**Supernatural does not belong to me, nor do any of its characters** Sorry for the delayed update, I've been insanely busy lately, but I'm still working on Morgan's story I swear, please bear with me. Morgan might be very sore at the moment, but her physical discomfort will fade while her guilt was alleviated with the punishment she practically asked for, neither brother wanted to spank her in the last chapter, but after realizing how she felt they knew it was all they could do to help her move on from those feelings. I'm really happy to see that people understood that, I know it was a harsh punishment, but she earned it and truthfully, I think they could've been much harsher. I hope you enjoy the newest installment, I hope it won't take as long for me to update the next chapter.
Jenny had fallen back asleep when Morgan returned to check on her a little while later before returning to lying face down on her bed, her bottom still throbbed with dull pain. Even though she knew she'd never go back to Mr. Kirk's class, Morgan continued pouring through the end of her history text book for lack of a better distraction. She didn't know what to do with the text messages from her teammates. Ex-teammates. What could be said? 'I'm sorry I missed the most important game of the year because our teachers were vampires and killing the guy I have a crush on in the school basement, but it's okay because my brothers kill monsters for a living'. Honesty was probably not the best policy in the current circumstance and she finally decided to continue ignoring the messages.
Finally, she heard low voices and heavy footsteps in the tiled hallway of the bunker. Slowly sliding her feet to the floor, Morgan left her room to find the others. No one was in the hallway and their muffled voices grew louder as she walked towards the library.
"Look, I appreciate your concern," Bryan's tone was firm as she approached the open room, realizing they were in the library, "but this isn't a fight I'm runnin' from, not anymore."
"Kid," Dean's voice matched the hardness in the younger man's, "you get in this, you don't get out, like ever, you don't get a real life, you fight 'til you die and that'll be a lot sooner than later in this job."
"I am in this," Bryan retorted, Morgan stayed close to the wall in the hallway, listening intently, "I've always been in this, I was born into this, I'm done hidin' from it. Fighting is the only option, 'n I'd like to not start now, with you, but if you're gonna try 'n stop me that's where we're gonna end up."
Morgan's stomach twisted with nerves at the confident challenge Bryan set on her brother, a man she was sure would never lose a fight and hoped he didn't accept. Sighing quietly with relief when her typically more reasonable brother broke in with an even tone.
"Dean," Sam interjected calmly, "let it go, for now¸ Bryan, I'm in full agreement with him, but right now you need to heal, no body's fightin' anything 'n you certainly aren't with that stitch ripped open," there was silence for a few moments, "A'right, good, now drop it, both of you."
"Bryan, c'mon," Claire sounded sweet and Morgan heard steps descending the library stairs, "let's get'cha cleaned up."
Morgan took a deep breath and walked into the open room as if she hadn't halted her progress to eavesdrop the almost argument. Bryan's hand was gripped tightly to the railing as he struggled a bit on each step, Claire wasn't supporting him, but hovered closely by his side. A patch of blood was seeping through the side of his t-shirt and she couldn't help covering her mouth trying to hide her shocked horror. When he saw her, a small smile graced his pale face.
"Hey," his tone lost all hardness as he addressed her.
"Hey," she smiled back, focusing on his handsome face instead of the blood stain.
"Well that was an enthralling conversation," Claire commented after a few moments of silence, "C'mon, we gotta get that cut cleaned."
"Least there's still some scotch," he raised his eyebrows at Morgan, earning a small giggle as he let the blonde lead him slowly down the hallway.
"Morgan," Dean's deep voice called from the top of the stairs.
"Yeah?" she grimaced taking a few of the steps, finding the incline uncomfortable for her sore backside, but pulled herself up the stairs.
"How's Jenny?" Dean asked, Sam pulled her head towards him, giving her a quick kiss on her dark hair as he moved passed, leaving the library with two large duffel bags slung across his chest.
"Seems okay," Morgan shrugged, "had some bacon 'n coffee 'n went back t'sleep."
He nodded at her response, raising his eyebrows with a little hidden concern, "An' how 'r you?"
"Okay," she nodded and gave him a tiny, tightlipped smile, "lil sore."
"I bet," he scoffed lightly.
