There is a new Prophet.

The words had been echoing around Dean's head for the past hour, as he drove the Impala north, on an almost deserted road. Sam was beside him, staring out the windscreen in front of him, not speaking. But even with the silence, he knew what his little brother was thinking. In the backseat of the car, unconscious from a blow to the head, was the new Prophet of the Lord.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to break the uneasy silence. "So…" he said, looking at Sam. "Any idea where we should be heading?"

Sam grimaced, and shook his head. "I don't know, Dean. We have a Prophet. So do we keep hunting? Or are we supposed to help her fulfill some greater purpose."
"She's too young," Dean said with a sniff. Sam gave him a reprovingly look. "I mean to be a Prophet!" he said defensively. "Dude, that's sick."

Sam shrugged, accepting his answer. "We don't know what she's like. We don't even know how old she is, maybe she's older than she looks? We haven't even spoken to her."

"No, but she can take care of herself," Dean grinned, remembering the brief fight that had flared up between the Prophet and Castiel. "First time I've seen someone get the jump on Cas. Do we know what her name is?"
"Haven't a clue," Sam sighed. "Dean, we've been driving all night. I think it's time we stopped."
Dean looked over his shoulder, at the girl who lay in the backseat. Her hair was thrown back from her face, revealing a nasty bruise on her left temple. "Wake her up," he told his brother, almost teasingly.

Sam frowned. "Why would I do that? Cas knocked her out for a reason."
"I know, and that's why I want you to wake her up, before we get too far away. Maybe she knows where we should be heading, and if we're going in the wrong direction, she'll be pissed. Wake her up."

Sam sighed again, but nonetheless did as bidden. He twisted in his seat and shook her shoulder gently. She woke up in the way that people fall in love; slowly, and then all at once. The slowly part was fine, she groaned, and blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Her gaze settled on Sam's face, and then came the 'quickly' part.

She sat up, the leather seat beneath her groaning. "Fuck you, fucking Hunters," she snapped, and kicked Sam in the face.

He was shoved back, his shoulders colliding painfully with the dashboard. He cursed, and Dean stomped on the brakes, the tires screeching painfully.

The girl threw herself out the back, before the car had come to a complete stop. She ran away, through the back taillights like a startled deer.

Dean slapped the steering wheel, and put the car in neutral, carefully, before jumping out and pursuing her, Sam right behind him. She hadn't run very far, she'd stopped a few hundred meters up the road, and faced them. She watched as they got closer, her small face impassive.

"Really?" Dean came to a violent stop in front of her, his hands in fists by his side. "We're not the bad guys here, honey."
"Prove it," she hissed, sneering. "You're Hunters, aren't you? You kill my kind."
"Chuck's still alive," Sam pointed out, trying to diffuse the situation. "And he has us to thank for that, so how about you trust us?"
She rolled her eyes scornfully. "Don't talk to me about trust, Winchester, when you can't even trust each other."
Sam and Dean traded a looks.

"That's not important," Dean said, while Sam shifted uncomfortably beside him. "We've been told by the angels to take care of you, so how about you jump back in the car and we get on our way."
"The angels," she sneered again. "Do you always do what the angels say? Or only when it entails kidnapping."
Dean huffed at her accusation. "No, we're just doing what they ask this time. And that means you're coming with u—"

"Look, your life is in danger," said Sam, cutting off Dean's threatening sentence. "You're a Prophet, and—"

"I know I'm a Prophe," she said venomously. "And I also know that means I have an archangel to guard me, so I don't need two fuckwits like you slowing me down."
Sam pressed his lips together tightly and raised his eyebrows at Dean. "We're just trying to help," he said, in an almost subdued manner.

"You're doing a great job of it too," said the girl with a tight, sarcastic smile. "I'm better off alone."

"No one's better off alone," Dean said gruffly, and he saw, for the first time, that she was actually listening.

"You're right," she said, her smile fading. "But… I don't…"

"Listen," said Dean, placing his hands on her shoulders, holding her full attention. His breath gathered in a white cloud before his lips, and the girl was shivering in her thin jacket. "We don't like this anymore than you do, but sometimes when the angels say something, they're right. And maybe they're right this time."
She hesitated, her face screwing up in indecision, then finally exhaled, giving Dean a smile. "I guess you're right," she said, smiling ruefully. "My name's Kylar, by the way."
"Cool name," Dean said, and he led her back to the car, keeping her talking so she was distracted. He could see the way her mind jumped from one thing to another, like a child. All he had to do was keep her occupied, and this job would be a piece of cake. Or rather a piece of pie.