Thunderstruck
Dean decided two days into their trip that one thing he appreciated about Claire was that she didn't feel the need to fill a silence.
He also liked that she didn't get a disgusted look on her face when he bought a bunch of junk food for the road. That would be fairly hypocritical of her, considering her own growing pile of Slim-Jim wrappers stuffed in an empty soda cup. But thinking down that route just made him feel like shit, an all consuming guilt that made him yearn for Sam's banana peels and judgmental comments about cholesterol. Or Castiel's less-judgy informational bits about the nutrients contained in a bag of pork rinds. Yeah. So no thinking about how much he appreciated Claire's taste for junk food.
He did enjoy their silence though. For the whole first day of the trip, Claire simply kept the cassettes rolling. They didn't really need to talk about anything. That night they checked into a motel. Dean almost insisted on different motels or at least checking in an hour or two apart; Claire may no longer be a teen but it was still creepy enough that he didn't want anyone to get any ideas. But since the town they stopped in, like all the rest, was dealing with the immediate aftermath of... whatever this was, only one motel was open. And it was nearly booked solid. So, father-and-daughter story it was. Turns out, their concern was unnecessary given the state of things. Plenty of families looking for members who were dusted or who lived in other places and weren't answering phones.
Before they could leave the next morning, a hunter in Chicago called Dean for some help with a mass of Changelings that had retreated to the city where their mother was. As exasperating as it was, they took the detour knowing that hunter numbers were probably lower than ever, though neither of them had the morale at the moment to check on that. Three versus eleven turned out to be a lot harder than it looked, and it looked damn impossible. Tracking the mother once she realized they were on to her took about a week and a half. By the time they had finally burned the bitch, they were a little worse for the wear. Claire actually had two broken ribs. After some slightly forced recovery, Dean finally relented and resumed their journey, with Claire under strict oath not to strain herself, even if it meant notbeating up Captain America on sight. Not that she could have or that Dean would have let her try anyway, but he's sure she would have at least gone for one solid punch before anyone could intervene. So he made her lay down for around a week, in a new motel, which was one of the most unpleasant weeks of his life. Her constant glares, occasional cursing and hurtful comments, and daily attempts to get up and get going were nothing compared to the burning guilt, and petrifying fear that anything that could fix all this was beyond their capabilities.
Now, back in the car with a grumpy but marginally-less-murderous young adult in tow, he mostly just felt the fear. What if the Avengers couldn't help? Tony Stark wasn't even here and he was basically their leader, right? Yeah, yeah, Captain America was around but he failed, and everyone knew that Tony basically ran the team, even if Cap called most of the shots on the battlefield. The Avengers tried to stay out of the limelight, anyway, unless there was some major threat, like Loki or Ultron, or some of the secret leftover Hydra shit. They were like lazier, shittier hunters. It would be like if Sam and Dean only got up for big shit like new rogue demons taking over Hell or the Apocalypse 7.0, and let vigilantes like Spiderman or that red-leather guy deal with all the minor baddies, like vamps and spirits.
Dean thinks about and realizes that this isn't far off from the idea of letting Claire or younger hunters handle lower-level stuff, but if the Winchester's can, they will and do hunt everything. Elitism in choices of hunt is not a blessing that hunter's generally receive. They've hunted obscure creatures, every run-of-the-mill baddie in the book, goddamn insane humans, and everything else under the sun. Unlike the Avengers. Dean knows he is being a little harsh and irrational but he needs to put his fear and guilt somewhere, and the only option he sees is frustration and blame toward the Avengers.
At least Claire seems to agree with him.
As much as he hates to do so, he stretches this leg of the trip into two days instead of one. Every fiber of his being wants to drive, stay occupied and forget about resting until this mess was fixed. But Claire was obviously uncomfortable, even though she would never admit it and actively cursed him out when he did pull into yet another motel. Some day she would forgive him. He hopes.
So, nearly a month after the actual dusting, they finally arrived at the compound. It looked like fucking Area 51 or some shit with how heavily guarded it looked, but everything was deserted. They pulled up just inside the tree line on their one lane road, a few meters short of what looked like an impenetrable back gate.
"Think they have cameras on us?" Claire asked, with a gesture to the neat column of cameras pointing every direction on the left side of the gate.
"Maybe so, but no lights or movement on any of them? I think it's powered down. Or at least idle."
