This fic vaguely follows along Season Four and Five (okay, more than vaguely, but whatever), but as this is a drabble series, there will only be a couple of mentions of actual canon episodes.

Warning: Very strong language and slightly mature themes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Just the concept of this fic.

-;-

"So what exactly did you do to the gun that's got Dean in such a bad mood?"

Sasha glanced up from her book, raising a brow at- surprise surprise- Sam.

"I did absolutely nothing." She replied innocently. "Well, nothing noticeable. Dean's just sulking because you 'betrayed' him."

The younger Winchester snorted, taking a seat across from the brunette and beginning to flip through one of the books she'd grabbed- and finished- earlier.

"So, nothing to be worried about?"

Sasha rolled her eyes. Leave it to good ol' Samantha to come calling and poke his nose where it didn't belong. Not that she was all that surprised. Sam was definitely more inquisitive than Dean- she could even go so far as to say that he was something of a bloodhound. Once he was one a scent, it would take quite a bit to shake him off.

"Seriously, Sammy. Calm down." She rolled her eyes. "And while we're at it, kindly stop trying to figure out where I sleep. No one's going to tell you."

"How do you-"

"Dude. You're a seven foot tall moose. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you're not exactly subtle."

Sam settled back in his chair, crossing his arms. It was fairly clear that he didn't trust her- at all. Again- not exactly something that bothered her.

"Look. I get that you don't trust me. Frankly, I'm not asking you to. I just want to get away from my so called boss and keep you morons safe- despite the fact that you make it so damn hard on my part." The brunette started. "So just let me do my thing and we won't have any problems."

"And if I don't agree with 'your way'?" the younger Winchester challenged evenly.

Inwardly, Sasha was extremely grateful that Dean and Bobby had decided to go on a snack run. Otherwise, things could get really awkward. Not that they weren't already or anything.

She slowly shifted herself in her seat, matching Sam's stare with one of her own, arms crossing on the table and supporting her upper body.

There was silence- save for the occasional bird from outside the window- and neither of the two broke eye contact for several minutes. Sasha knew all too well that this was a dominance match- Sam wanted to get a handle on what she was like, and she was returning what she thought about it- in a calm and orderly way, she might add. Given that there was no broken furniture or blood, this was a vast improvement from what could have been happening.

Finally, she spoke.

"I don't give a flying fuck if you like the way I do things, Samuel Winchester." She said lowly, feeling the sound resonate deeply in her chest. "I'm certainly not asking for your approval and I'm certainly not going to take any of your shit. If you really have this big of a problem with me, then take me out- if you can, that is."

It was certainly a one-eighty, but to be perfectly honest, she was beginning to tire of all of this shit. Angels, Hell, all of it. She'd been perfectly content just living before the whole Hell fiasco. Now, she was all but a slave to the damned feather bags and she couldn't do jack-shit about it. Not to mention she was also tasked by said angels to keep the Winchester's safe, but as soon as she did just that, she got the beating of her life and a warning to stay away from them.

Sam's hand trailed across the table towards a silver letter-opener that Bobby had lying around for reasons that Sasha probably didn't even want to know, and the brunette remained calm, her eyes watching him easily. If that was the route that he wanted to go, she wasn't about to stop him. It would be better for him to learn the hard way why she wasn't someone to fuck around with.

"Go for it." She deadpanned once his fingers wrapped around the sharp object. "If you even know-"

In a blur of motion she wouldn't have pegged for someone his size, Sam lunged across the table and stabbed the silver as far as it would go into her chest and forcing her back in a way that caused them both to shake a pile of books off of the table and topple Sasha's chair backwards. Both landed heavily, Sam pinning the brunette to the ground.

"-what the consequences will be." She finished with a snarl, lips curling back.

The thin line of control that she'd been holding back for the last six months in the back of her mind wavered.

"What are you." Sam growled right back, grabbing her shoulders and slamming her head back into the floor.

"Figure it out, Samuel. You're the brightest little bulb, aren't you?" Sasha hissed in reply, ignoring the throbbing she could feel beginning in her still sore knee. "We've already narrowed down the list by how much? Silver and holy water really aren't doing much now, are they?"

"Shut up!"

"Why don't you go right on ahead and make me, pretty boy."