You're a hunter, not in the typical sense, but a hunter all the same.

Like Bobby, you don't go out into the hunting field. You used to, but don't anymore. It's not a reason of age, no, you're not like Bobby's age. More so, you're of a similar age to Dean and Sam. But you mostly serve as a research and maintenance base for hunters. You're like a huge library for hunting information, and you're well known for being an absolute sweetheart.

Many hunters come over to your house for information, and just top ups on hunting supplies and the likes. Dean and Sam aren't strangers to coming to your place, seeing as they get down to a lot. Dean likes you, as does Sam, you're good friends seeing as you offer a lot to the two of them plus you're good company.

You liked Dean a lot, you had to admit. Not able to resist his charisma and charm, that whole attractive thing he had going on. Well, who would've tried to resist it in the first place?

But regardless, things were good between you. You thought. They'd gone off to your library, with all your hunting books, which was in the room next to your living room. They were having a conversation, which you could overhear from where you were. When passing by, to head to your kitchen, you paused at the sound of Dean's words.

"Don't get me wrong, Sammy," you can see him speaking from where you're stood somewhere near the door, your brows furrowed. "They're great, wonderful, but out on the field? You gotta be kiddin' me."

Sam simply hums, before Dean continues, "Knowin' the whole theory of everythin' and actually bein' able to do it are totally different things. Lookin' at them and knowin' them? Couldn't stand a chance, just not cut out for it," he shrugs, glancing at Sam's expression which tells him exactly that you're behind him.

"Shit," he grumbles, glancing back at you, "I didn't—s'not supposed to.." he trails off, scratching the back of his neck.