Chapter Seven: A Crazy Girl Explains Some Things
There is an old saying here in the Borderlands: "Better to have one woman on your side than ten men."
-al'Lan Mandragoran, Wheel of Time
The darkness of the road stretched out before them as the 1967 Chevy Impala raced across the flatlands. Tiny stars, those strong enough to fight man's light polluting cities, past the blazing neon signs, the golden arches of McDonald's, the ever present flickering of office buildings, their employees staying late and feverishly trying to finish their work; peered down across the sweeping cornfields of Nebraska and the lone car blazing down the backwater highways towards the mountainous Rockies in the state of Colorado. The moon was half full and at its apex in the dark sky, it hung high above them, almost invisible to the Impala's passengers. Its light was outshined by bright yellow high beams that cut a swath across the blackness of the road.
In the car there was a driver and two passengers. Two men and a girl. Committed to social conventions, the eldest of the two men was the driver and the girl sat upfront. The driver was Dean Winchester and the owner of the 1967 Chevy. Tapping on the wheel in silence, he listened to the sounds of the road. Dean had magnanimously turned off the radio and tape player so that his passengers could get a decent night's sleep. Of course, he had done this for his brother, not the girl who had manipulated her way into sitting next to him. Or whatever the hell she did to Sam. He wasn't sure if he believed her story. Yeah but Cas believed it. The more traitorous portion of his mind suggested. And how often do angels get taken for a ride?
Dean wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to that question. Silently, he glanced over at her. She still didn't make any sense. But she's clearly the split personality kind of crazy. And she had, somehow, managed to take both him and his brother down. Yeah, well, we'll see about next time. Dean would be ready for her if she tried that stunt again. Dean frowned, wishing he could drive with gun in hand, just in case. She'd said she was there to protect him but Dean wasn't sure how far that protection extended. She clearly wasn't any kind of normal.
He let out a long-suffering sigh, catching glimpses of Gail Olivia Sparks' dark hair. Her head was turned away from him, her forehead pressed against the cold glass. If she'd been an average girl, Dean would have found her rather pretty. Her dark eyes were large like a fawn's in a small oval face, her cheekbones were high and her mouth was pert, her lower lip slightly fuller than her upper. When she wasn't grinning, it seemed to be cast in a permanent pout. The bridge of her nose was curved, British in shape, ending in a round, almost ruddy button. The tip bent downwards just slightly. Her black lashes were long and framed dreamy eyes that often went out of focus, like she was listening to a voice no one else could hear. Gail was short, barely taller than five foot three inches. It was an odd height for a Caucasian. Yes, she would have been attractive if she was a normal girl. But she wasn't. She was strangely cosmic. Oddly though, she didn't give off the same sort of unnerving feeling that he got from the angels. With them it was easy to tell that they weren't human, had never been human even when they wore the bodies.
Talking to angels is like talking to aliens. Dean thought as he considered Gail's behavior. But in the end they're basically straightforward. Gail was not. It was odd; her actions seemed human, felt human. It was deceptive and made Dean doubt her story. How can someone that human not be human? He forced his eyes back onto the road, lost in thought. And she's just so damn irritating! He'd thought Castiel was a major pain in the ass to talk to. All Gail had done since meeting him was mock Dean to hell and back. And she did something to Sam. He was sure of that. When we left Bobby behind in the hospital, Gail looked at Sammy and asked him to give up the front seat. Sam was going to say no, then he said yes almost immediately after their eyes met and he's been sappy ever since. Gail had also said that she'd healed Bobby, but Bobby still couldn't walk. Gail had told them that the healing took time but the angels could heal someone in half a second, so why couldn't she? Dean didn't believe her. Did she lie to us and Bobby to win some goodwill? Dean wouldn't put it past her to be so underhanded. Thinking furiously, he tore his eyes from the empty, black, straight line of the road and stared at the back of Gail's head. He hated to admit it but he was curious. He needed to know what she'd done, what she knew. What she did to Sam. What if it was harmful? Well, Sam could certainly do with a little harm, but it would be Dean who handed it out not some random girl. He checked the clock.
It was 12:53. There was no way she'd still be awake. But still, he was unable to hold his questions in any longer. He had to know. He had to figure out some way to make her tell him. Calmly, he lifted his hand and reached for her shoulder, opening his mouth. But before he could, she spoke.
"I'm awake." Was the terse reply. "You don't need to touch me."
