Please read and review! The song I used for the last chapter is "Nobody's Home" by Avril Lavigne.

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own anything Supernatural or Buffy related. I merely own Erin and this story.


Chapter 6: Annie, Are You Okay?

Erin was having trouble accepting the fact that she was a mystical key, so Sam had showed her a room where she could stay—and collect herself—and offered to go to her motel to grab her things; he was trying to give her space and time alone to sort things out. Surprisingly, the motel she'd been staying at was in Beulah, North Dakota where the younger Winchester was headed to follow a lead on Dean and Crowley. Sam poked his head in Erin's room when he and Castiel were on their way out the door.

"Do you need anything before we take off?" he asked.

"I don't think so. You showed me where the weapons are in case something, somehow, gets past the warding, and where the kitchen and bathrooms are," Erin replied. She looked rather tired. Sam supposed being summoned magically and told you were a magical key would make a person rather weary.

"All right then. Here's my cell number in case you need us," Sam said, handing her a folded piece of paper. "Also, if you're in trouble and can't warn me say: funky town. It's a code Dean and I have used to let each other know when we're in danger."

"Alrighty then. Thanks, Sam," Erin said, taking the paper, no comment on his odd code system. Sam gave her a small wave and left to join Castiel in the car.

When Sam joined the angel outside, he caught him coughing terribly and looking rather pale.

"Hey, Cas, why don't you let me drive? You should rest," he said, looking concerned.

"I'll be okay," the angel replied. Sam raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

With a sigh, the angel reluctantly handed the keys over to the hunter and got into the passenger's side. Sam sighed. He knew Castiel was trying to make light of his condition, but he wasn't doing a very good job of it. The angel never had been a very good liar. If this hadn't been an "all hands on deck" situation Sam wouldn't have asked for his help. Unfortunately, tracking down his demon-possessed brother was not something he could do on his own.

They hadn't even driven a mile when Castiel fell asleep. Sam silently promised his friend that, as soon as Dean was saved, he would find a way to help him.


When they made it to the motel where Erin had been staying Sam didn't bother waking Castiel up; it was about nine-thirty at night and the poor guy needed his sleep. It had been a long day. He closed the car door as quietly as possible and started to look for the room that Erin had given him the number of. He found it easily and picked the lock. When the door swung open, Sam immediately knew something was off. The shower was still running, that much he'd expected, but the rest of the motel room was in complete disarray. It looked like someone had broken in and tore up the entire place looking for something…or someone.

The hunter took the demon knife out of his jacket pocket and carefully scoped out the room, including the bathroom. Whoever had been there was gone. A sinking feeling came over him. What if he and Castiel weren't the only ones who had been searching for the key to Hell and the saviour? This brought up a whole new array of problems. Sam put the knife back in his pocket and set to work collecting Erin's things and shoving them back into her duffel bag, which already had quite a few things in it. He did so quickly and headed back outside, closing the door behind him.

What he saw when he came outside made his blood boil. Crowley was leaning against the hood of the car while Castiel slept peacefully inside.

"'Ello, Bullwinkle. Did ya miss me?"

Sam whipped out the demon knife, getting into a defensive stance.

"So much," he said, ready to take down the monster who'd stolen his brother. The king of Hell put his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"You're lookin' for Dean; I'm here to give 'im to ya." Sam stared at the demon skeptically, but relaxed his stance a bit anyway.

"Why?" Sam asked, never taking his eyes off of the British man.

"The little prat's bad for business. He's…uncontrollable. Must be the mark. Anyway…Dean's your problem now, again, forever," Crowley answered.

"Then where is he?" Sam asked, getting more and more agitated every minute.

"First, there's the topic of my finder's fee," the demon said. Sam gave him another eyebrow raise.

"What do you want this time, Crowley?" he asked, his tone somewhat exasperated.

"The First Blade."

"Why? It only works with the mark," Sam pointed out. The demon rolled his eyes.

"Don't be thick! I don't want to use it! Once your brother finds out that I sold him out he'll be gunnin' for me! Do you really think I want 'im to have the blade?" Crowley responded with exasperation.

"What will you do with it?" Sam asked, putting the demon knife back in his jacket pocket. Crowley shrugged.

"Throw it into a volcano? Leave it on the moon? I'll get creative. Trust me; I don't want Dean gettin' 'is hands on the precious any more than you do."

Sam sighed. He didn't want to do business with Crowley, but this was his best chance at finding his brother.

"Fine. Now tell me where my brother is," he said after a moment.

"I knew you could be a sensible man," Crowley said with a smile, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a folded piece of paper. "This is where you'll find Dean. Now where's the blade?"

Sam took the piece of paper and pulled the First Blade out of his jacket, handing it to Crowley, albeit reluctantly.

"Bloody hell! Are you mad? Takin' that thing on a hunt for your brother who just 'appens to have the Mark of Cain?" the king of Hell exclaimed as he stuffed the blade into his jacket. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Get out of my sight before I change my mind and kill you," he said. Crowley snorted.

