Raindrops ran down the windows of the Impala, slipping across the chrome surface due to the high speeds of the car. The brothers and I had agreed to go back for my truck in the morning and salvage whatever we could. I was mostly concerned about the weapons stash - I hoped the vampires wouldn't go rummaging in the wreckage.
I doubted the monsters would stay for long. There was nothing there for them anymore. Their leader was dead, and they knew we were still in the area. I expected they would be gone by morning.
The car was quiet, though I hadn't expected anything different. The thrills of the evening had finally worn off, leaving nothing but worry and rampant questions in its wake. I could imagine that the boys were concerned about their father. Would he be waiting for them at the motel, or would he have already left to fight the demon? Would he even allow his sons to accompany him?
I propped my cheek against my hand, eyes flickering to the treeline outside the roaring car. I felt as though I should be panicking, or at the very least nervous about the night's events. But truthfully, I felt at peace, as though I finally understood a part of me I had been struggling with.
My wolf was once again silent, her lack of a presence drawing my attention to the furthest recesses of my mind. I couldn't help but wonder where she had gone.
Was it fear that had kept me from shifting? It must have been. That sense of terror that I wouldn't be able to control my actions or my blood lust. Perhaps that's why I had kept her chained down - because I never wanted to confirm the worries that I had previously felt. Worries that maybe I really was a monster.
But I wasn't. At least, not in the eyes of those I cared about. Maybe I was, or had the capabilities to be, but for now, I was unconcerned about what my future held.
I felt loved.
The Impala slowed to a gradual halt in the motel parking lot. I slowly unbuckled my seat belt and slid out of the car, my feet hitting the wet asphalt with a soft thump. The ground was still covered in large puddles, leftover from the recent rainstorm.
I knew it was after midnight, but I had no idea just how late it was. I didn't really care; I just wanted to sleep. Without a word I passed the brothers and headed towards my room, waving at them as if to bid them a good night.
My room was cold, as though someone had left a window open while I was gone. I shivered and shrugged off my coat, laying it gently over the back of the armchair that sat in one corner of the room. I rummaged through my belongings, looking for a change of clothes, and sighed. As much as I wanted to sleep, I was covered in dirt and dried blood, and desperately in need of a shower.
I had planned to take a short shower, just enough to clean off all the blood. The warm water was too inviting for me to get out quickly, so instead, I soaked, watching as the dried blood washed off and disappeared down the drain.
In just two days with the Winchesters, my life had been turned upside yet again. I had a sneaking suspicion that there was more to come.
---
I woke to a heavy pounding on my motel room door, jarring me from a surprisingly deep and peaceful sleep. I bolted upright with wide, startled eyes and leaped from the bed, padding softly across the carpeted floor to the door. I turned the lock and drew the door open, meeting Dean's grinning face.
"Bout time you woke up," he teased, leaning against the door frame. "I was beginning to think I had the wrong room."
I opened the door just a bit more and glanced at the golden placard that read '105'. "Nope, you got the right one," I joked. "What can I do for you, Dean?"
"Family meeting in our room," he said simply. "Dad's going over the plan for dealing with the demon."
My brows rose in surprise. "And I'm invited? John's OK with it?"
Dean shrugged. "At this point, I don't think he'll try and stop you. But keep your head low - he's still pretty pissed." He pursed his lips and glanced back towards his motel room in thought. "We're going to be heading out soon, I think. We'll stop by the vamp nest and see what we can salvage from your truck. S'up to you if you want to come with us after." His eyes turned back to mine, holding a serious and contemplative air. "You should pack up. If you decide not to come with us, we'll have to find some way to get you home."
"You won't be driving me?" I questioned. Dean shook his head and glanced back down the row of doors to his own.
"Dad's impatient. He's going to want to get this son of a bitch ASAP. No detours."
I nodded and looked behind me at the minimal mess I had caused. My belongings were already fairly well organized, save for perhaps my personal hygiene products in the bathroom. "Give me maybe five minutes and I'll meet you in your room," I said before turning away from Dean. I heard him chuckle and close the door softly behind him.
In just under five minutes, I changed clothes and packed up all my stuff. I still looked exhausted, despite it being just after ten in the morning. Perhaps I could get some caffeine for the road.
