Would You Say I'm Worth It

Animal I Have Become

Pedal to the floor board, Dean lays rubber as he speeds through the night. He and Sam have been laying low for a couple days now, recuperating from their last hunt. Dean was stir crazy, and started to break out into a cold sweat with a hint of nausea lingering in the back of his throat. He can't go through that again. Rumor has it, there's a psychic in the neighboring town who owns a specialty shop, and chances are she may have a lead on exactly what Dean needs. It's a forty minute drive or so from Rufus' cabin, Dean was going off of a road map and an address scribbled down inside their dad's hunting journal. He remembers going with John to this shop to restock on supplies occasionally, because she had things that nobody else had. Supernatural rarities are exactly what she specializes in.

As Dean rolls up to the little shop, tucked far back in an alley, memories come flooding back if the days he and his dad ran on hunts together. The place hadn't changed much, save for some new graffiti plastered on the brick walls on either side of Mama's shop door. Well, Marguerite - but she always scolded Dean and John, saying she preferred to be called Mama, because she took care of everyone. Dean smiles at the memory as he steps under the flickering neon sign, reading "Tarot Readings Inside" in the shape of the 'All Seeing Eye'.

A small bell tinkles enthusiastically as Dean pushes the door open, and he can hear a familiar voice call from the back.

"I'll be right out!"

Dean walks up to the glass case counter, drumming his fingers on it as he waits, eyes surfing the room. Marguerite emerges from behind a beaded curtain, body swaying as she limps up to the counter. Dean remembers now that she has an old leg injury, making her walk with a hard gimp. She was African American, probably closer to her eighties by now. Her hair was grayed and hung in thin dreadlocks that brushed just above her hips. She wears thick prescription glasses, so thick that they magnified her eyes, making them appear much larger than they actually were. She rattled from the several beaded necklaces she wore, and her loose fit, silk dress blew in the breeze of the vibrating fan on the counter.

Once she finally makes it to the counter, she opens her mouth to speak, before squinting her eyes. She leans forward, pulling her glasses down the bridge of her nose as her jaw drops open with a gasp.

"Oh my word! Is that lil' mister Dean Winchester?" She starts coming out from behind the counter, arms open out towards Dean.

He can't contain the huge smile that spreads across his face as he rushes forwards to meet her halfway. "Hey, Mama." He pulls her in tight as she rocks him in her embrace. She was short, head resting right at the bottom of Dean's sternum.

She let's out a happy little groan as she squeezes him tighter. "Oh, honey! Look how you've grown!"

She pulls back to hold Dean's face in her wrinkled hands, he rests his own hands on her wrists.

"So handsome, sweetie." She smiles at him adoringly, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Dean blushes with his hands in his pockets while he watches her walk back behind the counter. She's fumbling with her keys to unlock it.

"Hun, how long has it been? You were just a boy last time I saw you."

"Too long, Ma. Too long." He laughs as she begins pulling out trays of supplies - ashes, dirt, feathers, liquids...none were labeled because she didn't need labels. She knew exactly what was what, and how it worked.

"How's your daddy, hun? What bout' lil' Sammy? Last I heard he was off to college."

Dean's face falls. It really has been too long.

"Dad passed a few years back now. We uh...lost him after a hunt."

"Oh, baby-"

Dean quickly deflects the conversationabout John. "And Sammy was in law school, until the family business pulled him back out of it. He's all grown up now, Mama. You'd be proud. He's a damn good hunter."