The first time they see her, she’s sitting by herself in the cafeteria, eating quietly with a hood shadowing her features. She’s slim and average in height, graceful when she moves, feline, almost a predator. Her name is Dean Winchester, they know –Gabriel always gets informed of everything going on in the school before anyone else–, and she hasn’t spoken to anyone up until now. She keeps to herself, doesn’t talk, hasn’t suscribed to any club, and were it not for the teachers, no one would know what she looks like. As it is, Gabriel, whose contacts are too numerous to be counted, has managed to get a picture from one of the kids in her math class, and they all lean forward eagerly.
Castiel doesn’t regret it, even as Anna and Rachel gasp and Balthazar’s eyes widen. Gabriel watches them all with a wide smile, pleased with the general reaction to his little stunt.
The girl is beautiful. Tan skin and dark blonde hair, she has the most amazing green eyes Castiel has ever seen, and her lips are the most delicious shade of dark pink. Castiel can’t help but wonder what that expressionless face would look like in the throes of pleasure, and promises himself he will find out.
Across from him, Gabriel needs but a glance to recognize the gleam in his brother’s eyes, and the smile slips to be replaced by a frown. This is the gleam which means that Castiel the heartbreaker has found a new target, and plans on seducing, fucking and leaving in a matter of minutes, completely uncaring of what his actions are doing to the other person. Looking back down at the picture of the serious-looking girl, Gabriel sighs softly. There is something about Dean Winchester, something different he can’t quite put his finger on. He hopes she won’t let herself be destroyed by Castiel. As much as he loves his brother, he can’t deny that the guy can be a heartless dick sometimes.
She bites her tongue to prevent from lashing out, repeats to herself like a mantra that the guy will eventually go away if she keeps ignoring him. So far, this strategy hasn’t really led to anything. Castiel Novak is a stuck-up son of a bitch who is apparently convinced he can fuck and leave her just like every other naïve girl in this school. Unfortunately for him, she’s heard of his reputation –best lay in town–, but doesn’t really fancy being another name added to a list. And since she’s not interested, she’s been trying to get him to leave her the hell alone.
She sighs, keeps her head down and focuses on her book, occasionally taking notes and utterly ignoring the pompous ass who’s just decided he could sit across from her. Damn his eyes and their intense blue, but she can almost feel them drilling holes into the top of her head through her hood. Disturbing. And this constant interest in her he’s been displaying, now that’s strange as well. She’s spent years perfecting her invisible persona, making sure no one would look twice and if they did, then they would lose interest soon enough. Castiel, though, Castiel hasn’t. She’s already tried ‘Christo’, but it didn’t faze him, so that rules out a demon. Maybe a shapeshifter, then, but he’s remained completely indifferent to the silver she’s arranged to have him come in contact with.
In the end, she can’t rid herself of the Novaks, and it’s making her jumpy.
She’s been alone for a few years already. There was a time when she had a family, much like most people out there, with a loving mother, a dedicated father, and a baby brother she would have done anything for. But then, one night of November when she was four, Mommy died in a fire which almost took Sammy away too, and everything changed. The house burned, and with it any and all hope of normalcy and happiness she’d ever had. Daddy became Sir and Sammy became Sam and ‘home’ became a word, an abstract idea which doesn’t go together with ‘Winchester’. Only with ‘them’.
It’s a testament to how tough their childhood was that Sam ran away at nine and neither John –an experienced tracker– nor Dean –who’s always been good at it and constantly getting better– managed to find him. Sam never knew what happens between his sister and father behind closed doors, and maybe he would have stayed if he had known the consequences his actions would have on Dean, but he didn’t, and life got worse than it already was for Dean after that. Without Sam to keep the truth from, John didn’t have to hold himself in check.
He’s been gleefully taking advantage of that.
She takes solace in the hunt, in tracking down and eliminating monsters who hurt people, and already she’s pretty well-known in the hunting community. She’s taken down a pack of three werewolves all by herself, after all, and the hunter who questioned the witness afterwards, not knowing that the matter had already been dealt with, has had no qualms spreading the word that a sixteen-year-old girl has managed something most grown men couldn’t.
She’s a prodigy in a domain no one will ever acknowledge her for except the men who, like her, live and fight in the shadows. Without her brother to keep her going, she lives and breathes for the hunt, to save people, and she’s good at it.
