My apologies for taking so long on this chapter. And also for the language. There is just a bit more than normal, but it's nothing that you wouldn't here on the show. Enjoy!

xxxxxxxxxxx

"What are we going to do about the girls?" Dean asks his brother, taking a look in the small fridge. He knew there wouldn't be anything in there, but sometimes you just had to check.

"I don't really think that's up to us, Dean." Sam watches his brother pace across the small room. Castiel, in typical secretive angel fashion, had flown off. To look for angels, he told the brothers.

"And why don't you think it's up to us? They've pulled guns on us, it looks like the blond got a few punches in on you, and now because of them, we've got angels on our tails." Dean slams the refrigerator door, stomps over to the small table, and flops into a chair. "I say we ditch them, and get the hell out of here."

Sam shakes his head at Dean. His moods were becoming more and more erratic. Just a few hours ago, he was in over protective mode, sheltering Alex from what appeared to be a threat. Now he was ready to throw her to whatever was hunting them. "Dean, if nothing else, Alex did us a favor. We can't just 'ditch' her. Besides, she'd be able to find us pretty easily," Sam shrugs.

"Fine. What do you suggest, then? We take her with us? A tag-a-long? Or maybe drop her off at Bobby's?"

"Bobby may like to have a pretty nurse, but I doubt she'd go for it. I think she can take care of herself, if we get out of this. Besides, it'll be good to have another ally."

Dean stares at Sam. "Another ally? You mean someone else whose death will be our fault? Damn, Sammy, the best thing we can do for her is leave her here! Have Cas carve some symbols on her chest, and get the hell out of here."

"And what about Darcey? Would you do the same to her? She's going to be pissed when she wakes up."

Dean looks at his brother with cold, dead eyes. "As far as I'm concerned, we can stick her in a shallow grave."

"Dean, you're scaring me."

"I'm tired, Sammy." Dean heaves a sigh, turning his back on the room.

"And you don't think I am, too?" Sam watches his brother's back. Never, as far as he could remember, had Dean voiced such a ruthless opinion. Granted, if Darcey was going to turn them over to Zachariah and his minions, then it was a justified opinion, but until they knew for sure, he couldn't allow it. "What if I talk to her? Try to get some answers?"

Dean laughs at this. "No offense, Sammy, but the last time you talked to her, you ended up with a couple of guns pointed at you. I'll talk to her. You go check on Alex," he says, nodding his head toward the shut bathroom door.

Sam puts his hand out, stopping Dean's advance toward the now stirring Darcey. "Divide and conquer?" he asks, only to be met by Dean's nod. "Be nice," he says, turning for the bathroom door.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Darcey lays quietly on the bed, listening to the hum of voices mere feet from her, the deep rumble of the angel and Dean Winchester, the slight drawl of Sam Winchester, and the faint murmur of Alex. The bitch.

Before Alex had knocked her out, Darcey had planned to use every ounce of her feminine wiles to keep them both safe. Now, when she got herself out of this mess, she'd be sure to throw Alex to the dogs. They had been best friends for 16 years, were closer than most sisters, and she had thrown her lot in with the Winchesters. So be it, Darcey thinks.

She listens as Alex excuses herself and hides in the bathroom, and as the brothers discuss her future. From the sounds of it, it wouldn't be a very long one. A shallow grave didn't sound too horrible. At least, then she could feel the rain. She may have told Sam she hated it, but that was just a line. Get it together! She thinks to herself. OK, she couldn't outsmart Sam, but she knew she could outsmart Dean. She just had to play the right cards, make him see things in a certain light. Show time.

With a small yawn, she rolls over, blinking her dark blue eyes at the brothers. "What happened?"

"Why don't you tell us?" Dean takes the few steps toward the bed. "I want some answers. From you."

Darcey looks at him as she pulls herself up to a sitting position, wincing at the sharp pain in her head. She looks down at her cuffed hands, and then stares up at Dean through lowered eyelashes. She could play the damsel in distress if need be. "Answers? To what?"

Dean pulls a chair over from the table and perches casually on it. "I think you know 'to what'. So stop pretending you don't know what is going on. I'll start with an easy one. Why did you and Sam get into a fight?"

"Lovers quarrel," Darcey lets out a sigh. "I caught him on the phone, right after...you know," she says with a shrug and a small smile. "I have a bit of a temper, and I thought he was talking to another woman, or bragging. Either way, it did not sit well with me." That sounded like a good story, Darcey thinks to herself. And really, she only had to keep the Winchesters occupied for the next hour or so. Curiosity always did kill the cat.

xxxxxxxxx

Sam knocks on the bathroom door. "Alex, are you alright? It's...er...been an hour."

