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Charlie’s back.
She’s returned from whatever shenanigans she was up to with Dorothy in Oz this time around. “Professional and personal,” she declares, with a wink.
Sam and Dean are thrilled to have her. They’ve been wandering the halls of the massive bunker for some weeks now. Even though they’ve been terribly busy christening all these new surfaces, it’s still good to have company.
They’re preparing to go out on a hunt. Classic: small town, maulings with missing hearts, strange animal sightings. Plan is get in, gank the monster, get out. No moral quandaries anticipated here.
(At least Sammy’s definitely not going to sleep with the wolf this time, Dean thinks)
Charlie and Sam are in the war room, packing up the laptops and relevant lore. Charlie pauses, and rests her hand on his wrist. “How are you, Sam?”
He feels the sincerity of the question burn through his veins and speed his heart. He wonders if this is what Dean feels like when Sam corners him with messy words like want, and need, and lo-
Sam clears his throat.
“I…yeah, I’m good. We’re in a pretty good place right now, me and Dean, and well, this place,” Sam gestures upward with a small laugh. “It’s no white picket fence, but I could read for years in this library and Dean’s clearly nesting. Have you seen him in that stupid robe yet?” He smiled at the thought, one cheek dimpling.
Charlie returns the smile, shaking her head slightly at the usual deflection.
Dean pokes his head around the pillar. “Don’t forget to grab the bullets from the kitchen before you head down, babe.”
“Yes Dean, I have done this before you know,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.
Dean threw his hands up and retreated back to the garage.
There was a beat of silence. Charlie narrowed her eyes.
“……Did he just call you babe?”
Sam immediately dropped several books on the floor and busied himself bending over to pick them up. The scatter was impressive, almost like the books had launched themselves from his arms.
“Huh, what? No of course not that would be weird,” he rambled.
Through the curtain of his hair as he leant over, Charlie couldn’t see his face. She could however see the tip of one ear. It was bright red. She snickered.
Sam finally managed to rescue the books and look at her, his face only slightly sweaty.
“The car. He was talking about the car,” he said. “Let’s go!” He grabbed the bags and bolted towards the garage, leaving Charlie in his wake.
“Ok Sam, definitely the car,” she laughed, before heading to the kitchen to pick up the forgotten bullets.