The Runt of the Litter

This Side Up

Note: Hey, loves. Sorry I know it's a little later in the day again. I keep trying to finish this one longer chapter I've been working on in time for Saturday, but then I keep realizing on Friday night that there's not a chance in hell it's going to be done in time... so I write something less time-consuming.

I did have all of today to work on this, though, so I tried to make it good, and while it isn't long, it isn't insanely short either. This was for a request from MaddyWinchester2000. Stating the prompt would give too much a way, so I'll just let you read instead ;)

Also thank you to Musicpotterhead for again helping me figure things out when I basically lost all ability to write.

Thank you for every vote and comment. Every kind word means the absolute world. I love you guys. Be good to yourselves.

And enjoy this chapter, set after Pain is Pain is Pain (which, in case you've forgotten, is the third installment of Glass Lives). Anna is, therefore, fifteen.

This Side Up

"Hey, Rugrat." As he spoke, Dean's heavy boots moved into the room and over toward her. Anna liked that sound. It felt home-y, especially when it echoed against the bunker's high ceilings. It felt somber to her today, though. Most things felt somber lately. "How you doing?" he asked and took a sip of coffee.

Ignoring his question, Anna instead turned the screen of her laptop so he could see.

Dean squinted at it, setting aside his mug and reaching for the computer. He was probably expecting an email or grade report from the school-- she'd been getting stuff like that from her teachers and the school's guidance office almost non-stop since her mother. Anna saw the moment he realized what it was. His face smoothed out, and his eyes flicked up to her and then back down at the computer as he bit his lip.

"This is a case," he said.

Anna looked at him like he was an idiot. "No shit." That earned her a dull look, though whether it was for the sarcasm or the swear word, she didn't know. "I figured it's gotta be time," she said. "I can't stay here forever."

"Another couple weeks couldn't hurt," Dean disagreed.

He was being gentle, and Anna hated it. She knew she'd been fragile for a little while now. About a month, actually. Four weeks and change since Lawrence. It was a strange, disorienting thought, and she quickly put it behind her. Maybe she did still need to be handled with care.

"I don't need another couple weeks," Anna said, moving her laptop back around to face her so she could scroll through the article she'd pulled up. "This chick was found under the golden gate bridge, and her eyes were missing. From the pictures it doesn't look like an angel kill, but I guess you never know." The way she stared steadfastly at her screen without tossing even a glance in Dean's direction, it was blatant avoidance. She knew it, and so did Dean. And he wasn't throwing her a rope. He was just staring at her, staring so hard she didn't need to see him to know he was doing it. She could feel his eyes on her. "What?" she finally asked, throwing herself back in her chair and turning her head toward him. She gestured sloppily at her laptop screen. "Why are you giving me that look?"

"I'm not givin' you any kind of look, Rugrat." When she continued to look at him, making it clear that wasn't enough of an answer, Dean continued, treading carefully, "It's just, you know, I think you're rushin' into this."

Under the table, Anna bent her knee so she could rest her sneakered foot against the leg of her chair. She totally wasn't fidgeting. She turned to look at her laptop keyboard instead of at Dean. It was a familiar feeling, the half-embarrassment of being given serious, unbidden attention. As usual, she transformed it almost-consciously into something more like annoyance. "How is a month rushing?"