Killer

Interrogation.

"Oh?  And why won't I?"

"Because you have questions and I have answers."

"Dean, she's right.  Calm down," Sam said.

"Thank you, Sam," I smiled.

"Don't talk to him like that.  You were going to kill him."

"I was hired to, but it doesn't mean I would.  I have turned down work before."

Dean withdrew the blade from my neck.  He walked into the bathroom.   The door slammed shut behind him.  Sam relaxed on the edge of the bed he slept in.  Unlike Dean he was wearing more clothing while he slept.  He looked over at me.  I wasn't afraid of these two in the slightest.

"Sorry about Dean.  He can be a little protective of me," Sam remarked.

"Well, you're family.  That's a good thing. I hate to be a pain in the ass, but do you have some Tylenol or something?  My head is killing me."

"Yeah, hold on."

He looked through a bag until he found a generic brand of Tylenol.  He dumped two into his hand. He reached for a bottle of water.  I shook my head to the side as he walked over.  He looked at my hands before trying to figure out how to give me the medicine.

"Just drop the pills in my mouth.  Dean will be upset if you untie me."

I opened my mouth and he made the motion more awkward than it needed to be.  He offered water.  But I shook my head to the sides.  With a quick gulp I took the pills.

"I never understood how some people can do that."

"Practice, I guess.  If you're ever caught and you gotta cyanide your way out of it you may not have water."

"What are you?"

"I'm something else, Sammy boy."

Dean walked back into the room.  He glared at me before taking the empty chair next to the table.  He spun it around so he was leaning on the back of the chair while facing me.

"Wow. You look like a teacher trying to relate to his students," I laughed.

"Do you take anything seriously?" he groaned.

"Usually.  But you make this too easy for me."

"So why don't you tell us who sent you out here."

"That's a good question.  I have a few questions for that son of a bitch myself.  As hunters I am sure you have crossed paths with him.  The name is Crowley."

"Crowley sent you?" Dean asked.

"You sound shocked.  Are you two friends? Best friends?  Oh, something more than friends?"

Sam laughed at the thought.  Dean looked back shooting him a glare.  His brother immediately straightened his expression.  But grinned as soon as Dean turned around again.

"He's a demon you know you can't trust him," I said, "normally I don't, but the money was really good. If it's any consolation once I realized you're not a baddie I wasn't going to do this job."

"A baddie?"  Sam asked.

"Vampire, shifter, demon, all the same things you go after."

"And how are we supposed to trust you're telling us the truth," Dean asked.

"That's for you to decide.  But I admire your skepticism.  Not many of us supernatural contract killers out there."

"People pay you for this?"