You startled awake to a thud and cursing. The sleep still sat heavy on your eyelids, so you rubbed them with one hand, knife ready in the other.
A shirtless Dean met your eyes in shock. His green eyes grew wider as they drifted to the knife you had clearly stolen from his nightstand drawer. You were in shock too, but for different reasons. Standing in front of you was a man that you thought only existed in the books. Not only was his face chiseled, but so was his body.
You took advantage of the moment and looked over him, remembering as much as you could. His hair and body were both damp, surely a result from a shower. His face with a dimpled chin, you could tell, had seen a few too many fights. Yet, somehow, that didn't detract from his appeal in any way. He had full lips and you scolded yourself when your mind wandered to kissing those lips.
He began stuttering and throwing apologies your way. "I was trying to let you sleep and then I stubbed my dang toe off the bed. And I guess you know the rest."
Your eyes finally averted from him and you stared down at the scratchy blanket you used all night. It was an unattractive tan color and you knew these boys didn't care too much about comfort. A smirk tugged at your lips.
These people are definitely hunters.
"It's okay, sorry I'm invading your room."
He shrugged and pulled a dark t-shirt over his head and layered it with a flannel shirt. "Sammy went to town to pick some clothes up for you. He's better with the shopping stuff." Dean grabbed a grey robe from a hook on the bathroom door and handed it to you as you sat still covered on the bed. "In the meantime, throw this on and meet me in the main room."
He left without another word and you slipped the robe over your shoulders. Now that you weren't near death, you noticed all of the guns and knives that were hung on the wall.
Seriously, you thought. How didn't I see that last night?
It surely would have been easier and less awkward than snooping through his drawers and stumbling across his boxer briefs. Sighing, you placed the knife you found in his nightstand drawer back in place. You really should have checked there first.
You found your way to the main area, clutching the robe closed so that no extra flesh would be showing. The bare skin on your feet was chilled. Have these guys never heard of carpet before?
"Alice," Dean smiled, looking up from a laptop. "Take a seat." You noticed that he was no longer wearing glasses. At first, you had assumed it was only because of his shower. Maybe he wore contacts.
You obeyed, with your neck craning all around taking in the amazing view of the bunker. Everything had an old time lavishness to it. The room you were currently standing in had a few tables with green lamps placed neatly in the middle of each. Book shelves surrounded you, each book looking old and filled with information your hands were itching to pick up.
"What is this place?" you questioned in awe. Despite smelling dusty and ancient, the place was still incredible.
"It's a bunker. It keeps us safe from," he hesitated, "from evils, like those things that attacked you last night."
A chill ran through your body at the memory of the pain and fear you had felt. Hellhounds were always scary, but they never fazed you much since they weren't after you. Last night, however, was a completely different story. Those Hellhounds wanted you dead.
"You're lucky we were just getting back, otherwise you would be puppy chow."
"Thanks for the kind words," you replied with a sharp tone.
It wasn't hard to see the smirk he was trying to hide. "Anyways, my buddy Cas, he was able to heal you up. When Sammy gets back I can tell you more, but for now," he stood up and motioned for you to follow him. "You're probably starving."
A grumble erupted from your stomach at the mention of food and you hung your head in embarrassment. Dean chuckled, never turning to face you. Eventually, the two of you entered a large kitchen. Everything looked old and antique. Dean pulled a stool out for you next to the counter and he began to get ingredients for breakfast.
"Dean, I have a confession," you mumbled.
He immediately stopped what he was doing and glared at you with suspicion.
Definitely hunters, you reiterated, knowing you had better be right.
"My name isn't really Alice Cunningham. That's just one of my many aliases."
The suspicion on Dean's face was slowly dissipating and being replaced by curiosity. It actually shocked you a bit to see him drop his guard. Hunters were always on guard, that is, unless he had the same suspicions about you as you did them.
"My name is Y/F/N. I'm a hunter."
He nearly dropped the whisk he was holding. "That explains the knife this morning," he muttered. "Explain to me why you, as a hunter, are dumb enough to make a deal with a demon?" His voice was raising in anger and you understood why. As a hunter, making deals with demons was dumb. After all the evil you had seen, it was one of the more foolish things you could have done.
