Author Rambles: I had ONE weird dream last night. Anyway, I was mucking around with my writing and came up with this. Basically, how would the Winchesters look like to an outsider? It's probably been done before, LMAO, but I thought I would give it a go. Set anytime in late season five.

Random, but kudos to those who spot the tiny reference to 'The Great Gatsby'. I'm meant to be writing an essay on said novel but hey. Why not procrastinate and write for Supernatural?

Also random – I loved 'Weekend at Bobby's'. Crowley and Bobby need to have more scenes, they're hilarious! Oh, Mark Sheppard. Marry me please?

Warning: Um, just swearing in this, I guess, along with the internal complaints of a teenager. :L

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Supernatural. Not even a teeny gun or weeny knife.

Daydream in Blue

It's nearly six o' clock in the evening when I first see them. They walk into this crappy excuse for a motel and suddenly I can't stop staring.

Before they walked in, I'd had my head in a book, counting down the minutes when I can clear off. It's been a shitty day to say the least. Really busy, and old Toby – the boss 'round here – threatening to sack my sorry ass and all that, too. I've been stuck behind the desk for most of the day and my neck is aching. Man, I'm bored.

There are times when I wonder why the hell I took this job. I hate working behind a desk, I hate the hours I have to work, and most of all I hate working with the general public – they're mostly bitchy and whiny. Just like me right now, I guess. Normally I'm nowhere near this grumpy, but that's what work does to me. But I need the money. College isn't a cheap ride. No sir. I was desperate for money, thanks to my rotten parents kicking me out - but that's another sad and sorry tale – so I ended up here. Man, I wish I had gone over to Joey's Diner now. Yeah, the guys are horny bastards there, but at least it's active. And not the pits.

Anyway. The clock's ticking in the background, it's pouring outside and I really just want to be heading back to my apartment and catch some sleep when they walk in. My book slides to the floor, unnoticed.

Two guys, absolutely drenched, walk through the door with heavy-looking duffle bags. I work behind a desk, but I see a lot of people, so I'm really inquisitive. That means I tend to stare a lot. Something I'm doing right now.

First guy's slightly taller than average, with light brown hair that's soaked. When he looks up, I catch a glimpse of startling green eyes. I'm guessing early thirties, and he's pretty attractive, I must say. The second guy strolling in a step behind the first is freakishly tall, with longer and darker hair. His hazel eyes seem haunted, with dark rings smudged above his cheekbones. He looks younger than the first guy, with whom he's apparently arguing with right now. The older one seems frustrated about something, and the younger one just seems tired. There's muttering, a few sighs and then they're both heading over to me.

I crack a smile, inwardly sighing. So much for getting out early. Damnit, I just wanna head on home. I don't want to have to make pleasant chit-chat about crap no one cares about. I don't want to have to smile my face off and act polite for five more minutes, not even to two very attractive men (though it is tempting.) I'm just tired, and fed up. So fed up. Normally I'm usually full of cheer – I tend to laugh and joke with customers – but today has just been one totally shitty day. It happens, I know that. But damn, I really hate it when it does. When a bad day at work is mixed thoroughly with my family crisis and millions of things to do for college, you really wonder why you even bother to get up in the morning. But hey. I'm just living the American Dream, right? Even if it is nothing but a failure; a pile of burnt-out ashes.

They're right in front of me now. I find myself attempting to not look into the older guy's eyes, and keep my smile pasted to my face.

"Hey, welcome. How can I help you guys?" The effect is somewhat spoilt when I'm forced to stifle a yawn after this introduction. And then another. I told you it had been a long and busy day. The older guy looks amused. I can feel my face start to burn.

"We need a room for…" The younger one starts, and then looks to the older guy. Who shrugs. The younger one looks at me again and I can't help but notice how drained he looks. "Well, as long as, really."

I look at the two hot guys and suddenly it clicks. Damnit, they're gay. I bite my lip. Why do I have to fall for guys who would never be interested in me?

"So…Um… Double bed, single room?" I ask, trying to avoid getting flustered. Both guys look at me as if I've suddenly grown an extra head and several tentacles. Something else clicks in my head, albeit too late to help. Oh, crap. I need to stick my foot in my mouth right about now.

"We're brothers, not partners." The older guy says in a weary way. Must get this a lot then, I guess. "So…Two single beds in a room, if you don't mind…" He trails off, looking at me. I feel my face burn again; it's probably bright red right now. Damnit. Just my luck.

