. You were meant for this, to do this training. Call it fate or whatever, but this is your shot at making a living and still doing what you do best.”
Dean took a gulp of his beer and noticed the smirk on Bobby’s face. He looked down at the papers strewn over the table and back up at Bobby.
“Yeah?”
Bobby readjusted his cap and rifled through the papers, pulling one out and shoving it in front of Dean. “It’s a good idea. You’re good at it. There’s definitely a need…”
“Is this the hunter training,” Cutty asked interrupting.
Dean’s eyes snapped up at him, “How,” he glowered at Ash, “You didn’t…”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Cutty continued, “I gotta nephew who wants in and I can’t train him,” he slapped his leg, “gamey hip. The boy’ll get himself killed if he goes out on his own. And his Daddy’s useless in the field.”
Dean looked narrowly at Cutty, “And you’d pay?”
“Damn right, I would!”
“Me?”
Cutty looked into Dean’s questioning eyes. He could see the almost hope in the young hunter.
Dean felt the old hunter’s eyes assessing him, taking in what he saw, the damaged man that was wheelchair bound. He could feel heat flush over his neck as Cutty’s gaze raked over him. “Well, son, you been in this game since you’re a tyke. Now, I don’t wanta talk bad about your daddy, his attitude leaves a lot to be desired. He’s secretive, doesn’t want to share or collaborate, but he trained you well. You been on your own now for a time and,” he waved his beer bottle up and down his body, “you know the danger of hunting alone, and you’re still here to tell the tale.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Lemme finish.” Cutty took a swift gulp of his beer and his gaze narrowed on Dean, “Look a man that can stay alive the way you have,” he looked over and gave the hacker a nod, “Ash called it, Dean,” he locked onto the young hunter, “you’re a warrior. You’ve got skills. And you can hold your own. Why not pass it on and make a little legit cash.” He put his bottle down, “And we need young’uns like yourself that are smart and strong. Maybe it can get us out of the shadows and, hell, I don’t know, get the respect we’re due for doin’ like we do.”
Dean’s brows arched slightly listening to Cutty. He was a little ashamed of the warm feeling the man’s words put in this chest. Smart and Strong. Strong, yeah. Smart? That’s Sammy.
“And I rest my case,” Ash’s brows bounced as he tipped his beer to Dean. He shook out his mullet, “So, now, quit trying to convince us that you’re not good enough to do this. Just believe us when we tell you that you are good enough.”
Ash’s relentless prodding continued as he pushed page after page in front of him. Finally, Dean leaned his elbows on the table and looked Bobby straight in the eyes, “So, I guess I’m doing this, then.”
Bobby gave him a nod and grinned around the bottle as he took another swig, “I guess you are.”
Cutty gave Dean a congratulatory slap on the back and handed his empty to Jo who’d brought a fresh round for the entire table. She looked from Ash to Dean, “You’re gonna do it?”
Dean’s eyes snapped up at the excitement in her voice. He gave her a curt nod and a small smile, “Winchester Hunting School, at your service.”
Jo let out a throaty chuckle. She handed him a fresh brew, “I want to be your first.”
“Well, darlin’,” Dean grinned, “that ship’s sailed …”
“Idiot,” she back-handed his shoulder, “I meant your first student!” She rolled her eyes as she collected the empties, “Get your mind out of my pants, wouldjya, Winchester!” Turning from the table she ran into her mom and leaned in and whispered, “He’d gonna do it. The school and I’m going to be the first to sign up!”
“Over my dead body!”
Dean whirled around to face Ellen. He thought of her almost like a surrogate mother. Her words cut his new confidence to the quick. “Ellen, I…” any words caught in his throat, “I would… wouldn’t let, uhm,” he forced himself to smile, “she’s just yanking your chain.”
Ellen took in the sliver of pain that skimmed into Dean’s eyes that was gone before she could blink, “Oh, hon,” she clapped a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I think the school’s a great idea. And there’s few better than you to train would-be-hunters into actual hunters, but not my Joanna Beth.”
Dean nodded slowly, “I understand. I get it. It’s okay. I know you wouldn’t want anything to happen to her.” He dipped his head as he turned back to the silenced table. “So. A name?”
“I’m signing up for the school,” Jo announced to her mother and there was no doubt or hesitation in her voice, “I’m of age. I don’t need your permission and if there’s few better than Dean, then why shouldn’t he teach me!” She stripped off her dishtowel apron and shoved at her mother, “You can’t keep me a little girl forever!”
Ellen grabbed Jo by her elbow and pulled her back, “I am not losing you to some ghost or creature or whatever it is that’s going to come between you and living!”
“Jo,” Dean said quietly, “you don’t want to do this.” He spun his chair around to look between the two most important women in his life, “It’s a terrible life. Do…do something good. Do something fun, make some money. Be safe.” It nearly killed him to tell her not to hunt. He knew how much she wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps. He gave a small smile to Ellen, “M’sorry.” He spun his chair back to the table and quietly took a sip of his beer. The silence in their little corner of the Roadhouse had never been so completely void of sound.
“Damn,” Bobby murmured as he looked at the devastated look in Dean’s eyes. He looked up at Ellen and saw fear in every line of her gently aging face. His eyes slid to Jo who nearly vibrated with fury.
“Ellen,” he adjusted his cap, “she’d gonna hunt whether you say so or not. Let her be safe. Let Dean help her.” He looked from Dean to Ellen to Jo, “You trust him, donchya?”
“Of course!”
“Then trust him with Jo.”
