[h3] Anya [/h3] 

Anya couldn’t help a smile that stayed on her face at the fact that even though Lexi didn’t need to sign to her in order to speak, she did anyway.  It could be useful, in the future, considering neither of the boys seemed to know any ASL, especially Dean.  As she turned back to Sam, she could feel Dean’s eyes on her, but decided that at least for a while, she would have to ignore Dean.  He seemed to see her as some sort of alien, or at least he still treated her as if she was deaf, which would likely complicate things for him later.

As Sam escorted her down the long corridor, she couldn’t help marvel in the fact that the place looked ancient, and it was built like a fortress.  The floors all the way to the ceilings had a feeling of safety underneath them, and she touched each brick as they passed them.  Each room that they passed made her smile, as they appeared almost like dorm rooms.

She turned to Sam and tapped his arm gently, bringing her hand to her chest, where she signed, “Sorry.” Before bringing her free hand up to her head to signal that she was feeling crazy, and stressed.  She then signed a simple, “Thank you for helping me.”

[h3] Dean [/h3]

Dean glanced down at the paper as Lexi looked it over as well.  He was surprised by the amount of work that Anya seemed to have done, meaning this was not the first dead end she had found.  The thought of her going from hunter to hunter, trying to learn more about her dad’s death felt familiar, and made his stomach wrench with sadness.  He let out a sigh, watching her walk away with Sam.  

He couldn’t help the bright smile that tried to spread across his face as Lexi commented on Sam being good with Anya, “Yeah.  He has a thing for the misfit types, especially the monsters.”

He scrunched his face, “I didn’t mean it like that.  I mean he always seems to gravitate toward people he feels like he can relate to.  She’s just a girl…who can’t speak.  But there’s something about her.  Trust me, they’ll be joined at the hip before she leaves.  IF she leaves. And you would know about spitfires.”

As Dean teased, he elbowed her playfully, pulling the paper closer to his gaze, looking closer at the photo.  He imagined the guy in the photo holding the Colt, and who could have come for him.  They had to have had it, or have just lost it right as he was killed, he assumed…or maybe her father was killed BECAUSE they ended up with the Colt.

“I just hope we didn’t get her father killed…”, he mumbled, with a deep sigh, glancing up again as Anya and Sam disappeared down the hall.  This research could take them somewhere that could destroy her, and it wasn’t something he was sure was a good idea, “I’m going to need whiskey for this…”