Dean paused, his hand hanging motionless in the air. He felt an embarrassed flush rising to his cheeks and he was glad for the darkness as it hid it away. There was a moment of silence as Dean straightened and looked back at the road. He waited impatiently, his back muscles twitching as he glanced back at her still form. She'd sounded grouchy and Dean found that he couldn't hold it against her. I wouldn't want some stranger touching me in the middle of the night. Dean blinked, horrified. As far as he was concerned she was the enemy, she needed to be watched. He was not going to feel sympathy for her.
Resettling, he checked the back mirror to see if they'd woken Sam. They hadn't. His brother's long lanky form was still slumped against the side door. Sam's neck was craned forward, a limp forelock of dark brown hair pressed limply against his forehead. He was sweating. The car was hot. Quickly, Dean's fingers fled towards the temperature knob and he saw the heater on the highest setting, going at full blast. It was late September and the outside was cold, still it wasn't so cold that he needed to roast the Impala's insides. As Dean turned down the temperature, he thought he heard a soft sigh of relief from his right. He hadn't thought that she could keep any opinions to herself.
Has she been awake this whole time?
Dean looked back at the girl. Her body was swathed in shadow. He wondered which one he was talking to. Dean still wasn't clear on how the whole split personality thing worked. Though, for the record, she hadn't bothered to explain it to him. Maybe it was time she included that answer among the others he needed. Frowning at her, he yanked his head away to stare at black asphalt and the reflective yellow dividing line. His hazel eyes searching the darkness for any other signs of life, he thought he saw the lights of a far off farmhouse but it was quickly lost within the stalks of the cornfields. He didn't like being ordered around. Dean Winchester was the one in charge and it was time that Gail Olivia Sparks learned that. Or she's out on the road. He smiled at the thought of her hitchhiking all the way to River Pass, Colorado. Dean groaned at the silence, if she wouldn't elaborate then he would force her into a conversation. He turned to her again.
"You gonna talk?" He asked. "Or are you gonna just sit there like a lump?" He watched her start, thought he saw her shoulders stiffen in the darkness, then she lifted her head off of the glass. Gail's head turned towards him, but Dean couldn't read her expression, it was lost in the shadows. He couldn't help himself, feeling triumphant over her movements, he added. "So, you are awake."
"Duh." Gail replied.
Dean made his eyes look at the road, but in his peripheral vision he watched her sit up and stretch. She yawned hugely like a cat, her arms up over her head as high as the Impala's ceiling would allow. Gail's hair whisked around her cheeks as she leaned back against the door and twisted her body so that she could stare at him comfortably. Her eyes flashed in the darkness and Dean thought he saw her mouth pull into a small smile. But both vanished quickly into the ever-moving shadows and he found that he couldn't be sure. Is she irritated or amused? Did it even matter?
"Don't sleep well in cars, huh?" He asked. Inside, he was pleased at her discomfort. He couldn't keep his sense of enjoyment out of his tone. She'd mocked him and turnabout was only fair play. "Cause we'll be doing a lot of this." He smiled. "That's a hunter's life." He listened to her sigh, almost breathing in her irritation and his smile widened. He had her on something.
"It's not cars." Gail said. She looked away from him and back out into the cornfields, her elbow propping itself up against the edge of the window, her chin plopping into her palm. One leg crossed over the other and her shoulders wriggled as she cracked her neck. "I just don't sleep." She paused and then shrugged. "Not well anyway."
Dean blinked. What did she mean by that? "You don't—"
"Sleep." She finished. "No. Too many nightmares," she sounded wry as she spoke and Dean felt like she wasn't really talking to him. For a moment, Dean wished the mocking Gail would return. This Gail seemed not sad, but accepting. Like this was a normal part of her life. "And too many memories that become nightmares. So no, I don't sleep. I haven't really," she sighed. "Not for a long time. Not since…" She trailed off and then paused, as if remembering where she was. She lifted her head and looked back at him. "You have questions." Hers was not. He opened his mouth but before he could ask, she shook her head. "Of course you do." Her left hand rose as her index finger tapped against her lower lip. "Let me guess," she pursed her mouth. "You want to know about the angels, about Michael, maybe even about Lucifer." She shrugged. "And you want to know about me, where I fit into this whole mess. What I am, am I dangerous, can I be trusted? Why I'm so odd, how does the whole split personality thing work? Where did I come from? How did the angels find me? Why did they pick me? How can you stop the end of the world?"