"Oh God, I'm sorry." I stutter, dropping my gaze to my desk, looking around frantically for the little slip they need to sign. I can hear laughter. I duck my head even lower.

"Dean, leave her alone." The younger man speaks, and I dare to peep up at him, papers in my hand. He drops me a lopsided grin, while his brother chuckles. Whether it's at me or at his younger brother, I have no idea. I find myself smiling back, however. Eventually I pull myself together and try to finish the job. Setting the register down in front of the guys, I hunt around for the card for the room they've been allocated.

"Could you just sign here, please?" I point to the register, and hold out the card I've somehow managed to unearth from my desk. "This is for Room 27; it's down the corner there," I gesture as I speak, "and it's the first door on your left." The brothers nod, while 'Dean' reaches out with a pen and scribbles on the clipboard, handing it back to me with a smile. I take in with both hands, trying not to yawn again. God, this is terrible. I really need to get some sleep.

"Right." I bite my lip, sounding – and looking – awkward. Their card is still in my hand. Thankfully, the younger brother comes to my rescue, and takes the card from me, dropping me another smile. I still can't get over how pale and wan he looks. I don't miss catching the look of concern that flitters over Dean's face, either. Seems I'm not the only one who can't get over it.

The brothers thank me, and wish me a good night before departing on their way. I stare at their retreating backs for several moments, before finding myself yawning again. As much as I would love to gaze after the guys like a love struck kid, I have to get going home. I sigh. Hopefully my roomie has remembered to keep the door unlocked, because I've lost my key. As soon as the clock strikes, I get ready to go, and old Toby comes out and says night to me, too.

Somehow it doesn't sound the same as the guys' saying it to me.

It's been a couple of days since the guys checked in. I read and re-read their names on the register – Dean and Sam Kripke. Now I know both of their names. Yeah, I do worry about myself. Now, normally I don't obsess about the people who stay here, but these guys are different. They're hot, yes, but there seems more to them that what meets the eye. I told you I was observant about the guests, didn't I?

They go and get breakfast in the café facing here every morning, and sometimes come back after an hour or three with their arms full of books from the local library. Or else they're debating about something with each other. Once they didn't come back at all until dark, and then they were dressed up in rather expensive-looking suits. I giggle at the memory of it.

Whatever it is that they're doing here; it sure as hell seems interesting. Much more so than what I do in my day-to-day life.

Hmm, I wonder if they're agents working undercover? They seem so efficient at whatever it they're doing. But what would Federal Agents be doing here, in this backwater town?

Or, maybe they're not undercover, but just getting information before they start doing their assignments or something?

I'm thinking too much about this…

So, Molly who works at the café told me that the guys have been asking a lot of questions around town, all to do with Owen Hanngian's disappearance. Of course, now it all makes a tad more sense.

He's been missing for a month or so now, and his wife still has hope that he's alive. I never really knew the man, expect that when I was a kid he used to drink with my dad. He had a temper on him, that's for sure, but he was normally quite funny and friendly. When he vanished folk said a lot of things, all bull in my opinion. Stupid things like he was cheating on his wife. But he adored her. I think the truth is no one has a clue, so they make stuff up instead.

I can't get why agents are here about him, though. Hmm…

Old Toby is moaning about having agents here. Well, it's his fault for owning such a dump. Wouldn't surprise me if they report him for breaking Health and Safety Laws, or some crap like that.

They said hi to me when they left this morning. I grinned from ear to ear. Thank God it's the holidays and I work more days now as college is over. I know, I never thought I would ever say those words either! But it means I get to see these guys more.

They're really spicing up the town life, that's for sure. Molly told me that her sister completely fancies the older brother Dean, while Molly likes the younger brother, Sam. And they aren't the only girls here to think like that, either.

Count me in, too.

They both look really tired whenever I see them now. And I'm convinced that Sam is sick. No one should be that pale, or have such dark rings under their eyes.

Dean looks worried whenever he looks at his brother. I can understand why.

I was getting ready to go home last night when I heard a heck of a lot of shouting coming from Room 27, aka the Kripke brothers' room. They sounded so angry with each other, for some reason.

Now, I know I shouldn't have done this, but I edged over to the room, just to get close enough to make out some of the words. What I heard sounded crazy. Apparently demons are running around or something and angels aren't helping.

