Chapter Two: Meet The Sister

The next day; 12:23pm, Nevada.

Dean released a deep breath as he cruised the Impala to a stop just around the corner from the prison, he wasn't sure for a second that their plan was going to work, in fact, he was pretty damn skeptical about the whole thing. But there wasn't a lot that they could do about it now, there was no turning back this time, it had to be done.

"Alright," he turned off the engine with a heavy sigh. "You ready?" he asked, turning to face Sam.

"Yeah," Sam replied quietly. "I'm ready."

He didn't know what he was supposed to be ready for. Did that mean he was supposed to be ready to break someone out of a maximum security prison, or that he was ready to meet his little sister for the first time in his life? He didn't know, he wasn't sure that he was ready for either. But before he could think to register anything more, Dean was already halfway out of the car and straightening his suit jacket and tie.

Sam sighed and climbed out of the car, shaking his head slowly. This was all just completely new to him, he was still trying to process the fact that they even had a sister in the first place, never mind the fact that Dean had hunted with her for two solid years and never mentioned her name again after that. He didn't understand what had happened between them, and Dean didn't look as though he was going to share it anytime soon.

"Remember the plan?" Sam only nodded, saying nothing. "Good, let's go then."

Dean went first, taking a deep breath. There wasn't a clear thought in his head, not anymore. He had been relatively okay with what they were doing, he hadn't thought too much into it. But the long drive had given him time to think about it, about every little detail that he didn't want to. There was the chance, the very likely chance, that she was still going to be angry at him, she might not even want to see him. And then there was the fact that she had been in prison for a year and a half, he didn't know what she was going to be like. What if she'd changed? What if she wasnt the same girl he remembered her to be, then what? He'd gotten it into his head that she was going to come back and they would go right back to how they had been before, but now he realised that he had been being naive. There was no guarantee of that, he didn't know what to expect.


The two of them were led down a hallway and directed to an office within the prison, the door was already wide open. There was a man sitting behind the desk, looking to be in his sixties, impatient, with grey hair and glasses. He looked up as they approached him, eyebrows raised as if to ask them what they wanted, and sighed as he pushed himself up from his chair reluctantly.

Dean headed inside first, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket for his fake ID. "Agents Smith and Connors, FBI." He said firmly, nodding to his left as he introduced Sam, staring blankly at the man in front of them. "We need to speak with you about one of your inmates, Natalie Scott." he added simply, returning the badge to his jacket.

The man blinked, and then nodded, gesturing to the two empty seats at the other side of his desk. Sam and Dean sat down as the officer heaved a sigh, shaking his head slowly, and dropped down into his seat again. "Natalie Scott." he muttered to himself, he sounded weary and tired at just the mention of her. "How can I even begin to describe Natalie Scott?" He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes with his fingertips and thumb, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he was in some kind of physical pain.

Sam glanced to Dean, whose face wore the same completely confused expression as his, and then looked back to the officer, who appeared to be lost with pondering the answer of his own question. None of them spoke for a moment, the silence creating a tension throughout the small office room. Both brothers were apprehensive, there was no denying that, but playing it cool was their job, it was what they had to do. They couldn't afford to give anything away. Not to mention that they were both wanted by the FBI themselves, they were sitting in a very risky position. They both knew that if they were to be recognised they wouldn't be walking out of the building as free men, but the man in front of them seemed to have more pressing matters on his mind.

He sat back in his chair and sighed again. "I'll tell you one thing about her; I had a straight nose before she came into this place." Sam narrowed his eyes at the man's face, noticing where there was a slight bend in his nose, giving the impression that it had been broken at some point in his life. "Managed to break my nose with both hands cuffed behind her back. That's the kind of girl you're dealing with here." Sam coughed to cover the small chuckle that escaped Dean at his words, shooting a glare his way. "You ask me, she's had some kind of training before she's gotten in here. You know, fight training."

"Right." Dean cleared his throat, straightening himself up a little. "Uh, when exactly did she come down here? Our supervisor was a little sketchy on the details."

