A/N: Whoop, there it is.
Frankie stared through the window at the passing world. The ride from the Supernatural Convention went quiet after Sam and Dean finished the tale of their wild adventure with Leticia Gore, her son, and the three murderous boys that hunted down the superfans.
Frankie didn't retain a word they said.
The old her would have hung onto every word. The old her would have questioned them on what Leticia Gore looked like or how they managed to nearly have their heads scalped by little boys. However, the old her didn't know what she knew now.
She was living the last few days of her life.
It didn't feel real. There was air in her lungs. She could move her fingers and toes. It didn't click in her head that by Thursday the air would be gone, that her fingers and toes would wiggle for the last time.
Time seemed like an afterthought when one was thinking over their foreseeable demise. She didn't know how long they had been driving for. She didn't know when mountains turned into forests. She didn't know how long Sam had been staring at her through the rearview mirror. All she could see was Chuck's eyes on that stage when the truth came forth. All she could think of was the many black letters in that damn book spelling out the inevitable.
The Impala vibrated as Dean pulled off the road into gravel. He parked in front of a shabby and vacant rest stop. He and Sam stepped out of the Impala at the same moment. Frankie didn't feel like using the rest stop. Whether or not she had to go to the bathroom didn't matter. It took too much energy to move her legs, and all the energy she had left was being spent wondering what she was supposed to do with the final two days she had left.
Dean tapped on the glass with his knuckles, making her flinch in surprise. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder, motioning for her to join them. Frankie didn't feel like doing anything. Moving, talking, breathing, it all seemed useless now.
He lifted an expecting eyebrow. Frankie knew it would make things worse to ignore his command. A small huff blew from her nostrils as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door. Her feet crunched against the gravel as she exited the Impala. Sam and Dean stood on the other side of the car in front of the dilapidated shack of a building.
She shoved her hands into her pockets as she approached them. A normal reaction would be to ask them what they were doing or to at least lift an expecting brow of her own. Her face wilted the moment they left the hotel and it hadn't changed since. A frown and a matching pair of hallow, despairing eyes defined her sunken features. It was clear that her brothers wondered what haunted her so, but they kept their minds to their current mission.
Dean closed his eyes. "Cas. Zap your ass down here. We gotta talk."
Almost instantaneously, Castiel appeared with the soft sound of fluttering wings and shifting gravel. "Hello," he greeted, his voice as monotone as usual.
The sight of Castiel nearly brightened Frankie's eyes. Nearly.
"Well, good," Dean said with a tight, unsmiling smile. "Now that we're all here together, one big happy family, let me make something perfectly clear." He held up a hand, gesturing between Castiel and Frankie. "This whole secret relationship you two got going on? It ends now. Okay? No more secrets."
Castiel looked over to Frankie. She kept her eyes to the ground.
"I've had it with people lying to my face. Cas, we asked for your help over and over again, and what did you say?" Dean mocked Cas' monotonous mannerisms. "'I can't find her. I don't know where she is.' Then we hafta hear from Frankie that you've known where she's been since she left!" Cas' eyes flicked to his shoes. "So tell me, man. What's so important that you hafta go off and lie to us? To me, Cas."
When the angel's eyes returned to Frankie, Sam stepped in while crossing his arms. "Frankie, you mentioned Cas promised you he would keep you safe from harm."
"Why?" Dean practically barked, pointing his steely eyes at the angel. "I wanna know everything. When did you two even start talking to each other?"
Frankie swallowed to loosen her throat. It was tight and dry. She knew she needed to tell them, but her damn fear had its fingers pressed to her windpipe.
"I will tell them if you want me to," Cas muttered to her, his voice as gentle as it could be with his gruff tone. Sam and Dean shared a befuddled look before returning to the two.
Frankie shook her head and cleared her throat. "No," she rasped. She swallowed again to try and clear her voice. "No, that's okay." She took in a deep breath, finally looking her brothers in the eye. "When you were taken by angels," she said to Dean, "I prayed to Castiel for help. I didn't know what else to do, and… well, he was the only angel I knew of that didn't try to kill me. He told me he was guarding you, and I begged him to let you go. I tried to convince him that he didn't need to be the bad guy. I guess it worked, I dunno." Her half-smile was half-assed. "That was the first time we actually talked. The next time we met, it was actually in a dream. It was after I was let out of the hospital. He said he had something important to tell me, and he didn't wanna risk anyone else hearing it."
