I rotated my shoulders forward, shaking off the tension that had been building for the past week, ever since we started hunting down the witch's spirit. Thankfully, salting and burning the remains puts a human spirit to rest no matter what they did in life, so while I distracted the ghost with a fake ritual, Dean took his sweet time dealing with the body in the crypt. After salting and pouring lighter fluid over the body, he lit a match, then let it fall just as the spirit turned to see him. With a shriek, she started towards him. She only got two or three strides in, however, before she herself burst into flame and disappeared.

"Well, that's done," he said, brushing off his hands on his well-worn jeans. "Whaddya say we head back to the bunker and hit the hay?"

"Sounds like a plan," I answered. "It's after 3 am, and I actually want to get some shut-eye tonight."

"Sure thing," he said. "Just let me get my…WHAT THE HELL?!" he yelled suddenly, grabbing at his pant leg. I stifled a laugh as he started to hop on one booted foot and flail the other in the air, as if he was trying to shake something off. Before I could say anything, though, I heard angry hisses and yowling, so I had a pretty good idea of what had suddenly attacked Dean's leg.

"Wait, Dean! Put your foot down! It's just a scared cat!" I shouted, trying to be heard above the noise and get him to calm down. He did, glaring at the green-eyed kitten that had its claws embedded in his favorite pair of jeans. I reached down, hoping to disentangle the thing from his leg, when it turned and looked right at me, seeming almost indignant.

"Shh, it's alright; I'm not going to hurt you," I whispered softly to the small cat, crouching down to see it better. To my surprise, the kitten cocked its head to the right, seeming to consider my statement, then retracted its claws and fell to the ground with a soft thump. It padded over to my feet, then closed its eyes and started rubbing its head against my outstretched palm, purring up a storm.

"Is that a cat?" Dean asked (sometimes he's a little slow on the uptake). "I think it likes you."

"Yeah," I said. "Maybe it was the witch's familiar or something." I sighed at the look of confusion on my brother's face. "You know, animals/humans that are supposedly demons in disguise, helping witches with their spellwork. That's where the 'black cats are bad luck' legend came from. We met a few when we helped clear James' name; remember Portia and Phillipe? This one seems happy to see us, though, so maybe the bond wasn't very strong." I scratched the cat behind the ears and looked at it, thinking it would turn into its human form. Nothing happened, though.

"Or maybe it's just a freaky black cat in a graveyard. Now, here's the real question: what are we going to do with it?"

I looked up at him, confused. "What do you mean, do with it?" I asked. Obviously we were keeping it! There was no way it could survive on its own. I mean, it was just a kitten!

"Now, Sam, you know we can't keep it. We're either on the road or at the bunker all the time and I will not have that…that…thing getting cat hair all over Baby's upholstery! Not to mention that I'm allergic to cats! Besides, it doesn't seem to like me very much. I mean, look what it did to my pants!" He stuck out his bottom lip, frowning, and held the aforementioned pant leg out for my inspection. Honestly, I couldn't see any difference.

"Dean, we can get a cat carrier for the car or something. It's too small to be on its own, and you're not that allergic. Please, Dean?" I begged, giving him my best puppy-dog eyes. "I bet it'll even eat scraps." I'd picked up the cat earlier and was holding it protectively in my arms. When I mentioned the scraps, however, it glared at me, then promptly sneezed in my face.

"Fine," Dean sighed (he can't resist my puppy eyes; believe me, he's tried). Then he cracked a smile. "I don't think it liked the idea of eating leftovers, though, Sam. We better get some pet stuff tomorrow morning." He picked up both of our bags and started to head back to the car. Then he stopped.

"What?" I asked.

"Is it a girl or a boy?" he wondered aloud.

I checked in the lights shining from the parking lot. "Girl," I told him.

"'kay," he said, throwing our stuff in the trunk of the Impala. As we got in the car, the cat busied herself burrowing into my inside jacket pocket (trying to get warm, I guess).

As we drove off, I smiled to myself. "What is it?" Dean asked, pulling onto the interstate. He looked at me in confusion. "You feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just…I mean…I've never had a real pet before. It's a little weird. Having something other than you to take care of."

"Aw, Sammy's a daddy now! How cute." He smirked. "Seriously though, what are we going to need? I don't know the first thing about taking care of a cat. I mean, food, duh. But what else?"

"I don't even know. Let's get some books while we're at the pet store tomorrow and find out."

#################################

We finally got back to the bunker around 4. I stripped and headed to the bathroom to shower off the grime of a hard day's work.

After quickly soaping up and rinsing off, I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, then tied it around my waist. "M'kay, your turn…" I said to Dean as I headed to my room. When I passed by Dean's room on the way to mine, I saw them. "Um, Dean…what are you doing?"

He looked up at me and blinked. "Dude, this cat is weird. I swear, it's glaring at me." I snickered. "What?" he asked, looking slightly offended that I found his predicament amusing.

"All cats look like they're glaring at you. You're being paranoid," I said. I picked up the cat off the bed where she was sitting and held her in my arms. "Go take a shower, Dean. I'll be asleep by the time you get out." When he left, I went to my room and put the cat on the floor. I changed into a gray t-shirt and a pair of boxers. I headed to my bed, closing my eyes while I yawned. When I opened them, I looked down at my bed to see a pair of bright green eyes staring up at me. "Hey, get off. That's my bed," I half-protested, making apathetic shooing motions with my hands. The cat just rolled over on her back, begging for a belly rub. "Fine. Whatever. I'm too tired to argue, anyway," I muttered, scratching her belly a little as I climbed under the sheets and turned off the lamp, soon falling fast asleep with my new pet snuggling my side.