The man shook his head as he thought about it. "Just over two months ago. She's been up in Woodbridge prison, just down the road from here, for about fifteen months before that. She was sent down here for stabbing a fellow inmate in the heart and killing her. And we're not talking small either, this woman was about three times her size."

"And that had her put on a prison psychiatric ward?" Sam questioned. "How come she wasn't just sent to a more secure prison?"

"Well, there was some talk of her saying something while she was murdering the other inmate, some other language." Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "They said she was into devil worship or something, wanted to send her down here for a while to keep an eye on her, see how she reacted. But, honestly, once you come down here there isn't a lot of them that get out again. You're either crazy when you come down or this place makes you crazy."

Sam shook his head slowly. "And, does she have a record of getting into trouble? You know, how much time is she supposed to be in here for?"

"I know that she was sent down to the Special Handling Unit a few times, violence, drugs found in her stuff, I think once she was caught threatening to kill someone.." he trailed off, shaking his head. "She's a colourful character, can definitely be a handful."

"Well," Dean cut in brightly. "You might be happy to hear that she's being transferred. Now."

The officer blinked, seeming taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"Yes, sir, emergency transportation to a secure government facility, she's needed for another investigation." The man went to open his mouth but Dean continued before he had the chance to object. "We have a warrant here and you can call our supervisor on this number if you have any questions." he added lightly, dropping a card down onto the desk and handing over a bunch of fake documents.

"Whatever you say, agent." he said, seeming a little skeptical as he reached for the card, eyeing Dean suspiciously.

"Great, well, like I said, our supervisor was a little sketchy on her details." Dean stated simply, like there was nothing out of the ordinary happening. "Think you could give us a quick overview of her sentences, just procedure?"

The officer sighed, like Dean's request was nothing but extra work for him, and nodded. He pushed himself up from his desk and crossed the room to a filing cabinet, opening up the top drawer and flipping through a few of them before he found what he was looking for. He pulled out one of the files and moved back behind his desk, dropping down heavily as he flipped open the file.

His eyes scanned over it slowly, like it was already so familiar to him. "Uh, well she first started getting herself into trouble when she was a teenager. She was in and out of juvy from the age of fourteen, things like fighting, stealing, involved with the wrong crowd, that kinda thing. Her crimes started getting more and more serious as she got older, she was getting herself into things that she shouldn't have been, the cops were keeping an eye on her, you know? Looked like she was fast heading to jail when she turned eighteen. But then she seemed to straighten herself out, no one heard from her in about two years, no bookings, no charges, nothing. I've been her councillor since she's been in here and, no matter how many times I've asked, she won't say where she was all that time. Anyway, by the time she twenty she had a job working for a drug smuggler, pretty serious stuff. The whole gang was busted when she was twenty-one, she's been in prison since then, that was about a year and a half ago." He flipped the file closed and shrugged. "I guess the solitude finally got to her, she cracked, had some kind of a breakdown and killed someone."

Neither Sam or Dean said anything for a moment, both thinking through everything he had said carefully. It was too much to take in all at once, just one long list of information and no explanations, they needed to talk to her properly.

"Do you, uh," Sam paused, thinking his words through carefully. "Do you think that she did it? The murder, I mean."

"Well, being completely honest with you, I thought when she came down here that she seemed relatively normal. A lot of the women who are sent down here are either insane or dangerous. Natalie seemed fine, she sometimes had a bit of an attitude about her, but most people in prison do. I did her initial assessment and I can tell you now, I didn't believe that she was capable of killing someone, not without reason. I've dealt with plenty of murderers in the thirty years I've worked here, I just don't think that she's the cold-blooded type." he said with a shrug. "But, you know, I'm not in charge of who's in and out of here, I just sign the papers."

"Right," Dean cleared his throat. "Well, we'd like to have a quick chat with her before we move her anywhere, give her an idea of what's going on."

"Sure," he nodded. "I'll be sure to give that supervisor of yours a call while you do. Wait here, I'll get her ready."

They both nodded, saying nothing as he moved across the room towards the door, leaving the two of them alone there. Neither spoke, neither knew what to say. Dean had an idea that his brother was still pretty pissed off at him for not telling him about Natalie, and he didn't blame him for that, but he had always figured it better for him not to know.