"How was Bryan's 'n, everything?" she asked timidly.
"Got what he needs," Dean told her, "said his good-byes, but he's kinda bein' a pain in the ass about goin' to a safe house when he's healed up."
"Can you blame him?" Morgan knew her question was borderline insubordinate, but asked it anyway, relieved when Dean's expression acknowledged his true understanding of the younger man.
"No, but I'd still like t'try 'n keep him from killin' himself if I can," he said.
"I appreciate that," Morgan smirked.
"He's a good kid," Dean admitted, "stubborn as hell, though."
"That sounds like something you can understand," she smiled as he chuckled with a conceding nod.
"Seems to have a good head on his shoulders," Dean shrugged, "considering everything that's happened I'm surprised he's stayed so level headed."
"So maybe you shouldn't try 'n keep him away from hunting," Morgan offered quietly.
Dean narrowed his eyes a little, "He's young and smart, and I'd've thought after everything you've seen, watchin' Sam 'n me for months on one endless hunt after another, you'd want better for Bryan than this life."
Her stomach twisted at his words and she felt her sore bottom throb again as he continued staring at her with a no nonsense look, Morgan nodded, unable to find a response and hoped her quiet understanding gesture would suffice. He nodded curtly, apparently satisfied she'd gotten his point.
"D'ja take those steaks out?" Dean changed the subject and she nodded as he pulled his ringing phone from his jeans pocket, Morgan couldn't help a tiny smirk seeing '666' across the screen before he slid his finger to answer and walked passed her down the stairs, "What? – He's been a bit MIA lately, why? – Crowley, live under a bridge with y'r'goddamn riddles," he growled, "What the hell are you talking about?" Dean left down the hallway towards the garage and his voice faded quickly.
Morgan wondered what Crowley was calling Dean about as she slowly shuffled back down the opposite hall towards the kitchen. Sam was walking out of Bryan's room, free of the overstuffed duffels, and smiled at her as he approached, walking into the kitchen together.
"Bryan's a strong guy," Sam told her, poking at the steaks in the sink, "it wasn't an easy day, I could tell it was hard on him, but he really stepped up."
"Yeah," Morgan nodded, "I can't imagine."
"Dean comin' in?" Sam glanced at the doorway, pulling the steaks from the cool water and shaking drops off the plastic wrapping before tossing them on the counter.
"Crowley called," she told him and Sam whipped his head at her with a concerned expression.
"Why?" his tone hardened.
"I'm sure you'll find out," Morgan shrugged, "he walked off towards the garage."
Sam took a few steps towards the doorway just as Dean entered the kitchen, his expression was concerning, narrow eyes and flared nostrils were a sure sign their older brother was either moments from an explosion or had recently had one.
"Can I talk t'you?" he growled, jerking his head at Sam to follow him and they both exited towards their bedrooms.
Morgan wanted to know what was going on, Dean was obviously worried or angry about something, but as the door to Sam's room shut, she knew it was bad idea to push her luck by trying to overhear them. Peeling the plastic apart on each steak, she set all six around a large platter, sprinkling them with salt on both sides. Dean was insistent that a good piece of meat didn't need a bunch of spices or sauce and none of the Winchesters were fans of pepper. Dean had a beautiful Weber grill set up in the garage and loved pulling the doors open while searing up a few steaks, it was nice to see him relaxed and smiling every time he heard the sizzle of raw meat hitting the hot irons.
A sudden loud yell, unmistakably Sam's, startled her as she set the salt back on the shelf.
"Sam! Wait!" Dean barked as the door flew open and a moment later Sam stormed into the kitchen looking furious.
"We're done with the secret crap, Dean!" Sam challenged loudly, turning on his brother as Dean stomped in behind him, "Keeping each other in the dark is what we just said we weren't gonna do!"
"Jeezus, Sam!" Dean yelled at full volume, "I'm not gonna keep this from her! But I thought you 'n I could have a goddamn conversation about it first! If I knew you were gonna go off like this I'd've just told her first! Keep your damn head on, Sam!"
Sam still seethed with anger and worry, but said nothing, silently conceding to his brother and Morgan took the opportunity to find out what they were concerned about.
"What the hell is going on?" she didn't yell, but made her tone as firm as she could.