I can only hope that that's agent speak for something. Otherwise I let two nutcases check into the motel.

They came back today with a guy with them. Wonder if he's a fellow agent or something? He had the whole trench coat uniform down to a 'T'. And he has the bluest eyes I've ever seen.

There was another man hanging around outside the motel today. Didn't come in, just stood outside at the door for over an hour. Dark brown hair, wearing a long black coat. And he just stood there.

I ignored him. Hopefully it's only a tourist – yeah, like they come here – or a drunk rambling around.

That man was hanging around here again today. It's starting to creep me out a little. He just stands there, as if he's waiting for somebody or something.

He caught me looking at him, and he actually winked at me. I looked away quickly. And then, when I turned to look at him again – god, this makes me sound like a real nutcase – I swear he had vanished right into thin air.

Maybe I'm working too much. Need to catch up on my sleep. Yeah. That's it.

Trench coat guy called in again today, with only Dean with him. Sam didn't leave their room this morning. When I asked, Dean told me that Sam wasn't feeling too well. He seemed very uptight about it, so I didn't press.

Anyway, after his friend left, Dean just stands outside his room for a bit. He looks so… Drained. Like a man who has the weight of the World on his shoulders or something. Since the place was empty bar him and me, I decide to have a chat with him. Not flirting, no. Just a friendly chat. I mean, I see him everyday, pretty much.

"So…" I call over from my desk, "How long do you two think you'll be in town?" He looks at me, and I backtrack. I don't want him to think I'm trying to make him check out! "I mean, do you think you'll be investigating for longer?"

Dean sighs, and rubs a hand over his face. Slowly nods. "Well… We're looking at all angles and…" Voice trails off as he peers at me curiously. "You seem to know a lot about what's going on around here."

I smile, and simply shrug my shoulders. "Hey, I watch the world go by while I'm stuck in here. It's the least I can do, y'know. Else I'll go crazy." I laugh, while Dean cracks a smile. He really does look exhausted. I'm about to say something else , just to keep the conversation going, when I look ahead and see that strange man hanging around outside again. I gasp, and Dean looks at me with concern.

"What is it?"

I look at him, and then back again, but the man has vanished. I blink, suddenly feeling very tired myself. Is my mind merely playing tricks on me? Guys can't just be there one second and then disappear, can they? And he has been hanging around here a lot, now that I come to think of it. I swallow, feeling Dean's gaze on me.

"It's just…Oh, hell." I put my head in my hands with a sigh. "I'm going to sound crazy." I hear him laugh, before walking over to me.

"You'd be surprised. Go on, try me."

Well, here goes it. Time to sound like a nutcase to an extremely attractive man. "Look, there's been this… Guy, hanging around outside for the past couple of days. But…" I pause and bite my lip, "He just seems to… Vanish." I pry my hands from my face and glance at Dean. His face is perfectly expressionless, but his eyes are blazing.

"What does he look like?" His voice has swiftly undergone a transformation from being friendly to what I suppose is his interview voice. But at least he hasn't laughed at me; he actually seems to be taking what I have to say seriously. I breathe out, relaxing. Right, I can cope now.

"Um… He's average height, I guess. Dark brown hair, brown eyes. Always in a long black coat." Dean's eyes seem to get bigger and his mouth is pulled into a thin, determined line. Oh, hell. "What? What is it?"

Dean looks at me for a second, before turning around to face the door. Obviously there is nothing to see; now that the strange guy has freaking vanished. But he is soon facing me again, with a furious look on his face. Hopefully it's not directed at me. I mean, it's not my fault if I sound whack.

"How often has he appeared?" His question pulls me out of my tumbling mind. I swallow again, biting my lip for comfort. Yeah, I'm such a sadist. Or is that a masochist? Right. Focus on what's at hand. Yeah.

"'Bout three times now, this week. He just shows up, and then he's gone again." I shiver slightly, but it's warm in here. "Dean, what's going on? Who the hell is this guy?" I ask, and I'm not really expecting to get an answer from him. He looks pissed. And of course, Feds don't really share details of ongoing cases. I'm surprised he's hung around for this length of time already.

"He's…" Dean seems to be picking his words with the utmost care now. "He's someone you may want to avoid. Bad news, let's leave it at that. Hopefully he won't actually come in, but if he does, you call me." The way he looks at me, the edge in his voice in the way he speaks tells me that he sure as hell isn't kidding. "In fact, next time you see him you call me." He adds, almost as an afterthought.

