𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑, s.w

𝟏. 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘'𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃

➤ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞.

𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐃𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓, and not just because she was a Reaper. Everyone she'd surrounded herself with were all like her - much to their dismay- but somehow she'd always end up alone. None of them wanted to talk to the Reaper with a big mouth and no thought about shutting up.

So, they often just avoided her. Leaving a very lonely, and incredibly bored woman. Though, Amaia never let it get to her, not with all the trouble she could be causing elsewhere. She'd often be caught by a rather perplexed Anubis in a Cafe misplacing drinks, menu's and what not. Making all the humans, who couldn't see her think they'd lost their minds.

He'd lecture her, tell her not to antagonise the humans. He'd even tell her that once Death arose from his cage he'd only want his finest reapers around, so Amaia needed to keep her head down and work harder - but when she'd question how Anubis knew of such a thing, he'd shake his head, never speaking another word. 

Although his anger would never stick, maybe because he felt sorry for the girl. She didn't have anyone, not really. Amaia was alone, but never lonely.

Maybe that was why he'd given her this job. But this? This was awful. Amaia stood leaning against the impala the two brothers owned, bored out of her godforsaken mind. When she'd accepted the job, she thought there might have been a bit more, huh, I don't know? Pizzazz.

But alas, there wasn't. Sure, Amaia could sympathise with the brothers considering they'd just lost their beloved father. But come on! For the sake of her sanity, do something! Amaia prayed, and prayed. Not literally, God wasn't home.

When she first joined the brothers, she expected them to be mid battle. Fighting to the death with some fucked up googly eyed monster, considering the rumours she'd heard about them, it was only natural for her mind to wonder so far.

But that couldn't have been further from the truth. For the entirety of the week, Amaia had been stuck in a car yard. Where their apparent father figure - Bobby Singer lived. There wasn't much to do there, nor to see. Just piles upon piles of abandoned, rusty, broken cars. And dust, lots of dust. Due to her boredom, Amaia had even counted how many cars there were of each colour.

As Amaia aimlessly lent against the car, watching as Dean attempt to fix it - which was the most interesting thing that had happened all week, by the way. A tall shaggy haired man strolled over, his puppy dog gaze firmly set on the ground before him. Amaia was still learning their names, she couldn't tell if that was Bobby, Sam or Dean.

"How's the car coming along?" He questioned, as he neared the pair.

Dean - or maybe that was Sam -, the one with the short hair, was perched underneath the car, doing humanely things. "Slow" he grunted, not shifting from his place nor even sparing his brother a glance.