And when she comes home, sometimes John is there with a raised fist and a blue streak of insults on his lips.
Dean Winchester is very good at flying under the radar but Gabriel isn’t the person who knows everything that happens in the school for nothing. He’s got sharp eyes and keen ears, and it isn’t long before he notices her habit of staring at her phone like she’s expecting it to ring, or of scrolling down her list of contacts without ever dialing. In those times, there is something in the downturn of her mouth under her hood that makes his heart clench inexplicably, and he can’t help but feel that this girl is going to collapse one day under the weight of her secrets.
So he approaches her on a sunny afternoon where she’s sitting in the bleachers enjoying the sun –how she can do that with jeans, long sleeves and a hood he will never know– and wordlessly hands her a Mars bar before sitting down a short distance away. She doesn’t take the bar but doesn’t leave either, and that’s enough for Gabriel.
He comes back the next day, and the day after that. It’s like getting a wild animal accustomed to your presence, only this one is much more fragile under the layers. Then he sees her weave through the crowd, shy away from any contact whatsoever, and he understands.
Gabriel is no stranger to abuse. His siblings are all adopted, as was he, and he was amongst those who were taken away from their original family by CPS. The elusive behavior, long sleeves and efforts to hide from the world under the protective shadows of a hood… He looks at the layers of clothes on her slim body and feels a cold shiver run down his spine.
Castiel can actually be decent. She’s surprised to notice that but doesn’t do anything about it, except maybe give a sign she’s actually listening to him from time to time instead of outright ignoring him. She’s seen him help a little girl find her mom and then play with the kid yesterday afternoon when she was going home from the library, and can’t help thinking of Sammy and how he loved playing in the sandbox on the rare occasions John allowed them to spend some time playing like normal kids.
Someone that good and natural with kids, she figures, can’t be that bad, so she starts letting herself listen to him ever so slowly. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. Somehow, though, she finds herself with Anna and Rachel at her table, and damn if that’s not exactly what she wanted to avoid. Because now, her efforts to fly under the radar are as good as useless. Gabriel tells her later on that he tried to dissuade them from doing it but they didn’t listen to a word he said.
Her lips twitch at his whiny tone, and he marvels at the warm feeling that blossoms in his chest.
She realizes she’s categorized the Novaks as friends on a cold day of December, when she comes back to school feverish and shaky after three days hunting a demon two states over and they notice immediately despite all her efforts to keep her sorry state hidden. John had tried to keep Sammy and her away from the Hell bitches at the beginning, but ever since Sammy left, he’s had no qualms using her as bait. Even so, she knows from long conversations with Bobby that the thing which killed her Mom most likely was a demon, and so she’s memorized half a dozen different exorcisms along with different patterns of devil’s traps and got herself an anti-possession tattoo when she first started hunting alone.
This one was a sadistic fuck with a sick penchant for fresh meat. He would possess a kid and make them torture and kill their parents before eating them. The mere thought makes her want to retch. As it is, the demon was unfortunately smart, and it’s done quite a number on her before she managed to send it back to Hell. Combined with John’s unexpected presence at the house when she came back –she’s not supposed to leave except for school–, when she comes back to the school the day after, she feels like death warmed over.
No one seems to notice, though, and she starts to relax when the Novaks corner her. Rachel and Gabriel start, subtly asking if she’s okay because she ‘doesn’t look good’, but they change tactics when she keeps denying, which she doesn’t like in the least. What’s more troubling, though, is that their concern is real, she can see it in the dark light in Gabe’s eyes, the nervous twitch of Rachel’s eyebrow, the tight line of Anna’s lips, the frown on Balthazar’s usually smirking features. Castiel’s intense stare.
She’s not used to such concern. Of course, there’s a few people who like her enough to ask if she’s okay and actually do something about it if she’s hurt, like Bobby and Caleb and Pastor Jim, but they’re men, tough and hardened in Bobby and Caleb’s case, and they do it in a manly way which includes a no-bullshit attitude and no pushing. They know she knows her limits and will say something if her injuries could end up being a hindrance during a hunt. They trust her, and they’re damn right when they do. Dean always makes sure nothing she does can lead to others getting hurt. If that means not telling on her father, then that’s fine.
For all his brutality towards her, John Winchester is a damn good hunter, and God knows the world needs more of those.
