Disclaimer.
Adam.
Just once, she would have liked to see him again. Before he went into the pit, before he'd been taken over for what seemed like so long ago.
Dean had gone through his things, he'd found her number amongst his things back at his old house. He had come in the middle of the night, waking her up.
She hadn't believed him at first, when she had first learned of what had happened to him, what was going on.
Dean had looked exhausted at the time but he had managed to be patient with her. Being so open minded, it wasn't all so hard to believe. But it was a lot to take in.
She was sitting outside, staring off into space, thinking of him, of Sam and Dean, of angles and demons, of everything.
It had been months, maybe even a year or more since she had been told; she had lost track of time and her connection to society due to hours studying the supernatural, and she had managed to accept everything.
But, still.
He was gone. Gone forever, and she would never see him again.
Hearing the familiar rumble of an engine, she looked up from the picnic table that she had been staring blankly at for the past few hours. The sky was filled with dark clouds threatening ran and thunder. Living in the woods has always been her way, never going into cities much unless she needed a lot of food, which she normally hunted for by herself. She never went to towns unless she needed ammo.
Her eyes fell back down to the table as she heard the engine grow closer, in the front of the house decked out in herbs and charms in order to protect herself from the world most shut out, ignored, or just didn't know about it. The engine stopped, and she heard two doors open and shut.
"Hello?" She could hear Dean shout as two sets of feet climbed the steps to her front door. Still, she did not look up as she heard them banging on the door.
"Anyone home?" Sam shouted.
Always one to be lost in thought, she did not notify them of her silent presence. The cool breeze that swept itself through the branches, disturbing the leaves and the grass, seemed to snap her out of her daze. Looking up, she called, "I'm here."
Hearing faint muttering, a ghost of a smile reached her lips as the brothers rounded the corner, Dean with a frown and Sam looking calm and collected coming towards her.
"You know when people knock you're supposed to answer," Dean muttered, sitting down across from her, while Sam remained standing.
"I was thinking." Her voice was soft and calm, but it held just the right emotion for the brothers to know what she was talking about, to know who was on her mind.
"You do too much of it," Sam said, grinning, deciding to sit next to his brother.
"How long has it been?" She asked, smiling. Really, it had been too long. These men looked so much older: life obviously hadn't been kind to them since they had last met.
"Two and a half years." Sam looked at her expectantly, as if she shouldn't have asked that but somehow managed to anyway.
Blinking in surprise, she straightened up. "Has it really been that long?" Smiling softly, she murmured, "It barely even feels like a year."
"Lucky you," Dean muttered, "and you don't even need booze to make the time fly."
"No, I didn't," she glanced around out of habit, making sure nothing was hiding in the trees. Lately, she felt like something was always wrong, for a while now. "I buried myself in books and Latin texts for six months and hunted monsters and game alike before allowing myself to feel anything."
"Sounds boring." She snorted. Of course Dean would say that. Sam only rolled his eyes.
"We wanted to check in on you. See how you were doing, but we figured you needed some time." Dean had concern laced in his eyes. He hadn't wanted her to become a hunter when he had told her about the world he'd grown up in. And she hadn't. But she had become aware, and that was good enough for him.
But the fact that she had known Adam made him concerned, though. Talking to her, at first, had been difficult, because she had insisted that Dean and Sam were liars and were just telling her tall tales about him.
Adam and her, they knew, had been good friends. Maybe she had felt more for him than that, Sam didn't know for certain but what he did know was that the two had been close, despite the evidence of a social life and that she still deeply missed him.
"As you can see I'm fine, but thanks," she said, glancing around again.
"Everything okay?" Sam asked.
"I'm fine," she said, brushing her curly caramel-colored hair behind her ear, and then running her hands through the short locks that went past her ears but did not touch her shoulders — a telltale sign that she wasn't what she said she was.
"You know you can talk to us," Sam said.
She shrugged. "Thanks, but it's nothing."
"Since when is it nothing?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest. The autumn wind rippled through the trees, making the young woman shiver.
"It must be nerves," she mumbled, tracing patterns into her pale wrist with her fingertips, tracing the creases in the skin. Large, distant green-grey eyes focused on the wood of the picnic table. She was dressed in jeans, black hiking boots, a thick, oversized black pea coat that covered a plaid, unbuttoned shirt and a navy blue tank top. Warmer clothes would be needed in the coming months, but she was used to it. Her mother had owned this place since she had been in her early twenties. Her father... Well, being the rich snob he still was, he'd hated the place.
So it was all hers.
"So how's life?" She asked them, changing the subject.
Sam was trying his best not to ask sensitive questions, but the dark half-moons under her eyes that have her a half-dead look. The look of grief Dean had described to him two and a half years ago was still there, but he could see something else was bothering her: he could feel it, too.
"It's been... Well, life," was all Sam said before Dean said was what on his mind.