"Think it's worth the risk of trying to break in? This is Stark tech, after all. And we do kinda come in peace," she leveled.
"No, no, no- not kinda, we definitely come in peace. I swear to god if you go in there fists flailing I will bench your ass till the ribs are completely healed."
"You can't tell me what to do, Dean," she sighed.
"Yeah, watch me," Dean retorted, climbing out to go to the trunk. Claire followed him, trying to move smoothly but grunting in pain when she stood up.
"Claire for fuck's sake-" She walked around to look at the trunk with him, pulling out a pile of papers with various spells written on them. She didn't answer. Dean steeled himself and tried again, gentler this time.
"C'mon kid, I know this isn't the best situation-" Claire interrupted him then, monotonous and cold.
"You're not my dad. Shut up and stop acting like you are." She rifled through the papers more. Dean saw red then.
"Close enough! I know you have issues, kid, fuck, I have a laundry list of them too. We are in the shits right now. It fucking sucks what's going on but you being a dick about it isn't gonna change that! Jody, Sam, Jack, C-," his voice cracked and got watery, but he pushed on, angrier now, "Cas, they're all gone! I'm all you've got right now. And you're all I have too. So, please, Claire, just work with me, not against me on this. I really can't handle anything else at this point." Claire looked dumbstruck. With her actually compliant for the moment, he huffed, and yanked the paper she was looking for out of her stack. A cloaking spell.
Some symbols drawn on the Impala with water-based paint, and then their own arms with sharpie. They didn't think the Avengers would actually be hostile, but who knows what automated shit would try to keep them out or shoot them before they even got in. And maybe they wouldn't even let them in if they told them the truth. How many people were like them, coming to the Avengers for help?
Cloaking spells in place, Dean slowly approached the gate, hands up just in case. Closer, he pulled out another spell, one that Cas had adapted for him after a witch case a while back. One little symbol on the electrical panel, and it shorted out momentarily and the gate opened. Easy peasy.
They got back in the car and drove in. The gate closed behind them, back to its normal state of operation. The road inside the gate was deceptively long, but they eventually rolled up to the back of the compound. Nothing came out to greet them. Dean drove around side of the building, following the driveway.
He and Claire's jaws both dropped when they finally got around to the front of the building. In the yard was a literal space ship. It was massive, and the hatch was open, with a big ramp down to the ground. There was no one around though, no one coming out or going in. Just a big empty space ship.
Claire audibly swallowed, and Dean felt some sympathy cut through the anger and tension. This might be bigger than any of the shit that he's walked into, let alone her.
"Would it be in any way useful to attempt to persuade you to stay here?" Dean tried.
"Not a chance. If the big bad martian is here, I want a piece of it."
"Claire."
Her face softened. "Broken ribs. Yeah, I know. At least let me carry the grenade launcher?" A hint of a smile, the first he had seen since she showed up back at the bunker, ghosted her face. He felt his own crop up, too.
"I mean, if we're about to face Alien-Dick himself..." He felt himself giving in, excited as her smile began to grow. It was the first ounce of joy he had seen or felt in days. "Hold it on your good side, okay?"
"Yes! Holy shit, this is gonna be awesome."
"Don't say that yet, maybe grenades don't work on aliens."
"Grenades work on everything, Dean."
"Whatever you say." They got out, went to the trunk and geared up. Dean saddled Claire with the grenade launcher and a small handgun, warning her about the kickback from the launcher. She rolled her eyes but braced the weapon opposite her bad ribs. For himself, he had his own gun, and for good measure, the Colt, along with Castiel's angel blade in his sleeve, and a few hex bags in his pockets that produced small explosions with a little Celtic spoken aloud. He trusted Claire with the grenades, which spoke volumes about her growth as a hunter but also his confidence in her mental state. Armored up and still cloaked by the spell, they crept up to the door. The same spell from the gate opened the door easily enough. No alarms went off, and they crept inside. The first thing they heard was voices. Not far down the hall, they found a staircase. Up one floor and down another hall, they found the source. Sneaking up noiselessly, they peeked in to see a gruesome sight. Tony Stark, emaciated and sickly, was standing up, ripping out an IV and poking Captain America in the chest, yelling at him. Then he ripped off the arc reactor, turned around and promptly collapsed, and everyone was panicking. A blonde lady that Dean recognized as Pepper Potts, along with a black guy who he had seen with Tony on TV once or twice, came and helped him up and wheeled him away. The rest of the Avengers, along with a blue skinned girl were left in the room, silent. Dean looked to Claire and mouthed "three." They counted silently, then stalked calmly into the room, weapons not up but held ready. Every eye turned to them and Captain America and Black Widow immediately assumed defensive positions. Thor held up his... not hammer, but an axe? That was new. And a petite girl with dirty blonde hair stalked to the front of the group with her hands on her hips. Steve gave her a wary look before bringing his eyes back to Dean. They could also see Bruce Banner, and a fucking raccoon of all things. Tony and the other two had disappeared through another door.
