Straightening his sleeves and tightening his tie, Sam mentally prepared himself to be dealing with another teenage nutcase.

He had been investigating a series of strange deaths and was eventually found himself at your house. Dean was talking to your parent, who sent him off with a prayer and a case of the-kid-is-acting-different.

You hadn't been talking to anyone, at all, you barely left your room, and a whole list of other things that were just wrong. All of which only occurred after one of these strange deaths involved one of your loved ones.

Sam stood infront of the bedroom door, sighing to himself before gently twisting the knob to enter. He decided to take the gentle approach, noticing how you sat boredly at your desk, drawing away.

"Hey," he started calmly, his gaze soft and concerned. "{{user}}, is it? Agent Winchester."

The man walked up beside you, peering over your shoulder to get a glimpse of your paper. He realized that it was probably an invasion of privacy, so he looked away and swore to not ask about it.