Stranger

Chapter 8

"You guys got room for three more?" Dean asks as the three climb out of the car.

"Wait, you wanna come with us?" Haley asks.

"Who are these guys?" The man, who Nevaeh hasn't met before, says. And girl, but ok.

"Apparently, this is all the Park Service could muster up for the search," the girl says, and Nevaeh grins. Sassy. She likes this girl.

"You're rangers?"

"That's right," Nevaeh answers the man.

"And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?" Haley asks Dean. Nevaeh turns to him with a raised eyebrow. Then she turns to Haley. "They make him feel less masculine." She ridicules which earns a chuckle from Haley.

Dean glares at Nevaeh, who takes off walking following after Sam, and then looks down at his pants. "Well, sweetheart, I don't do shorts," he says and starts walking past Haley, following after Nevaeh.

"Hey, Sam-ster," she says, finally catching up with his long strides, and he smiles, slowing down a bit. He offers her water. She shakes her head and pats her bag. "Already got some."

She looks down at her shoes. "Man, I need hiking boots."

She hears Dean's faint voice grow as everyone else begins to gain up on them.

"Excuse me," the man says, grabbing on to Nevaeh's backpack and stopping her in her tracks.

"You're excused," Nevaeh frowns as he steps in front of her. She looks up at Sam, whose jaw muscle is ticking from being clamped shut. His eyes are still trained on the man, glaring.

"Who's he supposed to be?" Nevaeh asks, and starts walking. She hadn't even did him anything. What the hell is his problem?

"He's supposed to be a helper. Isn't doing much helping, though," Sam scoffs.

"Hey, mister," Nevaeh calls after him.

"Roy," he corrects.

"Well, Roy," she jeers, "you said you did a little hunting."

"Yeah, more than a little."

"Uh-huh. What kind of furry critters do you hunt?"

"Mostly bucks, sometimes bear."

The corner of her lip curls, taunting. "Tell me, Bambi or Yogi ever hunt you back?" She steps over a log, and the man grips her bag aggressively, pulling her back again. Even as the man stares her down, her taunting grin doesn't waver. Her head tilts, her eyes squinted. If anything, the grin becomes even more taunting, almost challenging. Sam and Dean, on the other hand,  aren't grinning. Their expressions are mirrored, clenched jaws, eyes narrowed, and bodies tense and rigid.

"What'cha doing, Roy?" She asks, not breaking eye contact.

He finally lets her bag go, and bends down, her eyes following him as he jams a stick into the bear trap where, in an alternate universe, her left leg would be trapped between.

"Helping you out, little girl," he snarls and at that moment, her expression contorts into something bile. Little girl. She hates those words. "You should watch where you're steppin'."

"Sure thing," she spits, and he walks away. "Bear trap," she turns to Sam and looks back at Dean, shrugging and continues walking. When she glances over her shoulders, she sees Dean and Haley conversing.

As she strides next to Sam, following after that dickhead and deep in thought, she realizes something. "Hey, Sam," she asks, "do you ever have, like, weird dreams?"