Death's Daughter | Supernatural, D.W.

Quality Time

In the following days, Dean and I don't have much contact. He's busy making sure Sam is acclimated to life with a soul again. I don't blame him, because Sam seems to be a polar opposite. I actually like Sam now.

Now, I spend most of my time in my room. Sam set up a TV in my room and showed me how to work it, and also introduced me to a book series called Harry Potter. That's what I do for most of my time. I read and watch daytime television.

At first glance, it seems weird for me to be doing stuff like this, but I thoroughly enjoy it. I'm adjusting well to the normal side of human life, even if I'm not quite human. Yet.

I can hear Sam and Dean talking down the hall, and I decide to eavesdrop.

"I just don't think you're ready yet, Sam," Dean lectures.

"Dean, you're acting like I'm going on my first hunt," Sam argues. "I lost my soul, not my memory. I still know everything that I've done. I can go on hunts alone."

Dean audibly sighs. "Fine, whatever. Just be careful, okay? Call if you need something."

"Okay, mom," Sam jokes.

I don't hear anything else, but I safely assume Sam got himself one of Dean's signature eye rolls. I wait a few minutes, then decide to go sit out in the main room for a while. My room gets boring and there's only so much I can read and watch until my eyes feel like they'll fall out of my head.

As I enter the room, I find Sam, throwing numerous objects into a bag. Gun, ammo, knives, small bottles of various liquids.

"Hey," he greets me distractedly.

"Hi," I respond, and take a seat across from him. "Going somewhere?"

He nods. "Some weird news down in Texas, I figured I'd go see what's up. It's been a while since I've hunted on my own."

"Oh," I absorb his statement. "Well, be safe, and see you when you get back."

"Yeah, see you later." Sam pauses a second. "By the way, I didn't get a chance to apologize to you for how I acted when you first got here. I didn't think. Or feel. Or anything like that. I hope it doesn't effect anything between us."

"It's okay, I understand," I shrug. "You didn't have much of a choice of how you were acting. Don't worry about it."

Sam gives me a friendly grin. "Thanks."

With that, he ascends the stairs and leaves. I smile to myself; it feels nice to be accepted by all three of my "teammates" as Cas would call them.

"What are you smiling about?" Dean asks. I jump, not expecting him. He laughs.

"N-nothing," I reply. "Do you always stalk me like this?"

"You wish," he chuckles.

"I do not," I mumble uncomfortably.

Dean takes a drink of his beer and sits across from me. "Do you want anything?"

"I'm good, thanks though," I decline. "Any big plans for the day?"

Dean shrugs. "I might go do some target practice. You ever shot a gun before?"

"Not really," I shake my head. "My speciality is in hand-to-hand combat. Knives."

"That only gets you so far. Come on, I'll give you the run down and show you how to shoot."

Hesitantly, I follow him downstairs into the basement. Down a long corridor, we walk through a door that opens into a large room with various target ranges.