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saoneTitle: When You Meet a Monster (1/1)
Author: Saone
Summary: Set post-movie/pre-series. How a hunter is born.
Fandoms: Supernatural, Friday the 13th
Characters: Dean Winchester/Clay Miller
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,094
Spoilers: None for Supernatural, a few for Friday the 13th.
Notes: This is the first fic I've written in over a year and I'm still shaking the rust off, so, many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tigriswolf for taking a look. Any mistakes left are mine.
________________________
Clay was 25 when he met his first monster. And not as in a euphemism for some sick fuck of a human, but a real monster. A dark thing born of a distraught mother’s twisted love for her son, and her undying hatred of everyone else.
The boy’s name was Jason, so that was what the monster was called too. Dean had a different name for it. Clay thought it sounded familiar, like it could have come out of those old EC horror comics he had read as a kid. He’d ask again later. Maybe get Dean to write it down. Maybe get him to list the other kinds of monsters he knows about. And the ways to kill them. Kill them all.
"Are you ready?"
Clay turns to look at the man who had saved him. Dean Winchester, bruised and bloodied, but still in once piece. Like Clay. More or less...
"Hey." Dean grips Clay's shoulder. "I'll take care of this, you can head back to the car."
"No," Clay says, "I should be the one... I need to be the one." Clay thinks about shrugging off Dean's hand, but he realizes he doesn't mind the touch that much. It's warm. Comforting. Human.
"All right," Dean says. His free hand reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a matchbook. He hands it to Clay. "Use the whole thing."
Clay nods. He takes the matches and opens them. There's a name and number on the inside of the cover. "Do you want-"
"Nah, man. Just do it."
"Right." Clay lights one of the matches then sticks it back into the book. He waits for a moment, until the flame glows big and bright, before dropping it on the thing at their feet. Both men backed away as the body starts to burn.
"This'll work, right?" Clay asks. "I mean, he'll be dead for good this time?"
"Salt and fire can purify most anything. That should be the end it it."
Clay feels a chill go up his spine. "Should?"
Dean nods. He seems unconcerned, and that helps ease Clay's mind. A bit.
"I've already got the coordinates written down, and I'll pass the info along to my dad and a couple of other hunters we know. Someone will be back to check on things." Dean's green eyes stare intently at Clay. "I promise. We don't do things half-assed."
"Yeah. Okay." Clay believes him. He has to. He wrinkles his nose as he gets a good whiff of burning flesh. "God, I can't-"
"C'mon, man." Dean puts an arm around Clay's back and starts to steer him away from the fire. "We don't have to stick around."
They walk through the woods, back towards Dean's beauty of a car, the huge black beast with an arsenal in the trunk. Clay still has trouble believing the sheer number and variety of weapons Dean has stored away. He watches as the hunter puts everything back into place with gentle, but capable hands.
"So, can I drop you somewhere?" Dean asks when he's finished. "Maybe take you back home?"
Clay looks off in the direction Trent's lake house is. "I need to get my bike, but I don't know where the keys are. I think I must have lost them when Jenna and I..." He swallows at the thought of the sweet girl who had tried to help him.
"I could probably get it started for you. Maybe." Dean shrugs. "I know how to hotwire a car, a motorcycle can't be all that different."
Clay can't help but smile at that. It's a small smile, but his heart suddenly feels a bit lighter. "You know how to hotwire a car?"
Dean grins. "It's a skill."
"You probably have a lot of those, don't you?" Clay says. "With what you do."
Dean moves around to the driver's side. "Well, there's not really anything that can be put on a resume, but-"
"Teach me," Clay says.
"How to hotwire-"
"How to be a hunter."
Dean freezes in the act of opening the car door. The gobsmacked look on his face would be comical if Clay wasn't depending so damn much on his answer.
"That's what you call it, right?" Clay asks. "You and your friends, you're hunters."
Dean gently closes the door and leans against the car's roof. "Clay, man-"
"I want to do what you do."
Dean scowled. "You have no idea what I do."
"I know you save people," Clay says, his voice rising. "You hunt things. You put down evil sons-of-bitches that have no right to exist in this world."
"Clay...." Dean shook his head. "I'm gonna take you home."
"What home?! My mom is buried, my sister-" Clay breaks off. He can feel his face crumple, and the helpless tears he had been holding back since this whole nightmare of an ordeal started begin to run down his face.
Dean gives him space, and Clay is grateful. The sobs subside after a minute, ending as quickly as they began. Clay uses the inside of his tee to rub at his eyes and nose. "I don't have a home. I don't have anything. Not anymore." He straightens his spine and throws his shoulders back. "If you don't want to teach me, then I'll find someone who will. Or I'll learn on my own."
"No you fucking will not!" Dean says. He rubs a hand over his face and Clay can just make out a muttered something about "Damn civilians."
Clay waits. He's pushing his luck, but he needs to know that Dean won't just drop him off as soon as they get back to civilization. He needs to know that the one person who knows what he went through, what he faced, will stick with him for a least a little while longer.
"Let's just...." Dean takes a deep breath. "We'll get your bike, and then we'll find someplace to crash--preferably with a bar close by--then... we'll see."
"Thank you," Clay says. He feels tension ease out of his shoulders.
Dean snorts. "Don't. Really, don't. Just get in the damn car. I'd like to find some liquor before the regret sets in."
Clay opens the door and takes one last look around the woods. He knows with completely certainty that he'll be the hunter that checks on this place, that makes sure the evil that plagued this area is really gone. He folds himself into Dean's Impala, settles into the leather seat, and hopes that when he does come back, he won't be alone.
