HEY GUYS, THIS CHAPTER GOT A BIT DOMESTIC, SO BEAR WITH ME. I PROMISE THAT THE SUPERNATURAL FORMAT WILL BE BACK IN PLACE SHORTLY. WE'RE GOING TO SEE MORE OF DEAN THIS CHAPTER, SO ENJOY!

"Anna Cassidy!" Anna looks up, confusedly at her teacher, Ms. Anthony. "Would you care to tell me what, exactly, in that book is so much more interesting than your work?"

Anna's face visibly reddens. "N-no, ma'am." The teacher's eyes narrow on Anna, and then continues speaking. "I will be assigning the partners for the project. Please remember that this will be a quiz grade. I have taken the time to thoughtfully pair all of you."

The class groans. Ms. Anthony rattles off a few names. "Mary and Amy, Josh and Alexa, Harrison and Zachary, Anna and Jack…"

Anna's face falls. Jack? She was being paired with Jack? He was an idiot, or at least acted like one. She had no idea why he was even in Advanced English.

"You have the rest of class to discuss the project with your partner."

She tried to look neutral as Jack made his way across the classroom to sit next to her, opening his computer. Anna clears her throat. "So, I think that it would be easiest to do a board game."

She's surprised when he looks at her thoughtfully. "But everyone's going to do a board game, aren't they?"

"So, then we make ours different." She doesn't expect her heart to flutter when he smiles at her, brushing his dark brown locks out of his hazel eyes.

"I like the way you think. So, how do you want to make it different?" Anna stares at him for a bit longer than she should before she processes his question.

"Uh, you know, I was thinking something like candy land."

"What, with characters based on English instead of sweets?"

"I can't really draw…"

He shrugs. "I can."

Jack's hand brushes against Anna's as he grabs his textbook. She shivers, but Jack doesn't seem to notice. Anna glances at the clock, noting that they have an hour before the end of school. It was going to be a long hour."

.

.

When Dean picks her up at the end of the day, she doesn't notice that she has a huge grin plastered on her face. "What are you so happy about?" he asks her, looking in the rearview mirror.

The smile on her face immediately dissipates as she lets out a rather unconvincing, "Nothing."

"Uh huh," Dean says sarcastically.

"What?"

"Nothing," he says, shrugging.

"What?!" she asks again, becoming frustrated.

"Who is he?" Dean asks, smiling mischievously.

Anna tenses. "Who's who?" she asks, not-so-nonchalantly.

"Who is this guy that's made you turn all doe-eyed?"

Anna doesn't answer, opting to stare out of the window rather be embarrassed by her Uncle. "Are we starting my training today?"

As a birthday present, Anna had asked to learn how to use a gun. Usually the boys would have answered with a resounding "NO!" However, after the incident with the Angel-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Sam and Dean weren't really in a place to deny her such a security.

That was two weeks said that as soon as she was back in school, her training would begin.

"Yes, we start today," he assures her. After a pause, he continues embarrassing his niece. "So what's his name?"

"I'm not having this conversation."

"You know I'm never going to let up," he admonishes.

Anna sighs. "Yeah, I know."

.

.

When they arrive home, Anna tries to make haste for her room, but it's to no avail, as Sam is waiting for them. "How was school?"

Before Anna could answer, Dean chimed in. "Anna likes a boy."

Sam laughs as Anna glares at his brother. "Stop saying that!" she says angrily. "How could I ever like a boy when you're all idiots!" She stomps away to her room furiously, mostly because Dean was right.

Sam smiles at his brother. "This is why she likes me better."

"Shut up." Dean punches his brother in the arm.

"So, how ready do you think she is for training?" Sam asks, rubbing his arm lightly.

"We'll find out soon enough. I'll make sure she's careful."

He sighs. "Yeah, I know."

.

.

When they get to the gun range, Anna's mouth falls slightly. "This is so cool! I've never been down here before!"

Dean turns to her, narrowing his eyes. "Don't touch anything."

Anna nods. "Okay."

Dean takes his gun out of his holster, holding it up for her to see. He then turns and points it at the target, firing a few rounds. Anna watches in amazement as every one of them hits either in the head or the chest. She rubs her ears to get rid of the ringing as he holds up the gun again. "This is mine." He tucks it back into his belt and reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a small shotgun. "This is yours once you've earned it." He hands it to her and she sets it down gently on the table in front of the targets.

"It's tiny," she notes quietly.

He looks at her, smiling slightly "Tiny gun for tiny hands."

"They're not tiny!" she exclaims, staring down at them. Dean then takes her right hand and puts it against his left. It was considerably smaller. "Well.."

"The first and most important thing to remember is that you never point a gun at something that isn't a target. Ever. I don't care if you don't think it's loaded."

She glances at her shotgun. "Is that one loaded?"

"No. Next you need to learn how to hold it. He picks up his gun. You see how I'm holding this? This is right." He changes his grip so that his thumbs are crossed, then again so that one hand cupped the handle."This is wrong. If you hold the gun the wrong way, you can hurt yourself."