The door to the brother's room was unlocked, thankfully, and I slipped quietly inside, hoping to not interrupt the ongoing conversation.
"You're late," John grumbled, not even bothering to turn away from his surprisingly impressive collage of demon-related news.
I rolled my eyes and dropped my backpack by the door. Sam patted a spot on one of the beds beside John and me quickly. "Late by, like, maybe two minutes. What'd I miss?"
"Not much," Dean chimed in. "This is everything dad's got on the demon." Dean shifted in his chair and leaned back, green eyes raking over the mess of omens and symbols laid out before him. "So what's this trail you found, dad?"
"It starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California," John spoke, turning back to his complex board. "Houses burned down to the ground. It's going after families, just like it went after us. Families with kids, infants, attacked on their six-month birthdays."
"I was six months old that night?" Sam inferred, leaning forward with his arms braced on his knees.
John nodded and turned towards his youngest son. "Exactly six months."
"So basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason. The same way it came for me? So Mom's death...Jessica. It's all because of me?" Sam demanded, his voice rising with frustration. Jessica. Was that his girlfriend's name? I knew so little about her and Sam's life before meeting him. All I knew was that she had gone up in smoke, just like Mary...
"Sam, we don't know that," Dean sat up and glared sternly at his brother.
"Oh really? Cause I'd say we're pretty damn sure Dean," Sam scoffed.
Dean rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms indignantly. " For the last time, what happened to them was not your fault-"
"Right. It's not my fault but it's my problem!"
"No, it's not your problem, it's our problem!"
"Both of you shut up!" I shouted, bouncing to my feet and glaring at the two quarreling brothers. "The only one at fault is the demon. So shut up for five seconds so we can figure out how to kill the bastard!" I flopped back onto the bed, lying flat on my back and glaring up at the ceiling. After several long moments of silence, I threw a hand up and waved, motioning for John to continue.
Sam sighed and relaxed his shoulders. "So why is it doing this? What does it want?"
"Look I wish I had more answers, I do. I've always been one step behind it; I've never gotten there in time to save..." John cast his eyes to the ground, lost in thought. After a long pause, he continued to speak. "There's signs. It took me a while to see the pattern but it's there in the days before these fire signs crop up in an area. Cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms. And then I went back and checked... and..."
"It happened in Lawrence..." Dean said softly, eyes wide with realization.
John nodded and took a few steps towards us, hands deep in his pockets. "A week before your mother died. And in Palo Alto...before Jessica. And these signs, they're starting again."
"Where?" Sam asked, his fists curling and jaw clenching in anger. I placed a gentle hand on his arm, my eyes never leaving John's form.
"Salvation, Iowa," their father said simply. "Pack up your bags, we're heading out in an hour." And with that final order, John left the motel room, presumably to pack up his own belongings and stash them in his truck.
"An hour, huh," Dean remarked as he stood and stretched. "Gives us plenty of time to head back to the barn and check the damages on your truck. We can swing by on the way out of town."
"Well, then you boys had better pack up pretty quick," I teased. "Don't want to keep your old man waiting."
---
My truck was ruined. That was the only word I could use to describe it. Utterly ruined. My beaten mess of a pickup was laying on one side, the door crushed inward and glass shattered. The entire driver's side of the car was folded inward and I was thankful that I hadn't been in it at the time. The metal was in pieces and scattered across the ground in some spots, glass littering the earth. The hood was blackened and burned, as though it had been set on fire at some point - I wouldn't put it past the vampires for doing such a thing.
The bodies I had left in the dirt were gone now, likely buried or burned along with my truck. The only indication that they had been there was the large splatters of blood on the ground like spilled paint.
Dean whistled in surprise as he marched around the truck, taking in the damages. He stopped in front of the hood and placed his hands on his hips, turning to face his father who was just exiting his own pickup. "What d'you think dad? Salvageable?"
John scoffed and glared beadily at my crumpled mess of metal and ash. "No," he said bluntly. "I don't even see anything worth keeping."
I groaned and placed my head in my hands. "I'm so glad Dennis isn't here to see this," I grumbled and dragged my hands down my face in utter defeat. "Do you think the weapons were at least mostly preserved?" I asked Dean.