"Look, whatever's making you jumpy, you can tell us."
"It's nothing." She didn't look up.
Sighing after exchanging glances, the Winchesters stood. She stood, too. Giving them both hugs, she smiled sadly.
"We're always here if you need anything," Sam assured her. "Even with a hangover and a bullet wound we'd be there if you needed us."
Dean muttered something incoherent but she laughed anyway. Grinning at her, looking like the more exhausted of the two, put a hand on her shoulder. "We know what's going on in that head of yours," he reminded her.
"Oh?"
"You can't dwell on the past," Sam murmured.
Dean nodded. He gave her one last bear hug that made her grin widely.
"Thank you for stopping by," she said, watching them as they headed back towards their car.
"Call us if you need anything," Sam said, and after hearing doors open and shut, the roar of the engine filled the air and soon, the noise faded into the distance.
Her grin had faded as soon as they'd disappeared around the corner.
Silence didn't last long. A twig cracked in the distance, and she whipped her head around to face the trees. Her mind went back to Adam. She'd known him for years, since a young age. Knowing now about the family he'd never known, she welcomed the numbing sensation that was spreading throughout her body. She'd come to know it as a defense when it came to emotional situations.
A feeling of sadness washed over her as she took a step towards the trees, dead leaves crunching softly under foot, her eyes searching for any signs of strange life amongst the tree limbs and weeds. The darkness was descending quicker than she had expected, and the sun took away the last of its warmth as it sunk behind the mountains.
Realizing that she should be inside, and not out here, away from her spells and books and guns and knives and Latin texts, she began backing away towards the house when another twig snapped. Closer this time.
The wind began to pick up, and the familiar sensation of fear began making her blood run cold, so cold she wondered why she didn't have frostbite on the inside.
Holding her breath, and against better judgment, she took a hesitant yet fairly large step forward. The sounds of nature echoed around her, but as far as she could tell, nothing out of the ordinary was out there.
But she had that feeling, the feeling of being watched.
"Hello?" She called out softly as another twig snapped, a little farther away. Someone was messing with her; this person, this thing, was obviously stealthy and could be as silent as it wanted to be. And frankly, she didn't want to be messed with.
Stepping into the trees, allowing herself to be in the danger of the woods, she exhaled slowly and as quietly as she could.
"Is anyone there?" She called out, softer this time. What was it that was screwing with her head?
Holding her breath again, she remained still. A twig snapped right behind her, and just as she opened her mouth to scream, she felt a hand on the collar of her coat and was yanked backwards and something cold was being pressed up against her neck as her back made contact with the rough bark of a leafless oak tree. Trying to calm her erratic heartbeat, she looked to the left and saw the shadow of her assailant, who was somewhat taller and smelled strangely familiar.
"What do you want?" She asked softly, her eyes narrowing when the man hidden in the shadows stepped even closer to her, the knife digging into her neck, barely making a mark on her sickly pale skin.
"What's your name?" Came a low human voice, a voice that was strikingly familiar it sent her heart skipping several beats.
Swallowing hard, she answered, "Claudia."
In an instant the knife was removed and a sigh of relief escaped the human's lips, but he did not move away. "Claudia?" He repeated.
"Yes..."
"Nice to see you again," she could hear the grin in his voice as he took the smallest of steps away from her, but it was enough for the shadows to fall away from his face.
Her jaw dropped.
It couldn't be.
"You..."
"I'd explain it," he said, "but I have a feeling that you don't want to hear it."
Shock radiated from the young woman as she ran her hand through her locks. How could this be? Who could have done this? Why was he here? How long had he been out?
"Claudia," he said, "it's me."
"I know," she said, smiling sadly, "and I just can't believe that you're... Out... Adam."
He nodded. "I see you've been talking to my brothers." Disdain filled his voice and she knew where this was going, but she didn't want to talk to him about that. Not now.
"They stop by from time to time," she said.
"It's good to see you," he said as he began to step away from her. Against better judgement she reached out for him. This surprised him. Wasn't she scared? Wasn't she alarmed in any way? When he had been close to her, he had felt her heart bearing crazily. Now she was calmer. Why?
"Are you going?" She asked him, "are you not going to explain yourself, Adam Winchester?"
He winced at the name, but nodded. "I'll see you again," he promised, "I just had to see you for myself in person."
Sadly, she let him fade into the trees. Her heart sank, and then she realized that it had gone with him, and not for the first time either.
Claudia shook her head. Adam, her childhood friend: Alive and seemingly well. Back from Hell. But why?
She sighed, heading back to the house hidden amongst the trees, shaking her head. This explained the strange feeling she'd been having lately.
As strange as it was, it felt right to have him back in the world, even though she didn't know why. She didn't know why she never told his brothers or anyone that he was alive. Or how he had come to be where he was now: on Earth.
Maybe it was because she loved him.