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Okay, so some guy thinks he can save the world.
Please. Moira’s been on her fair share of blind dates over the years. She’s heard this line about a thousand times. Usually, they’re talking about being a lawyer or an activist or something like that. Usually, they’re not quite so literal.
But this is a seduction, she no longer doubts that. The question is, will this guy send her an unsolicited dick pic once this is over?
“So you’re just going to…what? Wave your magic wand and kiss the monsters goodbye? Because believe me, I wish it worked like that, but it doesn’t.”
The guy, Mick, she thinks he said his name was, shifts uncomfortably under her gaze. Maybe he’s not used to people looking at him like he’s naïve. Which, when you talk like this? Moira can’t believe he hasn’t gotten this response before.
“You’re not the first hunter we’ve approached.”
Moira rolls her eyes. “Way to make me feel special.”
He dumps another sugar packet in his tea—yes, tea, clearly this guy isn’t pure hunter—and gives it a stir, seemingly without realizing that he’s done it before.
“We’ve convinced Sam Winchester to join up.”
Moira chokes on her coffee. “Excuse me?”
“The one and only.”
Moira scoots her chair back from the table. She doesn’t need to hear any more of this.
“Where—where are you going?” Mick asks falteringly.
She scoops up her purse and stuffs one of her uneaten pieces of toast in the top. Hey, she’s hungry, and she’s not about to let free food go to waste, even if the guy who bought it is clearly insane.
“Are you out of your mind?” She just looks at him despairingly. “Dude. Those guys are bad news. Every crazy story you’ve heard over the last, I don’t know, ten years? Yeah, that’s them. Oh, someone freed Lucifer? Whoops, Sam was going for a walk and tripped over the switch to open the door. Oh, someone got out of Hell? Dean again! What a surprise!”
She yanks her jacket over her shoulders, ignoring the uncomfortable stretch of her stitches from that last tangle with a werewolf. Mick looks like he’s about to say something, so she cuts him off.
“Have I mentioned the fact that all their friends are dead?” She shakes her head. “Nope. Not for me. Unlike some people, I know what genre I’m in. And I’m not about to play the cute sidekick who gets murdered for drama.”
Not in this lifetime, pal. Moira makes a note to call up a few of her friends and warn them that some lunatic is out looking for gullible hunters.
Jody Mills likes to think that she has a pretty good BS meter. You have to, in her line of work. (That is, raising two teenaged daughters who think that if they work together, they can outwit her. They can’t. They can try, but they can’t.)
That said, the guy in front of her is off the charts.
“Nice to meet you.”
She extends her hand across the table. He has a floppy grip, but he doesn’t react to the silver ring on her pinkie finger, so this isn’t going as badly as it could be.
“Name’s Mick,” he says with a smile.
It’s probably supposed to be charming. It falls a little flat when she stares back, utterly skeptical.
“Let me paint you a picture—”
“I’d prefer if you just said what you meant. I have work in about an hour.”
He clears his throat. “A world. Without monsters. And it’s getting closer and closer every day.”
A few years ago, when she was just starting out, a proposal like that probably would have made Jody’s ears perk up. Now, she just looks at him.
“I work for an organization that has virtually eliminated the monster threat in Britain.”
“Which is the size of, what, Minnesota? And also on an island.”
Sue her if she’s skeptical. Jody has exactly zero intentions of getting involved in something so utterly stupid. The monster threat in America isn’t going away anytime soon; it’s certainly not going away because of people like this guy.
“We’ve recruited a few hunters so far. Like the Winchesters.”
Which is precisely when Jody’s suspension of disbelief snaps like a twig. “You think I’ll believe that? You’re stupider than I thought, Mick.”
He blinks at her, mouth opening and closing like he has something else he wants to say. Jody gets up from her seat, already buttoning up her coat. She’d never bothered to take it off in the first place.
“Sam and Dean might be stupid, too, but they ain’t that stupid,” she tells him with a laugh. “Go try that somewhere else.”
If this doesn’t work on a teenager, he has no idea who it’ll work on.
“Aren’t you a little young to be a hunter?”
The girl shoots him a withering look. “Aren’t you a little old for this little meetup to look normal?”
She glances pointedly around the diner. More than one head has turned to look at the pair of them. They clearly don’t look like a father-daughter duo out for a nice Sunday brunch. She crosses her arms.
“Try anything funny, and I’ll scream, got it?”
Mick nods. “Of course. Now—Claire Novak, yes?”
She glares at him. “Yeah. Only reason I’m here is to figure out how you know that.”
He reaches into his bag and pulls out a book. Claire’s eyes rove over the cover as her mouth twists.
“Is that thing annotated?”
He wouldn’t have been surprised to see her pop her gum. Mick clears his throat, putting the book away. The little that they have on Carver Edlund hasn’t come close to answering his questions. He’d been hoping that a one-off character as important as the vessel of an angel would be able to.
“You were possessed. By an angel.”
Claire narrows her eyes. “What do you want to know about Castiel?”
“Anything.” He leans conspiratorially across the table. “I know he took your father away, Claire. Which is why I think you’ll be a great help to me. I want to exterminate all the monsters in America, which means knowing their weaknesses.”
Claire shoots back from him so fast that the table might as well have been on fire. Mick watches in disbelief as she gathers her things, glaring so fiercely at him that he’s surprised a hole hasn’t burned through his head.
“You ever approach me again, and I’ll shoot you, clear?”
She storms towards the door. Mick shouts after her in a last ditch effort to get her to sit back down.
“The Winchesters are working with us!”
She scoffs. “Do your research next time, pal.”
Mick watches her go, shaking his head. Maybe the Winchesters aren’t the key to the hunting community he thought they were.