The Heart of Valhalla

by Pseudonym101

The Winchesters seemingly are off onto another case, revealing it to be more than it seems with consequences for more than one realm. A very particular weapon must be acquired to thwart this new threat.But not without a little help from a dark haired hunter, who is more than she lets reful Dean Winchester, you cant ignore this one no matter what you try. (DW/OC) T to M later

1. Chapter 1

The Heart of Valhalla.

Seated at the end of the black marble bar, pale fingers with long black nails pulled at the strings of an old and worn small bag. The bag was upended and its contents tumbled out and clattered noisily against the bar top. Small pieces of off white bone the size of coins with runes inscribed upon them. Her fingers gently poked and prodded the pieces as dark eyes lined in heavy black liner studied the formation. She read each one and how they spoke to her. She leaned back in the bar stool, contemplating their meaning, their prediction and warning.
The bar keep approached. He was mid forties and well kept. Blue eyes and blonde wavy hair with a undercut. The stubble on his face was somewhere between ash blond and red but showing signs of a little grey coming in at the chin. The few fine lines around his eyes were all that told his age. He leaned forward on the bar on tattooed forearms exposed by rolled up sleeves and glanced over the bones she had cast. He could read a little from what she taught him over the years, but not nearly like she could.

He could never stop himself from staring at her. She looked like she'd been carved from porcelain. Which was in contrast to her dark raven eyes and a mane of jet black hair which she kept braided back off her face. His lady was a warrior with the composure of a queen.
"What do they say?"
She looked out from under her lashes, her brow slightly furrowed, breaking that cool visage.
"Winchesters".

Baby's engine could drown out almost all other noise as it bore down the stretch of road. All except the stereo. Sam Winchester could only stare and eyeroll somewhere between annoyance and disbelief watching his brother pat the dash and coo to the car. And when he wasnt doing that he was singing as loud as he could along with the music. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole. Sam could only find reasonable solace with his headphones. Irony was in trying to find peace he would have to turn his iphone's itunes player all the way up, just to drown his brother out to a dull roar.