He shrugged and placed a hand on top of the truck, pulling himself up what would have been the underside, struggling for footholds. He laughed and turned to face me as he straightened and stood on top of the trunk. "You're missing a door," he called and pointed to the other side of the truck. "It ended up over there."
"You've got to be kidding!" I shouted and ran over to the other side of the truck. Lo and behold, there was a car door lying in a dirty puddle. "How the hell did it get over there!?"
"Vampire might have ripped it off," Dean called. "Hopefully it didn't get into your weapons stash."
"Well, how the hell am I supposed to check?" I asked, throwing my hands up in exasperation.
Dean laughed and extended a hand. "You climb in and check," he said with a cocky smirk. I glared and marched over the truck, taking his hand irritably. I had expected it to be difficult, but he hoisted me up with ease, pulling me to stand beside him on top of my ruined truck.
I gazed down into the backseat, grass visible on the other end. It struck me now just how wide my truck had been - although it wasn't a particularly long drop, it still made me nervous.
I looked nervously up at Dean, his eyes meeting mine with a cocky gaze as if this was the easiest thing in the world. "It's under the seat," I mumbled. "How the hell am I supposed to get to it?"
"Sit in the front seat," he offered with a shrug. I rolled my eyes and shuffled past him. I sat at the edge of the door, my legs hanging over the sides. The interior of the truck was just as much of a mess, with the seats scorched and torn and ash blanketing every surface. I frowned. John was right - this wasn't salvageable.
I dropped into the truck, feet planting on the side of one of the front seats. There wasn't much room, but it was enough. After several seconds of fumbling for the latch, I lifted up the bench seat and peered through the darkness at what was left of my weapons stash.
I was grateful that I hadn't brought all of Dennis's weapons. If I had, then everything would have been gone.
The seat compartment was empty, every gun, knife, a container of holy water, and whatever else was gone without a trace. I glared furiously at the empty compartment and snapped my eyes up to meet Dean's. He looked equally frustrated and extended a hand to pull me from the wreckage.
"Damn," he grumbled as he hauled me up and pulled me into his side, steadying me. "They really cleaned house, huh?" I nodded and clenched my fists and anger. First my truck, now my weapons?
The truck didn't have a ton of sentimental value. Sure, it was Dennis's favorite and the only one I had kept, but it wasn't nearly as important as the Impala was to Dean. But the fact that the vampires had burned and raided it? It made my skin crawl.
"Hey," he spoke, drawing my attention to him. I glanced up quickly and dropped my eyes to the wreckage. "You alright?"
"Yeah, fine," I replied. "Just pissed." He chuckled and placed a firm hand on my shoulder.
"Fair enough. You need help getting down?"
I shook my head and moved to sit on the edge, sliding off and thumping to the ground. The impact jarred my ankle which was still healing from my recent fight with Caeden and the vampires.
I couldn't help but lose myself in thought, leaning against the overturned truck as I did so. The loss of this vehicle was damaging. It was more than just a mode of transportation - it was a link to my life before all this started, before losing Dennis, before the pack, before the Winchesters. It showed just how much my life had changed, how far I had come, and who I had been.
I missed who I was. That girl who had been so sure of what she wanted- or what she didn't want. No pack. No romance. Just life on the road, hunting with Dennis.
Now, I didn't have hunting with Dennis. I had a pack to look out for and needed me. And love? I snuck a glance at Dean as he dropped from the top of the wreckage.
I still didn't want love. Not now at least. But, Missouri had planted those seeds in my mind, leaving the door open for unexpected visitors.
Kids. I couldn't help but internally laugh. Me, with kids? I could barely keep my pack in line, let alone a bunch of brats. God forbid they have my stubbornness.
Kids. I smiled softly. Maybe someday, when all this demon business felt as distant as my life with my uncle.
"Ready to check in on Sam and dad?" Dean asked. I peered up at him and then towards the barn that I knew Sam was exploring.
"Of course," I said with a grin and began my small trek to the weathered barn.
Despite the constant drizzle of rain last night, the scent of vampires still lingered in the air. It was enough to make me crinkle my nose and gag. The Winchesters couldn't smell it, but it stunk heavily of that odd sickly-sweet decay. It was unnatural.