Dean's head dipped and he pointed to the table, "Sit down, Morgan."
"I'd rather not," she said, catching a small smirk her brothers shared.
"Okay, yeah," Dean nodded, "Look, I, uh, found out what's goin' on with Cas, there's, uh, well we have a problem."
"What?" Morgan insisted.
"You have demons on your trail, darling," a gravelly accent sent shivers down her spine as Morgan and her brothers turned to Crowley sitting at their kitchen table, "Princes of Hell, actually, a bit more nerve wracking than your average black-eyed Joe."
"Princes of Hell?" she repeated slowly, feeling Dean's strong arm around her shoulders.
"Quite," the King of Hell nodded slowly, "A small, powerful group, the oldest demons after Lilith, hand formed by Lucifer himself. They've enjoyed solitude for centuries, even turning the other cheek when your brother here killed their brother," all three Winchesters inclined their heads at the demon identically, "Azazel ring a bell?" Dean's hand gripped her shoulder a little tighter, "While they accepted his death was due to his obsession with a plan they all thought was a lost cause, murdering their master was not an attack they're willing to let go unpunished."
"So we've got a team of yellow-eyes on our asses?" Dean growled, "Great. How many?"
"You've already taken care of Azazel," Crowley reminded, "So that leaves Ramiel, Dagon and Asmodeous."
"Three," Sam shrugged, "doesn't seem so bad."
"You remember what it took t'kill yellow-eyes?" Dean scoffed and Sam hung his head a little, nodding slowly.
"Why are you telling us this?" Morgan narrowed her eyes at Crowley, watching a snide grin grow across his lips.
"You know I have a bit of a soft spot for you my little witch," he nearly crooned.
"I'm not a witch anymore," she reminded him, feeling a pang of longing in her gut as she said the words.
"Doesn't mean you can't be again," he smirked and she felt Dean's hand tighten again as a flutter emanated in her stomach.
"What-" she began.
"No," Dean interjected firmly, "no damn deals, no demon magic, not happenin'. Can we get back to the problem at hand?"
"No one said anything about demon magic," Crowley said simply, "and having a witch on your team has proved useful in the past, one could argue the issues are related."
No one spoke, but Morgan slowly glanced up at her oldest brother through her long eyelashes, almost pleadingly, trying to decipher his thoughts. However, two distinctly different inhales from the doorway changed the Winchesters' focus to Bryan and Claire. The blonde looked surprised at the formerly familiar presence, the young man, however, glared at Crowley, his shoulders lowered.
Everything happened quickly as the demon smiled back and flashed his red eyes at the newcomer, Dean hardly had a chance to push Morgan out of the way and wrap his arms around the young man before Bryan barreled towards Crowley, who remained unmoved with the same snarky grin. Sam helped his brother restrain the wildly angry teenager as Bryan actually roared in frustration.
"Easy Simba," the demon chuckled, "Timon, Pumba, call off your cat."
"C'mon, kid, it's okay, really," Dean pulled him back, keeping himself between Bryan and Crowley.
"Really?!" Bryan spat, "It's okay!? There's a fucking demon in y'r'kitchen!"
"King of Hell, actually," Crowley waved, "Morgan, darling, is this your boyfriend?"
"CROWLEY!" Sam and Dean barked together as Morgan blushed madly and turned away from the smiling demon.
"What's going on?" Claire questioned the entire room in the momentary break from chaos.
"We'll talk about it later," Dean growled around the young man he was still keeping from approaching on Crowley.
"No! I'd like t'know why the King of Hell is sitting at a hunter's table like he's invited t'dinner," Bryan growled right back.
"Kid," Dean sighed, "sometimes, in this life, things aren't always black and white."
"Sir," Bryan bit his words out slowly, "that's crap. My father taught me if it's a monster, you kill it. Ghosts, vampires, witches, find 'em, kill 'em."
Morgan felt her throat tighten, tears stinging her eyes and before she could stop herself a sob broke passed her lips, bolting from the kitchen to the safety of her bedroom. The moment Crowley had mentioned regaining her powers she'd felt elated at the idea and Bryan's words had stabbed her in the heart that for most of her life had known the pulse of magic.
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