Waiting in the kitchen- in the dark- alone and confused- was agony.

Every time you glanced around you saw the shadows teetering at the edges of you sight. You felt the hand on your neck, and the chill in your spine. You feet felt cold, as sockless as they were, but you didn't move to warm them- too unfocused to try.

You didn't know when Sam and Dean would come back- which gave all the more time for your thoughts to ferment. To ripen. To blossom into even greater fears and worries.

Panic had begun to slip into your thought process. This place- the bunker- it was secured. It was supposed to be secured. Yet what just happened was not at all what you would define secure as. Knowing that made you all the more uneasy.

Dread- starting at a simmer in your stomach, had eventually began boiling, before it dropped into your gut as a stone of doubt and horror.

It could reach you. It could touch you.

It could dowse you with whatever the crap type of hoodoo magic it had just juiced you with-

And you did not. like that.

Sitting there in the kitchen felt like hourse. And it was. You know because you heard the faint opening of the front door, latches and whatnot being clicked open before being closed.

You didn't move to greet them. You stayed seated in the kitchen- in the wooden chairs- more scared then you were now that the initial shock had finally sunk in.

Down the hallways you could hear Dean rather loud complaint- something along the lines of, 'Fuck- why are all the lights out.'

Yet you still didn't move. Simply settling yourself in your dark kitchen chair.

Sam responded to him- too quiet to hear- yet just loud enough to be a distinguishable voice.

It took awhile for them to find you, but when they finally reached your dark kitchen- a flashlight was the first thing to greet your eyes- blindingly bright and irritatingly being shined on you as they cautiously approached.

A hand was placed on your shoulder, and you flinched. The warm hand on your neck was a memory, yet it still rang vividly to you.

It was a normal hand though- it was Sam, and with a shaky sigh, you stood up as he motioned.

A bit of scrounging around- and you had candles, all set up in the libraries tables.

You sat in silence as Sam and Dean nitpicked to themselves about small things. Starting off with how much of a waste of time the case they did was. No more intel to give about what your 'friend' on the other side could be. Mostly Dean complaining about needing to buy new lights- and secondly Sam defusing him with a talk about how they needed to buy news ones anyways.

It took a while- a long while- for your frayed nerves to finally settle, Sam being the first to jump when he realized you were calm.

"So- what happened?" Straightforward- sincere- genuinely concerned with your well-being.

"Yeah- why'd all the lights go splat." Dean followed up Sam's question, a relative annoyance.

Glancing between the both of them, you sidled farther into your seat, placing your hands on the table and folding your fingers between each other, "It did something to me."

Same titled his head in inquiry, "The it? As in the primordial being that you've got stuck on you?"

Nodding, you watched the both of their gazes become a notch or two more serious.

"What'd it do?" Dean pressed, leaning forward at the prospect of more info.

"It's- It's hard to explain-" You began, lifting a hand to scratch your head before continuing, "One moment I'm on the floor- the next I'm resurrecting the bug I killed."

Dean, straightening himself, flicked the paper trash he was holding in your direction, looking away and placing his hand over his mouth. The stern fold in his eyebrow was a bit frightening, but you bypassed that in favor of continuing.

"I know for certain that it was... it." You bit your lip, "The thing Cas said- about a hand. I felt it on my neck."

Sam had that look on his face- the one that says he's processing things. Playing with the puzzle pieces and fitting them every which way they could go.

"Theory." He abruptly stated, lifting a finger in the air, "This thing got past the bunker's defenses."

He pointedly jammed his finger down onto the table, giving it a few taps just to be sure, "It's using your soul as a gate."

Dean just kept his stern face on, looking at his brother and intently absorbing what Sam was placing down.

"Like- here- let me-" Sam fumbled with his pockets for a moment, pulling out a grocery list and ripping it in half, "Alright- this piece of paper," he held a piece up, the words 'bread' and 'toilet paper' being the only words you could read before he continued, "This is the bunker- and for all we know- the world."

Placing it down, he raised the second half, several expensive looking hair products the main course of grocery, "This other piece, is either the celestial being you got or the plane of existence its from."

You raised an eyebrow, to which Sam raised both of his, "Hear me out-" He pulled his knife out, setting it on the table and eyeing all the pieces of the puzzle he had, "The pieces of paper are separated- they can't be together- but the knife?"

