Polly

Polly had a habit of humming to herself as she worked. She would mimic whatever tune wandered into her head. Humming however, had gotten her into a sticky situation a few times. Now would be one of them.

"Who the hell are you and how did you get in here?"

"Ah. Well. That's an interesting question."

Polly readjusted in her chair to lean away from the knife which has so rudely been shoved in her face by who she recognized to be Dean Winchester.

"Now."

"Look, Dean. She's just a kid. Besides, nothing evil can get in here."

Dean nodded once, sniffed and set the knife beside him on the table, "Talk."

"I didn't really expect your voice to be so low."

"What?"

"Nothing. Just talking to myself. Judging by the heights I'm going to guess that you must be Dean and you're Sam," Polly said.

"I'm sorry. Should we know you?" Sam said.

"No. Goodness, no. I'm Polly."

She reached her hand out for a shake. The brothers just stared at her. Damn, now she felt incredibly stupid. She'd heard so much about the brothers and yet they seemed nothing like she'd heard. Sure, they were handsome (she might even venture pretty if Dean was clean-shaven); but they were looking at her coldly and frankly, Dean kind of smelled like a mixture of sweat and nachos.

Her hand retreated back up to her head. She tucked a brown strand behind her ear and played with the blue velvet ribbon she always tied the rest of her hair with.

"Um, sorry. I seem to have caught you unawares. And judging by the blood, you're just coming back from something. Why don't you guys go freshen up and I'll just be waiting here."

"Oh, no. We're not going anywhere until we know who you are."

"My name's Polly."

"Your name doesn't say a whole lot. What are you? Demon? Angel? Shifter? Why are you here?"

"I'm here for the books."

"The books?" Sam sat down on the table.

"Yes. The books. And the records, too. I'm doing something of a history project, if you will. I've got to learn more about certain creatures and I need the books for that. I've been cleared to use them." She rolled up the sleeve of her sweater on her right hand. The six sided star seemed to ring with them.

"Hold on a minute. You're trying to tell me that you're a Man- Woman- of Letters? They died out. Our grandfather was the last one," Sam began to speak faster as he got more and more excited. "Are there more of you? How did you guys escape? This is amazing. It's hereditary, right? Your parents passed it on to you. How many others are there?"

"It's really complicated."

"So uncomplicated it," Dean said.

He continued to glare, causing Polly to move back slightly. He had an incredible type of force around him.

"I can't. Look, I trust you about as much as you trust me. Why would I reveal my family if you guys might hurt them? Not yet. So in the meantime, we're just going to have to share this bunker. And be civil about it like the rules say."

"Rules?" Both brothers looked at one another.

"You are Men of Letters, right? You have read the rules."

"Well, we're not exactly," Sam tried to conjure up the right words and failed.

"Screw the rules," Dean said.

With that, Dean bent over to pick Polly up and threw her over his shoulder. His shoulder was poking into her side and making it difficult to breathe; besides the noxious nacho-sweat, of course.

Rather than fight him and put him on the floor writhing in pain, she allowed him to carry her out the front door and close it behind him.

Polly groaned and put her hands on her hips.

"That was not the welcoming that I was hoping for. Alright. Time for round two."

She began walking around the mountain for exactly the way she'd gotten in the last time.