"So," Sam began brightly, his tone light. "From the sound of that, the only time she managed to keep herself out of trouble was when she was with you and Dad." He glanced up at his brother. "The two of you must've been pretty close."

Dean shrugged. "We got on okay, I guess." he muttered, not seeming to want to talk about it, especially not there.

Truth was, they had been close. In the two years they had spent together they had been unbeatable, nothing could have come between them, with the exception of each other. The fight that they had gotten into had ended all of it, and that had been the last time they had seen each other. There was no denying they had both said things that they hadn't meant, they'd let things go way too far, and they were both too stubborn to apologise, so they had gone their separate ways. And that was when Dean had gone to get Sam from Stanford. And he would have told him, but the thought that she was so mad at him meant that he wasn't sure she would even give Sam a chance. He knew that there was a chance, if he were to show up at her door with Sam, her anger at him would cause her to completely bypass Sam, and he wasn't putting his kid brother through that.

"What happened between you, Dean?" Sam pressed. "I know you said you had a fight, but what kind of a fight makes the two of you never want to see each other again? I mean, you obviously still care about her, or you wouldn't be here, right?"

The door opened behind them before Dean had a chance to even think of an answer. They turned as the man from before looked between them. "Follow me, gentlemen."

Dean sighed, shooting a quick glance Sam's way. He appeared calm, completely fine, but Dean had an idea that it was just a front. He remembered when he had first met his sister, he hadn't known what to think, and he'd had longer to let the news sink in than what Sam had. Dean hadn't had to meet her in a prison, pretending to be an FBI agent. He couldn't even imagine how this felt for his brother.


Four years earlier

Dean looked up as the door to the motel opened, his Dad walked inside first, followed by a young girl. He wasn't prepared for this, he had only found out two days ago that he even had a sister, and now he was supposed to meet her and not be the slightest bit taken aback, news like that didn't just process like that, it took time. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to think about it. The fact that she had known about them for years didn't make him feel any better about it, he almost felt betrayed, stunned that his own Dad had kept something like that from him. He had a right to know. As well as that, there was the fact that, just over a year after his wife's death, he had gone and gotten another woman pregnant and not even thought twice about her. He had said himself, he hadn't had a clue about her until after she had turned fourteen, and even then he hadn't done much for her. If Dean had known, he would like to think that he would have done something more for her. But he couldn't say, because he had never been told about her. And that was on his Dad.

He looked her over as she walked through the door, their Dad closing it behind her and standing beside her, his hand rested on her shoulder. "Dean, this is Natalie, your little sister." he said calmly, looking anxious of how Dean was going to react.

They'd talked about it, sure, John had told him everything he knew about her. He had told her about the trouble she got herself into throughout her teenage years, he told him about the times she had been sent into Juvenile detention and what she had done to get herself there. He had told him about the one night stand he'd had with her mother, and about how she hadn't told him he even had a daughter until she had gone fourteen. He knew about how their Dad went down to see her when he found out and how he had told her everything about what their family did, and how it had resulted in a fight and her never wanting to see him again. And then he had told him about how John had given her a phone number and told her that if she ever changed her mind she should call him. And nearly four years later, within a week of her mother dying, she had called, and John had dropped everything to go and get her. And now there she was.

Natalie stared at him, like she wasn't sure what she was supposed to say, or how he was about to react to her, she looked uneasy. She wore black lace up boots and dark jeans with a light grey t-shirt that showed off the detailed sleeve tattoo down her left arm. There was thick black eyeliner around both her eyes and a nose stud that shone when it caught the sunlight through the window. Her black hair was pulled back, showing off the silver studs that went all the way down one of her ears. She looked like some kind of a punk-rock rebellious teenager. Dean couldn't help but smile a little at that. She wasn't at all what he had been expecting.

"It's, uh," he paused, thinking over what he was supposed to say, because he sure as hell didn't know. "It's good to meet you." he said, smiling at her.