Sam and Dean looked very interested now. Dean joined his brother in crossing his arms.
"What did you tell her?" Sam asked Castiel, shooting him a probing look.
Castiel sent Frankie another questioning glance. He was silently asking for permission to answer Sam's question, seeing as it was directed to him. Frankie pressed her lips together in an attempt at a small smile and nodded her head.
Castiel gazed back to the boys with encumbered eyes. "Frankie is not an ordinary human. She is to be protected."
Dean shook his head. "Okay, neat. Why?"
Castiel's sigh was quiet, barely audible. "When I first saw her, I noticed that her soul burned brighter than either of yours. This isn't a novel occurrence. It appears in specific humans. Joan of Arc, Gandhi, the Virgin Mary…" Frankie narrowed her eyes. "I was confused and, I suppose, interested as to who this girl was, and why she was with you. I gazed through her into her mind and into her soul. That was when I saw something, a mark. At the time, I assumed it was nothing special. Perhaps I was just seeing things. It wasn't until our next meeting that it was clear to me that she was harboring a branded soul."
Dean's brows furrowed. Sam's eyes widened.
"Branded? W-What does that mean?" Sam asked, adjusting his feet in the gravel.
"It means that at some point in time, Heaven had a use for Frankie. They planned to use her in some manner, similar to the way they use prophets. Even true vessels have a mark of some sort on their souls." The boys had uneasy twinges in their eyes. "What's curious is that she is neither a prophet nor a vessel."
"Alright, so what is she?" Dean bit. His eyes snapped over to his sister. "What do they need you for?"
A cloud fogged over Frankie's eyes. They were lost to the forest behind her brothers, unfocused and misty. "I would give anything to know," she rasped. "The past couple weeks, Cas' been trying to figure that out. But… the other night, my 'guardian archangel' dropped in for a visit." Frankie's eyes refocused on her brothers. They wore equally muddled faces. "Gabriel."
"Wha- Gabriel?!" Sam exclaimed. "He's your archangel?!"
"Unfortunately," Frankie sighed. "And that's why my face is fixed." Frankie gestured weakly to her face. "Gabriel. He came into my motel room and told me that… h-he told me…"
After everything, she still couldn't get it out with feeling the prodding thorns of disappointment and failure.
"Heaven decided to ignore her significance until the Apocalypse came to fruition," Castiel finished. "Since you two are putting up much more of a fight than expected, she is the least of their worries."
Frankie's cheeks warmed in anticipation as she waited for her brothers' voices. She clenched her fists in her pockets.
"You've known about this since we left the hospital?" Sam snapped.
"And you didn't think even once to tell us about this?!" Dean barked, stepping towards Frankie. She feebly stepped back.
"Are you kidding?" she breathed out. "I wanted to tell y'all the moment Cas told me. But…"
She couldn't tell them the whole truth. The whole truth would put all the blame on Castiel. He was the one who suggested they keep it a secret from them despite her reluctance. Even though it was kind of his fault, she didn't want Sam and Dean to be madder at him than they already were.
"But we agreed it would be best to not mention it to y'all until we fully understood it ourselves."
"And how well'd that work out for you?" Dean growled, stretching his arms out in an exaggerated gesture.
"Wait, does Meg know about this?" Sam ardently asked. "She possessed you. Does she know?"
Frankie tried to swallow. It hurt going down her tight throat. She shakily nodded.
Sam pressed his hands onto his hips, repressing his rage behind a loud huff. He looked down to the ground as he reeled in his anger.
"Sonnuva bitch," Dean grumbled under his breath, turning away from Frankie and Castiel. "Is that why Lucifer wants you?"
"No. No, I-I don't think so. He's much more interested in Sam and Dean's little sister than Heaven's Plan B, anyway."
"Yeah, well, forgive me if that doesn't make me feel better about this," Dean spat.
"And you don't know that for sure, anyway," Sam scoffed, finally looking up from his tiny fit. "You don't know how useful this information is to him. Unless there's more you're not telling us."
Frankie's eyes blurred with rising tears.
"Well don't keep us in suspense, Frankie." She lifted her eyes to Dean, careful to not spill the tears in them. "What else are you keeping from us?"
Frankie shook her head, her bangs tapping against her cheeks. Her throat squeezed like a python's belly. "Could you… could you please not yell?" she squeaked.
