It was hard to sleep knowing that I was in this huge place alone. I'm not scared, but I am worried. About the boys and Mary, not myself. It was hard for me to handle knowing that they aren't down the hall. That they're out there hunting while being hunted by the British.

I gave up at around five, maybe five-thirty. So I went and took a shower, then changed into comfortable clothes. Today was Monday, so I had school stuff to work on. Walking through the bunker and into the kitchen, I used my phone to turn on the radio and speaker system to put on some music.

"Isn't it a bit early for this type of music?" Castiel asked from behind me. I jumped in surprise, but still turned and smiled at him.

"Please stop doing that. And no, it's never too early for Queen." I grabbed some leftover fruit salad from last night and headed towards the library. "How are the boys?"

"I haven't seen them in a few days. Have you not spoken to them?"

"No, I thought you had." I sat at the table and looked up at the angel. I thought he would've checked in on them and reported to me or something.

"Well, then, one of us should call them."

"Or, I can just text them." I unlocked my phone and popped a piece of strawberry into my mouth. "It's less likely to give away their position if they're trying to sneak around somewhere. They are looking for a vamp, after all."

Castiel simply hummed, watching as my fingers danced across the touch screen. "How do you do that so fast?"

"Do what so fast?"

"Type on the phone."

I sat for a moment, looking up at the ceiling as I thought, soon shrugging and looking back at the angel. "I don't really know? I guess it's just from doing it so long and knowing where the letters are."

He'd nodded, standing and padding over to the bookshelves, hands hanging at his sides. "I know who you are, Caretaker." 

"What? Cass, don't get creepy on me now." I frowned, immediately on the defensive. What the hell is he on about?

"I know who you are. Your real name, everything you've ever done. I know your family history." He'd turned to look at me, his head tilted. "I went to Heaven and asked for your file."

"Wouldn't Death and the reapers have all that information?"

"We all have it. Including Crowley and his demons."

"Huh. Good to know." I hummed, going back to my breakfast. "You can go ahead and keep all of that information to yourself."

"You said you'd forgotten your name. Wouldn't you like to know your own identity?"

"That person is gone now, Cass. That lifestyle, that personality. I'm a different person, I'm Caretaker. That name died long ago, and it really died when Bobby was killed. I'm not interested, and I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone else." I'd made sure to keep eye contact with him as I spoke, wanting to make absolutely sure that my point was made.

"I understand, and I will respect your wishes." He'd nodded, tone gruff, though you could see it in his eyes at he truly understood.

"Thank you," I mumbled, and after that it had gone quiet between us.

****

Castiel had long since disappeared, it nearing dusk as I sat at the table in the kitchen, trying to think of what to do for dinner. I didn't really feel a need to cook, since I was the only one here and Cass doesn't eat. So, why dirty up all of those dishes, when I could just jump in the jag and go get take out. Then, after a moment or so of staring at my keys, that's what I did. While I was driving, though, something occurred to me. Sam never texted me back.

I took a deep breath, picking up my phone as I sat a red light and looking at the texts. I checked the chats with both of the boys, and neither of my texts had even been looked at. "Fuck it." I huffed, throwing my phone back down into the passenger seat and heading for Nebraska. Why I was so worried about the Winchesters, I don't know. I know they can handle themselves, but I also it's not like them not to check in.

After nearly a seven hour drive with no pit stops, despite how hungry and tired I was, I'd finally arrived in Crawford. Yawning so hard it made my eyes water, I sat at a stop sign in the small town, trying to remember the name of the motel Sam told me they were staying in. I wiped at my eyes before pulling away from the red sign, frowning as I looked around, though my body relaxed as I saw the now familiar shape of the Impala parked outside of the Hilltop Motel. As I pulled up beside it, I mumbled to myself "Let's just hope they're both there and in one piece." I got out and walked up to the door, shifting slightly so that I could peer into the room through the cracks in the blinds. Sam and Dean both were sprawled out on their beds, laying still enough that I assumed they were asleep. Taking a deep breath, I thought about the pros and cons of just breaking into the room, or actually knocking. If I broke in, they could sleep until they woke up naturally, or immediately wake up and potentially shoot and or stab me. Now, if I knocked, it would wake them up and they'd be up for the day, and I'd get lectured about why I shouldn't have came.