Alex reaches up to the bathroom door, unlocking it. At some point, she knew she'd have to come out. But right now, she wasn't ready to face her friend. Opening the door, Sam walks into the tiny bathroom and sees the tears in Alex's eyes. He perches on the bathtub ledge, drawing a small laugh from Alex.

"You think this is funny?" Sam asks confused.

"I'm sorry. It's just, you look funny, all folded on the ledge." Alex stands up, drying her eyes with a tissue, then propping herself on the counter. Sam moves to sit on the toilette seat.

"Yeah, I guess I did," he says, running his hands through his hair. This whole situation was kind of funny, he and his brother locked up in a motel room with two women, who may or may not want to kill them, while angels may or may not be hunting them.

"Why are you helping us? The real answer, not the 'I knew your father' answer," Sam asks. Alex seemed like the kind of person that would like things straight forward. And Castiel trusted her. His trust went a long way with both Sam and Dean.

"The real reason? Until ten days ago, I'd never given much thought to angels. And since then, I've meet three. One of them tortured a man in front of me, one of them tortured me, and the other one saved my life. So why wouldn't I help the friends of the angel that saved me?"

"I guess that's as good a reason as any."

"Believe me; we had every intention of running away. You would have never heard of us, if Castiel hadn't overheard our conversation. But running from angels is an impossible task."

"Don't I know it."?

" We're going to end up dead anyway, why not make things a little miserable for the beings that are going to cause it?"

"You sound just like Dean," Sam says with a chuckle.

"You're not the first Winchester to tell me that," Alex answers with a smile.

"You know," Sam says, standing up, "at some point you're going to have to face your friend."

"I know, Sam. But I'm not ready. I think the best thing is for you and Dean to move on, get as far away from us as possible, and forget we ever met."

"Alex, like it or not, you're a part of this now. Distance between us may seem like a good idea, but it won't keep any of us safe."

"No, it won't. But it might give you and Dean a little more time. Besides, I'm a hunter. I know how my story ends. They same as all hunters' stories end."

Sam offers Alex his hand, helping her down off the counter. "Well, there is one flaw to your 'run away' plan. We don't have a car," he says, trying to lighten the mood.

"Since when has that stopped you?" Alex asks.

They are both startled by Dean's raised voice coming from the main room, followed by his furious form, whipping open the door.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Dean didn't want to believe Darcey, but it seemed like such an honest answer. He'd met his share of bat-shit crazy women before. Hell, he'd run from one or two of them in his time. So the thought of Sam finding one made him chuckle. But only just a little.

"OK, you attacked Sam because you're a jealous bitch. I can understand that. Now for a tougher one. Alex seems to think you were going to turn us in to Zachariah. Why would she think that?"

Darcey tilts her head, thinking. She may just come out of this alive. Oh, she'd miss Alex, but she was feeling beat up, and not just a little betrayed. Besides, Darcey knew where Alex had a large stash of money, and aliases. She could be on a plane to Costa Rica within a day or two.

"Is that what she told you?" Darcey blinks wide eyes at Dean. "Dean, I would never do such a thing. You are my husband's best friend's sons. I feel like I know you. I would never do anything to disappoint my husband, or his friends." Darcey sheds two small tears. She almost believed herself.

Shit, Dean thinks to himself. Two crying women, in one night. With two differing stories.

"Dean, is that what she told you?" Darcey asks, watching the confusion on Dean's face.

"No, Alex didn't tell me. At least, not in so many words."

"I have something to tell you. But I do not think you will like it." The tears weren't really fake. Darcey wasn't crying because she was in trouble or because she was turning on her friend. She had grown to love the life she was turning her back on. As much as she may complain, it was fun, and exciting, and now it was coming to an end.

"Then spit it out," Dean growls at her.

"This was not my idea. I wanted to run, but Alex wouldn't allow it. When she puts her mind to something, she cannot be swayed. And she fully believes that you and your brother are evil. I think she has always felt that way about you. So, when given the chance to hunt you, she took it."

"I don't believe you," Dean stares at her in disbelief.

"Think about! She can 'make you disappear?' Really? Using only a computer? I think not. I would not be surprised if she was contacting Zachariah with that very same computer. If angels can use cell phones, then why not email? Alex read and re-read those silly books; she knows you always fall for the vulnerable innocents. I bet she made up some story about being tortured, didn't she?"

Darcey watches as all kinds of emotions flash across Dean's face: disbelief, anger, hurt, rage. This was a fire storm she was glad to be a spectator of.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean yells, standing up and knocking over his chair. "You better hope to hell you are telling me the truth," he points his finger at Darcey, and then storms over to the bathroom door, nearly ripping it off the hinges