A/N: Okay…so, I feel like I should explain, I usually don't like OCs. I don't like reading about people who are perfect in every way, or people who wanted to write themselves into stories, etc. But…this story has been stuck in my head for a while now and while I was camping I put pen to paper and started to get it out of there. This story is going to involve Sam and Dean, so don't worry, they will make an appearance.

Let me know what you think, this is the first OC I have written and I want to make sure that she is a good character.


"Listen, I don't know what the hell you want me to do about it! I barely knew my sister. Hell, I didn't even know she had a kid!"

"Mr. Singer, I know this is sudden, but if you do not take her, then we will be forced to put her into foster care," the smarmy social worker informed him grimly.

Bobby sighed into the phone. The last thing he wanted was for the kid to be bounced around from home to home. "What's her name?" he growled out in defeat.

"Sophie," the social worker told him quickly, sensing that he was finally making the necessary headway. "She was a good student before the accident, her teachers speak very highly of her."

"And since then?" Bubby interrupted, noticing how the social worker had used the past tense.

"Like with most kids who have experienced a traumatic event, Sophie had become withdrawn. She has refused to speak to anyone since the accident and is often mentally withdrawn as well."

Using the phone to hit himself on the head, Bobby rolled his eyes as he realized he had already made his decision. "How soon will she be here?"

As Bobby shut off the phone with the knowledge that he had about a week to get all of the suspicious material cleaned-up, he realized he never bothered to ask how old she was, or why her father wasn't the one taking her.


Sophie stared out the passenger window as her social worker pulled into the Singer Salvage Yard. She didn't care where she was, so long as she could get away from his constant talking. She didn't want to talk about the weather, her new 'home', or the freaking corn they had passed to get here. She wasn't excited, nervous, or sad. She was numb.

Less than two weeks ago, she had watched as a car ran a red light after her mom had dropped her off at soccer practice and turned their car into a tin can. She couldn't run fast enough as she raced over to check on her mom…she couldn't scream loud enough as she saw the mangled mess that moments ago was her mom telling her to have a good time at practice. That was the last sound she had made. The shrinks said she would eventually come out of it, that once she had time to adjust, she would start talking again. But, how does one 'adjust' to that?

The car finally rolled to a stop outside of a house that had seen better days…a long long time ago. The social worker seemed to notice this as he continued on his never ending conversation to reassure her, "I'm sure it's plenty nice on the inside."

Ushering her up the stairs, the social worker confidently knocked on the door and looked around while they waited. Obviously they weren't going to just leave her here, there would be surprise visits over the next year to insure that Mr. Singer was a fit guardian, but at least this was better than the alternative. He was so busy looking around the salvage yard that he was surprised when the front door swung open to reveal a gruff looking man with a trucker's cap on. "Mr. Singer, I presume?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, looking behind the social worker to catch the first glimpse of his niece. Well…she was certainly older than he thought she would be, looking to be about 16. Tiny little thing too, tall and lanky, looked like she needed a cheeseburger or two. But then, with how the social worker had described the accident, he didn't think he would be too hungry either. "You must be Sophie. I'm Bobby," he said, ignoring the social worker for all intents and purposes.

Sophie glanced at him, knowing his name from the few times her mom had mentioned him, but other than the look, she remained quiet.

"If we could come in, we can get some paperwork settled and I can get out of your hair for a while."

Bobby unblocked the doorway and gestured inside. "Be glad to." Over the past week, Bobby had spent countless hours cleaning up the piles that had been accumulating since his wife's death. As far as he knew, anything that even hinted at the weird had been secreted away.

Leading them into the living room, he motioned for them to take the threadbare couch, setting down on the armchair next to it.


Three hours later, they had finally gotten rid of the social worker. He was like a damn dog with a bone, wandering around the house, checking the closets, asking questions. Finally, all the paperwork had been signed and all the questions answered…and Bobby was never happier to see a car pulling away in his life…until the silence kicked in and he realized for the first time that he was living with someone again. Someone who couldn't speak, by the look of her wouldn't eat, and even if the first two weren't true, she was a teenage girl. What the hell did he know about taking care of a teenage girl?

"So uh…" he started, feeling incredibly awkward. It didn't help that she was avoiding eye contact. "Why don't I show you up to your room?" Bobby suggested. Sophie had declined to go look around when Bobby had shown the house to the social worker earlier.