But then again, some would argue that so was I.
The place was deserted, with no sign that anyone had ever lived there. The hammocks were gone, along with whatever personal items that had been laying around. The occasional beer bottle littered the straw floor, though any passersby would likely just assume they had been left by rowdy teens.
Sam peered out from a doorway down the long hall, drawn by the sounds of our footsteps. "Find anything?" he called.
Dean shook his head. "Zilch. They took everything man."
"Damn," his younger brother uttered. "Doesn't look like there's anything here either. It's pretty empty." Sam disappeared back into the room, rifling through whatever was left behind.
"What about you, dad?" Dean called out, waltzing into the main room that felt oddly empty without the rows of hammocks. "Find anything?"
"No," John replied and Dean followed his voice to what I assumed was Luther and Kate's room. I had seen him running out of it Colt-less the day before. "Maybe you can get your mutt to sniff something out."
I bristled and grimaced down the hall, glaring at the doorway that Dean had disappeared through.
If I were human, I wouldn't be having this problem.
"If you boys haven't found anything, how bout we head out? Iowa is pretty far and we're losing daylight." I offered, tapping my foot impatiently against the straw floor.
Sam's head popped out from a doorway and he gazed at me with adamant surprise. "Does that mean you're coming with us?" he questioned.
I grinned. "Course I am. Told my pack I'd be gone for a week at the most, and I've been here for, what, a little over forty-eight hours? Still got five days." Dean appeared around a corner with his own shocked expression. "You boys aren't getting rid of me that easily."
---
Hours of driving had left me lethargic, and frankly irritable. Being crammed into a seat with a tight seat belt and little room to move was almost worse than driving for hours on end. At least I would have something to do if I were driving.
The Impala suddenly lurched to the side, swerving towards the edge of the road. I jolted upright and gripped onto the door, holding on tight to prevent myself from sliding. "The hell, Dean?" I sputtered as he slowed to a stop on the side of the road and parked.
Without missing a beat, Dean stepped out of the car, Sam not far behind him. I glanced nervously between the two and opened my own door.
"God dammit!" I heard John shout, causing me to jump. I quickly slid out of my seat and jogged over to the Winchesters. John continued to swear and stomped around in frustration. "I just got a call from Caleb," he spat.
"Is he OK?" Dean questioned, voice filled with worry. Caleb? I assumed that was a hunter friend of John. The name rang a bell...
I could practically see the light bulb going off over my head as I spun to face Dean. "Isn't that the dude that researched the Daevas for you?"
Dean glared teasingly. "I helped," he grumbled and returned his attention to his father. "Is Caleb alright or not?"
"He's fine," John growled. He stopped his pacing and looked up at his son, grief evident in his eyes. "Jim Murphy's dead."
"Pastor Jim?" Sam asked, his own eyes going wide with disbelief. "How?"
"His throat was slashed. He bled out," John replied bluntly, casting his eyes to the gravel road. "Caleb said he found traces of sulfur at Jim's place."
"A demon?" Dean questioned. "The demon?"
John shook his head in uncertainty. "I don't know. Could be he just got careless, he slipped up. Maybe the demon knows we're getting close." I bristled. This was suddenly becoming all too real. A demon. I had never seen a demon, let alone fought one. All I knew was the basics of how to identify one, taught to me by the brothers only hours before.
A part of me hoped to God that it would be an easy kill, but I knew better than that.
"What are we going to do?" I asked. John's eyes snapped to mine and he glared ferociously. I stared back, holding his infuriated gaze.
"Now we act like every second counts. There are two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up, cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's going to be six months old in the next week," he ordered and turned to climb back into his truck.
"Dad, that could be dozens of kids. How do we know which one's the right one?" Sam questioned, and rightly so. Salvation wasn't a small town, and having to search the entire county made it even more difficult.
"We check 'em all that's how. You got any better ideas?" he demanded, voice gruff and irritable. When no one responded, he nodded curtly and climbed into his truck dismissively.
I turned and went back to the Impala, Sam by my side. Glancing up, I realized Dean hadn't left his father. They shared quiet words, barely audible even to me, before Dean turned and sauntered back towards the Impala, a crestfallen look on his features.
