FADED ▷ Sam Winchester [2]

27 | TRUTH HURTS

"Actually I would," Mick says. "I did extensive research into lycanthropy at Kendricks."

"Kendricks?" Sam questions.

"The Kendricks School," Mick says. "It's where the British Men of Letters train their operatives. It's like our—"

"Hogwarts?" Sam says.

"Exactly," Mick says. Sam turns to look at Dean, a little impressed. "Kendricks has the largest collection of occult lore in the world."

"Cool," Sam says, turning to look at Dean, only to get a deadly bitchface.

"So, when it comes to werewolves, I'm not entirely ignorant," Mick claims. "For example, we know that last night's attack didn't happen on a full moon, therefore we're looking for a pure blood."

"You think?" Dean says. "Looks like a milk run to me."

"Then you don't mind if I tag along," Mick says.

Dean doesn't look like he wants that at all. I'm glad that Sam answers before Dean does.

"Listen, I don't think hunting is really your kind of thing," the younger Winchester says.

"Well then maybe it should be," Mick says. I'm a little surprised he said that. "I had the best team. But, most of us, we were thinkers, not fighters. And let's be honest, you and your mum, you're the only reason I'm still alive."

"So now you wanna be like us?" Dean asks.

Mick shakes his head. "No. I just wanna be ready for whatever's next."

Sam and Dean look at each other a moment before walking away to talk in private. I linger around Mick. He seems like an okay guy.

"They'll bring you," I say, my arms crossed. "Dean won't a hundred percent agree with it, but he'll still give you a chance."

"I hope so," he says, putting files and stuff away.

Dean tells Sam that if Mick's coming, that Sam can babysit him.

I doze off for some of the trip, but wake up and hear the boys talking to Mick. "Wait, this lore dates back to the sixteenth century?" Sam is asking.

"Yeah," Mick says. "Well, in Europe, everything's old. Though we do have our fair share of new tricks for dealing with wolves. Sulfate has, silver nitrate lethal injection."

"Take a handful of silver bullets over any of that fancy crap," Dean grumbles.

"Yes, well, thanks to that 'fancy crap', Britain's last werewolf outbreak was in the 20's. We rooted them out, bitten and pure blood alike."

"Wait a second, you killed them all?" Sam questions. "Even the ones that weren't hurting anyone?"

"Sorry?"

"I mean, werewolves aren't like most monsters," Sam says. "Some can control it. I mean, we have a buddy who got bit, nothing but beef hearts ever since."

"And you trust him?" Mick asks, surprised. "Well, killing is a fundamental need for werewolves, and monsters don't just stop being monsters."