Present

Maybe she didn't think this through. She sat in her car, pulled off on the side of the road, staring at the rusted sign that hung over the dirt road that led to Bobby Singer's house. She took her sweet time traveling towards her destination, because, dammit, she still hadn't figured out how she was going to talk to the hunters. The five plus hours in the car still hadn't given her any idea on how she was supposed to approach the situation. What was she supposed to do, just tell them the truth?

"Yeah, that'll work, Keila. 'Hi, my name is Keila and my father single-handedly ruined your lives. Also, I may or may not have played a part in that as well. But, don't worry, I've changed. Also, no grudges for killing the bastard." She gave herself a sarcastic smile in the rearview mirror before scoffing and pulling her aviators off, pinching the bridge of her nose.

She had no idea what she was supposed to do. Any lie that she thought of telling them, quickly fell through the cracks in her mind. They were hunters, they were obnoxiously paranoid, and would pick apart any story that she could plausibly think of. She pressed her forehead against the black leather steering wheel, breathing out a sigh as she stared at her denim clad thighs.

Fuck.

She closed her eyes, letting them dart back and forth behind her eyelids as she tried to think of a plan. Maybe, just maybe what if she did tell them the truth? Only, a slight variance of it? Leave out the parts that would get a bullet in her chest, but stick to the real deal. That way, she wouldn't have a story to keep up, and wouldn't have to keep her lies in order. Damn, maybe the bastard was right. Maybe she did have too much humanity in her…

She banged her head against the steering wheel softly! FOCUS! Okay, so back to the story. The truth was the best bet, but she needed to figure out how to leave out the parts about her father, her origins, and that little black stain that marked her. Her eyes snapped open and her head shot up, yellow irises flashing momentarily.

That's it.

Oh, she was a genius. An absolute genius. She could just tell them that she was part of Azazel's little army. That she had the same fate as the Winchesters. Dead mom, asshole dad, and a power that shouldn't have been bestowed upon her. Technically, it was true, it's just that she was kind of in on the whole thing of what her father was doing. But honestly, they didn't need to know that. She still valued her life, at the moment. If she ever had a death wish, she knew exactly what to say.

She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, a large and deep sigh rattling out from her lungs. Now came the part that she dreaded the most. She had to somehow earn their trust. Getting hunters to trust someone, especially when it's a complete stranger, was about as successful as cornering a wild dog. It almost always ended in violence. She also had to mentally prepare herself for the onslaught of tests she would need to go through if she did manage to get them to hear her out. The silver knife she could handle, it's the holy water that was going to suck. Since she wasn't a full-fledged demon, she wouldn't have the same intense reaction that they did, but it wouldn't be pleasant. Her father ran her through the tests numerous times, dropping her off at churches, ranting and raving to the priests that his poor daughter was possessed, and prayed that they exorcised her.

She grimaced at the memories of being tied up, holy water poured down her throat, a dull ache rose in her belly at the memory. She also remembered the splitting migraines she would get as the Latin words poured over her. It was never enough to pull the demonic energy out of her, because it was her. She didn't die, or sell her soul, she was born,created with it inside her blood. All it did was give her the symptoms of a very nasty hangover. Which, by now, she was used too, and could cover them up easily.

Most people didn't live through what she has without a little help along the way.

She dropped her head to her chest, sighing again. Damn, she could really use some liquid courage right about now. She threw her hand haphazardly down beside her, her fingers blindly probing until they found the small square package. She plucked it up, quick fingers pulling back the paper fold and pulling a single aluminum covered stick out, before unwrapping it, crumpling up the shiny wrapper, and tossing it out of her open window. She popped the gum in her mouth, chewing slowly as the minty taste filled her mouth, swirling around in her salvia.

She placed her hand on the key that stuck out of the ignition, it stayed frozen there for a good five minutes, before she got the courage to crank the car and bring the engine roaring back to life. Placing the car in drive, she slowly made her way across the street and up the dirt road of the salvage yard, that housed probably two of the most dangerous men in the game. She stopped her car at the small opening between the stacked junkers, and turned it around, so that it was facing the way that she just came. If shit went down, she wanted to make sure that she had a clear route to get the hell out.

She held her breath as she turned the car off, gripping the handle for dear life before she pushed the door open and slowly made her way up to the run down house. Her creased leather boots squeaked as she walked up the steps to the front door. She rapped on the door, loud enough for whoever was inside to hear, but not loud enough to sound like she was a threat. Her white knuckles lowered, as she slowly exhaled the breath that she had been holding the entire time. There was a very good chance that she could die right here on this front porch, and that thought terrified her.

Her brain was telling her to get the hell out of there, her primal instincts kicking in. Before her body had a chance to react to her brains warning, the door swung open, an older man with short brown hair, a graying beard and goatee, and a baseball cap glared at her from across the doorway. Behind him, was a younger man, who looked like he had just crawled out of hell. She fought the urge to smile, because that's literally what he had just done.