Dean ends up snapping at them that she’s a big girl and can look after herself so they should just mind their own business. The single second they freeze is enough for her to turn on her heels, but Gabriel’s not ready to let go that easily. Surprisingly enough, Castiel beats him to it. He grabs her arm, spins her around and manages to jerk her hood down before he finds himself pinned to the ground with a knee painfully digging into his chest and his wrists crossed over his heart with an iron grip. It’s not the sudden movement that has him gasping with his eyes wide, though, or the strength no one who sees her could guess Dean has as she keeps him immobile effortlessly.
It’s the purpling pattern on her face and neck, the black bruise on her cheekbone, the yellow spreading on her brow, the red and blue on the tender skin of her throat. She freezes at Rachel’s “Oh my God!”, eyes wide as she suddenly realizes they can see her, then jerks back as if she’s been burned. She takes a few staggering steps back, makes to pull the hood back up, but then, Anna’s suddenly there, long fingers around her wrist.
“You need to be tended to.”
“I’ve already been,” she answers in a no-nonsense tone. “It’s nothing.”
They look at her doubtfully, but there’s nothing to be read on her face, she’s completely expressionless.
“I’m fine,” she says again.
Castiel can’t help it.
She shrugs, and they half-expect the stupid and cliché fall in the stairs excuse, but that’s not what they get. “I like sparring.”
It’s the stupidest excuse ever and there’s a strange upturn to the corner of her lips, but it explains how she managed to restrain Castiel, who’s both taller and stronger than her, so easily. Gabriel doesn’t buy it, but there’s nothing he can say to that. They let it go. Once she’s gone, however, a single glance is enough to convey their unanimous conclusion: Dean Winchester is abused.
She can’t seem to determine when it happened, but she somehow managed to let herself fall for Castiel. Steady, unflappable Castiel with his blue eyes and disheveled black hair and charming smile, who jumps everything that moves and has been trying to do the same with her for a while now. Or maybe not. Somewhere along the way, Castiel has gone from openly flirting to something more respectful, and has even proven himself worthy of being her friend by never saying anything about the bruises incident.
Castiel, she has learned over the months, can be gentle, caring and witty in a strange, serious kind of way, and has the strangest habit of trying to make her eat healthier food. Castiel can sit by her in silence for hours when she doesn’t feel good, and can somehow feel her moods. While Gabriel is always around to cheer her up and take her advice for pranks, Balthazar and his snark to share juicy gossip, Anna and Rachel to be company and take her out for lunch or shopping –she never buys anything, much to their chagrin–, Castiel is a silent pillar of support, from which she can get strength whenever she feels like she’s never gonna make it any longer.
He has big hands, but his are soft, unlike her father’s, and when he touches her, it’s always with a gentleness she’s unused to. She finds that she likes it when he runs them through her hair or wraps strong fingers around her own smaller ones.
The Novaks are adopted, they tell her, and that’s how she ends up trusting more and more: little by little, they share bits and pieces of their private life with her, things she’s sure no one knows outside of their family, and she can’t help but wonder why they would tell her of all people. They don’t even know her.
Dean looks up, startled, then stiffens at the drawing Balthazar’s holding up. She takes in the familiar round features –he must have lost the baby fat by now–, the eyes gleaming with laughter even on paper, the floppy black hair. She swallows heavily, curses herself for letting Balthazar dig into her bag for paper. She knows the boys can’t keep their hands to themselves, knows they apparently don’t get a thing about privacy. Sam should be almost fourteen by now. The thought that he ran away and didn’t care enough –that she didn’t do a good enough job at watching him– hurts like hell, and she has to concentrate to breathe normally.
“Sam,” she manages to rasp out.
They wait, but she doesn’t elaborate. She holds her hand out for the sketchbook. There’s a dark shadow in her eyes when Balthazar hands it over.
They google ‘Sam Winchester’ as soon as they’re home, and inadvertently learn a lot. Sam is Dean’s brother, four years younger than her, six months when their mother was killed in a house fire. There are school records for him up until his ninth birthday, then nothing. It’s like he vanished. They also notice that those transcripts are extremely chaotic, and that Dean’s been through at least ten schools in her life if not more. They thank Gabriel’s hacking skills, and ruthlessly squash any guilty feelings they might have had at the thought that they’ve just violated their friend’s privacy.
“He ran away when I was thirteen.”
