The Runt of the Litter

lamplight

Note: Hey, Beauties <3

I'm back again, maybe it's time to officially declare that I'm ready to return to my posting schedule of weekly updates :) What would y'all think of that?

Thanks to all my lovely readers for the votes and comments. You guys truly make my day with every kind word. I appreciate you so so much!

A while ago (and I mean so long ago that I can't even find the message, which means I can't actually drop the person's username) I received a request that I continue the storyline from Glass Lives-- So this story is set between Pain is Pain is Pain and This Side Up, which are the two most recent installments in that particular storyline. Whoever you are, I hope you like this, and I'm so sorry it took me like half a year.

As in Pain is Pain is Pain, Anna is fifteen.

lamplight

"Hey," Anna said softly, stepping into the soft glow of lamplight. Her mismatched socks barely made a sound against the cool floor of the library, but the room was so quiet otherwise that even that soft brush of fabric seemed to echo. "Can I tell you something?" Her voice seemed too loud despite its smallness, and Anna shrunk in on herself a bit more.

Both boys were sitting at the table in front of her, and neither of them seemed to have noticed her before she'd spoken. "Hey, Rugrat. What are you even doin' up right now?" Dean asked, setting aside a heavy tome and straightening in his chair. "Can't sleep?"

Anna shrugged. Her stomach was fluttering with anxiety such that she almost felt light-headed. "No," she admitted quietly. She stepped a little closer so that she was right behind Sam's chair, and she put a hand on his shoulder, longing for touch without really knowing why. Maybe it was the little circle of light the lamp on the table was creating. Maybe she just wanted to press herself inside of it, turn her back completely on the darkness, secure the outline around herself and her family. Maybe the light just looked safe.

Her face was illuminated by the lamplight, and she had to squint against it. She'd had the lights off in her room, and the hallways of the bunker had almost no light to offer either. It had been so dark before that even this small glow was enough to nearly blind her.

"Sit down," Sam invited softly, reaching up to squeeze her hand once.

Anna did, sliding quietly into the chair beside Sam. She glanced up at Dean, who was looking right at her with a slightly worried look about him. She flicked her eyes back down to the table and struggled to remember the last time he'd so much as glanced her way without looking worried. It had been a while. It had been over a month, at least, because it had been before she knew about her mother.

"What did you want to tell us?" Sam prodded.

Anna looked up again, blinking rapidly as the light poked at the whites of her eyes. She twisted her fingers around each other, tensing her hands nervously. "It's probably gonna make you mad," she said, her heart beginning to beat a little faster. "Cause it was... it was really stupid."

She felt the familiar helplessness of the last few weeks re-entering her chest. It made her want to cry, exactly the way it always did. But she was getting used to that feeling, and she was getting better at shoving it down. It was scary, but it was helpful.

"Okay, well, spit it out," Dean said, a hint of urgency making its way into his voice. He didn't sound angry, though. He still sounded gentle, like he was speaking to a skittish pony.

Anna looked right at him, looked at the worry lines around his eyes, and she struggled to remember the last time he'd spoken to her in a different voice, a harder one, an angry one. "I summoned Crowley," she whispered.