"He hasn't stopped texting you since we left, has he?"
"Uh, no." You laughed and he joined you.
"What's he want now?" You looked down at the text and blushed without saying anything, "Never mind, maybe I don't want to know."
"Trust me, you don't."
It was about two hours into the drive with Sam driving and Jack asleep in the back seat.
"He, uh," Sam glanced over to you who was already looking at him, "He can talk to you and I know, I know I'm his brother and he talks to me, but he really talks to you." You smiled, "He was never a kid, hunters are never kids, but with you I see a different side of him."
"You do?"
"Definitely," He scoffed, "He barely drinks, he's laughing and smiling all the time, and he's just-he's just happier." He paused to smile to himself, "Thank you."
"He makes me happy too."
"And I know it's only been like a week, but the difference is unbelievable, and that's not why, but I want you to know that you're family to the rest of us too."
"Thanks, Sam." You smiled, looking back to the road, "You guys are my family too and I'm gonna do my best not to screw it up."
"Starting with a group hunt?" He smirked.
"Exactly."
He stepped a little harder on the gas and you turned the radio on, keeping it low enough so that Jack could sleep. It was about nine hours to Utah and you wanted to get there by nightfall.
When you were younger, you weren't someone who had a ton of friends or got the best grades or was necessarily talented at anything in particular. Sure, there were things you loved to do like every kid, but there wasn't a breakout hobby that led to more. So, when you started hunting, it was a life or death situation. You had to be good, maybe not the best, but good enough to survive.
Which wasn't always easy.
In the very beginning you were purely on your own, taking it one step at a time. You weren't about to take on a pack of wolves or vamps or anything like that. You took it slow, did your research thoroughly, and made the choice to take on a haunting. Learning about the history of the man who was killing people who enter his house on a certain date was fascinating, albeit chilling, but nothing could compare you for when you were face to face with him as you stood three feet in where he was buried. He threw you around, you ended up with a broken arm and nose, and you ultimately couldn't finish the job. You stayed in town, mainly to warn people since the anniversary of his death was approaching not to go in there, until a couple of young hunters came and stopped him. You watched them dig the rest of the grave with envy and regret.
You were too embarrassed to approach them or ask for any advice, but you knew you would never forget the face of the one when the other was being hurt by the ghost when he was trying to load his shotgun quickly. The pure panic, fear, and gut-wrenching sadness that shot across his features shook you to your very core. You were close enough behind the ghost and had a container of salt that you threw, making it disappear and the man fall to the ground. They were both confused for a long moment as you hid behind a tree, heart pounding in your chest, and then they quickly burned the bones.
You learned later on who they were and still didn't mention it, even though now you were living with them, because you assumed they wouldn't remember a hunt from so long ago. But being with Sam on this hunt and knowing how they saw Jack as their kid, made you feel protective. If anything happened to them, it'd be on you and you don't think you could ever forgive yourself for it. You also hated the idea of the others never forgiving you if something happened.
