Bang!
Dean slammed his fist into the girl's cheek, creating a rather bad bruise on the soft skin. None the less, she awoke.
They had tied her to a chair with iron chains and drawn a devil's trap around it.
She let her head hang to the side where the hunter had punched it, her hair obscuring her eyes.
The first thing she remembered seeing was the marble tile. She remembered stories of the chamber where The Men of Letters had gathered so many years ago. How the extravagancy of the architecture had been the best of its age, how the library had dated centuries back, even more extensive than the ones in Washington.
In awe, her eyes carefully traced upwards, greedily taking in the site of the immense amount of information that laid at the Winchester's fingertips.
"Who are you?" Dean barked, bringing the girl back to reality. Right now, she had to deal with this situation.
She flipped her long, strawberry-blonde locks over her shoulder as she turned to face Dean Winchester. She could feel her cheek already growing swollen.
In reply to his question she simply stared him in the eye. She knew her orders.
As she stared down Dean, Sam sprinkled holy water on her, as well Borax, and then cut her pale arm. Nothing.
No smoke, no burning, no screaming, no discolored blood.
She held eye contact with Dean.
Cas pushed Dean out of the way and exchanged places with him, now staring down the girl angrily, "Were you the ones who killed those angels?"
She stared back at him, emotionless.
"How?" Cas yelled.
She did not reply again.
"WHY?!" Cas screamed, slamming his hands on the arms of her chair. She did not flinch, although a small hint of regret now pooled in her eyes.
"C'mon, Cas, that's enough," Dean said, pulling Cas away from her.
If Dean had learned one thing while he was down in Hell, it was to not get emotional when torturing.
Sam took Cas away for a moment, leaving Dean and the girl alone.
"I'm going to ask you again: who are you?" Dean said slowly.
Once again, she did not reply.
Dean nodded and said, "Alright, then. We'll do this the hard way."
He proceeded to walk over to one of the long desks and shuffle through some belongings that lay on top of it. The girl strained her neck a little to inspect what objects they were and saw that they were, in fact, hers.
In fact, they were.
While Sam was tying her up, Cas and Dean and gone out in the forest and scavenged for hide out. They soon found her motorcycle next to a tree she had been camped out in. Inside the motorcycle they had found several cell phones, fake I.D.'s, credit cards, smaller, collapsible weapons. Basically anything you would find in the glove compartment of the Impala.
Also, the sword that the girl had used to kill Descartes lay on the table. This made her rather uncomfortable in her seat.
"So, you're human," Dean said nonchalantly, rifling through her I.D.'s, "And not Heather. That's too bad. I like girl's named Heather."
He smiled over at the now clearly distressing woman, very happy with the reaction he got from going through her stuff. Girls never liked it when you touched their stuff.
Dean brought the deck of I.D.'s over to her, playing around with them in his hand.
"So," Dean started, "What's your real name then."
She turned her face away and bit her lip, not answering.
"Where did you get this?" Dean asked secondly, holding up the blade that killed demons.
She closed her eyes and didn't reply.
"How did you break our angel?" Dean asked a little louder.
She didn't reply.
"How can we fix him?" Dean yelled.
She shook her head a little bit.
"Tell me!" Dean yelled, stabbing his own demon blade into her left hand that gripped the chair arm.
A small squeal escaped her lips, but no yell of pain.
Dean slowly backed off, leaving the blade in her hand. He roughly turned over her right arm to reveal a tattoo he had examined while carrying her in and taking off her jacket.
It was a ten digit number with dashes in between the first three and the last four. A phone number.
"What number is this for?" Dean asked softly, his face only inches away from hers.
She finally opened her bright green eyes and turned them towards Dean's. She had somehow regained her deadpan expression as she stared at Dean. However, Dean now saw something in her eyes that had not been there before he mentioned the number. Leverage.
Fear.
Dean gave a small smirk as he said, "Your employee?"
He roughly pushed off of her chair, pulling the knife out of her hand. She only flinched.
Dean turned his back and pulled out his cell phone, "Should I call it? Let them know you've failed?"
She didn't reply, however obviously frantic now. It looked as if she was trying to speak, but glue was stuck in the inside of her mouth. Her eyes pleaded though.
"Fine," Dean said, starting to dial the number. Right before he hit the call button, though, she broke.
"No! Stop!" her small, equally as petite voice finally yelled. Dean paused, waiting for her to go on. She looked down at the ground, clearly ashamed in herself for cracking.
"My name is Brittney," she took a deep breath and looked up at Dean with a fake sort of confidence before continuing, "I'll heal Castiel. You can even kill me afterwards. But please..."