He felt her eyes boring into the side of his head but he refused to look at her, this hadn't been how he pictured the conversation going. Dean wanted to be in control, wanted to show her who was boss. He wanted her to answer the questions he chose, not the ones she felt like answering. His mouth set into a thin, firm line as he listened to her. His anger was boiling in his belly, soon he imagined, steam would be shooting out his ears.
"Am I getting warmer?" She asked. "Or colder? I'm probably in the ballpark."
He watched her pearly teeth flash in the darkness. They weren't crooked. Her parents clearly had been able to afford a dentist and braces. That meant she'd probably come from money. From her accent he guessed California, maybe upper middle class. The way she spoke was cultured, educated, more like Sammy than like him. He heard a hint of another accent in her syllables but he couldn't place it. Perhaps one of her parents had been a foreigner. That would make her first generation on one side. Dean's eyes narrowed. He'd spent enough time on the road to learn this kind of detective work, though it wasn't usually very useful in his field. He'd always been more than a little rough around the edges but he wasn't stupid. Not the way she seemed to think he was. I'm going to figure you out, you little bitch. He thought, his frown deepening. Just you wait. She was a mystery and both Dean and his brother were good at solving those. I'm gonna knock you off that high horse and down into reality. He'd known people like her, people who thought they were better for some reason or another. Dean knew he was arrogant but he hated being judged.
"No." He growled. "You struck out."
"Really?" He heard the rueful smile in her voice and felt his back stiffen. Why couldn't she behave the way she was supposed to? "Then, pray tell, what was it you wanted to know?"
"Sam." Dean snapped. "I want to know what sort of mind whammy you or the other you put on him." He took a deep breath, his fingers tightening around the wheel. "And I want to know which you I'm talking to."
"Well," she shrugged. "To answer the second question first, you're talking to me."
Dean gritted his teeth. She was playing games with him. Somehow, he wasn't surprised. Just my luck that she's the one with all the answers. The kind that he needed to make sense of why his brother had been staring at her with starry eyes. "Yeah? Which me?"
"You honestly can't tell?" Gail laughed, her hands clapping together in amusement. She was enjoying this. Dean suppressed a growl. She was enjoying watching his confusion. "Are you dumber than I thought? Cause, you know, the differences between us are pretty distinct and the changes are fairly obvious. Which is why anyone with more than five or ten brain cells should easily be able to tell—"
"Gail!" He snapped.
His voice rose higher than he'd expected, the sharp tone cutting through the quiet air. So far they'd both been speaking in a low register, just above a whisper. Dean hadn't wanted Sam to wake during his interrogation, especially not if his brother was still under some kind of spell. Behind them, he heard his brother snort, sit up, and shift. Dean held his breath and noticed, surprised, that Gail was doing the same. Her eyes were focused on the mirror and his brother; an odd look was present in them. Sam mumbled something neither could hear and then flopped back against the cool glass of the window. Dean heard Gail giggle. He glanced at her and realized that she was grinning.
Gail stretched again, her palms touching the soft, fuzzy velvet lining of the ceiling. Her fingers were intertwined together as she yawned, pushing her back forwards and hearing her spine pop a few vertebrae back into place. Finished, she dropped her arms and looked at him. "Got it one." She said, her voice blithe and Dean felt himself frowning over the smugness in her expression.
"So, I'm talking to Gail?" He asked. Just to make sure.
She sighed once again and flopped back against her seat. "Yes," she grumbled. "You, my retarded charge, are talking to me, Gail Olivia Sparks, the interface and host of the almighty Mace, Eternal extraordinaire." Dean sensed that she was joking at his expense again but he still felt his lips twitch. He felt her eyes find his and he was surprised by the seriousness that was suddenly in them. "Mace…" Gail paused. "Mace wouldn't explain this to you," she said. "Mace would just laugh in your face…" She drifted off, her dark eyes going hazy again. "Or kill you….No, maybe torture you first because you're really annoying and then kill you and wander off. You're really lucky that our system is broken the way it is," her smile was odd but not quite sad. "I have a higher tolerance for stupidity, ignorance, and asshole behavior." Her eyes flicked back up to his face, her expression vanishing once again within the twisting shadows. "Not much higher though."
Dean forced himself to swallow, his throat dry. He was about to remind her that the angels needed him alive and they wouldn't be pleased if he died, but he didn't. I get the feeling that she's telling the truth. He realized, surprising himself. He wasn't one to hold back on his opinions but there was something about what she'd said that sent a chill down his spine. The pit of his stomach was a cold knot and hotheaded as he was, he knew it would be best to move the conversation to safer waters. He had too many questions and only a limited time before they crossed the border into Colorado and lost themselves in a demon invasion.