She says it one evening they’ve invited her to their house. Not to them. It’s like there’s something special between her and Michael, and they overhear her saying it in the kitchen where she’s alone with their big brother.
At twenty-five, Michael has everything: he’s smart, good-looking with silky blonde hair and eyes blue like a summer sky, tall and well-muscled but still slim, and he’s both gentle and strong. He’s the one who’s been taking care of them and providing for them ever since their father disappeared, but they still don’t understand how Dean, who’s just started talking to them, could instantly trust him.
“I know,” is all Michael says, but one word with this warm, soothing voice is often enough to calm the wildest animal. They know by experience.
“I wasn’t good enough.”
“You know that’s not true.”
There’s a broken chuckle through the open kitchen door, and then an almost silent footstep. When they manage to peek through the opening, they see he’s wrapped her up in his arms and she’s clinging to his shirt. She looks very small, pressed up against his chest, thin shoulders shaking with grief, and there’s deep, deep sorrow in their brother’s eyes as he murmurs soft nothings to her and runs his hand through her hair in an appeasing gesture.
It’s just silence and tears, and they retreat in silent confusion. They don’t catch Michael’s harsh gaze on the door.
Dean and Castiel start dating at the end of January. It’s never more than a few kisses, but it’s as far as she’s willing to go for the time being. John will want to leave at one point or another, and she refuses to tell the truth to the Novaks. She won’t rob them of what little innocence they have left. They deserve to live unaware of the monsters lurking in the dark. For the first time in her life, she has friends, and that’s enough.
Gabriel tells her he’s happy, but to be careful. Because his brother used to be a damn Casanova and didn’t give a damn what his ways did to his conquests, and she nods at him seriously.
“Thank you,” she says, and he knows she means it. Dean and he, they share something special, like she does with Michael but different, because they both know abuse and the need to keep silent to protect a sibling. Gabriel had to protect Anna. Dean had to protect Sam. But he, as opposed to her, was lucky enough to be adopted by a good man who decided to use his money for the good of a handful of children taken from abusive homes before disappearing.
Dean never talks about her home life. Except for ‘Sam’, she hasn’t said anything. If they hadn’t googled him, they’d never have known her mother was dead and that she most likely has no one except her father. She says, once, that her mother used to sing her ‘Hey Jude’ as a lullaby and that she told her every night that angels were watching over her. It’s a soft confession, murmured from the safe cocoon of Castiel’s arms one late night of movie-watching, and they all look at each other, amazed, because the reference to their names is obvious. Michael’s smile is heartbreaking, and Gabriel wonders.
Dean’s sketchbook is filled with terrifying pictures of mythical creatures, men and women with black eyes, a second set of teeth or the crazed look of mindless bloodlust. There is a woman pinned to the ceiling, fire licking at her skin, a transparent creature screaming with its throat slit and the ominous shadow of a bulky man with his hand raised. A monstrous black canine glares, a corpse at its feet, and there’s a pool of something utterly nauseating at the feet of a creature who looks like the dead body lying a distance away, eyes wide and unseeing.
And then, there are the symbols, sigils, really, carefully drawn around each page like a protection or an explanation in some mystical language they’ve never heard about, ominous and threatening and strangely full of sense. Michael is standing on the last page, looking otherworldly and powerful, a flaming sword in his hands and the shadow of six wings at his back, eyes on something only he can see, and there are sigils around him, dancing in the whirlwind of his power, different from the rest of the symbols, and terrifying in their own right.
She likes to draw the creatures haunting her world and mind, likes to depict them with the best ways to bring them down. Maybe they could put everything online, create a database so that other hunters could use the information. Ash could do that, she knows, and he’ll most likely love the idea. Everyone could contribute, though nothing would be shared until it’s been verified. No point risking lives stupidly.
Michael, though, Michael she will keep for herself. Nothing a hunter does could hurt an angel except maybe for Holy Oil, and she doesn’t plan on distracting them. They need to stay focused on the real problem: evil creatures preying on humans. Demons, shape shifters, ghosts, skinwalkers, black dogs, wendigoes, vampires, werewolves. Those are what destroyed hers and countless people’s lives.
They find the girl in the hallway, stiff and cold already, with an expression of abject terror on her face and her heart torn out of her chest. She was a cheerleader, popular and nice, no enemies, and her body has been horribly mangled. Several kids throw up at the sight and get spirited away and to the infirmary, others break into tears or hysterics before the cops show up. Blood isn’t anything new to the Novaks, but the sight is still far gorier than anything they’ve ever seen.
