Once you've come to terms with the fact that hunting is your profession nothing else matches up. I can now see why my father craved it so much. When the little old lady paying for a months worth of groceries in front of you at the store decides to pay in change you have no choice but to suck it up and try to be patient. When a ghost flings a chair across the room directly at your face you shoot that fucker full of rock salt. You aren't alive anywhere else like you're alive on a hunt. Maybe it was because you know you're doing something right, or perhaps its the fact that within any moment you could die. Standing so close to death you begin to see all the choices you wish you had made. In my personal opinion most of the monsters we hunt are just pissed off because we can do the things they no longer can but most of us still don't. Watch a game show and I guarantee that 9 out of 10 times winners always go for the new living room set over the free safari trip to Africa.

We all claim to want simple normal lives but even Eve got bored living the same perfect life everyday. Maybe taking a bite of the forbidden fruit was a little more justified than we like to believe. Confined to my chair I watch Dean and Bobby converse quietly. With nothing else to entertain my thoughts I begin to wonder what their reactions will be. Dean will be furious, no doubt, as will Bobby but the old guy has a serious soft spot for me. A part of me used to think it's because he just needed the company, come to think of it now it was probably just my cooking.

In the last ten minutes or so it's started raining. The shingles on the roof curl and in certain spots give way. Little streams of water trickle down here and there, not enough to warrant Bobby repairing the roof, just enough to require a few buckets strategically placed whenever clouds start rolling in. Behind me where there had been nothing suddenly stands Castiel. Ignoring the baffled expressions on Dean and Bobby's faces he easily releases me from my bindings. I gingerly rub my wrist as I stand, the rope having prickled a red line across my pale skin. Fingertips brush lightly across my forehead, the blood and the pain instantly gone.

"Cas what the hell?" Dean shouts.

"I'm sorry Dean." Cas replies stoically calm as he steps a head of me. "But there are somethings in which even your opinion isn't necessary. "

The tension in the room hangs thick between us. Smog smothering cities and everybody wonders why they feel sick constantly. We're consumers. We take in what we give out. Liars heaving off each other's lies. No wonder the worlds going to hell.

My feet remain glued to the floor as I cautiously watch the two exchange glances. Dean, with his eyes narrowed, turns his gaze across the crowded room to me. Our eyes meet and I quickly find a thousand more interesting things to think about. Unblinking I return his gaze. No doubt if I could read minds his would be putting of some serious foul language. Luckily for me I wasn't the only one fronting the blame here. Castiel knew I had returned and neglected to tell Dean as well. Mounted on top of the mess with Sam and his soul I'm not surprised to see the eldest Winchester fuming beneath all that flannel and self hatred.

"Where is Sam?"

Throwing the basement door open Dean's heavy steps proceeded down the stairs, Castiel following quietly behind him.

"So, got anything to drink?" I ask Bobby nonchalantly, leaning against the door frame that separates the kitchen from the library/den area. My arms crossed across my chest. Fingernails digging anxiously through the sleeves of my blouse. I must be such a sight. Crisp black trench coat, high waisted black skirt, white button up. I'm the picture of the perfect secretary.

Heaven has an uptight dress code.

This little reunion of ours is unavoidable, I know that now. Reluctantly I force a smile, an invisible gun pressed to my head screaming "Be happy!"

Pull the trigger and redecorate the kitchen in crimson red.

"It's good to have you back kid." He nods to me as he pulls out a chair. The house is exactly how I remember. All those little left over fragments of my old life hung framed upon the walls. The mix matched book shelves I helped Bobby install after haggling the man at the flea market for nearly half an hour. For months I told myself I didn't miss my old life. That I wasn't cut out to be somebody's idea of the perfect wife or daughter, but as I stood in the throes of my old home I began to remember the things I had forced myself to forget. It didn't matter to Bobby that I bitched about the toilet seat always being left up or complained about the decade old water heater. To him I was family.

"It's good to be back."

The words fly out of my mouth before I can cram them back in. We take our seats at the small kitchen table and settle into an unfamiliar silence. Popping the top off an old favorite Bobby fills up a small glass and sends it sliding and sloshing across the table at me. I take my first sip and have to cough it down.

"As crazy as it may sound" cough "I fear I am no long accustomed to liquor."

A hiccup sneaks its way out and I try my best to modestly cover my mouth. Bobby lets out a small chuckle.

Oh how touching.

As he tells me about the going ons of the past few months I try to seem surprised. Truthfully, I already know everything that's happened because Cas knows. Think of him as my boss, he shows me the formula, tells me how to execute it, and then sends me on my way. Even more than that Castiel and I share a sort of bond. Like two cans tied to a sting. Connected.

"Where's Cas?" I ask Dean as he emerges from the basement. It's the logical thing to do, anyone else in my position would ask the same. The illusion of ignorance, or as it's often called 'innocence'.

"Nice to see you too buttercup."

I ignore his rudeness and the use of one of my many nicknames and continue on. "I don't know where miss feather bottom ran off to." He replies gruffly, running a hand over his face he stops to pinch the bridge of his nose. His eyes shut tight. This is clearly taking a heavy toll on him. To be honest, I didn't care much either way. This was a job, and would be handled as such.

No attachments. No baggage. No liabilities.

Any moment and they'll be hurling question after question my way, all of which they'll compel me to answer. Lying is normally my go to option but I've found it best to be honest in situations such as these. Rather than ask permission I seek forgiveness. Walking past me Dean grabs a hold of my glass and carries it into the den.

I could have gotten up. I could have walked over to him and got right in his hostile little face. I could have grabbed him by the shoulders and screamed. "I was with you you idiotic little shit! I wanted you to save me!" But it was at this moment that tired eyed and weary, Sam walked in.

Had I been thinking clearly I would have left right then and there. Sam was alive, and judging by the way he was embracing Dean and Bobby the returning of his soul must have gone more smoothly than I had expected. Like a fly on the wall I try to keep myself backed into a corner, out of eye sight, melting into the faded wallpaper. On a whim I decide to make a quiet dash for the backdoor. Soft as a feather my my feet tip toe towards the exit. "Leave now!" My brain screams against the tender walls of my skull. I'm half way there when my hip catches the corner of the table and shoves it across the tile floor.

"Holly?"

Turning around seems impossible with every passing second the silence grows longer. My whole body is frozen. Dean I could be a jerk to, Bobby not so much but how could I walk out on Sam. If anyone else could understand the things I've gone through it would be him.

"Get out! Get out now while you can! Run for the door, get out! Pretend like none of this ever happened and go back to being the perfect little solider."

Detachment.

No baggage, no liabilities.

But strong hands take a hold of me, whipping me around. As my face sank into Sam's warm chest I stood defenseless as my only way out began to disappear.

xxxxxx

So sorry for the delay!