Author: Saone
Summary: Set post-movie/pre-series. How a hunter is born.
Fandoms: Supernatural, Friday the 13th
Characters: Dean Winchester/Clay Miller
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,094
Spoilers: None for Supernatural, a few for Friday the 13th.
Notes: This is the first fic I've written in over a year and I'm still shaking the rust off, so, many thanks to
tigriswolf for taking a look. Any mistakes left are mine. ________________________
Clay was 25 when he met his first monster. And not as in a euphemism for some sick fuck of a human, but a real monster. A dark thing born of a distraught mother’s twisted love for her son, and her undying hatred of everyone else.
The boy’s name was Jason, so that was what the monster was called too. Dean had a different name for it. Clay thought it sounded familiar, like it could have come out of those old EC horror comics he had read as a kid. He’d ask again later. Maybe get Dean to write it down. Maybe get him to list the other kinds of monsters he knows about. And the ways to kill them. Kill them all.
"Are you ready?"
Clay turns to look at the man who had saved him. Dean Winchester, bruised and bloodied, but still in once piece. Like Clay. More or less...
"Hey." Dean grips Clay's shoulder. "I'll take care of this, you can head back to the car."
"No," Clay says, "I should be the one... I need to be the one." Clay thinks about shrugging off Dean's hand, but he realizes he doesn't mind the touch that much. It's warm. Comforting. Human.
"All right," Dean says. His free hand reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a matchbook. He hands it to Clay. "Use the whole thing."
Clay nods. He takes the matches and opens them. There's a name and number on the inside of the cover. "Do you want-"
"Nah, man. Just do it."
"Right." Clay lights one of the matches then sticks it back into the book. He waits for a moment, until the flame glows big and bright, before dropping it on the thing at their feet. Both men backed away as the body starts to burn.
"This'll work, right?" Clay asks. "I mean, he'll be dead for good this time?"
"Salt and fire can purify most anything. That should be the end it it."
Clay feels a chill go up his spine. "Should?"
Dean nods. He seems unconcerned, and that helps ease Clay's mind. A bit.
"I've already got the coordinates written down, and I'll pass the info along to my dad and a couple of other hunters we know. Someone will be back to check on things." Dean's green eyes stare intently at Clay. "I promise. We don't do things half-assed."
"Yeah. Okay." Clay believes him. He has to. He wrinkles his nose as he gets a good whiff of burning flesh. "God, I can't-"
"C'mon, man." Dean puts an arm around Clay's back and starts to steer him away from the fire. "We don't have to stick around."
They walk through the woods, back towards Dean's beauty of a car, the huge black beast with an arsenal in the trunk. Clay still has trouble believing the sheer number and variety of weapons Dean has stored away. He watches as the hunter puts everything back into place with gentle, but capable hands.
"So, can I drop you somewhere?" Dean asks when he's finished. "Maybe take you back home?"
Clay looks off in the direction Trent's lake house is. "I need to get my bike, but I don't know where the keys are. I think I must have lost them when Jenna and I..." He swallows at the thought of the sweet girl who had tried to help him.
"I could probably get it started for you. Maybe." Dean shrugs. "I know how to hotwire a car, a motorcycle can't be all that different."
Clay can't help but smile at that. It's a small smile, but his heart suddenly feels a bit lighter. "You know how to hotwire a car?"
Dean grins. "It's a skill."
"You probably have a lot of those, don't you?" Clay says. "With what you do."
Dean moves around to the driver's side. "Well, there's not really anything that can be put on a resume, but-"
"Teach me," Clay says.
"How to hotwire-"
"How to be a hunter."
Dean freezes in the act of opening the car door. The gobsmacked look on his face would be comical if Clay wasn't depending so damn much on his answer.
"That's what you call it, right?" Clay asks. "You and your friends, you're hunters."
Dean gently closes the door and leans against the car's roof. "Clay, man-"
"I want to do what you do."
Dean scowled. "You have no idea what I do."
"I know you save people," Clay says, his voice rising. "You hunt things. You put down evil sons-of-bitches that have no right to exist in this world."
"Clay...." Dean shook his head. "I'm gonna take you home."
"What home?! My mom is buried, my sister-" Clay breaks off. He can feel his face crumple, and the helpless tears he had been holding back since this whole nightmare of an ordeal started begin to run down his face.
Dean gives him space, and Clay is grateful. The sobs subside after a minute, ending as quickly as they began. Clay uses the inside of his tee to rub at his eyes and nose. "I don't have a home. I don't have anything. Not anymore." He straightens his spine and throws his shoulders back. "If you don't want to teach me, then I'll find someone who will. Or I'll learn on my own."
"No you fucking will not!" Dean says. He rubs a hand over his face and Clay can just make out a muttered something about "Damn civilians."
Clay waits. He's pushing his luck, but he needs to know that Dean won't just drop him off as soon as they get back to civilization. He needs to know that the one person who knows what he went through, what he faced, will stick with him for a least a little while longer.
"Let's just...." Dean takes a deep breath. "We'll get your bike, and then we'll find someplace to crash--preferably with a bar close by--then... we'll see."
"Thank you," Clay says. He feels tension ease out of his shoulders.
Dean snorts. "Don't. Really, don't. Just get in the damn car. I'd like to find some liquor before the regret sets in."
Clay opens the door and takes one last look around the woods. He knows with completely certainty that he'll be the hunter that checks on this place, that makes sure the evil that plagued this area is really gone. He folds himself into Dean's Impala, settles into the leather seat, and hopes that when he does come back, he won't be alone.
