Chapter Eleven

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We're at the diner, but we don't meet inside. Instead, there's a group of people along the edge of the woods behind it.

"Won't this look a little shady?" I lean over and whisper to Dean. He shrugs and then waves at the group of hunters. Everyone grins and waves back.

"So," one says near the front, "let's talk strategy." He has an orange beard and short orange hair. The others are just as unique, despite how old some look - and how young some look. There's only one girl there other than me, but I get a feeling we won't have a lot in common. She looks super unhappy to be here, and a part of me doesn't blame her.

Returning to reality, I realize they've jumped head first into the discussion. Clearly I'm the only one not paying attention.

"We'll start at the head, then work our way down," says one of the men with gray hair. His mustache flutters a bit in the wind, and his accent is thick and southern. I think he's missing a few teeth.

"See, the problem with that," another hunter says, puffing smoke from his cigar into the air away from the group, "How do we know they're not ready for us?"

"We don't," Sam says, "but it's kind of the only thing we've got so far. Unless you, or someone else, has something better," he says, a hint of sass in his voice. I try not to smirk.

"But if they are," someone else says, "I guess we'll just have to be more prepared than them."

The only other girl steps forward, arms crossed. "Really? That's all you've guys got? I think we should try a less cliché approach."

"Less cliché?" the one who introduced the strategy says. "You're saying it like you have something better," he spits at her.

"Hey," Dean says, "let's just calm down, okay?"

"Yeah," I add, "and even if it is cliché, it's all we have for now. And personally, I think it's the best thing we'll have for a while. So, enough with the brainstorming. We need to get this strategy on the ground and rolling so we can knock them all out as soon as possible." My words are met with some impressive looks, and I stand up straighter.

After that, we all cooperate better and throw out multiple ideas for a strategy. A few people agree that the very first thing we do is find where and what the "head" is and as discreetly as we can, kill it. We've got multiple steps planned out by the time the sun sets.

When everyone's walking to their car, the hunter with the orange hair - I think his name's Phillip - approaches the three of us.

"You've got yourselves a nice little lady," he says to Dean and Sam. Then he looks to me fondly, "What's your name?"

I start to spit out a witty comeback, but Sam shoots me a glare as he speaks for me. "This is Chrys," he says.

"My girlfriend," Dean adds, his voice sounding intimidating.

Phillip gives Dean and me a confused look, like it's hard to believe. But, he seems to shrug it off. Then he shakes Sam and Dean's hands. "Nice seeing you two again," he says before holding a hand out to me. Reluctantly, I take it, and he smirks before walking away.

We get in the car, and I let out a huge sigh. "What even is that guy?" I say, rolling my eyes. Sam laughs. Once we're on the road, I hear Sam curse.

"I should've taken some notes," he says regretfully.

"Ugh, shut it, nerd," Dean says.

I giggle. "Don't worry, Sam," I say, "I've got a good memory. Oh, and photographic memory!"

"What?!" Dean says, swerving the car slightly as he turns to look back at me. "Are you.... are you serious? You have photographic memory? The thing where you remember everything you see?"

"Dean," Sam whines, nudging him before pointing to the road. Dean glancing to Sam before looking back out the windshield. "What's photographic memory even have to do with anything?" Sam adds, turning to me.

I shrug, "I'm a show off, I guess. I don't know." We smile at each other. Then he turns back around.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Dean says, slowing down to take a turn.

"I don't know," I say, staring out the window. A moment passes before I speak up again. "Dean," I start, turning from the window to him. "Why was Phillip so surprised to hear you had a girlfriend?"

"Well," Sam starts, staring over at Dean, "it's probably because Dean has a 'history'" - he puts air quotes around the word - "with girls." In the fading sunlight, I can see Sam smirk.

"No," Dean says stubbornly, "it's probably because, like, it's hard for hunters to date," he struggles to get the words out. "Because you're always moving and meeting new people and stuff. Not a lot of hunters live happily ever after with partners."

"Did your parents live happily ever after?" I ask softly, poking at the piercing in my cheek.

"Yeah," Dean says, smiling sadly. Sam does the same and then stares down at his hands in his lap.

"From experience," I start, talking softly still, like someone was asleep, "I don't think being a hunter and dating is hard. It's all about the people and their dedication to each other. Hunting shouldn't be part of that equation if their love is strong enough. Hell, it shouldn't be a part in any equation," I add at the end, staring out the window.

"I agree," Sam says wistfully, leaning his head on his window.

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