"I'm gonna ask this one time. Who are you, and how did you get in here?" The Captain's voice was steely and self-righteous and it made Dean's blood boil. All that displaced guilt, self-hatred, regret and fear came back full force. He almost couldn't speak, it overwhelmed him so much. Claire luckily had found that angry and domineering tone back that made him more than a little proud of her.
"We're hunters. We came in through the gates. Your little fight with that intergalactic dick got our family turned to dust. We want to know how you plan to fix it." She finished with an evil smirk, but Dean knew she felt no joy, just fear.
Bruce spoke up from the back. "The security here is flawless. Even unmanned no one can get in unless they have specific authorization." He stepped forward, not green at all but still intimidating in a way that seemed unfitting of the friendly-looking guy. "So let's try again. How did you get in?"
Thor raised his axe a little higher and blonde chick and Black Widow both took steps forward. Dean took a step in front of Claire then, ignoring her rolled eyes.
"Like she said, we're hunters. We have spells that keep us from being detected, and stuff to get through your gates. Not because we mean you harm, but in case you tried to turn us away."
"You're really doing a lot to make us want to take you in." Black Widow said dryly.
"Is that a grenade launcher?" came a voice from their right, and Dean nearly dropped his gun altogether when he saw that it had come from the raccoon, who jumped up and walked over to Claire. She stumbled back a little but and it- he? Just stayed there and checked out the weapon. "You brought a fucking grenade launcher and you want us to believe you don't wanna smack us around a bit?" He laughed a mean, mocking laugh and the blue lady in the back finally stood up, walking around to Captain America's side.
"Why do you have these weapons?" she asked.
"We were just gonna go with the basics but when we saw the space ship outside-" Claire shrugged, though the nonchalance of it was dampened by the grenade launcher.
"You thought Thanos might be in here," the raccoon grizzled out. He chuckled with no humor. "Supposed that's fair. Well for fuck's sake put the goddamn guns away. We aren't Thanos and we want him dead as much as you do." Dean could swear that the only look on his face was screaming what the fuck, as he stared at the raccoon that stalked away, hopping up onto the table to stand next to the blue girl.
Claire lowered the weapon and clicked the safety on. She shouldered it on her back. Dean stowed his gun back in his waistband, safety on.
"You brought a grenade launcher?" Bruce said shakily.
Claire shrugged again. Dean huffed a chuckle at her and the dumbfounded look on Bruce's face.
"Well we don't exactly have a ton of alien-killing Stark tech lying around, had to be prepared for everything." Dean offered, smirking a little. Steve just looked at the floor, jaw flexing angrily. Dean felt little sympathy for him, though. Black Widow came forward, hands raised in a placating way.
"We're working on a plan. We know you're upset, everybody is. We're going to fix it."
Claire rolled her eyes, and Black Widow looked taken aback but quickly schooled her expression to neutral. "Yeah, we wanna know how, and what we can do. We're fresh out of a clue, so it would be nice to get some help from the people who actually fought the monster, even if they did... lose." She finished quieter, but no less harsh. Black Widow's gaze went from neutral to furious and her stance went rigid, and Captain America and Bruce Banner visibly flinched. Thor stepped forward menacingly.
"We have no need of your help. You are mortal, midgardians with no abilities that can be of use. This is not your fight." He growled. Dean attempted to shuffle Claire further behind him, ready to take on the fucking god of thunder if he so much as raised a hand to her.
She unceremoniously shrugged away from his arm and walked up to Thor, alternating between glaring at him and Black Widow. Dean put his hand behind him, on the gun again, as she squared up to fucking Thor.
