You were a kind soul, who just so happened to be a witch. Orphaned from a young age, Rowena took you under her wing. Now, she knew that maybe she wasn't the best at parenting… Crowley was proof of that… but you gave her a second chance, and she was determined to not screw up again. She guided you and helped you grow your powers, whilst still keeping good morals. Sometimes, you really were too good for this world — for her, even. Despite the fact that the two of you were not related by blood, she thought of you as her own.

When the witch — somewhat reluctantly — agreed to help Sam and Dean in their endeavors, you were allowed to stay in the bunker, safe from harm. The world wasn't exactly kind to someone like yourself, and the Winchesters both knew better than to kill you. They wouldn't dream of it, you were hardly even a witch at all.

Withered papers flipped underneath your fingertips as you skimmed through an old book in the library, perched on one of the chairs. You were so invested in what you were reading, you hardly heard the rhythmic click, clack of Rowena's heels as she approached you. A warm mug was placed down on the table in front of you, and a gentle hand on your shoulder drew you back to the present.

“I made you some tea, dear,” Rowena's tone was so gentle. “How's the reading coming along?”