"What did you do to Sam?"
There was another momentary pause as Gail glanced back at Sam. Hurriedly, her tongue coursed over her upper lip, wetting it as her mouth twitched. She clearly thought something was funny but Dean doubted that she'd let him in on the joke. There was no guilt in her eyes just good humor. "I spiked him."
"Spiked?" The term wasn't familiar to Dean.
"Yeah," she nodded. "It was something I did reflexively for a long time, eventually I learned to control it. But before that it was sort of a…" she paused. "A form of self-defense." Slowly, she tapped the side of her temple as if considering something. Her eyes had gone out of focus again and she wasn't looking at him. Dean was sure she was remembering and saw to his surprise that her lips formed a wry smile. "It was an odd joke, I guess, cause it started more problems than it solved."
Dean tapped the wheel impatiently. "What does this, this spiking do?" He cursed himself for using her silly word. The whole thing sounded more than a little ridiculous. But what in your life doesn't these days? Dean swatted away the traitorous thought with a growl.
"It does just what it says," Gail said. "It spikes, er, heightens your emotional response in the areas that simulate attraction and love to, I guess, maximum levels. The subject," she swallowed. "I suppose you'd want scientific terms even if you're not a science sort of guy?" As usual she didn't wait for his response as she continued on. "The subject immediately feels a deep emotional bond with the caster, it's only simulated, of course, because the effect isn't long lasting. But they believe that they are more than in love, that the caster is the one and only person for them. Or something, I wouldn't know," she shrugged. "It's never happened to me."
"And you did this to Sam?" Dean asked. He was more than a little horrified.
"Oh, don't get your boxers in a twist Winchester." Gail said with a flip of her hand. "I said it wears off, didn't I? No harm done. He just shoved off balance for a bit, he'll be right as rain by morning."
"And you did this to him?" Dean asked. He felt cold inside. Gail didn't feel that what she'd done to Sam was wrong. She sounded flippant about it, like manipulating another person's emotions in such an extreme way wasn't a big deal. He remembered the context in which it had happened. "So you could sit in the front?"
"I really hate the back."
All his life, Dean had met evil monsters that looked like people but all of them had a reason for doing what they did. Gail hadn't. Well, not a good one by Dean's standards. "You stupid, selfish bitch!" Dean snarled, clenching the wheel and resisting the urge to slap her across the face. He'd never hit a normal human woman, though he'd killed a few that had monsters inside of them. "If you were a—"
"Yes, yes, you'd kill me for abusing my abilities for something so minor." Gail yawned. "I've done worse things than this." She looked at him and for a moment, Dean thought he saw pity. Why did she pity him? "And to people I was closer to than you or Sam." A look crossed her face, a dark one that sent another chill up Dean's spine. He didn't like her. He really didn't like her. But it was gone by the next time she spoke. "Besides, I only do it when I want to now." She smiled. "What better way to hide than from someone who believes he's in love with you? They get distracted, they don't look to deeply and by the time they realize something strange is going on, I'm gone." Her eyes narrowed in the gloom. "Like I said, no harm done."
"We're heading into a mess of demons!" Dean nearly yelled. "If Sam's going to survive he needs to be focused!"
"Why?" She asked. "You don't plan on using him or me." Gail tilted her head to the side. "You don't trust us."
"Yeah I don't!" Dean growled. "You're—"
"Monsters." Her voice had gone cold and Dean blinked. That had been what he was about to say. He looked back and searched for Gail's eyes, they were hard as flint in the darkness. "Don't try my patience Dean, so far I've been nice." Somehow her eyes managed to harden even more. "You don't want me to get nasty."
Dean sucked in a heady breath. His heart had begun to beat a little more rapidly. He wasn't afraid of her. He wasn't. He'd seen worse. "I've stared down angels and demons." He growled. "And honey, they're a hell of a lot more scary than you!"
"Right now, I'm still being good, Dean Winchester." Gail said, her voice was soft but still friendly but the smile on her lips didn't reach her eyes. Dean had once had a very similar conversation with Castiel. "I haven't harmed you. But I could. Mace and me? We're not your pets like Castiel." Dean would have disagreed with that Castiel was his friend, not his pet or his servant. "The angels' leash isn't a choke collar and the only thing that stops Mace from playing with you is me. You've irritated him, er, her enough that torturing you to death doesn't sound so bad before she leaves your body to the vultures. Don't ask me what she'd do to your soul."