Dean turned his full body back to her, a little surprised that she knew Cas by name, and at how wholly frightened she was at the idea of Dean calling the number. He waited for her to finish, though.
Her lip quivered, she was fighting back genuine tears now as she stared up at the man, really pleading this time as she barely whispered, "Just please don't call that number."
Sam had taken Cas into the his own room to calm down.
Cas sat on the bed like big child, pouting at not being allowed to participate in the torture.
"I do not understand," Cas frowned at Sam, "She killed my brethren. Why don't I get to interrogate her?"
"Because your emotions will compromise you," Sam said calmly, furrowing his eyebrows upwards, feeling sympathy for the angel.
"So..." Cas pouted, crossing his arms.
Just then, Dean entered, pushing Brittney roughly in front of him.
They all stood up and looked down at the short woman. She stared at Cas, though, looking angry and frightened at the same time by the angel.
"Everyone," Dean announced, "this is Brittney. She's agreed to bring back Cas's powers."
Dean shoved Brittney forward towards Cas after an awkward moment of silence. She looked the angel up and down skeptically before turning to Dean and saying, "I'll need my utility belt."
Dean returned soon with the utility belt in hand. The scene had not changed. Sam guarded Brittney from behind as she uncomfortably tried to avoid Cas's furious eyes that stared down at her without rest.
"Here," Dean barked as he tossed the utility belt onto the bed in front of her.
She took a small gulp and said in a small voice to Cas, "You'll need to sit down, please."
Cas looked over to Dean for approval. Dean nodded and, hesitantly, Cas sat down on the bed.
As Brittney went through the utility belt to find what she was looking for, Sam pulled Dean aside and whispered, "What if this is a trap?"
"What?" Dean replied, unbelieving.
"What if whatever she's about to put in Cas is going to kill him? Separate his wings, or whatever?" Sam continued a little more urgently.
"She seemed pretty genuine, Sammy," Dean replied.
"Yeah, she was convincing as a regular partygoer when she pulled you out of the way of the bus, too!"
"Well what do you want to do then? Just let Cas stay human?" Dean remarked.
A small cough came resonated from behind them that came from Brittney. They turned around to look at her, seeing that she held a seemingly proscribed eye dropper.
"I'm ready," her small voice announced.
"Wait," Dean said. She stood still.
"What's in that?" Dean continued.
Brittney rolled her eyes, "Angel medicine. I don't know, I'm not a scientist."
"What will it do if you put it on us first?" Sam asked shortly.
"You'd probably explode," she replied equally as shortly.
Sam and Dean looked at each other with wide eyes and then back to her. Dean sputtered out, astonished, "Then you're not puttin' it in him!"
"Well, your human body couldn't handle it, now could you? It's for angels, not humans," Brittney explained with an impatient sigh.
"Here," she said, turning to the desk that resided in the room, "Watch."
She let one of drops of the clear liquid drop on the wood of the table.
Immediately after hitting the table, a small, Bonsai looking tree grew on the desk where the liquid had landed.
Sam, Dean, and Cas's eyes grew even wider in astonishment than before.
They quickly moved over to the desk and looked at the tree in complete awe.
"Is that—?" Cas started.
"One hundred percent distilled grace. Yep," She said proudly with a little bounce on her heels.
"Where did you get that?" Dean asked, poking at the tree's leaves.
Brittney shrugged, "I don't know."
Before she allowed Dean, Sam, or Cas to ask any more questions, though, she followed up with, "So do you want me to put it in your angel or not?"
They all stood up straight and looked to one another. Slowly, they nodded.
Cas sat back down on the bed. Brittney kneeled down beside him on the bed and gently put her hand on his forehead, muttering, "Put your head back."
He complied and she gently plopped three drops of the grace into each eye.
Cas blinked a few times, looked to Sam, then to Dean, and blinked again.
"Well," Dean asked, "Feel any different?"
With a swish of feathers Cas had disappeared from the bed. In the same second he reappeared next to Dean, causing both the men to jump. Cas gave a throaty giggle, glad to be an angel again.
"Happy?" Brittney asked.
Dean grimaced at the pretty girl and replied, "Not just yet."
He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room as she protested: "Hey! Let me go! I fixed your stupid angel, ok?"
Before she could get one more syllable out, though, Dean had pushed her into another empty room and looked at her with a fake smile, saying, "Right, but remember what you said? You said I could kill you afterwards."
And with that Dean slammed the door shut and locked it. A series of pounding fists in protest followed afterwards.
He turned to Sam and Cas who now stood in front of him in astonishment. Dean smiled at them and said over the knocks from the inside of the room, "This is gonna be fun."
