Sixteen

"So, where are you from Thomas?" Dylan asked stirring her hot chocolate.

"Well my mama is from Sipsey Alabama, but me, I've been on the road since I was 17, no fixed address ya see?" he answered. I sat silently and took in my surroundings, we were at a diner a few towns over from the big showdown, I couldn't remember the name or quite frankly how we got there. I remembered talking to Thomas about what I knew in regards to Joshua death, which wasn't much. I remembered watching the flames engulf the funeral pyre we had built. I remembered deans hand in mine in the dark and him squeezing it, looking to me to check if I was ok. I remembered getting into the impala and closing my eyes. When I woke up we had stopped at this inconspicuous diner, there was nothing unusual about it, but somehow everything felt different. I looked at the others at the table and took them in as if for the first time. There was Dylan who looked like your average bright and bubbly young woman, minus the wings, her long black hair and vivid blue eyes made her look almost like a character out of one of the animes she loved to watch. Then there was Sam, tall and serious, his brown hair long and in desperate need of a cut, he had his head buried in his laptop. Then there was Dean, a little shorter than Sam but more muscular, his hair slightly spiked and a small amount of stubble spread across his jaw. His green eyes caught mine and he grinned at me, my heartbeat sped up and I smiled back. Lastly there was Thomas, a complete stranger, he had short blonde hair that looked like he had just woken up, I could see his hazel eyes searching Dylan, he was muscular but not extremely so, he really looked like a younger, less battered version of Joshua. But there was something else, I felt my eyes going in and out of focus as I looked at him. For a split second I thought I saw a flash of red behind him, just for a second I thought I saw demon wings, but when I blinked and looked again, they were gone. I shook myself, I was being ridiculous, if he was a demon I would be able to tell, so would Dylan. I'd see his wings, I must have still been tired. I continued listening to the conversation, with Dylan doing most of the talking but I was fading in and out. Eventually I stood up.

"Hey guys, I'm sorry but I'm still exhausted, I'm going to book into the motel on the next block, I need to sleep." I rubbed my eyes and Dean jumped up.

"I'll come with you." he offered.

"Thanks but I think I need some alone time, I'll see you guys later." I waved as I walked out the door and began the short walk. It was mid afternoon so the weather was fairly nice, it felt good to be able to be alone with my thoughts, not worrying if Dylan would read my face, or Dean would worry or Sam would judge. After only five minutes of walking I reached the motel and began to check in. I hated using fake credit cards but there wasn't exactly a lot of money in hunting monsters and I needed a roof over my head, gas in my tank and food in my belly to do my job, so credit card fraud was the best option. If pretending to be Ms. Danielle Olson was going to get me a bed, then Ms. Danielle Olson I would be. After checking I grabbed the key, refused an over eager bellboys offers to help me with my bags, of which I had none, and headed to room 103. The room was around the back of the complex and had a delightful view of the huge dumpster. As I rounded the corner I could hear a faint sound, I looked around but couldn't see any immediate cause. Knowing that what you can't see definitely can hurt you, I whipped out my butterfly knife and followed the direction of the sound, it was coming from the back of the dumpster. Knife raised I crept silently as possible around the huge smelly thing. I got around the back but all I could see was a TV box, I realised the sound I had heard was coming from inside the box. I bent down and lifted one of the sides and was incredibly shocked at what I saw. I had been expecting some kind of monster, instead I was faced with the tiny faces of five kittens, they couldn't have been more than a month old. But I couldn't see a mother cat, I searched the area around the box and sadly in a bush not far from the kittens was a cat. The poor thing was dead, I inspected it from a distance and could see it had a small bullet wound in it's neck, probably from a small pistol or even a bb gun. I was angry, some asshole had killed this poor defenceless cat, made her babies orphans and left them for dead. 'People man, they suck' I thought to myself heading back to the TV box.