"I'll take that as a yes," Bobby mumbled when Sophie stood up. Bobby led the way up the narrow staircase, stopping at the first door on the right. "This will be your room while you are here. My room is downstairs. Across the hall in a guest bedroom; every once in a while someone will be using it. Bathroom is right down the hall. So…need anything else?"

Sophie walking into the room and set her one bag on the bed.

"Guess not," Bobby supplied. "I'll be downstairs. There will be a pot of chili on the stove if you get hungry." As Bobby retreated out of the bedroom, he couldn't help but curse at himself. 'Bobby Singer, you can barely keep your own sorry ass alive, what business do you have taking this on? You don't know the first thing about raising nobody.' But, as he settled down to work on a translation, he knew that he had to try, he couldn't throw that girl to the wolves; she was blood, and that meant something to him.


Sophie ignored her stomach for as long as she could. Anytime she tried to eat, her mind provided her images of her mom in the car…not exactly the most appetizing of images. So, when Bobby offered her chili, she knew exactly what she would see. But still, she had to eat something. Thinking that it would be late enough that he would be asleep, Sophie quietly tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen. She was relieved to not find Bobby downstairs and went to scavenge for something to quiet her stomach.

Avoiding the pot, Sophie quickly noticed a pan of cornbread sitting on the stove, a couple of pieces cut out of it. She waited for gruesome images to pop in her head and when none arrived, she almost eagerly cut a piece out and set it on a paper towel. Finding the glasses, she turned on the water, wincing as it sputtered to life. Once her water glass was full, Sophie grabbed her cornbread and retreated back to her room before Bobby came out to investigate the noise.

What Sophie didn't know was that Bobby was well-versed in teenagers sneaking around his house at night, but it was usually teens who had far more experience at being quiet than her. So, the moment the top step had squeaked, he had been able to follow her progress through the house from his room. He briefly entertained the idea of going out and asking if she needed anything, but he knew that there was a reason she had waited until now to leave her room. He could remember after his wife died, everyone had come by to extend their condolences, and all he wanted was to be left in his pain. It was his pain, how could they possibly understand what he was going through? So, he left her alone, glad to hear that she was at least getting some food in her.

The next morning, Bobby woke up, planning on attacking some of the old junkers that were sitting outside, seeing if any of the parts were usable or sellable. Normally, he would be researching something, but he had put the word out that he was going to be unavailable for a while; he wanted to be completely there in case Sophie needed him. Wanting her to know where he was, Bobby climbed the stairs, absently noting that the railing was getting loose. Knocking on her door, Bobby didn't wait for a response he was sure he wouldn't get, but called out, "I'm gonna be out in the shop. If you need food, there's some sandwich stuff in the frig. If you need me, just holler," Bobby let out a breath of air at his mistake. "Just come and get me."


A week later and they had a system down. Bobby would throw something together for dinner, usually chili or grilled cheese. Sophie would wait until she thought he was asleep to go grab a bit to eat. Bobby would listen to her as she made her way back upstairs. In the morning, Bobby would let her know where he was gonna be. Repeat. Every once in a while, their paths would cross, their meetings leaving Bobby feeling awkward and Sophie feeling lonely. She knew that Bobby was trying his best, but she just couldn't break her silence. How was it fair that she got to walk around and breathe, when her mom was nothing more than a memory?

Then, one day their schedule changed. Bobby had noticed that the food was starting to be slim pickings. Knowing that Sophie was particular in what she ate, Bobby asked her if she wanted to come along to the store.

Sophie had surprised him when she picked up her jacket and waited for him to lead the way. Their trip to the store was entirely uneventful, much like the trip through the store. Bobby had quickly figured out that she shied away from certain foods and he could guess at why. So, he stayed away from the meat section and watched her as they wandered down the aisles, taking note when she paled or when she seemed okay with his selections. It didn't take long before they were done, but Sophie had disappeared for a second to come back, almost hesitantly carrying…feminine products. Bobby coughed nervously, "I uh…didn't think…let's go," he ended abruptly.

As they were making their way through the only open checkout lane, Bobby let out an almost inaudible groan. It was Maude. Maude was the town gossip, and she loved to talk. He knew that Sophie's presence would get her going. Sure enough, "Bobby Singer! It has been ages! I heard that you just started taking care of your niece. Tragic what happened to her mom, that poor thing!"