Dean blinked, furrowing his brows. "Not yell- she wants me to not yell," he hostilely muttered as he turned his head to Sam.
"Well, what do you want us to do?" Sam asked, shrugging his broad shoulders. "You and Cas have been keeping all this from us and you don't expect us to be pissed off?" He shook his head, his hair bouncing off his face in the same way as hers had. "How're we supposed to react?"
Frankie gulped and took a deep breath. "Believe me, y'all have every right to be mad. It's just…" She sighed and brought a hand up to her face. "There's no time to be angry."
Dean's brows shot up. "No time? No ti-," he scoffed. He shuffled his feet in the gravel as his voice lowered to a growl. "Okay, Frankie. You're right. There's no time for this, so why don't you go lay down, take a nap, and check back in with us when you decide to be a freakin' adult!"
That voice – hardened by frustration and strident with rage – acted as the two hands needed to shove Frankie right over the sheer cliff of despair.
Her eyes flooded, finally spilling over like an overflowing sink. She sucked in a stuttering breath and exhaled a shuddering sob. She hugged her arms, her only defense against the failure of a stoic stance against her brothers' anger.
Sam and Dean watched with battling emotions of exasperation and concern as their sister broke down in front of them.
"What's wrong?" Dean huffed.
She forced a hand to her eyes, trying to soak up her tears through her skin.
"Frankie?" Sam pressed with worry under his voice.
The sound of the gravel next to her shifting sounded before Castiel's gruff yet gentle voice did. "Are you alright?" She could practically see the confused squint in his eyes.
She shook her head and sucked in a sharp breath. "No, u-uh," she stammered. "I, uh, I'm not-… I…" She lifted her head, but kept her eyes closed. The tears did not cease bubbling under her lashes. "I learned something dis-disturbing at the convention."
Dean groaned under his breath. "You sat in on that 'Homoerotic Subtext' panel, didn't you?"
Frankie opened her blurry, wet eyes to glare at her brother. Sam did the same. Dean held up his hands in a weak defense against their unamused scowls.
"What did you learn?" Sam asked, looking back at her.
Frankie looked into the now negotiating eyes of Sam. Behind the calculating gaze – the one that always scrutinized every situation – was the kind glint of the brother she used to know. The one that offered her a ride to her motel, the one that was certain she was his family the day they met. He was still in there, buried under the determined and reckless man who secretly sought justification for his faulty decisions.
She looked into the irate eyes of Dean, just as she had done many times before. Her heart ached as she gazed into them now. Months ago, she only wanted to impress him. She wanted to be the best student he could ever ask for. And more than that, she wanted to prove that she was worthy of being his family. She wanted to live up to the Winchester legacy. Now, she was a joke. She ran out on him, and in doing so, she made him believe it was his fault. It was hers for not being able to be a good student, a good sister. She failed him. And she was going to go out a failure.
She sniffed. A tear warmed her pink cheek. Her lungs were only able to take in a small, trembling breath.
"I'm gunna die."
She didn't take in a single breath in the following silent seconds. Her lungs blazed, desperately pleading for her to suck in air, but she was too afraid when her brothers were looking at her the way they were.
They blinked, their eyes narrowed and mouths slightly agape. Even Cas stared at her with those squinted eyes and his damn tilted head.
"What?" Sam and Dean blurted together.
"What do you mean?" Cas asked right after.
Frankie finally inhaled – coughing slightly as she did – and let out a great sigh. "I'm in Chuck's latest book. Right?" Her brothers nodded. Cas' eyes squinted more. Frankie licked her lips, slowly inhaling through her nose. "I don't make it to the cover."
Just saying it aloud caused her breath to hitch, another sob threatening to crawl up her throat. She swallowed it down before it could do more damage.
"Chuck predicted my death. And he wrote it into the book. You… know what that means?"
They didn't need to confirm it. They all knew – all three of them.
"You're sure?" Dean grunted, his eyes now wide and shining with apprehension.
Frankie bitterly shrugged. "The fans sure seemed to think so. Chuck certainly didn't help by telling me himself."
Sam gawked, bringing a hand to his mouth and rubbing it as the information sank in. Dean shook his head before speaking again.
"Well that don't mean anything. Not everything he writes comes true. We've changed things up before."
Sam's head shook as he slowly removed his hand from his mouth. "We tried to change things. It never worked. It always came right back around and found a way."