Whoever Pastor Jim had been, he had been someone important to them. They were tired of losing people they cared about. I was tired of seeing them so miserable. This demon deserved what it had coming.
---
The Salvation public library was surprisingly empty. It was a big library, with records dating back generations. If there was anything to indicate where the demon might be headed next, it was here.
Sam was on birth records duty, whereas I was looking for any symbols and potential omens that could highlight more of the demon's activities. It was tedious, to say the least, and I had little patience for it, but it needed to be done.
I flipped through old record book after old record book, looking for any signs of demonic activity. Nothing. I slammed another book shut and tossed it on the floor beside me.
"No luck?" Sam called from the other side of the shelf I was leaning against.
"No," I snapped. "All I'm seeing are the same things John found. Just... evidence that it's in the area." I sighed and placed my chin in my hands, pouting. "What about you? Find anything?"
Sam chuckled and I heard his footsteps traipse around the shelf to me. He sat beside me and handed me a list of names and addresses. "These are all the kids in the county that are turning six months in the next week."
My eyes scanned the page of Sam's messy handwriting. "That's a lot of kids..." I grumbled and handed the page to him. "You humans sure do keep busy."
Sam chuckled and folded the paper, tucking it into a book and placing it in his lap. "Skinwalkers are like, part dog, right? Doesn't that mean you'd have more kids?"
I scoffed and glared at him. "Most monsters are more prone to having twins, or even triplets. That doesn't necessarily mean we breed like rabbits. Most don't ever have kids."
"Why not?" he questioned, leaning back against the shelf.
"Because they're either too busy eating humans, or don't want to bring kids into a world where they'll be hunted for just existing," I spat. Few monsters ever had kids or families. Maybe they'd have mates, like those vampires in Manning, but rarely kids. Hell, before Marcus, my father was the only purebred skinwalker I had ever known.
Sam didn't respond and instead tapped his fingers rhythmically on the cover of the book. What was there to say after something like that? 'Not all hunters kill monsters for existing'? That wouldn't hold up -- his own father had tried to kill me simply because I was a monster.
He sat up and scanned the cover of his old book. He looked exhausted, and rightfully so. He was finally so close to ending this demon and having his family back.
We were all exhausted, for varying reasons.
"Your bruises are looking a lot better," he finally spoke. I raised my brows and glanced at him. He was right, they were looking better. My jaw had faded to splotchy yellowish bruises, not nearly as noticeable anymore. By tomorrow, they'd be gone. "How'd you get them anyway? Dean said something about a fight."
I huffed and rested my arms on my knees, leaning forward slightly. "Just a pack fight, with Caeden. Nothing serious."
"Your bruises looked pretty serious," he continued. I glared at him and he shrugged as if to show that he was simply concerned.
I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the shelf, resting my intertwined fingers on my stomach. "Caeden just... wasn't handling having an alpha well. He doesn't trust people," I said softly. I glared down at my hands, my knuckles bruised and scraped from my recent fights. "He was trying to prove a point, and it didn't work out."
"Who won?" Sam asked. I cast him a confused look. "The fight," he clarified. "Who won?"
"No one," I replied. It was true- there were rarely winners in a fight. Everyone always lost something. Sam fell silent, his eyes roaming along the opposite bookshelf, although he clearly wasn't reading the titles. He was thinking.
I wondered what he was thinking about. There were a million things I wanted to ask him. Maybe about his life before hunting, or why he had left. About his experiences, and his father's slow descent into obsession.
Did revenge always lead to obsession and aggression? I hoped not.
"Sam?" I asked. He hummed in response, motioning for me to speak. "Why law?" I shifted and straightened my back, no longer slouching against the, frankly, uncomfortable shelf. "Why did you want to be a lawyer?"
Sam laughed softly and leaned beside me, mirroring my position and stretching his legs. They nearly extended the length between the shelves. "I guess because I wanted to help people without violence," he said softly. "Save lives, and correct injustices without having to lie, cheat, steal, and murder."
I chuckled and nudged him with my elbow. "A lot of people would say lawyers still lie, cheat and steal, you know." He laughed and pushed back gently.
