[h3] Anya [/h3]

Anya’s shoulders relaxed a bit as Sam explained that she could relax in the bunker, because it was incredibly safe and secured.  She figured as such.  Hunters usually lived in one of two types of places, in her experience.  They either lived in literal fortresses underground or unassuming homes in the middle of nowhere, that were typically protected by a host of booby traps.

She tore her eyes away from Sam’s face as he opened a door and ushered her in.  She stepped into the room, looking around at the dimly lit space.  There was a desk against one wall, a small tv at the foot of the bed, and a metal bed in the center.  The walls were made of brick, which meant that they would be very sound proof, and honestly, although the bed looked terrible, it looked like heaven compared to some of the motels she had stayed in.

Sam continued to over explain their situation, her smile grew, although he couldn’t see it as she peered around the room.  She walked over to the bed, and dropped her duffel there, unzipping it and digging around inside.  She pulled out a sliding cellphone she had fashioned with a small speaker, and flipped it open. She typed a message as Sam apologized for the situation at the coffee shop.  She glanced up at him, not finishing her message at first as she scanned his face, and tilted her head to the side as if pondering her options.

She then continued typing her message, and pressed send, which caused the phone to speak, “The room is great, although I don’t need so much space.  I’m good at making myself very small in times of need.  And I’m not angry with you, Sam.  If you want, we can start over.”

She let the phone stop speaking her words out loud, and then typed another small message, “Hello.  I’m Anya.”

And with that, she held out her hand for him to shake.

[h3] Dean [/h3]

Dean nodded, and stepped away toward the kitchen.  Once there, he took a deep breath, rubbing his hands together and then grabbed a couple of glasses in one hand, and two different bottles of whiskey in the other hand, turning on his heel to walk back out to the war room.  The whole time his mind raced a bit about whether or not he wanted to dig so hard into this, in case the worst case scenario played out.

Clanking the glasses together, he mustered the courage and the energy to step out of the kitchen and back into the war room, “So, there are a lot of really…REALLY bad places this investigation could take us.  Even getting and keeping that gun was nearly impossible when we got ahold of it.  I mean, Crowley…need I say more?”

He held out both arms, tilting his head in a convincing way, and then sat the bottles and the glasses down on the table near their chairs.  He stepped away from the table again, tilting his head back to speak to her as he walked around the library area, gathering journals and things to write on, “It can kill anything, as far as we know…except angels.  So, there’s that.  Obviously any hunter who’s ever heard of it would want it.  Demons don’t want it to exist, and if her dad got ahold of it, either he’s an innocent antiques dealer or collector, or he’s a hunter and just never told his daughter.”

He returned to the table, and sat all of the things down in front of Lexi, “It’s what I would do.”