"Who're you?" The older man questioned, eyes steeled on her, never wavering. If she hadn't grown up used to these stares, Keila would've folded right then and there, tucking her tail between her legs and hightailing it out of there. However, she had her mind made up, and continued to stare at the older man's nose, never looking into his dark eyes. She slowly raised both of her hands, a sign that she wasn't here to start any trouble.

"I know that you don't know me, but I know about you, and I need your help." Her voice was calm, her words slow and drawn out, the small southern accent that she had drawing out certain syllables. She internally winced at what she just said. Damn, she sounded just like a stalker. Way to start off the conversation, she berated herself. She could see the guard go up in both men's eyes, and she knew that she had a lot of work to do to make up for her loose footing on the conversation already.

She dropped her hands back to her sides slowly, her right hand gripping the dark denim that wrapped her legs, as she let out another sigh, glancing over the shoulder of the older man and quickly scanning the handsome man that stood behind him. For someone who had just spent forty years in Hell, the man looked good. She gave them both a weak smile, before staring back at the older man's nose.

"Okay, I know that came out weird, but hear me out, alright? I…I know about you. The Winchesters, right? Y'all are something of the proverbial legends in the hunting community. Story has it that y'all closed one of the gates to Hell, and well, that y'all might have some information that may be able to help me out." She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she averted her gaze to the bookshelf behind both men, looking at the vast knowledge that lined the shelves.

The younger man shifted behind the older one, slowly walking into her line of sight. He stared her down, emerald eyes shining with such intensity, she reverted her gaze to his lips. She was never good with looking people in the eye, she would avoid it at all cost. She'd rather stare at their nose, their lips, anywhere but their eyes. It scared her, really. Looking into someone's eyes gave them the ability to look into their soul, and she wasn't sure she wanted these hunters to see that. The only time that she really looked into someone's eyes was when she was about to use her powers, and she had no intentions on using them on these two. They could probably break out of her grasp in an instant, and she'd be dead before she could blink.

"What've you heard?" She watched his lips as he spoke, deep voice echoing throughout the silent house. She glanced up to his nose, before she spoke.

"Y'all closed one of the gates of Hell. S'pretty big accomplishment if ya ask me." She wasn't going to mention the fact that she knew they were also the ones to cause it to open. Details, details. "I also heard that one of y'all had a run in with a demon, gave ya some hoodoo magic. That's what I need help with." Her accent was growing stronger the more she spoke. Though the men in front of her didn't know it, it was a clear sign that she was scared. When she was in control of her emotions, her voice reflected it. Calm, cool, and collected, only a faint hint of her accent could be heard. But, now? Her roots were showing, and that was not something that she wanted.

She should've expected what happened next, really, she should have. Why did she think that mentioning the younger Winchester brother, the one that the man in front of her had sold his soul to save, was a good idea? In the blink of an eye, a body was pushed, a gun was grabbed, and the end of a shotgun was pressed into her sternum. Wild forest eyes glared into her honey ones. The resounding 'click' of the hammer swam in her ears as a snarl pulled across the man's handsome face.

"Where'd you hear that from?" Jesus, did he actually growl at her? Hell, that's what it sounded like when he spoke to her, the cold, double barrel, pressing harshly into her tan skin. She kept her appearance calm, while inside she was mildly freaking out. She really should have expected this. She was stupid to think that she could just walk up to these men and they just welcome her with open arms.

Idiot.

"Cause, it happened to me." He stared at her hard, finger never wavering from its position over the trigger. She stared over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the older man moving in her peripheral vision. Great, just great. He was grabbing reinforcements. Just great. She gathered her resolve, and glanced at the man's muscular jawline, never taking her eyes off of it as she talked.

"This…this man. He came to me, saying that I was somethin' special, that I had this power inside me, that when unlocked, could help 'im change the world. And, he said that there were others out there, just like me. That, we were his children." She hoped that this would help throw Dean off of her trail. Because, technically what she had said was true.

There was a man, her father, that said that she had a strong power in her, which he basically ingrained into her DNA, and there were others out there, she was there when he had chosen them, and they were going to change the world, if it hadn't had been for the man standing in front of her.

She held her breath as she saw the wheel's turning in the hunter's head. She watched his tan brow crease, a small droplet of sweat rolling down from his cropped dirty blonde hair, along his temple, and tapering off and down his neck. She could see the muscles clenching in his jaw, before the barrel of the shotgun was pulled away abruptly.

"Did this man have yellow eyes?" She swallowed hard, looking down at his adam's apple as it bobbed in his throat, before glancing to the side and seeing the older man in the baseball cap loosen his grip on the knife in his hand ever so slightly.

"Yes, sir." She hadn't meant for that to happen, but the way he held himself, his resolute steel, the way his eyes bore into someone when he talked, the way he held his body, it all screamed respect. And, she'd been conditioned to give respect to those who demanded it. And, Dean Winchester demanded it. She didn't miss the way his body stiffened, and how his eyes gained this faraway look, before they snapped back to her, and he moved his body to the side, arm bracing the door.

"Get in."


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