"Fuck it," I mumbled for the second time tonight, pulling out my lock picking kit and getting to work on the door. "If I get shot I get shot."

Once it was unlocked, I slowly opened the door and slipped in, gently closing it behind me and carefully locking it back up. After I heard the soft click that signaled the locking mechanism was in place, I whipped my head around to check on the boys, who were both snoring away. Good god they sleep like rocks. I would've woken up at the sound of the door knob moving. I carefully took off my boots, not wanting to make any noise on the hardwood floors that filled the room, and walked on the balls of my feet to the table. Slowly sitting down on the cheaply made chair, I pulled out my phone and checked the time, seeing that it was barely five o'clock. I took a slow, deep breath in an attempt to fight a yawn, crossing my arms as I leaned back in the chair, examining the brothers' condition. They looked rough, to say the least.

Sam laid on his back, almost starfished out on the bed, the hems of his pant legs covered in what I can only imagine to be nearly-dried mud, his boots looking no better as they laid at the end of the bed. It looked like he'd just kicked them off when he laid down, and as my eyes trailed up the man's body I noticed his knife still in the sheath that was hooked to his belt. I shook my head. He must've been exhausted. He still had his plaid flannel on, the jacket he'd been wearing discarded on the end of the bed by his feet, and I as I looked at his face I let out a quiet sigh. His hair was a mess, and his bottom lip was busted, the area ever so swollen. He was covered in a thin layer of dirt, telling me that they most likely had gotten their asses kicked yesterday.

Dean, on the other hand, was laying on his stomach, legs spread and arms tucked underneath his pillow. His clothes were much dirtier than Sam's, and he was still fully dressed, causing me to roll my eyes. How many times have I told this man to at least take his shoes off, no matter how tired he was? I was half tempted on going over and removing them, but I didn't want to chance waking him up, despite the doubt I had that even an explosion would wake him at this point. Looking a little more closely I realized that he still had his pistol tucked into the waistband of his jeans, which were so covered in drying mud that they weren't even blue anymore. I squinted slightly as I tried to look at his face, the man more difficult to see in the dark as he was farther away. There was a cut on his cheekbone, and one of his eyebrows were split open, both cuts surrounded in dried blood.

I figured I'd patch them up when they woke, and after they'd both showered. Shifting slightly in my chair, careful not to make any sound as I did so, I turned my attention to the door, fixing my eyes on the windows to watch for any suspicious movement.

****

"Ah!" I'd startled awake at the sound of a scream, which was in turn followed by a thud. My eyes shot up to see Dean on the floor, and Sam staring at me with wide eyes. The older of the two pushed himself up, glaring at me. "When the hell did you get here and how did you get in?"

"I picked the lock, and I got here sometime early this morning." I yawned, stretching my arms up in an attempt to pop my back. When did I fall asleep?

"W-Why are you here? Caretaker, you can't just- Just show up like that." Sam frowned, now sitting up properly on the end of his bed. Dean huffed as he stood, throwing the blankets that had followed him to the ground back on the bed. "Seriously! At least call first, you scared the shit out of me!"

"Hey, I texted both of you yesterday, and never got a response. How was I supposed to react?" I snapped at the man, moving to stand in front of him as I glared. "Was I supposed to just sit in the bunker and wait? Just hope that you came back in one piece? Or that you came back at all? For fucks sake, Dean! How thick can your skull be?"

He stared at me, eyes somewhat wide, his jaw slack. I could only imagine what could be going through his mind sight now. I have never spoken to either of them like that before, and I knew I was yelling because by the time I was done, my throat felt scratchy. Sam cleared his throat, still sitting on the bed beside us, albeit now awkwardly. "You're right, Caretaker. I'm sorry, we should've been better about checking in. You shouldn't have had to drive all the way up here to check on us."

I turned and gave him a small nod, then turned back to Dean, my voice low and stern as I spoke to him through my teeth, jaw clenched. "Go get your ass in the shower, I'll patch you up when you get out." His body was stiff, he wasn't used to being bossed around like this and I knew it was taking everything in him not to say something he'd possibly regret.

"Yes ma'am," he grumbled under his breath, grabbing his duffel bag and going to the bathroom. When the door closed behind him I turned to Sam, who immediately looked away, the poor man afraid to look at me.