She nods, looking hesitant. "Pick it up," he says to her. Carefully, she picks it up and tries to mimic his stance. He tucks his gun back into his jeans and walks over to her, correcting her posture. "That's good. You have to be sure of yourself, always. If you're afraid to pull the trigger, don't pick up the gun. It's simple." Anna nods and aims her gun at the target as best she can. "Now, pull the trigger when you're ready." Anna does as she's told, thoroughly surprised when the gun fires, dropping it in the process and rubbing her hands from the impact.

"You said it wasn't loaded!" Anna exclaims, hitting Dean in the arm.

"I lied. And again." She reforms her stance hesitantly and pulls the trigger, this time bracing herself. Her body relaxes when all that the gun provides is a soft click. Dean looks at her expectantly. "And again." Click. "Again." Click. "Again."

.

.

Anna stomps into the kitchen where Sam was making coffee. Dean trails behind her. "How was it?" Sam asks.

Anna ignores him, walking to the fridge. "I'm hungry," she grumbles. She opens the barren wasteland of a fridge and pulls out a carton of milk, pouring herself a glass.

"So what happened?" Sam questions, noting his daughter's sour mood.

She nods over to Dean. Why don't you let him you."

"You know," Sam says, looking between his brother and his daughter, "I think it will be better if you tell it."

"He lied to me! He said the gun wasn't loaded when it was! But here was only one bullet, so after that he just made me stand there in proper 'stance' clicking the trigger over and over again."

"He has his own methods," Sam reasons, "It's not my place to question them. And anyway, it's my turn tomorrow."

Anna was hoping for more support from her father, but sighs at his answer. "I forgot to tell you," she remembers, wanting to change the subject, "I need you to give me money for my chorus uniform."

Sam furrows his brow. "Since when are you in chorus?"

She shrugs. "Since it was the only elective that had space."

"Oh, well, how much is it?"

"Twelve dollars."

.

.

Back in her room, Anna stares at her grades on the computer. English: A, Social Studies: A, Science: A, Math: C. C! She could not have a C this close to the end of the grading period. And further still, she couldn't worry Sam and Dean with something as trivial as a bad grade. They had much, much bigger problems to deal with.

She lays yet another revolting math quiz down on her bed. She got a sixty-eight percent. The teacher say she could earn half of her points back by reworking each incorrect problem on a separate sheet of paper. So, she looked at the first problem, pencil ready.

She did it carefully on her paper, sighing angrily when she gets the same incorrect answer as on the quiz. But she didn't understand. She kept doing the whole thing, left to right, and no success. She knew what would calm her down though. She reached into her dresser drawer to find her journal. With a relieved smile she opened to the last entry and began to write.

November 6th

Dear Journal,

I haven't written since the incident with Remiel. That was kind of crazy, but I've recovered, I guess. Today, Dean started teaching me how to use a gun. That was okay, I guess, although not very fun.

They're going on another hunt tomorrow. One day, I wish they'd take me with them. That's why I wanted to learn to use a gun in the first place.

Castiel is, at best, a weird person, uh, being. And an even weirder babysitter. Not that there's anything wrong with him. From what I understand, he has actually gotten better at comprehending human nature, which is always good. I dunno, being alone with him is just kind of awkward.

Anyway, what would this journal be if I didn't add anything juicy? I think there is a possibility that I may or may not have a crush on a boy named Jack. I'm partners with him on my English project and I'm not sure at this point how this will affect our grade.

I'm signing off with a cliffhanger today, I guess. These entries just keep getting shorter, don't they?

There's a soft knock at the doorframe as she finishes writing the last sentence of her entry. "Can I come in?" Sam asks, holding up the twelve dollars. Anna nods absently, and Sam obliges, watching her search her backpack for the corresponding form. As she does so, Sam's eyes wander to a certain piece of paper laying on her bed. The number sixty-two was written in the top right corner in bold, red marker. Anna's attention snaps to Sam as he picks it up.

"What's this?"

"My math quiz," she says, staring down at her hands.

"Were you planning on telling me about this?"

"No," she says, "but I was going to do extra credit-"

"Anna…" Sam shakes his head at her. "We'll discuss this tomorrow." He tosses the bills on the bed and leaves, wondering to himself about the way he reacted.

.

.

Sam is sitting on his bed, trying to bury himself in the pile of open books he's amassed in the past few hours. Dean pokes his head in the doorway. "Hey, Sammy?"

"Yeah, Dean?" Sam says, not meaning to sound so exasperated.

"Woah," Dean says, "what's up with you?"

"Nothing," Sam say, dismissing his brother's concern, "what do you need?"

"I was just wondering if you made any progress researching for the next hunt. I hit hit a wall, so…"

"Uh, yeah. So far, it could be a bunch of things."

Dean sighs. "I guess we'll find out when we get there."

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