Something Almost Human

Sam's jaw was set as he studied Olive. He looked at her, this tiny freckled girl, like she was some foreign object that he was determined to figure out. The wind ruffled her hair and she leaned against the grimy wall of the convenience store to shield herself from it, tucking her hair behind her ear. She was silent, waiting for him to say something. It took him a while to find his words, but when he did, they echoed through the deserted back alley they were standing in.

"How do you know?" he asked, looking nervously behind her. "About me?"

His question flustered her; he'd already asked her this. A long time ago. Her words tripped off of her tongue when she responded. "I already told you, your brother and father... I, uhm, I just recognized the symptoms of... well, I saw you and I knew-- I'm curious as to what chases you, Sam."

He shook his head, a sarcastic smile stretching his lips. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

She cocked her head to the side. "You don't give me enough credit. I believe more than you would think." She hoped her position against the wall made her look relaxed and nonchalant, but then she started doubting it, and stood straight, arms crossed. "Are you going to tell me?"

He skillfully avoided the question by turning the tables on her. "Why aren't you more disturbed by the leviathan?" he asked.

"I sort of major in the unusual, I guess," she said with a shrug.

His eyes narrowed. "What unusual?"

Her eyes lit up and she almost seemed excited to tell him how much she knew. "Everything. Werewolves and vampires and ghosts and ghouls and skinwalkers and demons and... and shapeshifters." She looked at her feet, then back to his face. "And now leviathan."

"How?" he asked gruffly.

Olly shrugged. "Runs in the family. Part of my genetic code."

He laughed harshly. "I know the feeling. But you don't hunt?" Olly shook her head no. "Why not?"
She frowned. "Just because I know of the life doesn't mean I go around destroying it." Her words came out harsher than she expected and she opened her mouth to apologize, but he was trying to hard to not focus on whatever was behind her that he hadn't heard her. She followed his gaze behind her to the empty stretch of concrete, it's only inhabitants them and a dumpster, and tried to find what he was looking at, or not looking at. She didn't see anything, so she returned her gaze to the giant in front of her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing."

She made a noise in the back of her throat and turned away from him. He was frustrating. "Please tell me," she turned back to him.

"It's someone from my past," he half-whispered hoarsely. He was still distracted, his eyes darting to the left. She watched him with sad eyes.

"Sam, let me help you."

"You can't," his eyes snapped back to her. "I mean, I don't need help. No, okay? I'm fine, I'm fine--" He jumped slightly, glancing to the right now, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. Then, without another word, he turned to leave, his knees shaking and strides long.

"Wait," she called, desperate not to lose him again. "Sam, what if those things come for me? They know what I look like! They've seen me."

He paused, his back to her, then turned around. His eyes softened when he looked at her and he pulled a crumpled receipt out of his pocket. He scribbled a phone number down on it. "Call me if they come for you," he said.

And then he left, her heart slowly falling apart and resting at the bottom of her chest cavity. If shifts could heal wounds, she wondered if it could heal a broken heart. Probably not.

Olly frowned at the familiar faces and names on the TV screen. Sam and Dean Winchester. Of course it would be her to form a strange attachment to a Winchester. She didn't run in any monster circles, so she didn't know much about the Winchester family. But she knew enough to know that they'd successfully started and stopped at least two apocalypses and that made them dangerous.

The TV, situated over the cashier's head, was now telling her that they were on a killing spree heading west. She furrowed her eyebrows, slightly confused. The pimply youth looked between her and the faces on the screen.

"You know them?" he asked, taking her money.

"No," she lied, shaking her head.

"Crazy story, them two." She made a noise of slight agreement, hoping he would just hand her her change, but he turned around to face the screen and kept talking, her money in his hands. "Yea, 'parently the older one's died like four times now. I mean, obviously faked and stuff, but I guess now he's a master at it and all. I'll bet that's how they'll get out of this one, too. The younger one, with the long hair, he's only died once I think. When a building exploded, apparently, so they couldn't identify the remains. Smart guys. But whatever, right? The real question is why the younger brother is bigger'n the older one. And, I guess, why the feds ain't caught 'em yet. Gives ya real faith in the government, right?"

Olly grunted, annoyed, and accepted her change, then escaped out the door without another word.