"This damn well is my fight. It's everyone's fight. My family is gone, and every other sucker whose still left on this goddamn planet and every other one, it's their fight too. But the rest of them out there? They can't do much. The two if us may be humans, but we're probably two of the only humans in existence who can actually teach you a thing or two. So why don't you shove this belittling 'midgardian' crap right up your ass, along with that giant axe and give it a good twist, cause we are gonna fucking do something about this 'Thanos' whether you help us or not. I'd certainly prefer the help." This whole time she had inched closer to him, and by the end of her rant, she was staring almost straight up at his face, wearing a look of challenge like no other, daring Thor to deny her again.
Then the raccoon burst out laughing again. "I like this girl," he wheezed.
Thor simply turned around and walked out. The small blonde woman followed. Claire was angry, and turned to Black Widow and Captain America.
"Like I said earlier, we're hunters. I guess you don't know what that means?"
"Not specifically, no," the Captain answered.
"You said you had spells, though. What did you mean, spells?" Black Widow asked, again schooling her expression to neutral, though Dean could see the tightness in her temples and jaw. He spoke up then.
"You guys got security footage? Like cameras and shit?" He asked.
"Of course," she responded cooly.
"If you wanna show us the video, we can show you the spell," he offered.
"Leave the weapons in here, and we'll take you," she countered.
"I don't trust the raccoon. He's been eyeing the launcher since we came in," Claire piped up.
"Ah, leave it, I've got way better on my ship anyway," he groused.
"I'll keep an eye on your possessions," Bruce Banner offered. "It would make us feel better if you weren't armed, at least until we can trust you a bit more." Dean shared a look with Claire, and they both sighed. Removing their weapons, grenade launcher, handguns, the Colt, the angel blade, the hex bags, and even a medium sized knife that Claire hid in an ankle holster were all placed on the table in front of Bruce. Black Widow looked impressed. Captain America looked sick.
"Don't mess with those bags, pal. You do not wanna see what's inside," Dean muttered to Bruce. Black Widow proceeded to the door they came in, and waited for them. When they followed, the Captain brought up the rear. Blue girl, the raccoon, and Bruce stayed behind.
Black Widow led them further down the hall to a room full of panels, and Dean found what he was looking for quickly.
"This is the front door?" he checked. Black Widow only nodded. "Yeah see, here's the corner of that space ship. Our car is parked right there," he pointed to the empty space. "But, because of these symbols, we are invisible and untraceable to most technology and magic. It takes a similar spell to best this one, which we assume you guys don't have. Is one of these- aha! Look, here you are. Control Room F. You and the Captain, no us."
Black Widow narrowed her eyes at the screen. The Captain flexed his jaw angrily again, and Dean felt a momentary flutter of his normal fanboy-self come through. It went away almost immediately, but it was there.
"But when we cross through the symbols," Claire began, taking a sharpie from her pocket, "watch the screen, and we'll be back on it." Like she said, crossing the symbols out made them reappear, and the two Avengers were once again dumbstruck.
"Fine. So you have magic. What are you?" The Captain interrogated.
"Human, pal. Just human. But we hunt things that aren't. Demons, werewolves, vampires, the like," Dean explained. Captain America then had the audacity to roll his eyes. Black Widow smacked his shoulder.
"What? You telling me you believe this, Nat?"
"Yeah, I do." Dean and Claire were both shocked to say the least, but Black Widow's expression had finally morphed into something... almost friendly. Understanding. Something clicked for Dean, then.
"You've dealt with something before, huh?"
"Not me. A friend. But he knows what he saw, and that it shouldn't have been possible. And a random human saving the day? Yeah. I believe you." She said calmly.
The Captain looked even more nauseated than before. "Demons? Vampires? Are you serious?"
"Deadly," Claire said with no humor. Black Widow smirked a little though, which made Claire stand up a little straighter.
"Jesus Christ," Captain America muttered, walking out of the room. Now it was just Dean and Claire, facing Black Widow as she leaned back on the table, trying to get a read on them, Dean supposed.
"So, uh, if you believe us, what do we do now, Black Widow?" Claire finally asked, breaking the silence.
"We don't know yet. But maybe you can help is figure it out," she answered. She gestured toward the door and followed Dean and Claire out, letting them lead the way back the other room.
"And call me Natasha," she added quietly from behind them. Dean looked down at Claire, and saw her smile. For the first time, he let the tiniest inkling of hope come through his head.