"What are you doing here?" asked a man with hair that seemed to be running away from his face.

You really wanted to respond with something sarcastic and witty, something that would explain that this was not your dream job, that you aspired to bigger things than making fresh coffee for people who thought you were part of the set, but doing so would draw attention to you and if people started asking then they might realize that your identity was about as real as the man's smile.

"Refreshing the coffee," you reply.

"I wasn't talking to you," snapped the man.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, something that should have earned you an award of some sort but no one noticed. Instead, you simply went back to refreshing the coffee, adding an extra scoop before slamming the lid shut and pressing the magical brew button.

"Are you the one who makes the coffee?" asked a tall man behind you.

You turned and had to look up at the man in order to properly see his face. Even then you weren't sure you could make out all of his features and you wanted to ask him how Mt. Everest looked but you kept it to a simple nod.

"Finally!" yelled the man before getting down on one knee and holding out his hands. "Marry me!"

"You found the coffee brewer?" called another man, this one even taller than the other with a dimpled smile that made him seem younger than he probably was.

"Yes," declared the one on his knee. "And she is gorgeous and perfect and makes the best damn coffee ever and I told you I would find her and marry her."

"Next Tuesday is good for me," you can't stop yourself from saying.

"Perfect!" yelled the man. "I'm Dean."

"_" you respond.

"How long have you worked here?" asked the other man. "I'm Sam, by the way."

"One week and two days," replied Dean before you can. "That's how long the coffee has been heavenly."

"You have a problem," you say with a grin. "But I'm glad you are enjoying the coffee. Now as much fun as it has been, I should probably get back to being invisible before someone notices and tries to fire me."

You freeze, realizing you said that out loud, but the men just laugh.

"If you're not busy could you actually answer some questions for me?" asked Dean. "We're investigating some of the recent disappearances and accidents that have happened in the area."

"Um, sure, okay," you say not at all sounding like it was okay but the coffee would brew without you.

You follow Dean to the open office out of the way where he jumped onto the desk, patting the spot next to him for you. You weren't sure if he thought that patting the hard faux wood surface would make it seem more inviting or if it was just something he did but you gingerly sat down and faced him.

"What do you know about the family in the town over from here, the ones the police found murdered in their home two weeks ago?" asked Dean.

"Nothing," you say a little too quickly. You knew more than you cared to admit to yourself about that family – they were yours, after all.

"Bit quick on the draw there," observed Dean, raising an eyebrow at you.

"What were you expecting?" you ask sarcastically. "Yes, I know what happened to that family. They were a nice little American pie style family, two children, married parents, a dog. They were sitting down to their dinner as a family because that's what American pie families do, when the lights started flickering. A man entered the household and started voo-dooing the shit out of things, throwing stuff around with his mind. He slit the father's throat first then used that blood to draw some anti-Christ symbols that summoned some of his other demon friends. Then those friends and the first guy went to town having fun with torturing the remaining family members. Then they killed them. The end. Is that what you were expecting? Because that's just crazy. Someone broke in and murdered them, just like the police report says."

"Only three bodies were found," said Dean slowly.

"Yes," you reply, rolling your eyes. "Your powers of deduction are outstanding, Sherlock. Truly, I can see why there are whole books on you."

"You said there were 4 family members home that night," continued Dean, making you freeze.

The color drained from your face, leaving you painfully aware of the fact that your already pale features were even more ghostly.

"You mentioned demons," continued Dean softly, leaning closer to you. "None of the symbols were written in the police report. _, care to share with the class?"

You shake your head. No, you do not want to share with the class. You've been trying not to share with yourself. Who was this man who thinks he can propose to you and then demand you tell him your life story?

"I think you were there that night," continues Dean. "I think you saw everything that happened. I think you went to the police and they didn't believe you, they called you crazy. So I think you left town looking for answers. And you're in way over your head, sweetheart, aren't you?"

"I don't need your help," you say, glaring at him, drawing on the anger and fear that has been simmering in your core since the attack. "And if you tell anyone, if you ruin this for me, I will end you."

To his credit, Dean didn't laugh in your face, which is what you were expecting. You would have laughed if the roles had been switched.

"Let's make a deal," said Dean after several minutes. "I'm not really on for research, that's more of Sammy's forte, so how about we get out of this library and get something to eat. You can show me what you have on the matter."

"I don't need your help."

"Yes you do. Have you ever hunted a demon before?"

"Dean," said Sam, leaning against the door, giving his brother a warning look. "Leave _ alone."

"She was there," replied Dean.

"_," said Sam, turning his attention to you with a kind smile, one that would melt chocolate if there was any chocolate around. "I know this is hard, but we believe you. We don't think you're crazy. So can you trust us for just a little while and come with us? We just want to see what you have gathered, help you out, because if you saw what happened, you're still in danger. And we can help."

You look at these two giants of men and realized that you didn't really have a choice. You had no money, you didn't know what you were doing, the only thing you really had going for you was the fact that you blended into the background and moved around unnoticed. If they could help, if you had anything they needed to know, then maybe they would buy you a warm meal.

"Fine," you say softly. "But lunch is on you."