Dean's eyes lingered on Sam. His head reeled, trying to find any evidence of that not being true. When he couldn't, he turned to Castiel. "There's a way to change it, right?"
The angel was quiet for a long moment. His eyes were pointed to the gravel, a somber look behind his blue irises. He slowly lifted them, yet didn't look at any of the Winchesters.
"What the prophet has written will come to pass. He writes God's Word into his books. That cannot be altered." His eyes found Frankie's. Her breath hitched a second time when their gazes connected. "If it is written… Frankie will die."
The crack in Frankie's heart was so severe that she could swear the others heard it. But her eyes did not spill with tears. Her throat gave no shocked gasp. This was old news to her. It only pained her to see the hope drain from Sam and Dean's faces.
Sam's throat bobbed as he audibly gulped. "How?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper.
Frankie's shoulders were too heavy to pull into a shrug. "He wouldn't tell me. Something about 'not knowing too much about my own destiny.'"
Sam nodded. Dean glared at everything but the girl herself.
"When?" he grunted, more spite in his voice than Sam's. "Do you know when?"
Frankie's lip quivered. She bit down on it to stop its incessant shake. She hugged her arms tighter.
"Thursday."
The stunned silence sucked the life out of their surroundings. The birds stopped chirping. They seemed to disappear altogether. The wind vanished, hushing the leaves awning them. Whatever had been rustling in the nearby bushes stilled.
"Thursday?" Sam breathed out, incredulously. His eyes glistened in the sunlight, displaying the utter despair in them.
Dean had been still for the longest time, but once Sam whispered that damn word, he refused to dwell on it. He forced a deep breath into his lungs as he stepped towards Frankie. He resonated such an aura of anger that she was unable to move a single muscle in its presence.
"You listen to me," he growled, his eyes impaling hers. "You're not dying Thursday or next week or ever, you hear me? You are not dying."
Frankie used whatever air that was left in her lungs to answer him. "B-But the prophesy-"
"Screw the prophesy!" he shouted. He looked up to the sky, holding his arms out to whatever listened. "Huh! Screw the damn prophesy!" He threw his attention back to Frankie, stepping closer to her. He grasped her shoulders, giving them a small shake. "You can leave once, but, dammit…!" For a split second, Frankie saw through the crack in his tough façade. She saw fear. "You're not getting off that easily again."
Frankie gazed sorrowfully into his broken eyes. He tried so hard to come off as determined and encouraging, but he couldn't hide from her. He never could. She saw that he was scared. He knew this was something he had no control over, but that wouldn't stop him from trying everything he could to stop the inevitable.
He wouldn't lose her again.
He held up a pointing finger, aiming it at her. "You: you're not dying." He pointed his finger at Castiel. "And you… no more lying, dude. I will kick your ass."
Cas nodded, disappointment coating his mechanical face. "Understood. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, whatever." Dean turned back to Frankie. His eyes lingered on hers for a few moments. Something ran through his head when gazing down at her. Whatever it was had saddened him, but he shrugged it off with a sigh. "You and Sam go back to the car. I'll be there in a sec."
Frankie nodded her head and turned around to go back to the Impala. Though she wanted to say something, or maybe just smile and nod, her student instinct kicked back in for the first time in ages. She had to follow rule number one, no matter how long it had been since she last did.
She and Sam sat back in the Impala as Dean spoke to Cas about something. Whatever it was that they were talking about, it was serious enough to cause Castiel's eyebrows to narrow and his eyes to harden. He nodded before flying off, almost like he was sent on some sort of mission.
Dean returned to the driver's seat and got back onto the road. The three refused to say a word. Enough had been said. All that was left to do was think about the new development and wonder what the hell they were going to do about it.
A long while passed in the Impala. The longer they were on the road, the more Frankie felt sick. Not nauseous, like a kid on a long road trip with a belly full of Skittles and Coke. She felt the kind of sick that wasn't so quick. She felt sickness like it had been when she lived in Alabama.
It was sitting within her, just waiting for its time to shine. The faint, dull dormant ache was a constant reminder that her death was just over that next hill. This time, the hill was smaller. She could practically see right over it.
Every passing hour, minute, second felt like it was going to waste. Were these going to be the final moments she took down with her? Gazing out a window and feeling sorry for herself? She had done that far too much in her life.
The trees stopped spawning through the glass long enough for Frankie to notice a shimmering sky. Her head perked up. It wasn't a sky, but a large lake, glistening blue from the reflection of the vast sky above it.
