Back From The Dead

Informal Interrogation

I was assigned a bedroom somewhere near the kitchen. Charlie had gotten the one near a room with an incredible amount of weapons. I only caught a glimpse of the room but I saw at least ten different guns places on a table, some in wooden boxes, a wall with knives on shelves, and a stack of brown boxes filled with ammunition.

I was assigned a bedroom somewhere near the kitchen. Charlie had gotten the room near the weapons, which I understood. They trusted Charlie more than me, even if she had come back from the dead. Sam walked me to my room and explained how to get to the kitchen in the morning.

"Breakfast is at 7," he said and I nodded.

"Bathroom's down the hall, first door on the left," he continued and opened the doors of a wooden wardrobe in the room across from the bed, "here are towels. Do you need anything else?"

"No," I said and paused, "thank you, Sam. You really don't have to do this."

"We have more than enough room," he said and smiled, "and any friend of Charlie's is a friend of ours."

I smiled back at him and after we said good night he left and closed the door behind him. I put my backpack on the floor and sat down on the bed. I looked around the room. Someone had covered the walls with a mossy green paint that I actually quite liked. A small nightstand seemingly made from the same dark wood as the wardrobe stood next to the bed with a small nightlight on it. Before I went to the bathroom, I picked up my backpack up and took an old t-shirt and some toiletries from it. I showered quickly and put my old t-shirt on, then brushed my hair and my teeth. I was walking back to my room when I heard Dean's voice. The kitchen must be closer than I thought.

"I don't know, Sammy. She looks familiar."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I can't put my finger on it."

"Do we know her from a hunt?"

"Maybe... how old do you think she is?"

"Early twenties? I don't know. Why?"

"That's what I was thinking too. You don't get into hunting that young for fun. Something happened to make her get into this business."

"Yeah," Dean paused, "something happened alright."

"We'll talk to her tomorrow."

"Yeah. Goodnight Sammy."

"Goodnight."

I heard chairs moving and without making any sound I tiptoed back to my room. Only a few seconds after I closed to door I heard footsteps walking past. I rested my head against the door, more out of fear for tomorrow than out of relief they didn't notice me eavesdropping. I put my clothes on a wooden chair in the corner of the room and got into the bed. It was incredibly comfortable. The blanket surrounded me with warmth. I don't know if it was the blanket or the lack of sleep from the last few days, but I fell asleep within seconds.

The sound of someone putting plates on the table in the kitchen woke me up. I rubbed my eyes and it took me a second to realize where I was. Dreading the day ahead, I took of my shirt and put on the same clothes as yesterday. I didn't have anything else. My own fault. I couldn't go back to the motel, so it was bye-bye clothes. I thanked the lord, or whoever it was, that I took my toiletries and most of my weapons with me while some out-of-control vampire ransacked my motel room.

"Good morning," I said as I walked into the kitchen.

"Morning," Dean said.

He was the only one there and when I offered to help he told me to set the table, so that's what I did. After a few minutes Sam walked in and Charlie followed a few minutes after that. When everyone had said good morning to each other, we sat down. I took a slice of bread that Dean had just cut, and smeared some blueberry jam on it. I saw Dean and Sam look at each other and before I could take a bite, Sam started the informal interrogation.

"So, Katherine, how old are you?"

"Twenty-three," I said, and added, "you can call me Kat."

"Okay, Kat," how did you get into hunting?"

So it begun.

"My parents, they... knew about this world. They kept me away from it, but you know... this world, it catches up with you. They were killed a few years back."

I took a bite.

"I'm sorry," Charlie said, "I didn't know."

Sam and Dean said they were sorry too and I said it was okay, which it wasn't, but that's just what you say when there is nothing that you can do to make it right, and I realized that they had suffered the same losses.

"How long have you been hunting for?" Sam asked.

I knew exactly what they were doing, and I knew I had to be careful. They were making a timeline in their heads. Remembering dates, places, and the smallest details, so right when I was away they could search all the databases they had access to, to find who I was. The only advantage I had was that I was a hunter. I knew their game and I knew exactly how to rig it, make sure what they found would lead them to another girl. A girl from Colorado, that was exactly my age, had similar characteristics, and of who, conveniently, there was no picture in any database for protection of the girl. They'd find a story of a young girl that lost her parents because they were mauled by wild animals, which they would think had been werewolves, but had actually been a bear that got too close to backyards. I'd done my research. And I hoped I had done a better job than Sam and Dean would do in half an hour or so.

"About seven years. You?"

"Thirteen."

Before I could reply, Dean asked the next question.

"If you don't mind me asking... what killed your parents?"

"If you ask the police, a bear. If you ask me, a werewolf."

"Hate those things," Dean said and I saw his knuckles turn white when his fist tightened around his knife.

"Tell me about it," I said, "but I hear there's a cure."

"Yeah," Sam chimed in, "we know."

"It works?" I asked.

"Yeah," Sam said, "our friend, Claire, she was cured."

"That is amazing," I said, impressed by their successful attempt to cure someone.

The Winchesters seemed to have enough information for their further search, because the interrogation was over. We talked about werewolves and I found out there apparently are some who want to live in peace with humans. The brothers told me about their friend, Garth, and I vaguely remember hearing stories about a skinny cowboy hunter named Garth. I think Bobby mentioned him before. I was glad Charlie was new to some stories too, it made me feel less of an outsider. After half an hour or so I said I was going to do some research, which was true, just not the kind of research they suspected. Giving them some space to freely discuss me, I left the three hunters in the kitchen and went to my room. I got my laptop from my backpack, again feeling incredibly lucky that I didn't leave it in my motel room when it wasn't destroyed. I took a small leather pouch from my backpack too and took an sd card from it. I turned on my laptop and waited until I saw the screensaver to shove the memory card into my laptop. A folder opened and I hesitated. This was the first time I felt like using it. Before, I couldn't bring myself to do it, but now I felt like it was necessary. Besides, he had told me to use it when I was ready for it. I looked at the folder and read the title, over and over again.

"Bobby Singer's notes." I held my breath and clicked the folder.