Sam knocks on Anna's door. There's no answer. He tries again. "Anna, can I come in?"

"Okay," she says quietly. He opens the door tentatively and slips inside. She heaves a sigh.

"Do, you wanna explain some of what just happened just now?"

"Is 'no' a valid answer?"

He chuckles a little and sits down on the edge of her bed. "Afraid not."

"I'm sorry. It's just…no one's ever read it before. And I didn't mean for you to see what…what I wrote about you guys."

"Yeah, I'm sorry." Anna doesn't say anything. She pulls her backpack next to her and rummages through it, a look of concentration on her face. Her hand stops when it closes around a thin envelope. Anna hugs it to her chest before holding it in front of her to see her mother's neat and beautiful handwriting. There was one thing written on it: Sam. Reluctantly, she hands it to him. He holds it lightly, as he would do with a feather. This envelope obviously meant a great deal to her.

"It's for you," she says, staring absently at her hands. "Mom wrote it before…." she trails off. "Anyway, I didn't read it. She made me promise. I was supposed to give it to you by now but…"

"Thank you," he says, staring at the paper in his hands. It was a piece of Rose.

"Go, read it." She pauses. "I'm sorry that I've been acting the way I have. I'll be better."

He nods at her, then goes to his room, plopping down on his bed. He turns the envelope over in his hands, ripping up the flap. The paper that falls out is neatly folded and slightly worn. He opens it carefully and reads.

Sam,

I hope that you never have to read this. But, if you are reading this, it means I'm dead, as I'm sure you know. I'm sorry to have to leave such a responsibility, but I could not allow Anna to become an orphan like I was when I met you.

I want you to know that all these years I have loved you for giving me the greatest joy I could ever know. Our daughter is so smart, and kind, and sensitive. You'll come to love her no matter how much grief she causes you.

She used to write me stories when she was a bit younger. She said that if she could do anything, than it definitely had to involve her imagination.

I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I didn't mean to have a child before I was finished with college. I didn't mean to get cancer before my daughter could become a teenager. I meant to keep her all to myself forever.

So please, be patient with her. As I said, she's sensitive, and there's a lot that can hurt her. Protect her from it. Be kind. She tends to act out when things aren't right and you'll have to be patient as she adjusts to life with you and without me. And if you come to love her half as much as you do your brother, I know she will be in good hands.

Thank you Sam,

Rose

"Sammy?" Dean says, coming into Sam's room. Sam jumps and shoves the letter underneath his pillow. "What was that, Sam?"

Sam blinks. "N-nothing. Nothing."

Dean eyes his brother suspiciously for a moment, before changing the subject. "So did you do what I told you? Did you put your foot down?"

Sam lets out an angry sigh. "Yeah, Dean I did. I yelled, we cried, we laughed, and she called me Dad for the very first time."

"Shut up, Sammy, I'm just trying to help you."

"Well, don't. She's my daughter, Dean, not yours."

"Yeah, I know, lucky her."

Sam gets up. "Oh, like your parenting skills are so great? If I recall correctly, the last kid you came in contact with got so messed up you had to erase his memory."

Dean lets out a bitter chuckle. Then clocks Sam in the nose. Dean warned him never to mention them again. His brother stumbles backwards, pressing his fingers to his nostrils, checking for blood. He finds it. Sam shakes his head at Dean as he straightens. "Hey, Sam, I…" The pair of brothers turn to see Anna standing behind them in the doorway.

Sam wipes his nose quickly. "He started it," Dean says.

"I'll…come back later. Try not to kill each other." With that, she leaves her father and uncle to gape at each other. When Sam hears her bedroom door close, he grabs his coat.

"Where are you going?"

"To get cake," he says already in the hallway.

Dean rushes after him. "Sammy? I think you mean pie!" Sam doesn't answer.

.

.

Anna awakes suddenly, her forehead drenched in sweat. She's had a good dream, only she couldn't remember what about. The clock on her bedside table reads 3:52 am. She suddenly becomes painfully aware of her stomach and its emptiness. Sitting up, she shrugs off her blankets, shivering at the sudden loss of warmth. The floor felt icy beneath her feet, and she decided it best to take her blanket with her.

On her way to the kitchen, she stops in the library. Sam is asleep in one of the chairs, and by the looks of it, uncomfortably. He lays, slumped forward, an open book serving as his pillow and his head tilted to the sight. She smiles a little at how adorable he looks in this position. He must be cold, she thinks to herself. Anna shrugs off the blanket she's been sporting, catching it in her hands and then drapes it over Sam's body. He snuggles into, not waking.

She shudders and looks in the direction of the kitchen. It would be easier to just go back to her room and wait until morning.