A deep want pulled in her chest. She wanted to stand on that pier. She wanted to inhale the musty smell of the water. She wanted to feel it on her toes. It would certainly be the last time she ever did.
"Can we pull over?" she peeped from the backseat.
Dean looked at her through the rearview mirror. "Why?" His brows furrowed when she went quiet. Her eyes were filled with sadness as she looked out to the lake. Dean tapped his finger thoughtfully against the steering wheel, before sighing and turning it off the road. He parked his car in front of a small shack with busted windows. "Okay, what's up-," he went to ask the girl, but she was already out of the car. He and Sam shared a confused look before following her out of the car.
"Frankie!" Sam called out. She was already walking onto the pier that stretched out over the water. "What's going on with her?"
"Beats me," Dean huffed.
Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother. "You know her more than me. She ever done this before?"
"Eh, yeah. There was that time in Alabama after her house got… sold…"
It dawned on Dean that she was doing this to cope. Back in Alabama, her world felt like it was crumbling when she found out her childhood home was given to someone else and that all her memories were shoved into a storage unit. She felt like she lost the last thing that made her who she used to be. A Pearce.
Now, she had come clean about her soul being marked up and learned that she was going to die before Heaven did anything about it. He didn't blame her for needing a moment to herself.
He flinched out of his thoughts when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He picked it up and flipped it open. He hummed as he answered the call and lifted it to his ear. "Cas. Talk to me." Sam leaned against the hood of the Impala and looked out to the pier, gazing worriedly at his sister. "'Going down?' Right. Okay, Huggy Bear." Sam glanced back at his brother with a brow quirked. "Just don't lose him." Cas agreed and hung up. Dean shoved his phone back into his pocket and returned his eyes to Frankie on the pier.
He sighed and walked over the pier. Sam followed behind him, keeping his distance. His eyes narrowed on the girl as she stood at the end of the pier, gazing out to the ruffling waves on the lake's surface. His feet stopped next to hers. He glanced down at her before looking out to the water.
"You okay?"
"No," she immediately answered. Dean nodded, his eyes flagging for a moment. "I just… I just needed a moment. Thanks."
"Do you wanna be alone?" Dean asked, looking down at Frankie. Her lip trembled. She shoved her hands into her pockets and sniffed.
"No," she quietly answered. "Please stay."
Dean nodded. "Okay," he said, his voice just as quiet. He looked behind him. There were a few lawn chairs under a rotting awning at the other side of the pier. He walked over and grabbed two.
"Sam," Frankie called out. Dean's head perked up and turned to his brother. Sam looked just a shocked. "You, too." Sam looked over to Dean. His brother merely shrugged and picked up a third chair.
Dean returned to Frankie and set the chairs down at the end of the pier. Frankie set herself down in the middle seat, Sam and Dean settling down in the other two.
"Ah, well. This's nice," Dean idly stated, trying to fill in the silence.
After a long, uncomfortable moment, Sam looked over to his two siblings. "Um, what're we doing?" Dean glared at Sam. He would have thought Sam would be smart enough not to question Frankie's intentions. The taller Winchester shook his head with a confused look on his face.
Frankie let out a small sigh and looked down to her legs. "I just wanted to have a nice moment. We've been separated for so long… I missed out on so much." She took in a long breath through her nostrils and lifted her gaze to the water. "If I'm gunna die, I wanna have something good to remember."
"Frankie," Dean halfheartedly scolded. "What'd I tell ya? You're not gunna die. I promise."
"Don't promise." Frankie's voice was small and broken. "Please don't promise."
Sam leaned closer to Frankie. "We're gunna do everything we can to keep you safe. Trust us."
Frankie shook her head. "No, don't." Sam and Dean furrowed their brows, nearly glaring at the notion of not protecting their sister. "These past months, you've been doing everything you could to protect me. But it's been distracting y'all from stopping the Apocalypse. Look where we are. We're nowhere closer to killing the Devil."
Dean huffed out a small laugh. "That's what you think," he said with a smirk. Frankie quirked a brow at him. He sent her a passive wave. "I'll tell you about it later."
Frankie squeezed her eyes shut. "I just… wanna take precautions. If I die…" Frankie reached out, clutching her brothers' hands. "I wanna remember this. I never wanna forget it. Forget y'all…"
Dean, obviously uncomfortable with the situation, gently eased his hand out of hers and instead rested it on her shoulder. "Hey. Listen. You gotta stop talking like that. If you keep thinking about dying, it's gunna drive you straight to the looney bin. Now I told you you're gunna be alright and I mean it. You hear me?" After a few moments, Frankie nodded. The three went back to staring out at the lake.
