[h3] Dean and Anya [/h3]

Dean waved as Lexi asked what the demons wanted from Anya.  He was genuinely curious to know how a girl like her could end up in such a mess.  But the mention of the Colt instantly caused his eyes to practically pop out of his head.

“The Colt.  Like…THE Colt?”, he asked incredulously as Sam explained that Anya knew they couldn’t get the gun back.  His excitement wained a bit, having a brief moment of thinking that maybe this girl was some sort of key to finding it.  But alas, she didn’t seem to even know what they were talking about, judging by her face, “Even if we had the gun, we would never give it to a d-…to an aquaintance.  That would be stupid.”

Anya didn’t even know how to respond to any of them, but she picked up the pad of paper she had used to communicate with Sam, and wrote down, “My father had it just a few years ago.  But when he was killed, it disappeared.”

“What?  He what?!”, Dean asked, as she turned the pad around, causing her to flinch visibly.  She tapped aggressively at the word ‘killed’, and then spelled out ‘because of the gun’ in sign.  Rolling her eyes after Dean stared at her for a moment, she made a gun with her fingers, and pulled it up to her temple, pretending to kill herself with it, and then held it up.

“He was killed for the Colt.”, he asked slowly, and Anya nodded, putting the paper pad back onto the table, “Well…then I guess we have work to do.  I’m not making the mistake I want to make right now.  So, back to the bunker?”

Anya wondered what mistake that could be.  Leaving her alone?  Teaching her stuff?  Was Dean more of the answer here than Sam?  She didn’t know, but as soon as Dean got the words out of his mouth, she smiled, feeling accomplished and signed to Sam, “Let’s go.”