We say our goodbyes as he walks back to his room. I find myself shivering again.

I take back what I said about this place being boring.

Surprisingly nothing really happened today. A new group of people checked in, and a few regulars. I checked a few out. Old Toby actually cracked a smile today, meaning I nearly had a heart attack at the sight. Molly strolled in when I was having my break and we had a chat, in which she told me that Mark Holloway 'likes' me. I didn't know whether to laugh in disbelief or feel a bit happy. After she left, it was business as usual and before I knew it, soon it was time for me to leave and go home.

So here I am now, packing my bag with a sigh as I put it on my shoulder. I have a huge bruise right where the strap of the bag goes. I don't even know how I got it. Typical me. Anyway, I'm starting to walk towards the door when I see him standing outside again. He's smirking, hands in pockets, and I feel myself freeze on the spot.

Oh hell oh hell oh hell.

I feel myself actually gulp in fear, and quickly spin around on my heels and head for the Kripkes' room. But as I'm walking my bag falls from my shoulder onto the floor. And although my brain is screaming at me to leave it and just run, for some reason I drop to my knees to pick it up. My hand is hovering above the denim, fingers outstretched when it's swept away. I dare to look up, and find myself gazing into dark brown eyes.

"It would appear that you require some assistance, darling." The man says with a smirk, his English accent making everything sound vaguely threatening. My bag is in his hands, and a part of me wants to tug it away. It's my damn property! Yet I remain rooted to the spot, my heart thudding like crazy. What do I do? I don't even know a thing about this guy, except that Dean warned me about him. And that my gut is telling me that he sure isn't good news. And he's still bloody smiling at me, like he knows exactly what I am thinking.

"Wouldn't that be hilarious." He says dryly and suddenly once again I feel my frantic heart stop. I stare at him, my mouth hanging open. I'm internally debating about calling for help when I hear footsteps approaching me. I turn around, my desperation to find a rescuer outweighing the fear I feel at turning my back on this creepy guy.

The footsteps are closer now and then I see my saviour, and I feel an impossible grin stretch my face. It's Sam. And he's looking at me with wide eyes.

"Tammy?" He stares at me, before seeing the figure behind me and then he looks furious. "Tammy, get behind me quickly!" He calls, and suddenly he's no longer pale and exhausted, but ready for a fight. I scramble to my feet, and race to his side, not looking behind me as I do so.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" Sam murmurs to me, and I come to the realisation that I'm shaking like a leaf during Fall. I make myself nod, daring to look at the man only a few feet away. He still has my bag, and he's still smirking, but his eyes look darker and deeper than what they did a moment ago.

"I'm – I'm okay." I stammer, "Sam…? What the hell is going on? He was outside and he got in…Only not through the frigging door!" I point at the man, and I drag a shaking hand through my messy hair. Everything tumbles out of my mouth so quickly. I just can't take it anymore. Granted, nothing happened, but that stranger has been lurking around and vanishing, and now he makes himself appear inside in the blink of an eye! "Oh, and he can somehow read my frigging mind!" I'm shaking and close to tears and I just want to go home but I just need to know what the hell is going on in this small town. Maybe Sam knows this, because he reaches for my hand and gives it a small squeeze. A cough causes us to look ahead.

"So sorry to interrupt this touching scene, but I do have a tight schedule to keep."

"What are you doing here?" Sam asks through clenched teeth, and he sounds pretty pissed. His other hand has curled into a fist. He glares at the man, who just smirks back. Not for the first time do I wonder who – or what – the hell this guy is. And it hasn't escaped my notice that Sam hasn't answered any of my questions.

"Sammy," The stranger drawls, sounding faintly amused, "I'm really very hurt that you treat me with such contempt. I am on your side, after all." His eyes are suddenly boring into mine, and they narrow. Sam must have noticed this, because his grip tightens on my hand.

"You haven't answered my question." He spits out, still looking murderous. "What are you doing here, and how did you find us?"

"I do believe that's two questions."

Smug bastard, I find myself thinking. Then I can't help but wonder at the way things are going. After all, according to Dean this man isn't someone I should be around, and that I was meant to call him. What is Sam up to?

