better man/worse than nicotine » arthur ketch

one: i don't exist.

i never change/thought i'd never change/then you come and change it all

The amount of Lore sitting around me is absolutely ridiculous for this type of situation.

"Are you sure this thing is a Ghoul, Dean?" My phone sits in the middle of this chaos, my brothers on speaker phone.

"I've told him it's not." That's Sam. I'm not sure if he's done any research since they've been gone, but he and I usually agree on these types of things.

"Whatever it is, we need to kill it."

I scoff. "Obviously."

"Okay, alright, I'm hanging up."

"Dean—!"

I smirk while I listen to my brothers wrestling over the phone. The one thing they've had a hate-love relationship with me about has been my sass. Especially Dean.

Cas finds it amusing, though, so that makes up for it.

I flick a page over in the book, my eyes skimming the words while I listen to them arguing in the background. Eventually Sam has the phone in his hand, tell Dean to go drink a beer.

Dean's snark comes in full-force. "Oh, I'm two hours ahead of you." But I still hear the bottle cap pop off of a new bottle.

I focus back on the Lore in front of me, my eyes narrowing as I read about the Ghouls from this perspective. I've read every book in this library, but this is one I always have to return to. I can't trust my memory as much as I'd like to.

And, as suspected, my memory was telling me wrong.

"Okay, Dean. I owe you a beer."

"What?" Sam's question is immediate, obviously not expecting me to say this.

"Yeah, yeah. He's right."

"I'm holding you to that beer."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. Just go kill it."

"Yes ma'am."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "Bye guys."

I hear Sam let out the same breathy chuckle, the one thing I seem to have adapted from him. "Bye sis. I'll text you when we're headed back."

I thank him, even though he knows that by now he doesn't need to do that. But it does make me feel safer – knowing they're coming home. Especially in light of recent events.

Long story short, we've just gotten them back from Site 94. I don't need them disappearing on Cas and me again. Those weeks that they were gone were literal hell. Not just for us, but for the rest of the country. So many cases I found but had no way to work. It's moments like those that make me wish my knee wasn't as fucked as it is.

But of course, instead of thinking about that, I reach for one of the cold beers sitting next to lamp in the middle of the Lore chaos. I pop the cap off on the edge of the table, catching it before it falls to the floor – Sam's scolding echoing in the back of my mind.

I'm nearing the end of the second beer – which is technically my fourth for the day – when a loud knocking echoes through the bunker.

I groan loudly. The door is upstairs. And there is no way I am moving. Whoever it is will have to wait. Or go away. Preferably the latter.