Andrea Sanders, legendary hunter, is the kind of legend that only the brave and stupid dare to whisper about at night. After ditching the foster system at sixteen, she follows her father's footsteps into the only life she's ever known: hunting down...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
~*~*~*~
"So what's he saying?" I asked for the hundredth time. "Sparky!" Dean shot me an annoyed look as I kicked my legs in the air. Currently, we were all at the Inn waiting for Cass to give us the go ahead on a demon named Crowley. Dean was speaking to our angel on the phone, Sam was doing something probably impressive on his laptop, and I was upside down on the couch with all of the blood rushing to my head.
You know.
Productive things.
Dean paced in front of me. "Mhm. Don't worry. Good work. We can take it from here." The phone call ended abruptly.
"You shouldn't hang up without saying 'I love you'." Sam chortled at my comment from his place at the table.
Dean, however, just rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Sanders. And stop sitting like that, your face looks like it's gonna explode."
Righting myself, I watched Dean grab his keys and motion to us. "Cass has a location. Enochian sigils and all that crap are keeping him out so we're up. Y'all ready?"
"Finally! Let me grab my back pack."
I ran up the stairs before Dean could say another word. Cases had been pretty slow in the last week, and the most productive thing I had done was start fixing up the barn- I was hoping to turn it into a bar area for when the inn was up and running- and start planning for Dean's birthday. Walking into my room with a grin, I threw some fresh clothes into my pack and a new tube of toothpaste.
"Ando!" Sam called up the stairs. He and Dean had started using the nickname the more they hung around Bobby. "Bring a dress and heels. I've got a plan."
Rolling my eyes- most of their plans seemed to end with me in a dress of some sort- I reached into my closet for the garment. "Got it!" The wood creaked beneath my feet as I flung the pack over my shoulder and made my way to the door. Despite living there for years, I didn't have many decorations in the room. The most personal thing I had were the pictures taped to the wall. My eyes slid over the empty room in search of something I could be forgetting. Coming up short, I raced back down the stairs, taking them two at a time and almost running Dean over when I reached the bottom.
"Easy there, speedy," he laughed, catching me before the collision. The familiar spark jumped between us as we made eye contact. Clearing my throat, I stepped out of his hands in an effort to remind myself of where we stood. Friends. Just friends. Not even friends with benefits- though I must say the thought had certainly crossed my mind a time or two. Just, friends. His green eyes lingered on me a moment longer than was strictly necessary before heading out the door after his brother.
My combat boots were thrown on quickly, not bothering to tie them as I locked the door and stepped into the cold wintery afternoon. The Impala was already running by the time I got to the driveway and neither Winchester acknowledged me as I slid into the back seat. Dean was behind the wheel, thumbs tapping along to Skid Row's 18 and Life as it poured out of the sound system. I hummed along quietly. That was probably the hardest part of going on cases with the boys. By myself, I had the open road and Stanley where I could sing to my heart's content. With them, I had to keep my mouth screwed up tight for fear of my power potentially stealing away their free will.
