“I am not waiting in this car,” Christie said from the backseat.
“Yeah,” Dean said, looking at her in the rearview mirror, “you are,”
“Why? I can help!” Christie said, leaning forward in the seat. She rested her arms on the back of the front seat and stuck her head between Sam and Dean’s
“How?” Sam asked, Christie turning to him, “You’re seventeen, you can’t even fake being a fed,”
“Easy fix, Bring Your Kid to Work Day,” Christie said, pointing to Dean.
“Yeah, we can say you want to go into the family business,” Dean joked, “No,” he said, his eyes not moving from the road ahead.
“This is not fair!” Christie complained, “You bring me along and won’t let me help? I mean, she is a girl we’re going to talk to right? I’m a girl, she's a girl, girls understand each other,”
“We’ve been doing this for years,” Dean said, quickly glancing to Christie.
“What's the point then,” Christie grumbled, leaning back and crossing her arms.
“Look,” Sam said, turning back to face Christie, “We just don’t want you to get hurt,”
“Yeah because I could definitely get hurt talking to a heart broken girl who is probably drowning in tears,” Christie mumbled, resting her head on the window and looking out at the passing life.
“We’ll be right back,” Dean said shutting, the creaking door.
“Don’t go anywhere,” said Sam, sticking his head in the open window.
“No promises,” Christie sighed.
Sam and Dean left Christie in the car and walked up to the front door of the large, two story, cream colored house and knocked on the door. After a few moments the door slowly opened and revealed a petite, blonde girl in a t-shirt and old jeans.
“Um, how can I help you?” she sniffled.
“Yes, um, Dana?” Sam muttered, rummaging through his pocket looking for his badge.
“Yeah?” she asked with a confused look.
“We’re agents Banner and Rogers,” he showed her his badge and then quickly put it back in his pocket, “We’re here to ask you a few questions, about a Charles Franklin?”
“Um, I already talked to the cops,” Dana mumbled, shuffling her weight on her feet.
“Well, we like to do a follow up,” said Dean, “So we have all the facts together,”
“Um, okay,” Dana said, stepping aside, “Come in,”
“So?” Christie asked, sticking her head out of the window when she saw Sam and Dean returning.
“Same as the others,” Sam muttered, getting into the car.
“What now?” Christie asked, leaning forward.
“We do some research,” Sam sighed.
“On what?” Christie asked.
“On whatever is chomping on those guys,” said Dean, pulling out the driveway.
“Where the hell are we supposed to find something about that?”
“The power of the internet,” Dean smirked.
“What are we going to do? Google ‘what lives in a lake and eats people?’”
“Pretty much,” Dean said, turning a corner.
“You’re such an idiot,” Christie groaned, leaning back in her seat, “Can I at least help with this?” she asked.
“Oh, you can google lake demons till you’re little heart stops,” Dean smirked, looking at Christie in the rearview mirror. She rolled her eyes and looked out the window, sighing deeply.
The three sat in silence for most of the trip, no one bothering to say anything, or Dean even turning on the radio or putting in another old cassette.
“So,” Christie mumbled, after about 10 minutes of silence, “you guys have guns and stuff right?”
“Yeah,” said Dean, passing an old red truck.
“Do I get something like that?”
“No,” Sam and Dean both say in unison.
“Why not?” Christie complained.
“You could hurt yourself,” Sam said, looking back at her.
“I’m seventeen, not seven. You guys can’t be with me twenty-four/seven! I need something to protect myself!”
“You’re not getting a gun,” Dean said, glaring at Christie in the mirror.
“It doesn’t have to be a gun! Like a knife or something!” Christie said as Dean pulled into the motel parking lot.
“No,” Sam mumbled.
“Come on!” Christie begged.
“You know what?” Dean muttered, barely audible.
He quickly cut off the engine and and opened the car door, shutting it behind him, and walked back to the trunk. Christie opened the door and shut it behind her, doing the same.
“What are you doing?” Christie asks.
Dean opened the trunk and lifted up the bottom, revealing a stash of guns, bullets, knives, machetes, etc.
“Woah,” Christie said, as her jaw dropped.
Dean propped up the top of the compartment with a shotgun and grabbed a dagger and its sheath.
“Here,” he said handing to Christie.
“Take it before a change my mind,”
“Thanks,” Christie mumbled taking it from is hands.