Dean heard the sigh that left Ellen’s lips. He resisted the temptation to look at her or Jo. He didn’t blame Ellen for wanting to keep Jo safe. He just never imagined thinking that she didn’t trust him would hurt so much.
He felt a hand on his arm. He knew it was Ellen’s before he even glanced over.
“Dean,” she let out a soft sigh as she sank into the chair next to him, “I trust you. I do. I just,” she let out a ragged breath, “I can’t lose her, you know that, right?”
Dean gave her a tight lipped nod. “I’ll do everything I can to help her, you know that.”
Ellen nodded and sucked in a deep breath, “I do.” She gave his arm a motherly pat and squeeze, “Forgive a worried mother.”
“Always.” Dean gave her a small smile. “She’ll be fine.” He looked up at Jo, “She’s smart. Fast. Good shot.” He looked back at Ellen, “She’ll be fine.”
Ellen nodded and slapped her hand on the table, “Well, I certainly put a damper on things, huh?”
“You couldn’t’ave done any better if you were plannin’ it,” Bobby groused.
Ellen pushed her hair back and tied a ponytail holder around it, “So, we need to name this school of yours, hmm?” She gave an encouraging smile to Dean, “You know, I can help you out with the books, ordering supplies and such.”
Dean’s brows rose in surprise, “That’d be great, Ellen.” He gave her a shy smile, “Thanks.”
“You’re my boy, too,” she gave his arm another squeeze, “I just lost my mind for a minute.” She turned toward her daughter who was still standing looking a bit shell-shocked, “Well, Joanna Beth, don’t just stand there. Get these boys something to drink!”
Ash took the bull by the horns and got them back on track, “All rightey, folks.” He pushed a single sheet of paper to the middle of the table, “First things first. The school needs a name. I was thinking something really catchy that people could remember.” He slapped another sheet of paper down for all to see, “How about The Real Ghost Busters.” His brows bounced as he spun the paper towards Dean, “Catchy, huh?”
“No.” Dean pushed the page back to him. Bobby covered his mouth to hide a smile. Cutty chocked back a chuckle.
Ash’s brows folded in confusion, “Not catchy? Really? Look, the logo is great!”
“No,” Dean covered the picture with his hand, “no it’s not catchy. It is not going to be the name of any school I’m going to have anything to do with.”
Cutty broke in, “It’s cute, Ash, but this is serious business. It needs a serious name.”
Ash frowned and nodded, “Okay, okay.” He swept through another batch of papers, “Just remember, people remember cute.” He shrugged, “Maybe it’s better for the actual service and not the school. Yeah,” he murmured mostly to himself. “How about this then,” he slapped the page down in the center, “Winchester's Institute for Supernatural Exterminators.” He gave Bobby a nod and a wink, “We are WISE,” he bounced his brows ignoring the groan that came from Dean, “How’s that for serious, Cutty?”
Dean grimaced, “We are WISE?” He shuddered, “Dude! Seriously?” He muttered a bit under his breath but still audible enough to hear snippets of ‘wise’ and ‘exterminators’ with a distinct timbre of annoyance.
“You’re kidding, right,” Bobby muttered as he turned the page over and grabbed a pen from his pocket, “WISE, that bit’s funny, but the whole thing? What a mouthful. How about something real simple.” He scratched quickly across the page and slid it over to Dean when he finished.
Ash snorted as he peeked at the page. “No, nu-nu-no!” He grabbed another piece of paper, “It needs to be something unique, something people will remember!” He thought for a moment. He swept his hand through the air, “Venatus Academy for the Special Game Hunter.” He looked over at Bobby with a self-satisfied grin, “Hmm? You see? That’s a name they’ll remember!”
Cutty snorted, “Assuming that the would-be hunter even knows basic bastardized Latin!” He looked at Bobby’s paper, “I like this. Simple. Easy to remember. It’s got Dean’s name on it, it’s a sign of integrity.”
Dean carefully took the page Bobby had written on and started to sketch as the others bandied around various other names. When Ash offered Supernatural Exterminators again, he looked up briefly and just said ‘no’ and resumed sketching.
“Whataya got there, son,” Bobby asked as Dean furiously shaded and then quickly wrote something under the picture. He turned it to Bobby.
“I like Bobby’s name with one change.” He watched the man’s expression for approval or not. He saw Bobby’s brows raise slightly before he squinted at him in his usual way.
“It’s not necessary,” the old hunter said gruffly, “this is your deal.”
“Our deal,” Dean insisted. He nodded to the paper, “Whataya think?”
Bobby nodded and put the page in the center of the table, “I like it.” He smirked as he looked at the man that was like a son to him, “I think you’ve thought about this a lot more than you let on, hmm?”
Dean shrugged and dipped his head as he scrubbed at his stubble, “A little bit. Yeah.”
Ash picked up the paper with a low whistle, “This is awesome, man! I will fear no evil, so cool!”
Bobby took the page back and scribbled on it, “I like this better.” He scratched out Dean’s addition of ‘Singer’ and moved it to after ‘Winchester’.
Dean didn’t hide his surprise, “Winchester-Singer Hunter Training?”
“Mm.” Bobby adjusted his cap as he always did when he was making a decision.
Dean held his gaze as Ellen reached passed him to take the drawing, “Thanks, Bobby.”
The older hunter shrugged one shoulder, “It’s the way it should be.”
“Good drawing, Dean,” Ellen said as she titled the page to look at it straight on, “excellent insignia.” She gave Dean a quick one armed hug, “I think we have a Hunter’s School.”
Dean took a sip of his now warm beer, “Now all we need are students.”
End, Part Four
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