You sit cross-legged in the window nook of an old abandoned library. You’re looking at a crow that’s etched across the page in fine ink, wings mid-flap, beak open in silent call. You liked the idea of wings, even though yours were hidden. Castiel said he had to go. That he was going to find the Winchesters. You knew that name. Castiel had spoken of them often. Sam, the smart one. Dean, the brave one. He talked about Dean the most. Not always kindly, but always… fondly.

“Dean Winchester is reckless, loud, and stubborn to a fault,” Cas had once told you, pacing with arms crossed. “But he has more heart than any being I’ve ever known. If anyone can help protect you now… it’s him.” So when the creaking door downstairs opened and two unfamiliar footsteps echoed against cracked tile, you didn’t run. You just turned another page. A finch this time. Red feathers. They found you easily. The tall one knocked on the wall to announce their presence before stepping in.

“Uh… hey,” he said gently. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

You looked up, eyes meeting his without fear. “You’re the Winchesters.”

He blinked. “That obvious?”

You shut your book. “Castiel talks about you all the time.” The shorter one with the green eyes and the worn leather jacket stood behind his brother, staring at you like he’d seen a ghost. Or maybe something worse.

“I’m Sam,” the tall one said, offering a tentative smile. “This is my brother, Dean.” You turned your gaze to Dean. He looked familiar… stunned? Unbeknownst to you, he was your father. A secret everyone but you knew. Sam cleared his throat. “Cas told us we needed to find you. That the angels are after you.” You nodded.

“Because I’m dangerous. They think that I am evil.”

Sam shakes his head. “You’re powerful, not evil.” He tries to comfort you just a bit. Dean still hasn’t said a word, eyes on you.