You were walking home after working a late shift at work. It was dark and quiet. The streets were empty and you felt chills. You walked home quickly, but payed attention to ensure your own safety.
You made it to your house in no time. You noticed a strange black 1967 Chevy Impala on the corner of your block. It caught your attention because it was out of place among the cars on your block. Most were new Hondas and minivans. You shook it off and quickly went inside your house.
Before you could turn on the lights, you heard shuffling and the small sound of whispering. You put your things down on the corner. You pulled out a gun from your secret drawer and slipped off your shoes.
You were a retired hunter and knew when there was trouble. You entered the living room and a shadow moved toward you. You kicked out, knocking the shadow down and hit it in the side of the head. Another shadow shoved you down and pried the gun out of your hand. You held the barrel and used it to pin its' arm behind its' back and shove it into the wall. You flipped on the lights to notice your old friends, the Winchesters, groaning on your floor.
"Oh my God! I am so sorry!" You gasped and apologized.
"I thought you were retired," Dean said, standing.
"I am," you said.
"Sure as hell wouldn't have guessed it," Dean glared.
"I like to practice every once in a while," you shrugged.
"Nice moves," Sam nodded.
"Thanks. Want to tell me why you broke into my house?" You asked, putting the gun onto the table.
"We need your help on a case," Dean said.
"Why me?" You asked.
"At this point, it's you or Garth," Sam said.
"Obviously, it was no competition. We came here," Dean said.
"Guys, come on. Garth is adorable and innocent," you said, defending your friend.
"Then you hunt with him," Dean replied.
"Okay, fine. What can i help you with?" You sighed.
"I'm starving and you only have food that needs to be cooked. I'm going to go get some take out and pie. I'll leave you and Sam alone," Dean winked.
Dean grabbed his keys and left.
You looked at Sam, who was slightly red.
"So tell me about the case," you said.
"Do you have a computer?" He asked.
You nodded and grabbed your laptop, putting it on the kitchen counter. He sat down in front of it and you stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder to watch.
"My password is: [insert password here]," you told him.
In no time, he was pulling up missing person reports.
"This seems to be a common ghost. La Llorona or the crier. Of course, we also refer to her as The Woman in White. Now this ghost is always a crying woman. She is always seen wearing a beautiful dress and hitchhiking. She asks to be taken home, but disappears before they arrive. Of course, the driver gets out of the car to investigate and is killed," Sam began, "Usually the woman was scorned by her husband or lover and driven mad with rage. She kills someone, usually their children, by drowning. Of course, in the end, she is flooded with guilt and jumps to her death."
You had been listening while smiling at Sam the whole time. He turned to look at you and gave you a confused look.
"What?" He asked.
"Sam, you're such a nerd," you giggled.
He frowned and looked down.
"Sorry," he said.
"Sam, it's a good thing," you smiled, lifting his head up.
"Really?" He asked.
"Really," you winked.
You went to the fridge to get two beers. As you handed him his, he spoke.
"Oh, and Y/N," he said.
"Yeah?" You asked, taking a zip of your beer.
He turned your laptop around to reveal your desktop background of Star Trek.
"Looks like i'm not the only nerd," he chuckled.
You blushed and bit your lip.
Sam leaned in and kissed you.
"Maybe we can be nerds together?" He asked, cheekily.
"I'd like that," you smiled, kissing him again.
"Woo-hoo!" Dean cheered from the living room.
You laughed.
You finally had your nerd.