Any blush that had been on Sophie's face when she had put the tampons in the cart fled as she became as white as a ghost.

"Is it true that she saw her mom afterwards?" Maude asked almost excitedly.

Sophie couldn't take it; couldn't handle a complete stranger talking about her mom in such as blasé tone. So, she did the only thing she could think of. She ran. Ran straight out of the store, through the parking lot, and didn't stop.

"Damn it, Maude," Bobby growled out, abandoning his food to chase after her. "Sophie!" He scanned the parking lot. "Sophie!?"

It was nearing dark by the time Bobby found Sophie sitting on the edge the river that ran along the outside of town. The town wasn't that big, but if someone didn't want to be found, then it took a while. Slowly, Bobby approached her.

"Mind if I join ya?" Bobby asked as he lowered himself to the ground next to her, far enough away that she didn't feel threatened. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to do a quick assessment of her; her eyes were surprisingly dry, but she had curled in on herself, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them.

Bobby let out a deep breath, turning to look across the river like Sophie was. They stayed that way as the sun went down before Bobby broke the silence. "Your mom, before she moved away, loved sitting and watching sunsets." Bobby could see Sophie's eyes shift towards him and knew she was listening. "I know I'm not your first choice, I wasn't in your life growing up, but I want you to know, you aren't alone here. If you ever wanna hear some stories or when you can talk about her, I'll be around."

He paused. "Can't say that I will be any help on much else, and god forbid you wanna talk about boys."

Bobby released his own smile as Sophie's lips quirked up in the first sign of positive emotion he had seen from her. "What do ya say to some French fries from the diner down the street?" Bobby didn't want to make her return to the store right now. He could just come grab the groceries later. He felt like he was making process as Sophie nodded, stood up, and brushed her hands off.


They were moving forward. Sophie had yet to say anything, but every day she was showing a bit more life. She would answer with nods or shakes of her head, would occasionally crack a small smile, and she had even listened as Bobby took her through an old photo album.

Bobby was starting to get a little bit antsy with staying out of the hunting business, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before he would be back in. He never imagined that it would happen two months after Sophie had arrived.

It was the middle of the night when a loud knock jolted Sophie awake. She heard Bobby downstairs, so she knew that he would handle it, but it didn't stop her from being curious. Cracking open her door, she leaned out of the hallway.

"Damn it, John! I told you that I was out for right now." Bobby nearly shouted at the knocker.

"I know," she heard John reply. "But, we need a place to recoup."

"Well, find a motel," Bobby suggested. "I've got my own problems right now."

Bobby would have shut the door in John's face if it wasn't for the young voice that spoke up. "Please, Bobby! Dean's hurt."

Bobby felt his heart pause at that. John was a damn bastard, he knew that he had a soft spot for those boys and if one of them was hurt, there was no way that he would turn them out. "Get your asses inside. I'll grab the first aid kit."

Sophie continued to listen as three new voices entered the house.

"Set him down on the couch," Bobby ordered.

"Did you clean?" a third unknown voice asked in disbelief.

"Why don't you work on not bleeding all over my house instead of asking stupid questions?"

There was a sudden hiss of pain before Bobby asked, "What in blazes did you try to hug, you idjit?"

The voices got too quiet for Sophie to hear, so she closed her door and went back to sit on the edge of her bed. She thought about going down there to see what was happening, but Bobby had mentioned blood. She had been doing really well at not having flashbacks; she really didn't want to tempt it. So, even when footsteps bounded up the stairs, she remained firmly planted on her bed.

"Now, listen here," Bobby had addressed the three Winchesters before he shooed Sam upstairs and settled Dean on the couch. "My niece, Sophie, is living with me right now. She don't know anything about hunting and I plan on keeping it that way for now. So, keep your traps shut, watch out for anything that might slip out, and for god's sake, keep your weapons hidden."

Dean had not quite succumbed to the pain meds that he missed the girl part, "Is she hot?" he grinned, wincing as Bobby lightly cuffed him upside the head.

"You and I will have that conversation in the morning when I can be sure you'll remember it," Bobby threatened with a tight grin.

"Oddly, I hope tonight lasts forever then," Dean grumbled out as he attempted to find a comfortable position.

Bobby shook his head at the incorrigible teen. That boy was damn lucky that he was fond of him; otherwise he might find himself locked in a room for the entire time he was staying there.


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