But wait. No, she couldn't do that.

You have a task, Anna.

.

.

The next time Anna wakes, it is to the gentle shaking of her arm. "Anna, wake up."

She groans. "Wait, wha? What time is it?"

"Ten-thirty-four," Sam says cheerily.

Anna sits up. " AM?! You know it's Saturday, right?"

He grins at her. "Happy birthday." She glares at him and buries her head underneath her pillow.

"There's pancakes," he says, knowing it will get her out of bed.

Her head pops up from under her pillow. "What kind?"

"Chocolate chip?"

She grins. "Good answer. Who made them?"

Sam furrows his brow. "What?"

"Did you make them, or did Dean make them?"

He sighs. "Dean made them."

"Good."

"I could've made them!" He protests.

"Maybe, but everything you eat makes my tongue sad, so I'm being cautious."

"Hey!"

"I speak the truth."

He chuckles and says, "Come on, before they get cold."

Anna flails her arms about pathetically in Sam's direction. "Carry me," she whines.

"You can walk," he assures her.

"But it's my birthday," she pouts, "you said so yourself."

He stares at her a moment, then gives in. "Hop on," Sam says crouching, his back facing her, ready to give her a piggyback ride. Anna smiles to herself as he carries her down the hallway.

The day is off to a great start.

He sets her down in a chair in the library. "I'll be back with the pancakes."

.

.

That evening, all Sam had to do was yell "Cake," and Anna came running, slowing to a walk a few feet from the library table. The candles are already lit. She counts them in her head, just to be sure. All twelve are accounted for. She looks at Sam, then to Dean.

"You guys aren't gonna sing, are you?"

"Hey," Sam says defensively. "I can sing."

This earns a laugh from Dean. "Don't quit your day job, Sammy," he says, slapping his brother on the back. Anna laughs at this too.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Make a wish."

This stops Anna for a moment. What would she wish for? Things were great. So, as she blew out the candles, she can only think of one word: Remiel. She enjoys a brief moment of pride at the fact that she blew out all of the candles in one breath.

.

.

Remiel stirs awake in the unfamiliar room, sitting up to get a thorough look at his appendages. They're small and inferior-looking. He climbs out of the bed at looks around at the room. It is plain, with many subtle feminine touches. There is a pink shirt and jeans folded neatly on the bedside table next to a clock that reads 10:34 am. He looks down at his current attire. He is wearing some sort of soft clothing, it is loose and comfortable.

Perhaps this is not proper attire, he wonders, eventually shrugging and moving toward the door, peering out into the hallway. No one is in sight, until a man rounds the corner, stepping into the hallway. Which one is it, he asks. How do I react? He searches for the answer silently as the man approaches him. He knows what she would say. "Hey, kiddo, happy birthday! What are you doing up so early?"

Remiel tilts his head. Birthday? Oh, yes. "I…was not tired," Remiel says. But it was in his tone, not Anna's. He reprimands himself silently. Remiel's oddness causes Dean to furrow his brow in confusion.

"O…kay. Well, Sam was going to tell you, but we found case, it's in Missouri. We leave tomorrow and Cass is going to stay with you."

Castiel! That abomination! "That is not necessary," Remiel says.

Dean stares at him a moment and says, "Well, tough. It's not up to you." It takes all of Remiel's restraint to keep from attacking Dean and blowing his cover.

"I suppose that is alright, then"

He looks at Remiel strangely again. This time, longer than before. He then retreats to what Remiel assumes is his bedroom.

.

.

Sam looks up from his laptop as Dean comes into his room. "Sammy, I think we have a problem."

"What? What is it?"

Dean sits down on his brother's bed. "It's Anna." He pauses. "I don't thinks that she's Anna."

Sam frowns. "What, you mean you think she's possessed? Dean, that's impossible, the entire bunker is warded."

"I dunno, Sammy. I talked to her just now and something was definitely off. The way she spoke…"

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You think it's an angel?"

"Sam, trust me, something is off."

Sam nods. "Yeah, okay, we need to be sure. I've got an idea."

HEY GUYS! SORRY THE UPDATE TOOK SO LONG! I'VE JUST HAD ALL THESE IDEAS FLOATING AROUND. NEXT CHAPTER, ALL WILL BE EXPLAINED, ESPECIALLY THAT WHOLE CONFUSING TIME THING. (WHICH WAS INTENTIONAL, AND NOT A TYPO.) AND DON'T WORRY, SAM HAS A GREAT IDEA. (MORE OR LESS.)

SO, YOU'VE REACHED THE END OF THE CHAPTER, HUH? MAYBE YOU SHOULD LEAVE A REVIEW AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK?

PLEASE!