"I don't know, maybe they do. But, they deal with the real monsters," he said, his voice low and soft, lost in thought. "There's more to being a monster than not being human..." he trailed off and glanced towards me. "You're proof of that."
Not a monster.
I grinned up at him deviously. "I don't know, monsters are scary, and I can be pretty terrifying." I bared my teeth teasingly at him. He laughed and placed a hand on my head, ruffling my hair. "Hey!" I shouted, pushing his hand away.
"Sure, you're absolutely terrifying," he teased. "Like a pomeranian."
I frowned. "Pomeranians can be scary," I countered, pointing an accusing finger at him.
"Right," he said with an eye roll. "We should head out. I'm sure Dean's done at the hospital by now." I nodded and hobbled to my feet, extending a hand to Sam. He gladly took it and I helped to hoist him to his feet, wobbling a bit from exertion. Sam dusted himself off and clutched his book tightly to his side. He gestured ahead of him, allowing me to lead the way. I grinned and marched down the small hallway, making my way towards the exit.
It was a lovely day, compared to the gloom of Colorado. The sun was high in the sky by now, finally making itself visible after the drizzle of rain and fog earlier that day, and it was nearly cloudless, save for the occasional wisp low on the horizon.
Suddenly, Sam crumpled and hissed through his teeth. I spun to face him in worry. He was clutching his head and whining through gritted teeth. "Sam!?" I called and raced forward, holding him upright.
"Vision..." he hissed out and straightened, towering over me. "The demon... in a nursery..."
"Where Sam?" I asked. If this was anything like his other visions, I had no doubt he was seeing the demon's next victim. "Can you see anything that would tell us where it is? Any sights, smells?" My voice fell dangerously low, coaxing any sort of answer out of him. It startled me just how deadly my voice sounded.
It hit me then just how much I wanted this demon dead. It had hurt my family- hell, it had hurt John and that alone was enough to piss me off. And now it was going to hurt others.
Sam hissed one last time and straightened, taking his hand palm away from his temple and cracking his eyes open. He winced at the sunlight that suddenly seemed harsh and unyielding to me. He blinked twice and grimaced, thinking deeply. Immediately, his eyes snapped open and he turned to charge back into the library.
"Sam!?" I called questioningly and chased him. He weaved through the rows of shelves and stopped at a librarian's desk, speaking hurriedly to her. I hadn't even made it to his side before he was off again, following the older woman through the maze of towering bookshelves.
When I found him again he was seated at an old table, a map laid out in front of him and a pen in hand. I spoke his name quizzically, which barely drew his attention. He pulled out a chair at his side and motioned for me to sit.
"I heard a train," he said simply, eyes roving over the page. "I'm looking for newer neighborhoods with a train station nearby."
"Find anything yet?" I inquired and hovered over the map, my eyes trailing over the long line of train tracks, running from the top left to the middle of the right.
Sam nodded and pointed to a spot in the mid-left section of the map. "Here. This is the only big neighborhood that fits the bill," he said, tapping the spot gently. "It's in the middle of everything; it's near the school, near grocery stores, and not far from downtown." He gazed up at me with determined eyes, jaw set firmly. "Perfect for new parents, don't you think?"
I shrugged. "I don't know much about being a parent, but it sounds pretty perfect. You want to call Dean and check it out?"
"No," he said flatly and folded the map, slipping it into his book. "No, that'll take too long. I say we check it out now."
"Without weapons or backup?" I questioned, resting my palms on the table and standing. "Sam, that's-"
"We'll be fine," Sam cut me off, sounding too sure of himself. "My vision was set at night, and it's-" he checked his watch, "4pm now. We'll be fine," he repeated. I paused and finally nodded, following him out of the library.
Thankfully, it was a rather short jaunt to the neighborhood Sam had found, maybe about fifteen minutes. The sun, although a nice change of pace from the previous night's rain, was beating down now and the temperatures were swelling.
Sam marched down the sidewalk, his eyes scanning up and down the row of houses and on the lookout for any indication of a train. His strides were much longer than my own, and I had to take two steps to match one of his. It was becoming exhausting having to nearly jog to keep up.
He finally stopped and winced, pressing a palm to his temple. He glared furiously at the ground and then bolted upright, hazel eyes falling upon a white house across the street. "That's it," he whispered out.