"Hi little ones," I whispered picking the box up. Their mother may have been dead but there was no way I was going to let anything happen to these kittens. I carried the box to my room and placed it on the floor. I found a small bowl and filled it with water and sat next to the box. One by one the kittens ventured out. The first out was a pure white kitten with bright blue eyes, next was a tabby in different shades of brown with longer fur than all the others and brown eyes, next was a ginger kitten with white socks and a white patch over one eye and green eyes, then a tan kitten with white fur on it's stomach and a white tip on it's tail, this kittens eyes were the same blue as the first more adventurous kitten. The last kitten took quite a while to come out, it seemed much more skittish and mistrustful than the other four. I sat quietly next to the box, not moving and it eventually poked its head out before padding out and smelling my shoes. This kitten was completely black from head to toe and when it looked up at me I could see why it was so frightened, the kitten had one beautiful yellow eye and where the other should have been was a huge scar, just healing. Something had happened to this kitten to make it mistrust, I gently put my hand out and allowed it to smell it. The kitten then rubbed up against my hand, I took this opportunity to pick it up and place it in my lap. I thought it would bolt but instead it sat down and fell asleep. I sat there for hours with this kitten on my lap while the other kittens played and eventually curled up and fell asleep. It had gone night-time by the time the others got back, Dylan was the first through the door and she reacted exactly how I imagined she would.

"OH MY GOD! KITTENS! They are so cute, where did they come from!" she squealed like a three year old. I laughed as she dropped to the floor and the white kitten went over and rubbed against her outstretched hand.

"I found them," I explained' "I heard them over by the dumpster, their mother is gone, I had to take them." I told them as I patted the small black one on the head.

"Huh," Sam chuckled, "we should get them to a vet." I smiled up at him and nodded.

"Yeah I was thinking that but I have no idea where a vet is in this town."

"Ok! Let's go find one!" Dylan bounced picking up the kittens and putting them in the box.

After a short drive around the surrounding streets we came across a vet. She examined each kitten, telling us the sexes and gave them all a worming tablet and handed all of them back, except for the black kitten.

"Now about this kitten," she said in a serious tone, "while there isn't a lot wrong with her, she will require much more attention than the others, she will need someone to keep a close eye on her eye and watch how she interacts with the other kittens, most likely because the injury would have been caused by one of the others, she will be antisocial. This can be a real problem when dealing with other cats, I'm very sorry but my recommendation is to put her down."

"No!" I grabbed the kitten from her and cradled her in my arms, "I'll do it, I will watch out for her!" The vet pursed her lips and tutted slightly.

"Your choice." she said and handed us the bill, luckily Ms. Danielle Olson came to the rescue once again.

Back at the motel Sam, Dean, Dylan and I sat playing with a kitten each and the tan kitten slept at Dylans feet. Thomas had told us he was allergic to cats and retired to his room. It was not long after that when Dylan decided the cats each needed a name. We sat for a moment before Dylan piped up, grinning.

"I have decided this kitten is mine!" she help up the pure white girl, "her name is Lady Flufflypants." she grinned again as we all cracked up.

"Hmm" Sam mused patting the male tabby, " I always wanted a cat named Lancelot."

"Lancelot? Really?" Dean scoffed.

"Oh so you have a better name?"

"Tiger!" Dean smirked pointing to the ginger male. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Cute names boys!" Dylan giggled, "he looks like a Zeke to me." she smiled looking down at the tan male, "what about your little girl Rayne? What are you calling her?"

I looked at the small black ball of fur in my arms, I stroked her head and she purred, she was a survivor but a misfit, she needed a fitting name, I thought for a while before breaking the silence.

"Breya, her name is Breya." I said quietly. Looking up at the others.

"Breya, that's Irish right?" Sam questioned and I nodded.

"It means spirited and brave."

"Fits her perfectly!" Dylan laughed good naturedly. I smiled warmly and looked down at my new pet. 'My brave little Breya' I thought cuddling her close