Sam had no idea how the bespectacled girl had gotten into his room, kneed him in the groin, and successfully rid him of his gun before he even had time to blink.
"Suicide is frowned on, Samuel," She stated blandly, poking him in the forehead. Sam growled at her touch.
"Who are you?" He hissed, eyes flashing perilously. Sam was doubled over by the edge of his bed and looked confused, angry, and dangerous.
"Matilda," the girl smartly replied. She did not pay any attention to him as she emptied his handgun of the clips inside. "Here. You can have your toy back," she told him, tossing the gun in his direction. It landed next to him on the bed with a pathetic little 'plunk.'
Headlights from a car in the parking lot filled the room and Sam was finally able to get a good look at her. His practical mind analyzed that due to her wiry frame and short height that she must be in her early teens. But Sam would never be able to logical accept that a normal preteen could disarm him or pick a lock without him noticing. So, he concluded that he would have to be very cautious around the mysterious female until her origins were discovered.
A snarl was forming in the back of his throat, yet Matilda appeared more annoyed than threatened.
She reprimanded him sternly, "You are not a dog Sam. Stop behaving like one."
Their eyes met for a moment. Absolute wrath was met with mild amusement.
"Tell me what you want and then get out," Sam ordered in an icy voice. The girl merely readjusted her glasses and cleared her throat.
"He'd be very upset with you, you know. Honestly Sam, how is going to Hell going to save Dean? I know this is going to burst your bubble, but it would be-impossible- (I believe) for you to find your brother. Even though I know how much stubbornness and conviction you possess. Hell would absolutely be drunk with giddy while it ravaged you. And I don't think either of us would enjoy that very much." When she finished speaking, she looked at the young man on the bed, who was glaring at her suspiciously.
He raised his hand and ordered in a low voice, "Back!" Matilda scoffed.
"Are you serious? Did you actually-Oh my dear boy! I am not a demon," She laughed and rubbed her index finger along her thin cheek.
Sam frowned. So this 'Matilda' wasn't a demon, but what was she? "Oh my dear boy" certainly proved that she wasn't a modern U.S teenager.
"What are you?" He groused. He was standing and towered above her.
"Are you trying to make me feel inferior?" She queried lowering her glasses to stare up at him in a rather condescending manner. Sam's face pinched with irritation and befuddlement.
"What?" An eye roll met his question. She waved her hand as if to rid herself of a pesky fly. "Oh just sit down Sam. I know you're confused at the moment, but I'll explain some things for you, since you can't figure them out for yourself."
Sam sat on the edge of the bed, poised to spring up at any minute. Matilda seated her small body upon a chair that was positioned opposite from the bed. She reached over to the table beside her to turn on the small lamp.
Once Sam's eyes became accustomed to the light, he noticed that Matilda appeared to be very business-like in nature. She did look slightly ridiculous though. Her overall covered legs were crossed and her hands rested upon her right knee. Her brown hair was braided and her eyes looked imperiously at him from behind her wire frame glasses. Sam thought it very odd that she gave the impression of being a preteen, but acted like an old fashioned principal.
"Alright. I'm sitting. Start your explaining," he growled. His voice didn't rumble like his brother's or father's, but it took the word 'menacing' to a completely new level. Matilda's lips turned upwards in a very slight smile.
"Grumbled like a true Winchester," she teased. Sam's eyebrows lowered. He did not like the familiarity she had with his family. He leaned forward; his face screamed that he was full of questions and he appeared to be anxious.
"What do you know about my family?" He barked. Matilda pursed her lips and tapped her chin.
"Oh…Almost everything." Sam felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle and snapped out his next question.
"I have a source," Matilda answered vaguely. She grinned at the man's obvious frustration.
"What source?" He hissed; eyes full of poison for whoever let this stranger in on the secrets of his family. Matilda's simple answer shocked him like ice water.
"You, my dear."
"What!" The astonishment that came upon Sam was immense, yet Matilda let her eyes rise to look at the ceiling and drawled, "Shocking, isn't it?"
Then her eyes once again found Sam's face and her voice became soft, caring even.
"Sam, Dean told you that your mother said angels were watching over you. She wasn't lying," she murmured as she stood. She approached Sam as he digested the information.
"An-angels!" He frowned; he was astounded by this woman and found it incredibly hard to believe or make sense of what she was saying. She was standing in front of him now, hands shoved in her deep overall pockets.
"Yes. Angels." She punctuated her sentenced with a soft kiss on Sam's forehead. The giant young man collapsed onto the bed. Matilda bestowed a small one-sided grin upon him before she placed his large feet on the bed.
Sam awoke to find something perched on his nose. Wearily he raised his hand and removed a piece of paper. He flipped it over and found a message written in clear, neat script.
Good morning Sam. Remember-Angels are watching over you. So don't do anything too stupid.
P.S Just to prove it…I know Dean once sabotaged your underwear with itching powder. Satisfied? Or do I need to remind you of more embarrassing moments in your life?
Sam felt color rising to his cheeks while he read the last statement. He contemplated last night's events and the note left to him. Finally he exhaled loudly.
"Great. I've been stalked by an angel."