"Hey, Dean," Sam says, looking up from his laptop. He's sitting in the Impala, looking through cases on his laptop. A particularly odd one has caught his eye. He gets no response, and looks up—the driver's door is open, the seat empty.
The car is parked, next to a deli—go figure, Dean has probably left to get his beloved pie. Sam rolls his eyes, outwardly, but winces on the inside. It isn't like he means to forget the pie—he just…doesn't remember.
And Dean kind of needs it right now, Sam supposes, after discovering a demon he tortured considers itself his daughter. Speaking of which…
Sam turns to the backseat. Annie is on her phone, tapping away. Sam wonders what exactly she's even doing on it.
Annie looks up, and waves her fingers in a mocking hello.
"Jailbait, Uncle Sam," she drawls, and Sam frowns.
"What are you doing on that phone, anyway," Sam asks, with not wariness in his voice (like there should be), but instead just plain curiosity.
"Updating my Facebook status," she answers. Sam's eyebrow's raise.
"You have a Facebook?"
"Of course," she answers. "Just because all the other demons are stuck in the 8s doesn't mean I'm not keeping up with current trends. I mean, just look at Ruby. Black leather? So cliché. Ugh." Annie waves her hand in a sort of disgusted motion.
Sam has no idea how to react to that. He's actually honestly trying not to snort. Ruby did wear a lot of black leather…
Okay, now is really not the time for funny banter. Sam looks longingly at the deli. He wishes Dean would come back sooner. He doesn't know how to deal with children—that's always been Dean's thing.
Annie is looking at him with her head tilted. "Hey, Uncle Sam," she says, and he really wishes she wouldn't call him that.
"Weren't you addicted to demon blood or something? Why aren't you trying to jump my bones?"
Sam does not want to talk about this. Not right now. It's still way too soon.
"Not anymore," is all he says, and Annie doesn't ask any more about the topic. Sam has a question of his own.
"Why do demons call the one who tortured and turned them their parent?"
Annie looks surprised. "Oh, that's part of the process," she answers. "See, while we're getting tortured, we slowly loose the human memories we have, When we turn, they come back, but we don't really feel anything about them anymore—our human selves aren't really us anymore. Most demons actually take up a new name—me, I call myself Annie because it's funny. Hi, I'm Annie, the evil demon."
She says it with great amusement, but rolls her eyes and continues her explanation when Sam gives no reaction.
"Our souls don't start the corruption process until we begin to torture, and it works faster on the weaker souls, like me. When it's complete, we turn. In all honesty, our torturer is literally our parent—a small, miniscule really, part of their soul is gone when they turn someone, completely corrupted. It goes to the newborn demon."
Sam digests this information, and reels in shock. "You have a piece of Dean's soul in you?"
"Yeah. It's how I tracked him. Don't worry," she says, misinterpreting the panic on Sam's face. "I'm the only one he turned fully, no other demon can track him like me."
But Sam isn't at all worried about that.
Dean is missing a part of his soul. How—what does that mean? For him? For Annie? Dean is still Dean, but how can Sam know for sure? Sure, the angels had brought him back, but now he knew the angels were dicks.
Surely Cas would have brought him back properly, though, right?
Of course Dean chooses that exact moment to come back to the car. Sam turns to him, all information about the hunt forgotten in light of Annie's reveal.