NO TIME TO DIE◦𝒔𝒂𝒎 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓

chapter forty.

CHAPTER FORTY:
SUPERNATURAL.

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

THE FEW HOURS of sleep that Birdie managed to get had been filled with both dreams and nightmares of Kaiya, her father, the boys, some of Kaiya's family, and unfortunately, her wretched mother. She woke up just as the sun was beginning to rise while Sam and Dean remained fast asleep, occasional snores slipping past their lips. She opted not to try and fall back asleep, afraid that she might have to face her mother again and feel her hands collide with her face or hear her verbal abuse echo in her ears. So, she climbed out of her shared bed with Sam and quietly slipped out of their motel. Dressed in some gray sweats, sneakers, and Sam's purple dog shirt she'd stolen from him a few years ago, she walked around the corner to a small breakfast joint she and the boys had seen on their way into town.

She noticed there weren't too many people inside, a small smile appearing on Birdie's lips when the scent of waffles and bacon filled her nose. There was an elderly couple in a booth near the front door with pancakes drenched in butter and syrup, a lonesome woman with bright pink hair in the far corner with a laptop open in front of her and a steaming cup of coffee beside it, and a middle aged seated at the counter with an empty plate in front of him as he removed his wallet from his pocket. Birdie let out a quiet sigh and walked up to the counter, taking a spot near the middle so she wasn't around anyone. She leaned her elbows on the counter and looked up at the menu in front of her that was plastered above a window that gave her a slight view of the bustling kitchen. She rested her head on her hand, narrowing her eyes slightly as she scanned over their breakfast menu to see what might've sounded good to her.

"Birdie?"

Birdie slowly turned her head, eyes slightly widened when she heard an unfamiliar voice say her name. Her eyes fell on a woman with black hair and dark brown eyes peering at her. She wore a plain gray shirt that was tucked into some jean shorts, the ends torn and frayed. A set of car keys was clutched in her hand along with a flip phone, a stunned expression adorning her features as she gazed back at Birdie in utter surprise. Birdie shifted in her chair, scanning the woman's features to see if she recognized her.

Seeing the confusion swirling around in Birdie's eyes, the woman softly laughed. "Oh, sorry," she apologized, taking a few steps towards the counter. "You probably don't remember me. You were. . .pretty tipsy the last time I saw you."

Do you know her, Birdie?

Birdie tilted her head, thinking hard as she tried to figure out how the woman knew her. But as she thought, she suddenly realized where she knew the woman from. She quietly gasped, sitting up straight. "Oh, uh. . .T. . .Tatum, right?" she asked, desperately hoping that that was the right name. That was the name of the bartender Birdie met when she went to a bar and Dean found her slightly drunk inside.