Hello again, friends. *grins evilly* I didn't pick Clara because of Doctor Who...but then I realized. It's not a crossover, to make things clear. Review stuff you want to happen, and I may just grant your cynic little wishes...

One review! Whoop!

By the way, Dancerline, I'll be dropping hints until she spills. Which may or may not be soon...

Anyway.

On with the story!

Sam woke up. He looked at his alarm clock. 01:07. He decided he was hungry, and trudged to the kitchen for something. Anything. As he passed through the living room, he glanced at the couch. No Clara. The chairs. No Clara. She didn't seem to be anywhere in the living room, and then he saw a flash of her strawberry-blonde hair on the cold concrete floor. Uh oh.

Sam decided to investigate, and saw that she wasn't dead...just sleeping on the floor. The freezing, hard, concrete floor. Her back was to the wall, and thin arms were covering her face and neck. From what he could see in the light of the small lamp that they always kept on, those thin arms were covered in bruises and cuts and scrapes. He sucked in a breath. Maybe she really meant it, and wasn't a rich kid breaking and entering for fun.

He sat next to her, back to the wall and half a foot away from her strawberry-blonde head. Slowly and gently, he placed a hand on her side to reassure himself she was still breathing. He then began to run a hand along from where her ribcage ended, across the dip of her waist, and up onto her hip. He repeated this gesture, over and over, his large fingers ghosting across her shockingly thin stomach. He touched her ribcage, and he could feel each and every rib, prominently sticking out.

Clara hummed and stretched out, the top of her head now pressing on his thigh. He hadn't realized it, or maybe he was just distracted, but Clara was quite beautiful. She had a petite, upturned nose and long, thick eyelashes. Her curly, strawberry blonde hair was messed up now, but Sam bet it looked great.

Great, Sam told himself, You haven't gotten laid in six months and you're already checking out a stranger? Great, Sam, great.

Clara began to cry, as if she were having some sort of nightmare. She clutched Sam's thigh when he tried to get up, her elbow bonking his kneecap. Sam sighed, and pulled a blanket out of the 'Blanket Box'. The Blanket Box (dubbed by Cas) held all sorts of blankets, just for when you needed them. As it got cold in the bunker, you often did. He draped it over Clara, leaned his head on the media stand, and fell asleep too.

"Cas, look. Sammy finally found himself a girlfriend..." Sam's eyes snapped open. Dean was stifling giggles at the pair on the floor.

His hand was still on her hip and her head was pressed to his thigh. "I was hungry..." He muttered. "It's a long story."

Clara got up slowly, looking at everyone. Her face was bright red, and her stomach lurched. She got up, and ran. Shoving past the two standing in the doorway, she made it back into the bathroom just in time to empty what little she ate yesterday into the sink. After washing it all down, she meekly walked back to the living room.

"Sorry, had to use the bathroom."

Sam was making scrambled eggs for everyone, including Clara. She said she wasn't hungry, but Sam figured otherwise. Clara sat at the table, arms crossed, glaring at the small napkin holder.

"Jeez, Clara, you'd have figured the napkin holder killed your whole family." Sam chuckled as he sat the plate down in front of her. Sitting directly across from her, he began to dig in.

"I'm Dean," Dean stuck his hand out, and Clara flinched. Just about any sudden movement freaked her out, and weapons just about terrified her. Slowly, she took his hand and shook it.

"And I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord." Cas didn't stick his hand out. Clara's eyes followed something, until they were fixated on something two feet to the right of Cas' head and about a foot up.

"Beautiful..." she murmured, and Cas blushed. Then, his features settled on a look of confusion.

"What is beautiful?" His eyes followed hers. "You mean to announce that you can see my wings?"

"Yes. Why? Aren't they just visible to everyone?"

"No."

"Oh." Clara's focus returned to her heaping plate of eggs. She picked up her fork, and tentatively took a small bite. A wolfish grin spread across her lips, and she devoured the entire plate of eggs quickly, like she'd never had that much food in her life. Sam, judging from last night, thought she probably never had.

"Hey, Clara. Will you stay with us? You'd probably be a good hunter. A hunter of demons, that is."

Clara nodded, staring not at Sam's face but at his plate of food. Chuckling, he pushed it over, and she ate that, too.

"Then we'll get you some proper hunter clothes. Illegally, of course. But we'll get you them. Are you fine going by yourself? Because, um, we're kind of all guys."

Clara nodded again. "I can drive," She said softly, pointedly looking at Dean.

Dean groaned, passing the keys of his Baby over to her. "I'm taking a large leap, trusting a stranger like this. But if I find one scratch, I swear, you'll be dead before the scratch happens."

"You still might need someone to go with you," Sam said. "After all, we don't really know if we can trust you yet. Charlie?" He looked at Dean, who nodded.

"Definitely Charlie. Only Charlie will get her geeky stuff." Sam rolled his eyes, and pulled out his phone to text Charlie.

A knock at the door fifteen minutes later announced the arrival of Charlie.