The cabin Sam and Dean take me to is set deep in the woods. It's secluded, far from any main road and that scares me. Being alone with strange men in the middle of nowhere is a scary thing for a young girl.

When I ask why we can't just stay in a hotel, they say it isn't safe, that this cabin is warded against all manners of evil. Considering the red sigils painted all over it, I decide to believe them.

Castiel is waiting for us when we arrive, standing a silent vigil on the wooden porch of the cabin, still as the night. He acknowledges us with a nod as we move inside, but doesn't follow.

It's cold in the cabin and I shiver, dropping my duffel bag next to one of the two rickety looking beds. Sam moves to the fireplace and begins piling in kindling and wood.

I peer into the rundown bathroom, taking in the small shower and rusty sink. It's certainly no palace, but honestly I've lived in worse.

Sam gets the fire going and the cabin starts to warm.

The front door opens, creaking on its hinges. "We should get started on accessing your powers," Castiel says from just beyond the door threshold.

"Dude, it's the middle of the night. She's exhausted, we all are," Dean shakes his head. "We'll get a few hours of shut-eye, then you can start your mind-training-whatever at first light."

Castiel looks reluctant, but when I have to stifle a yawn, he begrudgingly agrees. "I'll just…wait out here then." He turns and the door closes, though no one actually touches it. It's going to take me awhile to get used to his powers, that's for sure.

I go into the bathroom and wash up, changing into clothes I can sleep in and pulling my long hair out of my face. When I re-emerge, it's to stare awkwardly at the two beds.

Dean glances up at me from a worn-in leather journal in his hands. "It's fine, you take one of the beds," he says. "Sammy'll sleep on the floor." He grins at his brother.

"Dean," Sam scolds him with a weary glare.

I smile softly and slide into bed. Despite its threadbare appearance, it's surprisingly comfortable. Then again, I may be so exhausted that anything would feel comfortable right now.

"So, how long have you guys been doing this? Hunting…things?" I ask, leaning back against the chipped, wooden headboard.

"Our whole lives," Dean says. "Our dad taught us, brought us up in the life."

My eyes widen. "You've known monsters existed for your whole lives?"

Sam nodded. "Pretty much."

I sink further into the bed, thinking about what it would have been like to grow up killing horrifying things. I don't think it would've been very nice, although Sam and Dean seem surprisingly well-adjusted.

"So, you really had no idea you were psychic?" Dean asks me, looking curious and maybe a hint suspicious.

I look down at the blanket on my legs, twisting the cotton around my fingers. "It's…complicated."

"How so?"

I inhale deeply, getting ready to unlock some pretty dark memories. "During my birth, there was a city-wide blackout. In the chaos of it, my mum's heart stopped and….they couldn't get it started again. She died." My eyes dart up to see them looking at me with empathy. I can tell they aren't being pitying or condescending, just understanding. But it makes me uncomfortable all the same. "A part of me always knew that, somehow, it was my fault. I think I may have caused the blackout. And that was what killed her." I pinch the bridge of my nose, realising how I must sound. "I know that probably sounds crazy - I was a baby - but it's just…a feeling."

"Doesn't sound crazy to me at all," Sam says reassuringly. His voice is soothing and it calms me, makes me feel like I can be honest.

"I get feelings sometimes. That's it really. No visions or weird dreams or crystal balls or whatever. Just…feelings," I say.

"What kind of feelings?" Dean asks.

"It depends. Sometimes, it's general, like I just know it's going to be a good day. Or a bad one. But sometimes it's more specific. I know to avoid a certain person, take a certain route home. I always thought it was just…instincts, I suppose." I feel stupid; naive or blind to my own damn self.

"I mean, it makes sense. If someone or something really has blocked your powers, then chances are they're just trickling through via feelings and instincts," Sam explains.

"How would that happen? My powers being blocked?" I ask.

The two brothers exchange a look. "Well…We don't really know. We haven't seen something like this before," Sam says tentatively.

"But we'll figure it out," Dean is more assured, confident. "Cas'll figure it out."

Exhausted and overloaded with information, I bid them goodnight and lie down, putting my head on the thin pillow. A million thoughts running through my head, I don't fall asleep for a good while.

~O~

The air is brisk and fresh at dawn, but it's not enough to completely wake me up. I'm still rubbing at my eyes and yawning as Castiel leads me through the forest and away from the cabin. I stumble over a fallen tree branch and scoff, trying to keep up with him.

"Why can't we stay near the cabin?" I question, hurrying to his side.

"We need somewhere quiet. No distractions," he states, his voice low and gravelly, serious eyes scanning our environment. We come to a clearing between the trees and stop. In the near distance, I can hear the soft trickle of running water and I catch a glimpse of a large stream. The foliage above us is thick and green, blocking out the harsh glare of the early morning sun. It's a beautiful spot, really. I plunk myself down on the soft grass and lean back on my hands.