"My baby cousin was attacked by werewolves," you whispered.
"Baby?" Dean's eyes looked about ready to pop out of his head. "That's low, even for a werewolf."
"Not exactly baby, he's sixteen. But he's always been my baby cousin. He was hurt real bad, Dean. I couldn't stand by as my last remaining family member died. I did what I had to do." You're tone ended softly, thinking of Becket and wondering what he was doing now. Not only did you bargain for him to live, but you also told Crowley to remove his memories of hunting. After his parents died, you took care of him from that point on. Foolishly, you continued his training in hunting instead of telling him to live a normal life. It was something that you regretted every single day, so you had Crowley take that away from him so he could have a chance at a normal life. His memories were replaced with altered versions of reality. In his memory, his parents died in a crash rather than by a Wendigo.
While he was still unconscious, you left him with an old family friend. His name was Fred and, though he wasn't a hunter, he knew of what your family did. Fred was the best and safest option for Becket. He would be able to keep him safe, you knew that much.
"Hey," Dean said quietly, ripping you out of your somber thoughts. He placed the whisk and bowl on the counter and sat on the stool next to you. "You okay?"
You shot him a look. "I'm a hunter. You're a hunter. You know the answer to that question."
"I suppose." He stood and poked his hand in the fridge. Glass bottles clinked together in his grasp as he offered you a beer. It was something you took without hesitation. The sound of the lid popping off was music to your ears. Dean and you took a drink simultaneously.
"I still had eight years left on my deal."
Dean nearly choked on his drink. "What?"
"Crowley's an ass," you spat. "He went back on his deal."
Dean gnawed on his lip nervously and went back to the pancake batter he was working on. In a short period of time, pancakes were cooking and you could hear the bunker door opening. "Something smells good," you could hear Sam yell from the front of the bunker. He was soon in the kitchen. "Good morning, Alice."
You opened your mouth to respond, but Dean beat you to the punch. "She's a hunter Sammy." His tone sounded a little harsh, but you were beginning to think that was just how he talked. "Her name is Y/N."
Sam nodded at you in a sort of approval. "Smart thinking to give a fake name."
A smile lit up your face at the affirmation. "Thanks."
"Y/N," Dean looked your way. "Could you give Sam and I a few minutes to talk while I finish these up?"
Your shoulders shrugged. "Sure, I guess," you said, hopping off the stool and traveling through the bunker. There were relics and old pictures and weapons in many places. This was a dream come true for a hunter. Your fingers delicately ran along the bindings of several books. Dust coated the pads on your fingers and your nose scrunched up. Had these boys cleaned this place at all?
You found a door and decided to go in, curious what other wonders the bunker might hold. It seemed to be a storage room and your heart deflated. You turned on the balls of your feet to leave when you heard a sickeningly familiar voice ring out.
"Moose, Squirrel," the accent sat heavy in the air and threatened to choke you. "Are you coming to pay little ol' me a visit?"
The only thing in sight were shelves. Not being a stranger to secrets, you searched the room to find a way in to the accent, to Crowley. It didn't take long for the shelves to roll out of your way and reveal the Crossroads Demon chained to a chair sitting in a Devil's Trap. The voice told you it was him before you even saw him, but with Crowley sitting in front of you with a smug smile any bit of resolve you might have had left your body and you charged at him.
"You son of a..." You didn't bother finishing, allowing him to fill in the blanks as you pulled your arm back and launched it into his jaw. He's a demon. You knew the pain it brought him was minimal. In fact, your fist probably hurt more than his face did, but it sure did make you feel good.
"Hello, Love," he responded. "I see you've met the infamous Winchesters. Quite the pieces of work, these boys are."
You lost your steely composure for a moment at the mention of the Winchesters. You had only ever heard small stories about them and the things they had done. Most of their fame was unknown to you because you had always lived in a small town with a small group of hunter friends. You never travelled much, despite being a hunter.
"I mean, they don't even treat their guests well," Crowley continued. "Look at these chains. Do they care that I'm stiff? No. Do they care—"
"Shut your cake hole, Crowley," you seethed.
