Written by: KariGorsuch

The door clicked shut behind Dean and Eve, leaving me along with Sam- the taller, quieter, and somehow, significantly more intimidating brother. I thought Eve was joking about the "weird stuff" she'd been digging into- werewolves, ghosts, witches and the like. But after seeing that thing tonight... Yeah, no one's laughing anymore.

Sam leaned back on the loveseat, his long legs stretched out in front of him, making the small piece of furniture look like it belonged in a dollhouse. He glanced over at me, his hazel eyes calm but watchful.

"You okay?" He asked, his voice soft.

I wasn't sure how to answer that. "Define okay," I muttered, standing from where I was sitting next to Sam. Nervous energy needing to be released, I started to pace. He gave a small chuckle, and for a second, I forgot he was a hunter of all things supernatural and terrifying. He looked almost normal- if you ignored the way his hand rested a little too close to the pistol on his hip.

"You're handling it better than most people would," he said, tilting his head. "First encounters with the supernatural don't usually go... smoothly."

"Smoothly?" I huffed as I continued to pace the room, waving a hand towards the window. "You call that smoothly? A werewolf tried to eat me, Sam. Eat. Me. This isn't a first date gone awkward; this is- this is nightmare fuel!"

He nodded, letting me rant without interruption. When I finally ran out of steam, he gestured to the loveseat next to him. "Sit," he said gently.

I hesitated for a moment, then sank into the seat, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over me. "So," I said, folding my arms tightly across my chest, "you and Dean just... Do this? Hunt monsters? Save people?"

"Pretty much," Sam said with a small shrug. "It's a lot to take in, I know."

"Yeah, no kidding," I muttered. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, searching for something to focus on other than the fact that my worldview had been ripped apart. "How'd you even get into this?"

His expression shifted, a flicker of something- pain, maybe- crossing his face. "It's... complicated. Family business, like Dean said."

I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. Instead, he reached into the duffle bag by his feet and pulled out a thick, battered book. He flipped it open, revealing pages covered in dense notes, sketches, and diagrams of creatures that didn't belong in bedtime stories.

"This," he said, turning the book towards me, "is what we know about werewolves."

I stared at the pages, my head swimming as I tried to process the information. "You're telling me I have to study for this?"

Sam's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Knowledge is power, the more you know about what we're up against, the better chance you have of surviving."

"Great," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "As if my life wasn't stressful enough."

"Hey," Sam said, his voice steady but kind. "You're in this now, whether you like it or not. But you're not alone. Dean, Eve, and I- we've got your back. After this is over, you can go back to your normal life- forget about all of this."

The sincerity in his tone caught me off guard. For the first time since the attack, I felt a flicker of something other than fear. Maybe it was hope- maybe it was just exhaustion.

"Fine," I said, exhaling slowly. "Knowing Eve, normal life is no longer an option- but show me how to kill a werewolf."

Sam grinned- a real, genuine grin this time- and slid the book closer to me. "All right," he said, pointing to a section on silver bullets. "Lesson one- silver is lethal to werewolves."

Sam's finger traced the neat, handwritten notes in the old book as he explained, "Silver is one of the only things that can kill a werewolf. Bullets, blades- doesn't matter as long as it's silver."

I leaned in, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand, and not the warmth of his leg pressing against mine. "And regular weapons? Like... I don't know- a kitchen knife?"

He shook his head, his expression serious. "Won't even slow it down- only piss it off more. Werewolves heal fast. Silver's the only thing that stops them for good."

I stared at the page, the diagram of a snarling wolf half-transformed into a human making my stomach churn. "So... You just load up on some silver and hope for the best?"

"Not exactly," Sam replied, his tone patient. "You need to aim for vital spots- heart or head. Anything else and you're wasting your time."

"Great," I muttered, leaning back and rubbing my temples. "Because shooting a raging monster in the head sounds totally doable. Can't be much more difficult than a moving range in the snow.."

Sam chuckled softly, the sound warm and oddly reassuring. "It's not easy, I won't lie. But that's why we prepare. When you're ready, it's less about luck and more about instinct."

I glanced up at him, feeling the weight of his words sink in. He spoke with the kind of confidence that came from experience- like someone who'd faced down these nightmares more times than he could count and somehow lived to tell the tale.

"And what happens if I miss?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Sam's smile faded, replaced by a seriousness that made my chest tighten. "Then you run. Fast."

I swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "The one thing the Army wasn't worried about- running fast. Good to know."

He closed the book gently, the sound of the pages snapping shut echoing in the quiet room. "Look," he said, his voice softer now. "I know this is overwhelming. No one's expecting you to be an expert overnight. Just... take it one step at a time."

I exhaled shakily, nodding again. "One step at a time," I repeated, as much to myself as to him.

Sam leaned back, studying me with those sharp hazel eyes. "You're stronger than you think, Brianna."

I snorted, "You don't even know me."

"Maybe not," he admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips. "But I've seen people in your position before. Fear doesn't make you weak- it keeps you alive. And trust me, you're handling this a lot better than most would."

For a moment, I just stared at him, unsure how to respond. Finally, I let out a dry laugh, the sound surprising even me. "If by 'handling it,' you mean 'not completely losing my mind,' then sure. I'm crushing it."

Sam chuckled again, and the tension in the room seemed to ease just a little. "You're doing fine. And remember- you've got backup."

I nodded, the flicker of hope from earlier growing just a little bit brighter. Maybe- just maybe- we had a chance.

The door to the hotel room opened abruptly, the tension flooding in before either of our missing members stepped inside. Eve entered first, her jaw tight as she dropped the takeout bag on the small side table with a little more force than necessary. She didn't say a word, her movements sharp and deliberate.

Dean followed close behind, his leather jacket draped over one arm, his face carefully neutral but his shoulders rigid. His gaze swept the room, briefly landing on Sam, then me, then the basically non existent space between us.

I straightened in my seat, pulling away from Sam while my eyes darted between the two of them. "Well," I said, trying to inject some lightness into the oppressive atmosphere. "Guessing the dinner run didn't go as planned?"

Eve let out a sharp, humorless laugh as she began unpacking the takeout containers. She didn't look up, her focus entirely on the task at hand.

Dean on the other hand, let out a long exhale, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the door. "It's fine," he muttered, though his tone said the exact opposite.

Sam glanced between them, his brow furrowing. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Eve said quickly, her voice tight. "Just ran into... something."

Dean's mouth quirked into a wry smile, though there was no humor in it. "Yeah. Something."