"You're just a little girl." Dean snapped.
"You should know enough to know that little girls can be very scary." Gail's eyes met his knowingly and Dean felt memories of Lillith shriek through him. "I'm your protection Dean, don't make me protect you from you."
Dean watched her smile grow wicked. He had more defiance in him. His mouth a cold line, he glared at the road. They rode in silence for a long time after that.
I still need answers. Dean thought. And she's the only one whose got them. I can't ask Cas, he's pretty pissed at me right now. She's the only one and she's pissed. Dean hated her at the moment, he hated the world ending, he hated being shoved into this position. I'm not going to beg! Then he heard the traitor side, the side that always sounded like Sam, of his brain whisper. You don't have much of a choice. You can either sit here like an idiot or you can apologize. You're not going to get anywhere just seething, Dean. Dean hissed. Maybe we can teach her the error of her ways? Now that really did sound like Sam. Dean shook his head and looked at Gail. She was staring out at the road, her back was to him. She didn't seem to be much in the mood to be talking either. She's pretty pissed at me. There was a tired sigh. You insulted her, Dean. You called her a monster. How did you think she'd react? Dean growled. But she is. She's the exact kind of thing I hunt and I'm not making peace with her or her super powered inner self! There was another sigh at the back of his brain. You don't have a choice. Dean hated rationality and he hated Sam for putting him in this position and he hated his brother for being stupid enough to believe a demon and for breaking the world. But most of all, he hated having to give an insincere apology. Stupid bitch.
"I'm sorry." Dean finally croaked. "If I, uh, offended you." He glanced at Gail and felt as if the words were being wrenched out of his throat with a crowbar. "But I don't take well to being threatened."
"Welcome to the world." Gail replied. "And get over it." She sighed and Dean saw real pity on her features. "Dean," she paused and shook her head. "Winchester, no one higher up really cares about the way you feel or what you think. They're angels and that's the way it is, the way they are. You just have to learn to live with being bossed around."
"And you?"
"They boss me around too. And I do it, well, I'm not sure why I do it but I do." She sighed again. "They don't ask me either or Mace, they tell, they demand, and they order. They are stuck up, arrogant, sons of bitches and for the most part, they believe man serves them and not the other way around." She nodded. "And for the most part that's true. Man does. You and your brother broke the world. You have to live with the consequences. I'm sorry, that's just the way things are."
Dean felt a little better hearing that the angels didn't just ride him hard. That he and Sam weren't the only ones on the angels shit list. "So, they're like that with everybody?"
"Every damn blessed creature in creation." Gail replied. She looked at him, her eyes changing once again. "You shouldn't have done what you did."
"I said I'm sorry!" Dean snapped. "But you're not a peach to live with either!"
"Not me, dodo." Gail sighed. "Him." She jerked her thumb back over her shoulder at Sam. "The blood addiction?" Gail asked when she saw no recognition on Dean's face. "Making him go cold turkey?"
"Okay," Dean said. "One, how do you know about that? Two, I don't get how what we did was a bad thing. The demon blood was killing him, making him…"
"Different?" Gail asked. She cocked an eyebrow at him. "The answer to your first question is that while I couldn't sleep I was reading over your files." She tapped her chest. "The shard gives me direct access to Pinnacles databases and Mace, as an Eternal, has one of the highest clearance levels. Only the angels are higher. So I can see pretty much whatever." She paused. "Of course it isn't in English, instead it's in some sort of ancient cuneiform…"
"Cuneiform?" Dean asked. He was surprised. "Not Latin or Hebrew?"
"Christ no!" Gail laughed. She shook her head. "Anyway, to read it I have to run the text through a translation filter and that gets dicey, so I really only read the last paragraph." She shrugged. "Your file's barely more than two pages long."
Finally, it dawned on Dean. "I have a file?"
"Sure you do." Gail sighed. "Everybody who matters in any way shape or form does and that information is accessible to anybody with a shard." She threw up her hands. "Though why anyone would want to go through a few boring pages is beyond me."
"I have a file." Dean repeated, awed in spite of himself. The whole conversation was heading in a strange direction.
"Don't be slow." Gail snapped.
"So you know?"