Truthfully, it was. When he had first been told that he had a little sister he felt as though he had missed out. This girl was almost eighteen, and that was eighteen years of her life that he had missed. It was eighteen years she had gone without having her real family around, without having her two brothers and her Dad there to watch her back for her. There was the thought that something could have happened to her, the idea that it only took one demon to find her or one creature out looking for revenge on the family to find her and she was done. Knowing that they could have spent so much more time together if only their Dad had told them the truth when he had found out himself, it hurt him. And now that she was finally there, Sam was gone. And for the first time in two years, Dean had spoken his name in front of their Dad. He had argued and told him that Sam needed to know, that he needed to meet his little sister the same as he did, that he at least needed to know. But the answer was always the same, Sam had walked and he had turned his back on the family, and that meant her, too.

Natalie stepped forwards and dropped her bag down to the floor beside one of the beds with a thud, turning back to him. "It's good to meet you, too." she said simply. Her voice was soft, almost timid, not a voice that reflected her look at all.

Both Dean and Natalie turned to John, like he was going to give them some kind of instruction of what they were supposed to do, because they were both clearly as lost as each other. Dean wasn't sure about her and she wasn't sure about him. They both seemed as wary as the other.

John cleared his throat and looked between them slowly. "Listen, there's a hunt that I need to take care of," he began, but Dean already knew where it was going, and he wasn't sure he liked it. "I'll be back in a few days, I'll call if it's any later." he said simply, not sounding at all concerned that he was leaving two complete strangers alone with each other and expecting them to just get on with it.

"And, uh, what, exactly, are we doing while you're gone?" Dean asked, stepping forwards and looking at his Dad in a way that John knew he was asking silently for answers.

John said nothing for a moment, just looked between them once again. "She's your responsibility, Dean." he said bluntly. "You're gonna train her. You're going to teach her everything about this life and you're going to make sure she's ready to handle herself out there."

Dean blinked, that had been the last thing he had been expecting to hear. He glanced from their Dad to Natalie, who appeared less concerned with it, and assumed that the two of them must have agreed on those terms before they had arrived there. It wasn't like it bothered him, it didn't, he wanted to get to know her, of course he did, but she wasn't a hunter. She didn't have to be trapped in this life the same as they were. He had watched Sam so desperately try to get away from it, he wasn't sure that she knew what she was getting into with it.

But Dean said nothing, just nodded in response. "Yes, sir." he said simply, an automatic response that came with him when he was given an order by their Dad.

"Good." John said simply, giving them a small smile. "I'll see you in a few days, call me if you get into trouble." he said lightly before he turned and headed out of the room, leaving the two of them standing in an awkward silence.

"So," Dean began lightly, giving a deep breath, he didn't have a clue what to say. Natalie raised her eyebrows at him, like she was only amused with the situation. "Nice tat." he remarked, causing her to smirk wider.

"Thanks." she said simply, moving to sit down in one of the chairs at the table.

Dean followed her movements and sat down opposite her, watching her closely. He was still in shock, the whole thing seemed completely surreal to him, having a little sister was just something he had never thought of before. But now that she was sitting in front of him, looking up at him expectantly, he realised how much he really had been missing out on. There was eighteen years of her life that he hadn't been with her, he knew nothing about this girl. With Sam, he knew everything; he knew his favourite food, colour, movie, book, everything, right down to the shampoo and toothpaste he used. A part of him felt a little guilty that he didn't know her. At least, not yet.

And, in time, he had learned everything about her. In time, he knew her every facial expression and every movement, he understood all of her moods and knew everything from her past. He knew the meaning of every single tattoo, scar, cut and bruise on her body, he knew her right down to her brand of eyeliner and her sleep patterns. At some point during the many hours a day they had spent working together, whether that was him teaching her to drive or telling her stories about monsters, or whether it was her kicking his ass during training or telling him about the different messes she had gotten herself into during her past, they had learned to completely trust each other. And that didn't changed, not for a long time.


Present

Natalie Scott wasn't someone who let things wear her down. She wasn't someone who would let a bad situation get the best of her, she would fight herself back to the top and make sure she stayed there. But this time it was different. This time, she couldn't get out. She was too far down. She was lost, hopeless, breaking.. And that wasn't who she was. It wasn't who she was supposed to be.