He looked shocked and conjured an innocent expression on his face. "How long have you been around these Winchesters, Y/N?"
"What's it to you?"
"You are so much like the squirrel," he responded.
"In English," you demanded him.
"Dean," he replied amused. "Does he not remind you of a little squirrel?"
Weapons, deadly ones, hung on the wall, calling out to you to use them on the jerk who reneged on his deal. You ignored Crowley and obeyed their beckoning and traced your fingers across their cool metal surfaces, deciding which would be the best torture device against Crowley.
"What—what are you doing?" he questioned.
You settled for an especially lethal look knife. All edges were sharp and serrated. The face of the knife had certain symbols etched into the metal, though you weren't positive of their meaning, you knew it meant pain for Crowley.
"Let's skip the small talk," you said in a seductively harsh tone, the blade rested in your palm as you walked over to Crowley. "Why'd you take back our deal?"
"I don't go back on my deals, Sweetheart. I'm good for my word. Besides, you're still living."
"No thanks to you," you shouted. "If it weren't for the Winchesters, I'd be the meal for your mutts." The tip of the blade found its way to Crowley's cheek and you pushed just hard enough to let him know you meant business. Searing steam floated off his skin.
"Ouch," he shouted. "I don't even know what you're talking about."
"Cut the crap," you yelled, anger raising higher than it already was. "Our deal, Crowley. My cousin lived a happy, hunting free life in exchange for mine in ten years. Why did you send your hounds for me last night."
His eyes were squinted and staring at you. "Move the knife," he said coolly, "and then we can discuss your little," he paused for a dramatic flair, "problem."
"You're not the one in position to be making deals. I have the knife and you have those lovely bracelets tethering you to the chair. So talk."
It was astounding to you how much anger was coursing through you over the fact that the deal was broken. You were still living, after all. No real harm had been done since the mysterious Cas healed you somehow. Perhaps leaving Crowley was the better option, the higher road. But you didn't care. He's a demon and you're a hunter. Morals don't exist when the companies mix, and you knew that.
"It wasn't me," he growled. "As you can see, I've been a little preoccupied by being tied to this bloody chair!" His voice rose to a deafening height and his face turned a bright shade of red, showcasing the angry veins on his forehead.
"You know what?" you asked. It was time to end him, you had had enough of him. "I'm a hunter and you're a demon. I don't know why I'm prolonging the inevitable."
Your arm lifted up high, ready to plunge the symbol etched knife into his heart when you heard, "Y/N, no!"
Sam and Dean rushed in to stop you from murdering Crowley. The Demon. They were stopping you from murdering the mutual enemy in the room and, frankly, you weren't sure why they still hadn't done it yet.
"Right now," Sam replied, "we need him for other things."
You flung your arms out to the side in exasperation. "He's a demon."
"Y/N," Dean said sternly. "Put the knife back and let's all go have a little chat."
Shocked by the authority in his words, you returned the knife and followed the two out of the dark dungeon-like room to the kitchen. The scent of pancakes and coffee filled the air and you inhaled deeply, excited to get some food. You sat down at the table with Dean while Sam offered you coffee. You gladly accepted it.
"What the hell?" Dean asked you. His words had a force that seemed to physically push you back in your chair. "We let you stay here barely knowing you and you go snooping around and almost kill our prisoner," his tone was still hard and angry, more so than normal.
"I'm sorry," you stated truthfully. Sam placed a cup of coffee in front of you. "I was so intrigued by this place, and then you asked me to leave, so I went exploring." Shame burned your face. It really was a rude thing to do. These boys saved your life and you repaid them by snooping. "I'm really sorry," you stated quietly.
"It's okay," Sam said, joining the table in the seat next to yours. He offered you a smile through pursed lips. It was an obligatory smile, but it still made you feel a little more at ease. "Dean and I have done our fair share of snooping."
"When we're working a case," Dean muttered.
"I heard Crowley's voice, okay. When I heard it..." you paused, not wanting to sound impulsive, "I don't know. I went a little crazy. Sure, he's a demon and all, but it still made me mad that he lied and went back on our deal."
Sam and Dean shared a glance before Dean said, "We have a lot of hunter news to catch you up on, I think."