"I know about the whole blood addiction thing. That much I could smell on him. He reeks of it." She closed her fingers over her nose, delicately, to make a point. "The Ruby thing too, and the Sixty-Six seals. Tough break."
"You don't know how tough." Dean sighed.
"Oh, I've got a pretty good idea." Gail shook her head. "You act like this is Mace's first apocalypse, I'm pretty sure I mentioned that it wasn't."
"You did."
"Clearly the message didn't sink in then."
Dean decided to change tactics. "I don't want to talk about Sam or his blood addiction. Sam's putting it behind him. He's clean."
"He's not clean." Gail said. "And you were so damn lucky."
"What do you mean?" Dean stared at her, surprised. He knew he shouldn't be, but he was. He needed to stop underestimating her, judging her on what he thought she knew or didn't know. Dean knew he should, but somehow he just kept making the same old mistake. He didn't even know how to stop.
"You made him go cold turkey, locked him in a room, let him hallucinate." Gail leaned forward. "Blood addiction is a serious thing, Dean. Blood magic itself is intensely chaotic and the changes it makes in a spell or on a person are often permanent. I could explain all night about the magic, but we'll just focus on the addiction." She lifted a finger. "One, you two idiots are probably talking about it like demon blood is the only thing you can get addicted to. It's not. All blood is addictive, especially when someone is consuming it for power. Just ask all those wanna-be vampires out there, the Sanguines. If they're not feeling the effects yet they will and when they do," a cold smile spread from ear to ear. "It's going to be absolutely hilarious."
"Get to the point!" Dean snapped. He was getting the impression that her idea of funny was the exact opposite of his.
"Blood itself can lead the user to insanity and death, even without taking a person off of it. That's the eventual conclusion. The inevitable one." She tapped her cheek. "I suppose the old saying here applies, you are what you eat. If you consume the blood of another human, nothing much will happen to you. The banality of it is so strong, I mean, you'll get addicted but it'll take longer. Anything else, you take on it's basic characteristic. Like say you were drinking the blood of a fey, all it would take is one drink and everyone would go insane. Immediately. Because that's what the fey are, chaos and madness incarnate. If you drink their blood, you will become mad like them. There are some exceptions to the rules, like vampires but we're only talking about humans."
"Sam was drinking demon blood—"
"And so became more like a demon." Gail's mouth twitched. "Though I have my doubts about these 'demons', they seem more like a weird kind of hellspawn to me."
"And if he drank your blood?"
"Probably would get really, really, really, really angry." Gail said after a momentary pause. "Then it would overload him and he'd shit bricks and die. Or something like that. Eternals don't let people feed off them. That's just the way it is."
Dean swallowed. "You paint such a pretty picture."
"I know," Gail smiled. "I'm the bright spot in hell. But blood cults of any kind are a bad idea, especially since most idiots don't know how to dispel the effects. And I'm betting that neither you nor Sam ever studied Magic 101, the rules and the laws and the kinds. Probably a bad idea to neglect that aspect of the training." She glanced at him and shrugged. "Just saying."
"I get it!" Dean snapped. "Bad idea! How do you cure it?"
"I don't know." She admitted, staring out into the darkness. "I don't know if it's the sort of thing that can be fixed or healed. I suppose that now he's been cleaned out, if he has a strong will he shouldn't go back. But that's more hope than fact." She turned her head and shrugged once more. "There's a lot of stuff I know Dean and a lot I don't. Keeps my head from exploding or me turning into a human vegetable. The human mind can only know so much and unlike the angels, Mace was born in a human body instead of possessing one. The drawback is that while it makes one practically undetectable, you are not born knowing everything. There will be much you'll never remember and most of it isn't relevant anyway."
"So the angels—"
"Everyone except humans know that they're about, the same is probably true with your demon friends. They don't try to hide themselves, they're just big broadcasting beacons saying: here I am." She chuckled. "But then, who's really gonna mess with an angel? Really? Unless you want to turn into chunky salsa real quick, most just avoid them. That's the smart thing."
Dean nodded, he could see the logic in that statement. For the moment he was done with questions and he said nothing else. Gail was more than happy to lapse back into silence as they continued down the road, growing ever closer to River Pass, Colorado and the hunt that awaited them there.
A/N: Sorry it's taken so long, I've been having some really severe writers block. Seriously, I couldn't write anything. It was so frustrating. But now... I think... I'll be able to write more. But I started school again, so updates will be stilted. I'm sorry, I just need to pass this semester.
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