"As if you could, Moose," he said, turning to leave. He paused and turned back to Sam.

"Oh, and as an added bonus for takin' your brother off my hands, here," he said, tossing something to Sam. The hunter caught it and held it up to see what it was. It was a glass vial with a skull stopper, filled with what appeared to be angelic grace. He looked up at the demon questioningly.

"Give that to Castiel. 'e's no good to either of us dead."

And with that, Crowley disappeared. As if on cue, the angel chose that moment to wake up. He got out of the car, looking at Sam quizzically.

"Is everything all right?" he asked with a yawn. Sam quietly handed him the vial of grace. Castiel looked shocked, then concerned.

"Where did you get this?" he asked warily.

"Crowley," Sam replied, taking a quick glance at the location on the paper and putting it in his jeans pocket. Castiel's eyes widened.

"What!?" he exclaimed. Sam jerked his head toward the car.

"Come on, I'll tell you on the way."


After a nap, which lasted several hours, Erin awoke around nine in the morning and decided to explore the bunker.

"If I only had sunglasses and my iPod, I could reenact the scene from Risky Business," she said to herself with a chuckle. She found the garage and took a look inside. When she flicked the lights on, her jaw dropped.

"Awesome!" she mumbled breathily. She spent at least ten minutes examining and praising each vehicle.

Eventually, she started feeling a bit chilly standing in the garage in her over-sized boxers and button-up shirt, so she left to explore more of the bunker. There wasn't a whole lot that she found particularly interesting until she came to the room with the dungeon in it. She took one quick look, mumbled, "Kinky," and left. She didn't even want to know what went on in there.

As she was making her way to the kitchen for a snack there was a loud pounding sound. Following the sound led her to the front—and probably only—door out of the bunker. She chewed on her lip for a moment. She doubted that anyone would just come knocking at a secret, anti-supernatural bunker to "borrow a cup of sugar" and Sam hadn't mentioned anything about expecting a visitor. Deciding not to risk it, Erin crept back downstairs and grabbed one of the many swords on display from a wall.

She was pulling out the cell phone Sam had given her, when suddenly there was a blast that came from upstairs where the door was. The sound deafened Erin, making her ears ring, and the force of the blast felt like a minor earthquake. She looked up toward the door, but there was too much smoke and dust rolling in for her to see what was going on. She ran to her room and locked the door behind her. Erin ripped the sheets off the bed and shoved them against the edge of the door so no one would see inside, turned the light off, then scooched under the bed. It was low to the ground and hard to fit her chest and hips underneath it, but she managed.

I really need to lay off the cheeseburgers, she thought while she focused on her silent breathing. She listened intently and was able to vaguely make out the sound of footsteps, definitely from multiple people, running down the metal stairs. After that, it was completely silent. She chewed on her lip until it bled, then sucked on it until it was numb; a nervous habit of hers.

Suddenly, she heard scuffling outside her door, right before it burst open with the sound of splintering wood. She held her breath and hoped that whatever was in the room couldn't hear her heart pounding. Sam had told her the bunker was safe from all evil, she supposed whoever built it didn't think about someone blowing up the door—kind of odd for a bunker. If she made it out of this, she'd have to mention it to Sam.

Erin heard a noise that sounded like someone, or something, sniffing loudly. Her eyes widened when she realized she was being sniffed out. She was trapped. Suddenly, something grabbed her ankle and pulled her out from under the bed, scraping her butt on the frame as they did so. She kicked wildly, managing to hit what was probably a leg before scrambling to her feet and spinning to face her attacker. What she saw in the darkness was something she had never faced before. Her assailant appeared to be a bald human male, but where his eyes should have been there were only carved symbols and he wore long black robes. In one hand, he held a rather nasty looking knife.

Erin swiped at him with her sword then placed a kick to his stomach when he tried to block her. She jumped up on the bed and rolled backwards off of it, landing on her feet and booking it out the door. She ran towards the dungeon, since it seemed like the next safest place in the bunker. A couple of times, her feet slipped on the concrete floor, but she caught herself and kept running. She made it to the dungeon and slammed both sets of doors behind her. She leaned her head against the door and breathed a sigh of relief, but her relief was short lived when the feeling that she was being watched trickled icily down her spine.

Erin turned around slowly, her body shaking, only to find two men, identical to her first assailant, standing there. They must have split up to search for people. She turned around and yanked the doors back open, revealing another of the cloaked men waiting for her. She lunged at him with her sword, but he dodged. They seemed surprisingly agile for blind men. She used the moment to knock his feet out from under him, but before she could finish him, she felt something wrong. At first, there was a deep pain in her back, but it quickly started to feel numb and cold. Her eyes grew wide; she had fought enough creatures in her life to know what that feeling was.

It was a knife in her back.