It took the better part of an hour to assemble the shotgun shells. Dean couldn't help but think with more time and different equipment, or with backup, he could have done a much better job. But they didn't have time. And they couldn't get backup.
Dean didn't want to confess to his dad that he couldn't handle his first solo mission, but it was more than that. The bigger problem was that he'd never actually told his dad what had happened the summer before, with Clark and the Djinn. If Dean started telling his dad about meteor-infected monsters, he'd have to confess to everything he did the summer before—losing sight of Sam, letting Clark get kidnapped, using Lex as bait. Dean's father would be sure to make him painfully aware of exactly how disappointed he was.
It didn't matter. Dean didn't need his father's help. It was just another job. A little too dangerous to bring Sam into, but still. It was what he did.
He went back over bits of the plan with Lex as they walked. "Chances are," he said, "last summer was a fluke thing. Most supernatural creatures have some variation, you know? Silver should be enough to take these guys out."
"And if it's not?" Lex asked.
"Well, that's why we have the meteor rock slugs. But . . . gotta warn you, they're not quite . . . safe."
"Not safe how?"
"The pieces of meteor rock we used are weird shapes. It's bad for the gun. Could cut up the inside of the barrel, might not go very far if they get caught on the inside. Could destroy the gun. Probably won't, but, uh . . ."
"Start with the silver bullets, then?"
"Yeah. Hopefully we won't have to use the shotguns, but we have them if we need them."
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"Meteor rock shotgun as a last resort only. Got it."
Dean looked over at Lex, whose face was pale, his steps hesitant as though his knees were shaking. "Nervous, Luthor?"
"No," Lex said a little too quickly. "You?"
"Course. Nervous is good. Keeps you alert."
Lex shrugged, and Dean smiled and turned back toward the trail. Dean should have known Lex wouldn't admit to being afraid; the guy's pride was the size of the moon sometimes. Lex was too stuck up for his own good. Not to mention, he could be manipulative, snarky, and downright annoying. And his fingernails were way too clean. But Dean hadn't called Lex into this hunt because he liked the guy. Lex had guts, he knew his lore, he could fight as well as Dean could despite being smaller, and his reflexes were fast. He was a natural hunter. Aside from all of that, his heart was in the right place—he knew what family meant. Dean trusted Lex with his life.
A soft rustle in the trees behind him. Dean whirled around, whipping out the rifle with the silver bullets.
"Heard something?" Lex asked.
Dean didn't respond to Lex. "Who's there?" he called. "Show yourself!"
Silence.
"Okay, I'm coming to you."
"Darn it. Hang on," a voice said, and the bushes rustled.
Sam stepped out, carrying a rifle of his own.
Dean rushed forward and grabbed Sam by the arm. "Were you following us?"
"I—maybe. I wanted to help!"
Dean let go of Sam's shoulder, only to deliver a hard left hook to his arm a second later.
"Ow!" Sam rubbed his arm furiously. "Dean!"
"When I say stay back, you stay back! You follow orders or you don't come with me on hunts, Sammy!"
"You weren't going to bring me anyway!" Sam's cheeks flushed. "And you two are being stupid! You can't take out a whole pack of werewolves on your own, Dad would never let you try."
Dean was gearing back for a second punch when Lex grabbed his arm.
"Hey. You can have your little power struggle later." Lex turned to Sam. "I'm guessing if we send you back to the farm now, you'll hang back for a minute and then continue to follow us?"
Sam cringed but nodded.
Lex glanced at Dean. "Best way we can protect him now is to keep him in sight."
Dean glared at Lex, then at Sam. If they all made it out of this alive, he was going to pummel them both. But right now, he was outmatched.
"Fine," he growled. "Keep up."
Sam smirked and followed along.
Dean's stomach churned. He was worse than dead if his father ever found out about this.