He looks up, follows Anna’s gaze to Castiel, who’s staring at something across from them. Dean is standing in the shadows, hood down for once, but she doesn’t look sick. Her gaze is clinical as she takes in the body, then looks at the blood splattered everywhere, the messed up furniture, claw marks on the busted lockers. She looks like a hardened cop, like she’s seen this before, so many times it barely affects her by now, and when she looks up, her lips are pinched and there’s a crease in her brow that promises nothing good.
Discreetly, she slides her phone out of her pocket, snaps a couple of pictures and turns on her heels. Later, she uses research as a pretext for cancelling their evening together, and when they pass by the library, they can see her concentrating on a computer screen, carefully jotting down notes and rubbing her forehead in thought.
Dean grows slightly distant after that, stiffening at the slightest sound, tensing every now and then, eyes darting everywhere. It’s only then they notice her habit of looking for exits every time she enters a room. Whether she had it before or it came up after the murder, they can’t know, but Castiel theorizes this isn’t something you just start doing overnight. She has to have been trained, but whatever she thinks of the murder, she never tells the police about it.
John will be home for his and Mary’s wedding anniversary, she knows that. He always is, with several bottles of different alcohols and his massive body ready to evacuate stress on her slim frame. This day has always been special in terms of beatings, but ever since Flagstaff, since Sammy left under her watch, it’s been like an execution. Today is no better, except that for the first time in her life, she actually has someone to run to for comfort beforehand. She’s not used to that, this caring thing, to have someone willing to actually touch her without hurting her or just giving her a check-up or friendly slap on the back. She can’t deny that it’s nice.
She wishes it could last forever, but she knows it won’t. She’s a hunter at heart, she saves lives, and she can’t leave her father yet. Bobby would take her in, or Pastor Jim or even Caleb, but the fact is that without someone to take his anger out and focus on, John might start looking for Sammy again. She knows she can’t allow that. It’s taken her two years to track him down, but she’s found him, and Sammy’s happy. She’s been checking up on him from time to time, making sure he really was okay and didn’t need anything, and he’s fine. His adoptive parents are the nicest people on Earth, loving, caring and delighted to have a son drop from the sky when they’ve been trying to conceive for years, and she feels a twinge of envy every time she sees him from across the street. It’s been a while since she’s been there, she thinks absently. She’ll have to go sometime soon.
She’s so deep in thought she doesn’t pay attention to the muffled moans as she closes in to the spot. ‘Their’ spot. She stops short when she looks up, though. Castiel is there, pressed up against the head cheerleader with his lips glued to hers and his hands on her hips, and her hands are all over him as she rocks against his pelvis. She stares, frozen and mute, shocked into stillness as her heart shatters so loudly under that final betrayal she’s surprised they can’t hear it. There’s a sharp pain in her chest and a gasp as she finally manages to suck in a breath, and Castiel’s blue eyes turn to her, wide and horrified, but there’s a buzzing sound in her ears which won’t let her hear what he’s saying.
Shaking her head to try and clear her vision, she’s dimly aware of his voice distantly calling her name, but she can’t bring herself to stop and listen. Her knees feel like they’re going to fail her as she turns and leaves. She uses her training to force herself to walk the whole way to school.
Behind her, Gabriel gives up on trying to get her to respond and instead goes to find out what happened. Castiel ends up with four slap marks from his sisters, and two shiners from his brothers.
When John comes home, he’s already drunk. He hits and kicks and punches, and when her head slams into the wall for the second time, she stops trying to soften the blows. One hunter isn’t going to make much of a difference, after all, and it’s not like anyone is going to remember her. Castiel was obviously only aiming for her body, and turned his attention elsewhere when he saw it would take some time before she ever considered it. Sammy will never know what happened to her. John might just regret his punching-ball.
She’s going to go after that creature, she decides, and then, she’ll take it with her. In her current condition, there’s no way she can kill the fugly and make it out alive so she’ll just kill two birds with one stone. She’ll die like a soldier, weapon in hand, and they’ll most likely cremate her as a Jane Doe. No one will remember. It’s just as well. She vaguely wonders what it’s like on the other side, tells Death to wait just a little more when a vicious kick threatens to knock her out.