Prison had never been that bad, she had been okay in there, she survived and kept her sanity. But this place wore her down like nothing ever had done before. It was beyond her rock bottom, and she was drowning in it. There was no way out. But then, that was the point.

There were people that she had met in prison, people who'd had their dates come around and their freedom in sight, and she had envied them because she wanted out. There were the ones who had counted down the days to their release, they'd cried with happiness at the idea of leaving and had all but ran from the place. But then there were the others, the ones who didn't want to leave. She had always thought it to be a myth; the cliché of becoming so integrated into prison life that they didn't want to leave, but she had seen people who had become destroyed by their time in there, people who had become so overwhelmed by the idea of being outside, being away from the same dull walls, that it had caused them to fall apart. She had seen just the idea of freedom be enough to cause the strongest inmates to fall apart at the seams. There had been the ones who could have a complete psychotic break at the yearning to remain in the solitude of jail, but that wasn't her.

Natalie had never, ever, been able to understand those people.

Every single day had been the same since she had been moved down there. They were almost identical, all merged into one big, depressive mess. It was the same routine, day in and day out. It never changed. The same sleep pattern of about an hour or two a night, lying in silence and staring up at the black ceiling as though it held the answers to the world. It was eating the same tiny portion of barley edible food at the same time, as if they made sure it was delivered to the precise second each time. It wasn't like she would have realised anyway, there were no clocks anymore, no windows, the lights were always on in the hallway; there was no way at all to tell when one day began and another day ended.

Natalie used to keep a track of it, she would remember the amount of times they had served breakfast or the amount of times she'd had the daily visit from the woman who stuck needles into her arm to give her drugs that knocked her out. But in time, she had lost it, she no longer knew. By day ten she was done. Maybe that was when she still had full control of her own mind, before the same four walls that she stared at constantly started to blur into nothingness, before the voices in her head became louder and angrier and clearer.

She had no idea how long she had been down there now. There was just one thing that she did know, and that was that the place she now lived was killing her. Slowly. It was gradually ripping away the person she was, pulling her away from her own sanity. The thoughts of comments made in prison when the topic of psych had come up, things like 'no one ever makes it back out of psych' or 'once you go down, you never come back', they never left her head. She didn't think she would ever see the light of day again. She had never thought anything could make her miss prison so much, but she had found it there. And a part of her knew that she wasn't getting out of there again, not alive anyway.

The sound of the small window of the door being slammed open made her jump. The constant silence was broken for only the second time that day, it had been that way since the small portion of food was pushed through the door at breakfast time. The door was then pulled open, two officers coming to a stop no further than a step into the small room.

"Scott." A hard voice echoed through the room. "Get up." Natalie gave a deep, tired sigh but moved to stand up, looking between them slowly. "Turn around. Slowly."

Natalie did as they said, not questioning them, she figured just another meeting with her warden, maybe someone had named her and she was going back to trial, maybe there was about to be a change in her sentence, but somehow she couldn't care less where they were taking her. She wasn't even curious anymore.

A pair of cold handcuffs were slapped onto her wrists, tightened to the point that the metal was digging into her skin. "You know the drill, Scott, don't try anything funny." The other man said to her, his tone just as harsh.

"Wouldn't dream of it." she muttered, not even bothering to force the sarcasm into her tone, her energy was wearing thin, it didn't seem worth it anymore. After a while, the snarky and sarcastic comments wore thin, they didn't get her anywhere.

It was the standard procedure, visitors meant cage. And that's where they were heading. The only thing she could think now was that it was going to be bad news, she hadn't spoken to anyone in over a week now. A month or two ago, she probably would've cared, she would have been wondering who it was. Now, she couldn't even bring herself to fake interest.


Sam and Dean followed the officer down the empty hallway, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls around them. It was a depressing place, unimaginable to spend so much time there, even as much time as their sister had done. It seemed unthinkable. Sam remembered when the few days he and Dean had spent in prison had felt like forever, he couldn't imagine spending as much time in there as she had done.

