Something Almost Human

She'd followed them thousands of miles, intrigued. The man who ran from his dreams. Sam. And his family, brother and father she assumed, who talked as much about Sam as they did a person named Cas. She followed them what felt like cross country to an auto-salvage lot in Sioux Falls, where they took Sam inside and tried to keep him there. And she watched. And she followed. For several days, she followed them on road trips, then back. Always watching. Always hiding. She was surprised they didn't notice her for as long as they did. They were preoccupied with Sam, who kept insisting he was okay. But even from this distance, Olly knew it was a lie.

She was sitting in another diner in town when he found her for the first time. She hung out in diners a lot. Just liked the atmosphere of diners is all. Familiar. Homey. She was drinking coffee and watching a couple, but not looking at the man. The woman was what she was looking at. Beautiful. She had dark ebony skin, flawless, stretched over high cheekbones and around almond eyes and wide, friendly lips. She was wearing a mustard yellow sun dress and a wide-brimmed straw hat with matching navy blue sashes on each, and matching blue and gold bangles adorned her wrists. The effect was modern-African princess meets chic country girl, and Olly was mesmerized, trying to etch these features into her mind for future use. She watched the woman, big beautiful teeth gleaming as the man across from her made her laugh. He was equally as beautiful, brown but not as dark as she. Her eyes and teeth flashed and shone, her ruby red nails curled around the side of her cheek, resting her elbow on the table. Olly watched her with sad eyes. She didn't notice when he sat across from her, nor did she react immediately when he spoke.

"Why are you following me?" he asked. "Who are you?"

She looked at him slowly, her eyes widening slightly when she saw who it was. She tried to put on a straight face, but she knew it was already too late. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I know you've been following me," he said. Neither his face nor his tone suggested he was angry, but she still flinched. "I've seen you."

"Oh." She mentally slapped herself for that stellar response.

"So what do you want?"

Olly put her hands in her lap and looked at them, picking at the deep blue nail polish and shrugged. She made the sudden decision that it would probably be best to not deny it. "Dunno. I guess I was... I dunno... I saw you. In Kansas, looking like the devil was chasing you. And I wanted to know more." He snorted and looked away. "Sam, right?"

"How'd you know?" he asked, looking back up at her.

"Your father and brother are worried about you." She looked down at her hands again.

"Bobby and Dean?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

"Well they've been worrying about me my whole life, so nothing new," he muttered, all but forgetting to correct her that Bobby wasn't his dad and deciding he really didn't care. "So who are you?"

"My name's-" she paused, thinking about it. She hadn't used her name in so long. "Olive. But you can call me Olly."

Olly was not a term of endearment given to her by someone who loved her. Her mother didn't coo it to her in her crib, her father didn't say it with a hug. Her grandmother did not call her Olly lovingly from her rocking chair on the porch. She didn't even know her grandmother, and her parents didn't hold on to her long enough for her to know if they had in fact called her any pet names at all. Olly was what she called herself. It's what she imagined she would be called if she only had one skin. And so it was the name she gave away when she got the chance.

"Olly," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She watched his face, his brows furrowed and his green-hazel eyes intense as he watched her. She sensed that he was just about to tell her to fuck off and leave, call her a freak, stalking him, and she couldn't bear that, so she used her best people skills to start a conversation with him. He was distracted while they talked- looking at her with his brows furrowed like he couldn't figure her out, and then over her shoulder momentarily- until she brought up something that he knew about, cared about: books. Then he got into the conversation with a little bit more enthusiasm and they talked about books they had read, lingering on Harry Potter, and sharing reading lists. And suddenly she didn't feel nearly so outcast-ed. She was having probably the first real discussion- that she actually enjoyed- ever. It was great.

Suddenly, Sam's attention was snapped to a point somewhere over her left shoulder and the color and emotion faded from his face in a rush. She looked behind her, then back to him. He swallowed, his giant Adam's apple bobbing so much that it looked almost painful.

"I have to go," he said quickly, standing.

"Wait--" but he was out the door before she could form the words on her mind.