The stranger drops his glance back to me again. "Wouldn't we all like to know that one, darling." I'm still as freaked as can be about this guy, and his bloody mind-reading. But for once my anger overcomes my fear and I find myself snapping back.

"Look, you stay out of my head, whoever the hell you are!" Disappointingly, he doesn't seem at all fazed by my outburst. If anything, he looks amused. It's making my blood boil. I open my mouth again to speak, but Sam shakes his head at me and so I shut up before I start.

"I've seen you in here these past few days. You actually believe that Moose here," The stranger gestures with his head towards Sam, "and his brother are agents, do you not?" I find myself looking up at Sam, and then back to this other man, my heart starting to stutter. The other man smiles lazily, his dark brown eyes glittering. Sam looks pained, and I don't like what I'm seeing. Or thinking.

"Poor wee love. So wrapped up in layers of lies and deceit." He continues, before suddenly laughing. "And Sammy, you call me a demon." His eyes continue to glitter, but with more of a spark than before. Sam beside me looks ready to commit murder, and I know the feeling. His grip on my hand has tightened. I look at our entwined hands, and then I spare at a glance at him. His eyes meet mine, we stare for a brief second and then suddenly I know.

"If you are not agents…Then what are you doing here?" I'm amazed that my voice is so steady when inside I'm shaking uncontrollably. I don't drop my eyes from Sam, and he steadily meets my gaze. Somehow I'm getting the feeling that he is quite used to this scenario.

"Tammy…" Sam starts to speak, but sighs wearily and suddenly the look of exhaustion is back on his features, the fight having left him. "I'm sorry about all the lies. But you'd hardly believe me if I told you what Dean and I really are." He sighs again.

I snort at that, turning around to look at the stranger. He's been watching us with something akin to boredom, his hands deep in his pockets. He meets my eyes and smirks. I glare at him, before turning around again to Sam.

"Are the two of you criminals or something? Is this guy your boss?" My mouth and my head aren't working alongside each other. I just can't focus on anything except the fact that everything seems to be crashing down around me right now. "Just tell me, Sam!" I lash out, seeing Sam looks determined not to reply. My breathing is all out of sync, and I feel ready to scream. I just want answers. Is that too much to ask? "If that is even your real name…" I throw in as an afterthought.

"It is, actually." Sam mutters, a tight and humourless smile crossing his lips. "Do you really want to know?" One look at my furious face must convince him, because he then ploughs ahead. "My brother and I? We're hunters. As in, we hunt the supernatural. Kill it, too. We save people. We're here on a case. People have gone missing in this town, and it may be due to demon possession." He stops when I start snickering in disbelief. "I said you wouldn't believe me." Sam doesn't sound angry, just tired.

"Hunters?" I ask incredulously through my wave of snickering. "And you don't hunt bears or anything, no. You hunt…Ghosts and demons and hell knows what else?" I shake my head, my hair falling into my face. "You are crazy. You and Dean. Crazy!" I spin around, looking at the dark-haired man who now looks entertained by our conversation. "And what are you? Are you their boss?" I ask, laughing again. The way he looks at me causes my laughter to come to an abrupt halt. I can feel my mouth close. He winks.

"If I was their boss, I would have either killed them or fired them by now. Perhaps both." He says, totally deadpan. Now, I've regularly threatened to kill people, but the way this guy says it makes me believe that he actually has killed people. I gulp. "I'm just…Someone who offers assistance at odd occasions."

"Dean told me that you're bad news. I had to call him if I saw you." I say, and now my voice starts to shake slightly. I glance at Sam. "But you seem to know him. I don't get it. If he's bad…?" My question trails off unfinished. I suddenly have this strong urge to run back to my apartment and hide under the covers of my bed and sleep.

"Dean said I was bad news?" The stranger remarks, more to himself than me. He pretends to wipe away an imaginary tear. "After all we've been through together. How callous." Beside me, Sam sighs in frustration. Apparently this guy is this dramatic a lot of the time. The stranger laughs. "Dean knows he loves me really. He likes the… Bad boys." He smirks.

"I know that Dean is a moron for thinking that we can trust you." Sam suddenly spits out. He drops my hand and points at the dark-haired man. "I know what you are. I know what you do!"

"Wow. That's certainly a lot of knowing right there Sammy boy." He turns to me. "Name's Crowley, by the way. No need to keep referring to me as, 'the stranger'." I nod foolishly, no longer able to pull him up on digging around in my head. I can't believe such a thing is even possible, really. Maybe I'll wake up and this will have all been a dream.

