[h3] Dean and Anya [/h3]

Dean flinched and frowned even deeper when Lexi slapped his arm and scolded him, “It was an honest question!  For all I know, she’s hexing me or something with those hand skills.”, he grumbled, rubbing his arm.  But as soon as they had an actual name, he raised his eyebrows and nodded, “Anya!  Small angry woman’s name is Anya.  Good to know.”

Anya was just about to turn to Dean and let him know that she could hear him fine, when Sam spoke up, and she breathed a sigh of relief.  She honestly didn’t want to have to pass another language barrier with a stranger.  It was getting to be exhausting in this town.

She looked down at the floor, crossing her arms again, to show that she was verbally disarmed, and shifted her weight from one foot to the other as Sam explained what she needed.  She half expected yet another lecture, but instead, Dean simply huffed.

“You always seem to find them, don’t you?”, he muttered with a chuckle, causing Anya to look up at him, so she could judge his face.  He seemed relaxed, and not as worried as she expected, which was both concerning and a relief.  What if he just said they couldn’t help?, “By aquaintances we’re talking about the kind with…not so normal eyes, right?”
Anya simply nodded, bringing out one of her hands to sign to him, but deciding against it.  Dean was already waving off her attempt to speak.

“We don’t train hunters.”, he said simply, and Anya’s eyes widened and she looked back at Sam, begging him for an answer to what that meant, “But I guess we have to help…”