"Ok, let's get this show on the road," I sigh.

Castiel frowns. "What show? There are no roads around here."

I stare at him. Is he serious? "…It's a saying. Yikes." I shake my head. "So, tell me. What's God like? I've never been that religious. Now I feel bad for that." I sit up straighter, eyes widening. "Should I be worried about going to hell because I never read the bible? I mean, I tried to listen in Religion class, but parables are just so boring."

"I've never met God—"

"I thought you were an angel," I interrupt. "Isn't God like…your boss?"

"Yes, but…It's a little more complicated than that. We really need to concentrate. Unlocking your powers and finding the Devil is of the utmost importance." He sits down in front of me, tan trench coat billowing out. "Tell me everything you think relevant about your past."

"I—…seriously? I don't know. I only found out about all this yesterday. How am I suppose to know what's relevant?" I question. Opening up about my whole life to him is a scary prospect, like being asked to lay your soul bare for a stranger to gawk at.

"I know your mother died during your birth and that the psychic energy released when you were born caused a large black out," he states.

My breath catches as I realise that the self-blame I have been feeling all these years is well deserved. I really did cause my mother's death.

"After that, what happened? Who reared you?"

I dig my fingers into the grass, not looking at him. "My father, more or less. He wasn't around a lot."

There is some small spark of understanding in Castiel's eyes when I say this. I have a feeling - a psychic one, perhaps - that absentee fathers is something Cas, the Winchesters and I can all relate to.

"He was a truck driver. On the road more than not. I was at home alone a lot," I say.

"Did you have any encounters with what you would call the supernatural?" Castiel asks.

"Encounters with the supernatural? No. None that I can remember."

"What about other significant figures in your life?"

"Not really anyone, other than my dad. I mean, there was Mrs Dahlia but that's it."

At this, Castiel leans toward me, blue eyes narrowing in piqued interest. "Mrs Dahlia?"

"Yeah, she was this crazy old woman who lived next door," I explain, more or less masking the fondness in my voice with practiced ease. "She was always there, from before I could remember. She'd make me cookies and buy me new school uniforms when I needed them. She was super cooky and half the neighbourhood were afraid of her and her big, creepy mansion, but I loved her. My father and I moved though when I was in high school and I didn't see her again."

"Is it possible she was a demon?" Castiel's expression never wavers, always resolutely serious.

My eyes widen. "What? No she was not a demon. What is wrong with you?"

"A psychic herself, then," he surmises, seemingly speaking more to himself than me now. "If she saw your powers emerging when you were very young, then she may have masked them or locked them away somehow. Perhaps to protect you."

"I don't remember anything like that happening," I protest. "She was just there for me when my dad wasn't, that's all."

"If you were young enough, you wouldn't remember. Or perhaps she somehow locked away those memories as well," he continues. "I'll look into your mind and see if I can find any sign of hidden memories." He raises his hand toward my face and I flinch back, leaning away from him.

"Woah, slow down. Look into my mind? I don't think so."

"Why not?" He asks as though he can't possibly fathom a reason as to why I wouldn't let a strange man/angel just wander around my brain. Whatever that even entails. Will he be able to see every thought I've ever had?

"Because that's-that's weird! And creepy!" I shake my head, scooting back further.

"It's necessary," is his serious response. "Whether you like it or not."

"Well I don't like it," I abruptly stand up. "And I need a break." I turn on my heel and stomp back through the forest, scaring off a small flock of birds overhead as I go.

When I arrive back at the cabin, I see Sam standing on the porch and the Impala peeling down the dirt road, back toward the highway.

"Where's Dean going?" I ask, walking up the croaky front steps to stand beside Sam.

"Supply run. We need more food and other essentials," Sam says. "How's it going?" He nods his head toward the woods that I just came from.

"It's…invasive," I admit. "And Castiel is…"

"Unusual?" Sam supplies.

"To say the least."

"He's unsocialised. Angels; they look like us, but they aren't like us. Most of them are…" He chuckles a bit. "Well, most of them are dicks."

I laugh too. It's so unexpected, considering the idea of angels that I have in my head.

"But Cas, he's one of the good ones. He's stood by us when we needed him. Chose to do the right thing, even when he knew it could cost him everything. Even when he knew it could cost him his life," Sam says.

I look over my shoulder, back to where Cas may - or may not - be amongst the trees. "Really? He just seems so…unapproachable. And he says things in weird ways."

Sam laughs again and puts his arm around my shoulder, leading me inside the cabin. "Yeah, you'll get used to it. Eventually."

I stare at the assortment of knives and firearms spread across Dean's bed. "Seems like there's a lot I need to get used to."

~O~

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