Sam looks at Crowley with a look of pure loathing. "Tammy, do you want to know what this thing is?" The stranger – Crowley, I mentally tell myself – pulls a face that is topped off with what can only be described as 'puppy eyes'. Sam snorts.

"He's a demon. A Crossroads demon. He gives people what they want in exchange for their souls." I look at him blankly. I still can't get it into my head that Sam and Dean are 'hunters' and that ghosts and all that shit are apparently real. I find myself shivering.

"That would be King of the Crossroads, to be more precise Sammy." Crowley retorts, but I'm not really listening as they bicker. Demons are real. One is here now, poking around in my head and arguing with a guy who claims to hunt and kill all things supernatural. If I actually believe all this – and I have to, seeing as a demon here and has cheerily informed me that he is reading my mind – then, my brain reasons with me, something clearly isn't right with this picture.

"Uh, Sam?" I mutter, interrupting the verbal war taking place between the guy I trusted up until ten minutes ago and, so help me, a demon. "Sam? If you're a…Hunter, and if he's a demon… Shouldn't you be, I dunno… Killing him instead of arguing?"

Crowley scowls. "The girl has only just been informed of what you do and that her world is bigger than previously thought, and already she's jumping ship with you?" He turns to me. "Sammy here has wanted to kill me for a while now darling. But his bouncing big brother won't let him because he knows I'm useful." He sends Sam a pointed look, but the man beside me just shrugs.

"I don't trust you. I do, however, trust my brother. But I'm waiting for you to show your true colours, Crowley."

There's a moment of silence. Crowley merely smirks in response to the veiled threat recently issued by Sam, who glances at me. But I act like I can't see his questioning eyes. I want – no, need – to be by myself now. Everything I said about this crappy town and crappy motel being boring – I so take it all back. Now I've got too much interesting all at once. It's not a nice feeling.

"I want to go now." The words leave my mouth and seemingly hang in the air. I glance over to see that my shoulder bag in still in the hands of the demon. "May I have my bag back, please?" I'm surprised at myself for being so polite. Before I can even blink, Crowley is right beside me and my bag is back in my hands. "Thank you." I turn to face Sam.

"Tammy-" he starts, but I cut him off with a slight shake of my head.

"Please. I just want to go home. I need to…Think. It's been a long day, and a freakin' even longer night." I pause, swallowing. "Night, Sam." I start walking towards the door, not wanting to get a reply back or anything. A few days ago – hell, a few hours ago – I would have been ecstatic to have been so close to the man; to have held his hand. Now I just need to get away. Maybe he understands, because he doesn't holler at me on my way out.

I do, however, catch Crowley murmuring something along the lines of, "They're getting closer. You're quite the catch, Sammy boy. Better call on old Deano and get ready for quite the fight."

I just walk faster.

After a night plagued with nightmares, I call in sick the next morning. I don't want to go into work and act like nothing has happened. Or worse, act like I know that something has happened.

I tell old Toby I'm sick. He actually sounds concerned. Normally this would make me laugh, but I'm not in the mood right now.

So I curl up on the sofa with a mug of hot chocolate and a book. I turn my mobile off and the TV. I read about Anne Boleyn, her trial and her execution. I've read it dozens of times, but it stills amazes me that she was executed, along with so many men and her brother just to let Henry the Eighth marry and get a son.

But no matter how absorbed I get with my reading, I still find myself thinking about the events of last night. Heck, for all I know, Henry the Eighth was possessed by a demon, hence why he went on a rampage!

I want to scream. Instead I finish reading and go back to sleep.

Okay, I chicken out again the next day, too. I call up Old Toby and tell him that I must have a bug or something and that I'll probably be in tomorrow, just not today.

I don't want to face them, or the world they've opened up for me. At least, not today. I need to be by myself some more.

Turning on the TV, I see on the News another bulletin about the missing people in my town – Owen, Maggie, Katie. Police are baffled apparently, and have no idea what's up. It makes me think about Sam and Dean. Are they right? Are demons actually claiming these people?

At night, I get my clothes ready for the morning. I want to go into work and see the brothers. I want to know exactly what's going on. No more secrets. No more lies.

Molly popped in to see if I was okay, some friends who work in the motel chatted with me as well and even old Toby stuck his head out of his office to enquire after my health. I smiled and laughed with everyone, but all the time I kept craning my head towards the Kripkes' room.