I looked at the house, with its white paint and sea green trim. The curtains were lace and it had a well-kept lawn and fenced-in yard.
A white picket fence.
"Look," Sam whispered, and I followed his gaze to a very pretty woman with a stroller and an umbrella hanging off her arm. "That's her," he said. Without missing a beat, he crossed the street and stopped beside her, making idle conversation. I tore across the street after him, skidding to a stop beside him.
Sam knelt beside the little baby carriage and cooed at the girl swaddled in the shade. "Wow, hi!" he murmured to the infant. "I'm sorry, I'm so rude," he spoke and extended a hand to the woman. "I'm Sam, I just moved in up the street. This," he said, gesturing to me, "is my friend Y/N. She's helping me move in."
"Hi," I said with a small, friendly wave, and held out my hand for her. She took it with her own sweet smile. "It's nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, too," she said. "Well, I'm Monica, and this-" she leaned over the stroller as her baby took her finger, "-is Rosie."
"Hi, Rosie..." I said as I knelt beside the carriage and stuck a finger towards the baby. She grabbed it with a giggle, wrapping her tiny digits around mine.
The conversation seemed to fade away as I looked at her, her blue eyes boring into mine. I could hear- no, feel her tiny heartbeat pulsing in her chest. It was the first time since meeting Calliope that I had heard another heartbeat. But this time, I wasn't afraid.
I was elated. This little baby looked at the world with rose-colored glasses, like there was no evil. She looked at me like I was just another being.
I grinned sheepishly at the little girl and ran my fingertip over her pudgy knuckle. Kids were so simple, so beautiful, and pure. They knew nothing of evil in the world.
I wanted to make sure Rosie never experienced that evil.
"She seems to like you," Monica said softly. I tore my gaze away from Rosie and looked at her with astonishment. I had seen so few babies in my lifetime that the idea that this tiny little life form could like me was astounding. I grinned and turned my gaze back to her, taking her tiny hand in mine.
"She's such a good baby," Sam remarked, hovering over me and gazing at Rosie with interest. the baby giggled, bringing a wider smile to my lips.
"I know, I mean she...she never cries. She just stares at everybody. Sometimes she looks at you and I swear it's...it's like she's reading your mind," Monica replied. Her last comment drew my eyes back to hers.
"How long have you lived here for?" I asked softly.
Monica grinned and partially leaned against her stroller. "My husband and I bought our place just before Rosie was born."
"And how old is Rosie?" Sam questioned, nudging her other hand with his finger. She reflexively reached for it and burbled.
"Six months old, today," Monica responded, her chest inflating with pride. "She's so big- growing like a weed."
I froze, my finger stopping its gentle caressing movements over her knuckles. Today. Six months old today.
"Hey Monica..." Sam started. The new mother looked up expectantly, eyes wide with joy and excitement. I never wanted to see that look disappear from her eyes. "Just... take care of yourself OK?"
She frowned in confusion and tilted her head. "Yeah, you too, Sam," she sighed and giggled, drawing a finger down Rosie's cheek. "I guess we'll be seeing you around?"
"Yeah, definitely," I said, standing and casting Rosie one last forlorn glance. And with that, Monica waved goodbye and continued her trek down the sidewalk and towards home. A car pulled into her driveway and she waved at the driver as he stepped out of the car. I assumed he was her husband, and he looked just as happy to see her as she did.
Sam and I watched the happy family, my eyes darting between the husband and wife. I longed for that life so much that it made my heart hurt. I felt weighted with worry and despair- would I ever have that life? A large part of me doubted it, knowing that few monsters ever found love or even started families. But a small part of me held on to the thin hope that maybe I would one day have my white picket fence and family.
The future was uncertain for me; but then again, when was anyone's life ever set in stone?
"Sam..." I said quietly, drawing the youngest Winchester's attention to me. "Call Dean. We need to make sure this son of a bitch doesn't get to that baby."
6203 words!
We're steadily approaching the end of the season, guys. I'll have a few announcements for you then, but for now, I hope you enjoyed the chapter (even though it was kind of just a filler)! Let me know what you guys think.
Edited 05/02/22.