Death's Daughter | Supernatural, D.W.

Making Aquaintances

"I'm willing to help you get your brother's soul," I admit. "But I want something in return."

"Name your price."

"Castiel already promised me my soul if I help. That's already a part of the deal and can't be considered my payment," I bargain. Dean thinks for a second, then nods. "I want protection. After I get my soul, everyone will know that I did this, and they'll be after me. I'll be human, and I won't be able to defend myself."

Dean is skeptical. "Define protection."

"Let me stay here, or somewhere closeby. Give me training in weapons, teach me how to defend myself. Help me if I ask and you're available."

"You? Stay here?" Dean laughs. "Not only no, but hell no."

"Dean?" A voice comes from outside the shelves. In comes Sam. "Hear her out. It's a good deal. You and Cas are so dead set on getting my soul back, you might as well cater to what she wants."

"Sam, that's like putting a friggin' bullseye on our foreheads and a kick me sign on our backs. We'll be in more trouble than we can handle."

"Hey!" I interject. "I think you're forgetting that I can still defend myself to some extent. If something happens and it's my fault, I'll help. Plus, I can lay low."

Dean stares me down as he evaluates my statement. "We shouldn't make this decision without Cas."

"You're probably right," Sam agrees.

The boys begin to leave, but I call for them one more time. "Wait."

"What?" Dean asks.

"Can you at least let me go?" I plead. "You already know I'm basically on your side. I'm not going to hurt you, because I can't. This chair is uncomfortable and I haven't walked in days."

Dean rolls his eyes, but starts toward me. I'm hopeful until Sam grabs his shoulder.

"Dean, what the hell? She stays here. She's still a danger. She shouldn't be making herself comfortable yet." Sam sends me a dirty look.

Deans eyes flicker between me and Sam. Ultimately, he listens to his brother, and I can't blame him, but I'm still disappointed.

A little while passes. As I'm dying of boredom, the doors open, and Dean enters again.

"Yes?" I prompt.

He doesn't say anything, instead, kneels in front of me and unlocks the chains binding me to the chair. Just as I'm about to thank him, he speaks quietly.

"One single move out of line, and you're dead. I don't care if you're helping us or not. You're a liability and I shouldn't be letting you out of here, but unlike Sam, I have a soul, and I feel for you. But I will kill you if it comes to it."

Blood rushes to my cheeks due to the intensity of Dean's statement, and how close he is to me. I'm nervous. He could kill me right now.

"Got it," I mutter through a dry throat.

He stands, smudges the seal on the floor and starts to walk away, but I'm frozen to the chair. Do I really want to get up? At least here, I'm safe from making any fatal mistakes.

"You coming or what?" Dean asks over his shoulder. I follow him out of the cell and up a few stairs into what seems to be the main section of wherever I'm at. It looks like a library.

Dean turns around and faces me, and I try my best not to, but I physically shrink. This is unlike me, but I'm out of my element with strangers, and I feel threatened.

"Stop that," Dean rolls his eyes. "I'm not going to do anything to you unless you do something stupid. I'm trusting you not to."

He sits at the long table and motions for me to do the same. I sit stiffly, keeping on my guard. Dean pours two glasses of a brownish liquid and hands one to me.

"What's this?" I ask.

"Whiskey," Dean replies, drinking his glass in one go.

Although I don't generally eat or drink, I raise the glass and take a good size drink, only to immediately regret it. I choke it down, but it tastes horrible as burns.

"You like this stuff?" I wince. "This is disgusting!"

"It's not the taste, it's the effect," Dean laughs. "I forget that you haven't really been to Earth. Or I assume you haven't." He sends me a questioning look while pouring a second, fuller glass.

I shake my head and take another drink, but only a small sip this time.

"Tell me about yourself," Dean commands somewhat harshly. "If we're going to work together, I need to know who I'm working with." His glass depletes some.

I grimace. "Don't you know enough already? You know who and what I am, and you know that I don't really know anything compared to what I should know."

Dean purses his lips in a tight smile. "I guess...I heard Castiel's spiel about your self loathing, what's that about?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I snicker. "That is none of your business, Winchester. I think you've had enough whiskey."

He pouts his lips and nods a little, his eyes alight with some kind of amusement. Alcohol apparently makes Dean friendly, and I don't mind it.

"Come on, I'll show you where you're staying."