The day went by and there was no sign of them. I checked a few people out, checked a few in, answered the 'phone and caught up on file work. Every once in a while I looked up to see if Crowley was hanging around outside, but it was a no show on that front as well. I started to wonder if I'd imagined everything.

But eventually the brothers troop in. It's nearly time for me to call it a day and I have my bag packed and all when they come in. I glance up at them and nearly drop the papers I'm holding when I see the state that they are in.

"What the hell?" I burst out, running over to them. Sam, who has a nasty looking gash on his head, is supporting Dean who looks ready to fall over. Both look shattered. "What happened to the two of you?" I sound like such a mother hen, but in truth I never would have thought to see these two guys look so…Vulnerable.

"Bit of a fight." Dean winces, wrapping one of his arms around his chest. He looks at me. "Sam said you found out a lot last night." I bite my lip, before shaking my head.

"Yeah, I did. But that doesn't matter now. Let me help you get back to your room! And we should have a med kit out back." Sam drops me a small smiles, before tightening his hold on his older brother.

"That sounds great. But we have supplies and stuff-" I cut him off by draping one of my arms around Dean's other shoulder, careful not to aggravate his chest any further. The three of us stumble somewhat, but we eventually make our way to their room. Sam gives me their card and I dash forwards to unlock their door, holding it open as the two of them stumble in. Sam helps Dean to sit on the bed, ignoring his complaints of, 'Dude I'm fine' and begins to unbutton his shirt. I drop my eyes; feeling my face starting to burn. I mean, this sure is one awkward turtle moment. I'm about to make my excuses to leave suddenly I look up to see Crowley standing right in front of me.

"You know, I really liked this suit." He informs me, gesturing to the ripped jacket and pants. I find myself rolling my eyes. He frowns, before looking at Sam and Dean. I'm freaked out by how used the brothers seem to be to occurrences like this. Both of the injuries and of a demon just popping up beside them.

Dean's chest is looks painful – a lovely combination of blue, black and purple. There are also some nasty-looking cuts along the side of his neck. Sam nods his head, looking pleased about something.

"No broken ribs, Dean. Just bruises." Dean winces in reply, something that makes Crowley snicker. The brothers glare at him. It's only then that I notice that Crowley's suit is stained heavily with blood. I shudder. I'm not even going to ask about that. I'm going to pretend I didn't even see it.

"That's one little nest down, boys. And you got the information you needed. Well done, you're both top of the class now." He smirks, clapping his hands a few times. Dean mutters a few choice words about where Crowley can put his class, but the demon just laughs.

"I'm guessing you all are talking about demons?" I ask, and the three of them look at me as if they had forgotten I was present. I shrug at their looks. "Did you…Kill people?" I venture, my eyes inadvertently straying back to Crowley's suit. Sam opens his mouth but Dean beats him to it.

"Tammy, those people were possessed. They'd been dead for a long time – we found that out a few hours ago. It was demons we fought and yeah, demons we killed. We didn't kill the people you knew." He gives me a sympathetic smile. I just nod at him, and start examining my fingernails. This is such a bizarre conversation.

There is a patch of silence, in which Dean takes a few painkillers and Sam patches up his forehead. Crowley just stares out of the window, apparently deep in thought. That makes two of us.

"How come you helped kill those demons?" I ask Crowley suddenly. He spins around on his heels, hands in his pockets again. He just smirks, dark brown eyes glittering.

"I'm looking out for Crowley." He says simply, and I decide not to push him any further. Something tells me that he is powerful, and I don't want to make him mad. Hopefully you're not getting all this right now, I think quickly. I spare a glance at the two brothers. In the space of a week they have completely turned my life upside down. Okay, maybe a tad too heavy on the hyperbole there, but I've found out about a whole new world. They've opened my eyes. I don't know whether to thank or curse them for that.

"Well, uh… I have to go now, I guess." I mutter awkwardly, reaching for the door handle. "Good night and… Hope you feel better soon." I add, seeing that Dean winces when he goes to stand up.

"Night, Tammy." Sam smiles, taking a swing of water. Dean nods his head at me. I smile back, and make my way out of the door. As the door closes behind me I catch Crowley muttering something like, "You've got a bit of demon blood on your neck there, Moose. Very debonair." Sam mutters something back, Dean laughs, and I just walk out of the motel.