They were led into another room; it was small and dull. There was a desk to one side, an empty chair behind it and papers scattered across it. In the center of the room there was a metal cage, not even wide enough for a person to lie down in. The girl standing in the centre looked between them slowly, appearing apprehensive. Sam looked at her, but her bright green eyes were focused solely on Dean. Her pale face stood out against her jet black hair, straight and a little longer than her shoulders. She wore an orange jumpsuit, folded at the elbows and showing off the sleeve tattoo that covered her left arm. She appeared as though she was holding her breath, her face the picture of complete shock.

"Scott, FBI here to speak with you." The officer said to her, but the words didn't seem to register with her at all, her eyes still hadn't left Dean's.

"Jesus Christ," Natalie scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "This is all I fucking need." she muttered, seeming more to herself than to anyone else.

Sam just turned back to the officer, not appearing phased. "We can take it from here, thanks." he said, pushing up a tight smile.

"Fine." The man nodded. "Think I might go give that supervisor of yours a call while you're in here." he said simply, turning his back to them and heading out of the room, leaving the three of them alone. They both turned back to face her as the door closed behind him, leaving them in a tense silence.

"So?" she pressed, seeming impatient. "The fuck do you want?"

It was obvious looking between them that there was still some kind of anger lingering from their fight, and Sam still wanted to know what it had been about. She looked angry at him, yet he didn't seem as mad as before, he just looked frustrated.

"Mind your language for a start." Dean commented simply, raising his eyebrows at her, he had remembered her having an attitude, just not with him.

Natalie just rolled her eyes at him. "What the hell do you want, Dean?"

"Calm down," Sam stepped forward, he could see the two of them become riled up quickly, the last thing they needed was another fight breaking out between them. "We're just here to help you, alright?" he said calmly.

"I don't need any help." she muttered, her tone hard and defensive, her eyes never leaving Dean as she spoke. "I'm doing just fine."

"Doing just fine?" Dean repeated incredulously, fast becoming annoyed with her. It was as though Sam wasn't even standing there. "Look at yourself, Natalie, you're in a friggin' cage. You're on a psychiatric prison ward for the mentally unstable and looking at life imprisonment for murder. You're not doing just fine at all."

"You know I didn't do it, Dean." she said, her voice turning completely serious. Even if she was acting like she didn't care, she was looking at him in a way that almost pleaded with him to believe her. "You know I wouldn't do something like that."

"No, I know." he said simply. "You might be a lot of things, Nat, but I know you're not a killer. You still have to explain it once we're out of here, though, and I will listen to everything you have to say. I'll let you scream and bitch at me, whatever, but right now I need you to drop the attitude and work with me."

"Out of here?" she questioned, looking at him like he was insane.

"Don't look at me like that, why else do you think we're here? This isn't a casual visit, kid. You need help."

And that was it, enough to turn her defensive again. "I need help? You assume I want your help." Natalie took a step closer to the bars, narrowing her eyes at him. "And what, exactly, are you gonna do, huh? What, wave your fake federal agent badge around and bust my ass out of here? Hm? What do you want, Dean?"

Dean was physically taken aback by the response, frowning at her. "Yes, actually." he replied simply. "That was the plan."

Natalie blinked, like it had been the last thing she had expected him to say. "Excuse me?"

Dean smirked at her. "Don't you want out?"

"Depends," she narrowed her eyes at him. "What do you want in return? Money? What?"

"Nothing, why don't you just think of it as your big brother doing you a favour out of the goodness of his heart and leave it at that, yeah?" he said sarcastically. "Besides, you're not really in a position to turn down help right now, are you?"

Natalie looked down for a moment, thinking it through. He was right, there wasn't any other way out of there, it wasn't like her sentence could get any longer. She was sure as hell not get getting released from there anytime soon, maybe he was her best chance. Once she was out with them she could run, she didn't have to stay with them, but at least she would be away from prison. The best thing she could think to do at that point was keep her mouth shut and let them get her out.

"Fine," she looked up at him and nodded. "I'm in."

Dean smirked at her. "That's my girl." he grinned, a look which she couldn't hold back a smile of her own to.