Then, John unzips his jeans, rips open her blouse and drags her pants down on her ankles, and tears run down her temples and into her blood soaked hair as she silently screams for Death to take her now, please, another hunter will take care of the hunt.
Death ignores her.
She wakes up in the hospital with Gabriel’s golden eyes peering intensely at her. Her whole body feels leaden and numb, and she understands immediately that she’s on enough painkillers to stun a horse.
“Dean,” Gabriel breathes, eyes widening when they meet hers. He grips her hand tightly, trying to ground her and stop her from drifting away as she has so many times in the past weeks.
She tries to speak, but her throat is dry and scratchy and she ends up in a coughing fit. Gabriel instantly brings a glass of water to her lips, and she closes her eyes as she sips the clear liquid gratefully. She’s aware of Gabriel’s intense gaze the whole time, can almost feel him vibrating in worry and anxiousness by her bed. His skin is warm on her hand, and she tries to smile at him as she feels her exhaustion win once more.
The last thing she sees before she’s swallowed by the darkness is eyes as blue as a summer sky, and she hates how it reminds her of Castiel’s intense stare.
She stays in the hospital for two weeks. Castiel, she hears, had wanted to explain himself to her, to apologize and set things right, and the siblings had hacked into the school’s central computer to dig out her address. They’d found her on the floor in a pool of her own blood, with her legs spread wide and her clothes torn to shreds. John had been passed out on the couch surrounded by empty bottles, blood still on his hands and semen staining his unzipped jeans. He’s looking at a life sentence at best.
The Novaks are constant sentinels at her bedside, silent and caring, and she hates how weak she is, can’t help but wonder when they’re going to leave her. Then, Michael comes in, and every worry vanishes at the sight of his blue eyes and golden hair and the power buzzing all around him. She feels safe with him, like she should have been with her father, and whenever he takes her hand and lies on the bed with her in his arms, she sleeps peacefully. Michael is safe.
And Michael knows.
She gets the Impala when John is carted off to a maximum security jail. With Michael by her side, hidden because she has no intention of helping her father find him if he ever gets out of jail, she’s managed to face him in court and testify. He’s been sentenced for life and Michael has been given custody for the short months until her eighteenth birthday. She’ll have time to heal that way, before she returns to the hunt.
Michael understands her worry before she even gets to bring up the matter, reassures her. She can still hunt, of course. She doesn’t know whether to be surprised or not that he knows, that he’s known ever since the beginning but she doesn’t question it, can only be thankful. He won’t rob her of her purpose and now she even has a home, somewhere to return to from time to time. He tells her he has ways of protecting the house and his charges from harm, from anything that could ever want to use the Novaks to hurt her, and she eventually caves in.
Once again, Michael has seen through her and managed to thwart her plans to leave once she turned eighteen so that she wouldn’t endanger him and his family.
In the end, the hunt is a demon. She exorcises the son of a bitch as soon as she’s back in top shape and rolls her shoulders in satisfaction with a relieved sigh once she steps out of the hospital where she’s just taken the unfortunate host. The girl will live, will know to contact her if anything strange happens around her again, and will get an anti-possession tattoo first thing once she’s discharged.
Gabriel, Balthazar, Anna and Rachel are waiting for her when she parks the Impala in the driveway, and her lips curl up in a smile for the first time in years. They welcome her with heartfelt warmth and escort her inside. Her eyes light up when she sees Castiel standing there and when their gazes lock, green against blue, the others leave them quietly.
They have a lot to talk about though she doesn’t plan on telling him anything about the hunt. She’ll keep him –them– from it forever if she can, because she doesn’t want them to feel threatened or worse, try and convince her to take them on a hunt.
For now, the road to recovery is still long but they’re all determined to be there for her and she, in turn, will do anything to protect them if Michael’s wards are to ever fail.
Nine months earlier, when John drove her into town, she had nothing but the clothes on her back and a friendship with hardened men far older than her. Her daily life was a nightmare filled with monsters, both human and supernatural, gunpowder and the constant vigilance a life on the lookout brings. Now, as she falls asleep in the strong arms of the eighteen-year-old with eyes an intense shade of blue, she has a home, a father-figure, siblings and a car.
Most of all, she has a future.
She realizes when she goes back to visit the once-possessed girl in the hospital that she’s actually the head-cheerleader who groped Castiel.