But I can't stop a laugh escaping me as I do so.

The next morning I'm at my desk, trying to tell a woman that her credit card is working but she needs to put her frigging glasses on to type in her frigging number. Eventually the message gets across; she thanks me – "You're so kind, dear" – and leaves. I tug my book out of my bag, and curl up on my chair. Old Toby can't say a thing; I know for a fact he has a stash of…Let's just say, adult books, hidden in his office.

Men. Seriously, do they only ever think with their downstairs brain?

Anyway. There I am, reading away, when I hear Dean calling my name. I glance up and sure enough, there he is. And Sam. And trench coat guy. I smile, closing my book and setting it down.

"Hey."

"Hey." Dean coughs, looking awkward. I then realise what he's going to say before he says it. "We're checking out now."

"They have more work to do, involving stopping Death from destroying Chicago and killing millions. There is no time to lose." Trench coat guy informs me, his blue eyes serious. I look at him blankly, and Sam hides a smile. Dean sighs.

"Geeze Cas. A simple, 'we have work to do' was all you had to say."

"I do not understand." Cas' face furrows in concentration. Dean rolls his eyes. Apparently this behaviour is normal from this guy. Dean turns back to me, smiling. I fish around for the paperwork and scribble on it, before handing it and a paper in his direction.

"You just need to sign here and then I'll need your card back." I say, and sure enough Sam hands me over the card in question while Dean signs. He asks for the bill, he pays and then we're all standing around, not knowing what to do. Or say, in my case.

"So…" I start, once again playing with my hands.

"So." Dean copies me, smiling again. I laugh, before throwing a look in Cas' direction.

"Is he a demon or whatever too?" I dare to ask, and Dean snorts.

"You may not believe this, but he's an-"

"I am an angel of the Lord." This Cas interrupts Dean easily, and once again I just nod. But there is something in the way he stands, acts and speaks that suggests something…It's hard to explain. But he just seems…Heavenly. But if you look again into his blue eyes, he looks pained.

"Well, we better be off. Thanks, Tammy." Dean says, and he nods to me, before picking up a heavy bag and wincing. I guess the ribs are still acting up. Sam rolls his eyes and picks up the bag instead.

"You're not Superman, Dean. You need to let those bruises die down a bit, you dumbass."

"Thanks for the concern, Lois." Dean retorts, and I start laughing. Cas just looks confused, which seems to make Dean laugh more. Dean smiles at me again and starts walking away towards the front door, Cas following.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Sam asks, and at first I think he's talking to his brother ahead of him but then when I realise he's asking me. And I know what he's talking about. I look around the motel room, and then back at the brothers and the apparent angel. I find myself smiling slowly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I'm going to be okay." I reply. "It's been a lot to think about, but I'll be fine." He looks at me with such understanding.

"We were brought up in this, you know." He says quietly. "I've never had a normal life. But, I've got this far. So I'll be okay too."

For a minute we stand together, before Sam reaches out and gently gives my hand a squeeze. Then he lets goes, and starts to walk away.

"Bye, Tammy." He calls out. I sigh.

"Bye, Sam!"

Suddenly I'm alone in the motel front desk, listening to the sound of the hoover coming from upstairs. I start thinking about what Sam as said. It must have been tough, growing up knowing that the monsters in stories and under your bed where actually…Under your bed. He and his brother sacrificed their chance at a normal life so that they could hunt down these supernatural creatures. They actually keep us safe. And we never know. I'm totally mind blown.

I sit down again and pick up a pen and start drawing on a blank piece of paper. I look up from my doodles and look straight ahead to find that Crowley is standing outside the motel. He winks, and before I can blink he's gone. I stare for a second, before shaking my head and laughing to myself.

"Yeah. I'm gonna be okay." I mutter aloud. "But if I end up checking a demon into this motel and get killed because of it, I swear I'm gonna hunt those brothers." I laugh again and resume my scribbles.

Fin

A/n – I write too much. And obsess too much. Hellz yeah, let's light this candle!

Right, I better start this essay. But to quote darling Robyn, 'I wish I could write an essay on the development of Sam and Dean as characters instead of the failure of the American dream in Great Gatsby.' That would be something worth doing ;)

Well my friends. If you liked, or even if you hated, please feel free to drop me a line. ConCrit is always appreciated! xx