He placed the two pieces of paper together before lifting the knife back up, "That's your soul, or the tie, or whatever is connecting you two- and if I just-" With a simple thrust motion- he stabbed the knife through the two paper, "Stab this-"

Everyone watched in slight enlightenment- whatever it was he was saying- it was making sense.

"It pokes a hole- and connect the two places."

Dean smirked at his brother, "Touché."

Sam smiled, "Just a theory."

Letting out a shaky sigh, and lifting the corner of your lips, you decided to finally add something, "Theory or not- it's the best thing we have to go off of." slumping, you let out a huff, "God- that means this thing can come up and touch me whenever it wants- and I am not happy about that."

Sam nodded.

Dean pursed his lips, "So basically your a ticking time bomb."

You looked to him with alarm, "What? Why?"

With a wave of his hand, Dean let out a snort, "Why? This thing is- first of all," He rose a finger to count, "Pissed off as all hell. Second of all," He rose another finger, "Has a gateway to this world through you, and third of all," he rose a third finger, "Can channel its power through you."

Suddenly things didn't seem as carefree, and you sunk down into your chair with the added irritation to your already festering and worried thoughts.

Dean let out another snort, "What did it do again- bring back a tiny ass bug to life?"

Keeping low to your seat, you refused to see humor in his sentence, instead choosing to keep pondering the what if's.

Sam- in another fit of eurica, fumbled around on the opposite pocket, tugging out a paper that you clearly recognized as the list.

"This is good- we're learning what it can do." He scribbled something down onto the paper, "We notched Fate off the list by the way." He finished scribbling, looking up at you, "So it brought a bug back to life- and I'll assume busted all the lights in the base."

"Or so I'm told." You nodded.

Sam stood. Gathering his papers, his knife, and stuffing them into his pockets. He paced around the room for a few seconds, hand on his chin with a tight expression.

"I need a few to think."

Without farther delay, he sped walked over to the books, grabbing and comparing, and in general taking himself out of the conversation.

That left you and Dean.

Come to think of it- you hadn't seen Cas anywhere. You hadn't heard the angel- or better yet, he hadn't come to see you. A disappointment that's to be sure. Perhaps he had some business to attend to?

"Yo- Dean- is Cas out?"

Dean just gave you a cheeky smile, "Nah- we left him in the car."

"Did you leave the child lock on?"

Dean stared at you for a few seconds before outright chortling, grinning his Cheshire faced smile before confirming, that, "No. Don't worry, I left it off."

Grinning back, you glanced around, "Why didn't he come in?"

Again, Dean gave you his cheeky little smile, "He's got stuff on his mind- Worried are we?"

Huffing, you plopped your chin onto the table, "Of course I am. He's like my only friend."

Settling into a small field of silence, you stared at Sam's back as he shuffled about. Each time he pulled a book out, dust would puff out.

Looking to Dean again, you propped your chin up with your arms, "So uh- you mind if I sleep in your room?"

It went deafeningly silent. The white noise that was Sam grabbing books momentarily paused as he turned to look at you before resuming.

"Excuse me?" Dean said, half cocking a smile and half frowning at the same time.

"You heard me." Giving your own attempt at a confident smile, you continued, "My room is a danger zone of centipedes. I need to clean it."

Sam twisted around, "Oh god- I've been waiting for you to say that." The utter relief in his voice was actually a bit amazing- and the learned fact that Sam is a clean freak was a fact you tucked into your mind for later use, "Can I help?"

"Sure." You casually agreed, flinching when Dean snapped his fingers in your face to gain your attention.

"Hey- Sunshine- back on topic-" Dean frowned with a sour cat's look, "Why can't you just sleep in Sammy's room." The seriousness of his face rivaled that of when he was talking about life or death.

Manning up- you copied his face, "Um- have you smelled Sam's room? It reeks of chemicals because all his expensive hair products. I ain't sleeping in that."

Sam puffed himself up in a flustered huff, turning back to the books and ignoring what you said. Amusing- no just from you, but to Dean too, if his side glance and small dip in seriousness was anything to go by.

He turned away from Sam though, giving you one last final glare, before subsiding. "Fine- but so help me- I better not notice that your there."

"Of course." You stated.

"Good." Dean harrumphed.

"Great." You finished.

Without farther ado, you stood up from your seat, pattering down the hallway and echoing your voice as you ran, "I'm gonna go set up!"

Dean's chair squealed behind him as he rushed after you, "God- NO- WaiT- Don't fucking touch anything you gremlin!"