It was Dean’s first hunt. It was decided among the adults. Apparently he was ready. He didn’t feel ready.
He hadn’t been allowed in the morgue, obviously. So he hadn’t seen what the vampires had done. He hadn’t seen the throats that were torn out. He hadn’t seen anything that he could use to hate these creatures.
But he saw the wide-eyed look of fear in the eyes of the vampire, the woman, before he killed her.
A single tear, his first, slid down his face as he wiped blood of the machete.
"Time for a new job?" John joked.