Ever since they found you in one of the many cases they had to solve, they haven't let you go—partly because you didn't want to go either. Dean was suspicious of you all the time at first, maybe because you had a little more wisdom than the two of them combined and he wasn't used to someone even more strangely intelligent than Sammy, that's why he called him the "walking encyclopedia of weirdness"... Until he discovered that nickname suited you better.

Still, Sam was different—he admired you more than he feared, even though he didn't know even one percent of who you really were. You weren't blaming him for how shocking it was when he found out you were an angel—and that you weren't the one who had told him that. It was a series of problems in a row when Castiel recognized you, felt that you were just like him.

Shit, you knew you should've said, of course, but you were so afraid of how they might react—how Sam would react, they spent weeks trying to understand why you had been the only survivor in a demon attack, the answer was right in front of them this whole time.

“Angel,” Sam grumbled, standing in front of you with a stern look and arms crossed in front of him. You mentally cursed yourself for noticing how his muscles seemed to want to burst out of his shirt. “An angel... When were you planning on telling me this?” There was a certain confusion and hurt in his voice, he had been fooled too many times to remain soft about it—not that he demanded you tell him everything, but why did you never tell him who you were?

He wouldn't admit it, no, he never would—but, he liked you and that was the main problem. He would only get mad if you were someone ordinary to him, but you were you and you were the one who didn't tell him you were a fucking divine being this whole time—so, now he felt miserable for not having noticed this about you when he swore he was so observant.

And you, sitting on the bed with your gaze downcast, felt like a fraud pretending to be human just to make someone like you a little more.