Dean looked at Frankie from the corner of his eye. To have her sitting beside him, to know she was within arm's reach, filled him with a long-awaited relief. The day they discovered that she had vanished, he was distraught, but more than anything, he was pissed. Pissed at himself for pushing her beyond her limits. Pissed at himself for expecting so much of her. Pissed at himself for driving her away.
The day they met, he wanted nothing to do with her. But when he followed her into the woods that one day and found her training herself, he knew she was one of them. She had their moxie, their determination to prove herself. When they started training, he got to see who she truly was.
She was someone who would do anything to be part of a true family. She was a girl who wanted nothing but to impress her brother and be a part of his life. She was his student, but more important than anything, she was his sister. And he had failed her.
They searched for weeks, and they finally found her. Only now he had been told that he was going to lose her again.
He couldn't lose her again.
Dean bristled against the somber thoughts. He looked down at Frankie. A sad smile hid behind a gruff mask. He hated this sad silence that had fallen over them, and he hated how he put it there.
Frankie took them aside to make a happy memory. After weeks of nonstop misery, all she wanted was one good moment with her brothers. The least they could do was give her that. After all, they ruined her first case, drove her to run away, and then toted her along to a freaky book convention starring them. He was obligated to do something nice for her.
His smile breeched his somber mask. "You know what?" he spoke, lifting himself from his seat. Frankie and Sam looked up with curious stares. "I completely forgot. I got you something," he said as he looked down at Frankie. "Back on your first case. I picked something up for you. You left before I could pass it on."
Frankie's heart clenched. He got her a gift? Great, one more thing to make her feel awful. "What is it?" she asked, but Dean was already walking over to the Impala. She turned to Sam with a raised brow. He simply shrugged, just as puzzled as her.
"I was totin' my pack along the dusty Winnemucca road…"
A smile broke out on Frankie's face as the rustic tone of the singer's voice played through the Impala's speakers.
"When along came a semi with a high an' canvas covered load…"
She turned around to see Dean walking back across the pier, three beers magically appearing in his hands.
"If you're goin' to Winnemucca, Mack, with me you can ride. And so I climbed into the cab and then I settled down inside…"
He handed a bottle to Sam and Frankie, the girl beaming as Dean smirked down at her.
"You didn't," she giggled.
"Oh, I did," Dean scoffed.
"He asked me if I'd seen a road with so much dust and sand. And I said, "Listen."
Sam gazed at the two with a baffled look on his face. "Johnny Cash?"
"I've traveled every road in this here land."
"Johnny freakin' Cash!" Dean exclaimed.
"I've been everywhere, man! I've been everywhere, man! Crossed the desert's bare, man, I've breathed the mountain air, man!"
Dean and Frankie sang in unison, "Of travel I've a'had my share, man! I've been everywhere!" Frankie trailed off, laughing like a fool.
"Ready?" Dean said, sitting back down in his chair. Frankie locked firm eyes with him, both taking a deep breath and singing together with one breath.
"I've been to Reno, Chicago, Fargo, Minnesota, Buffalo, Toronto, Winslow, Sarasota, Wichita, Tulsa, Ottawa, Oklahoma, Tampa, Panama, Mattawa, La Paloma, Bangor, Baltimore, Salvador, Amarillo, Tocopilla, Barranquilla, and Padilla, I'm a killer!"
They both leaned back, trying to gather their breath back through their joint laughter. Sam chuckled off to the side. "You guys are actually insane."
"Oh, what?" Dean grunted with a smile. "We can't enjoy the one thing we have in common?"
"Since when do you like country?" Sam asked, popping open his beer.
"I don't," Dean blurted, pulling a grimace. "But he gets a pass."
Dean and Frankie continued to sing along to Johnny Cash's music from the cassette Dean bought for her. Sam continued to shake his head with an amused smile as he drank his beer.
For that moment in time when it was just the three of them, enjoying music and beer and the rich smell of lake water, things seemed just fine. That sickly feeling in Frankie's stomach was as good as gone. For that moment at least. But it didn't matter if it came back. She had that moment to keep with her. To remember.
She gazed out to the vast murky water in front of them. One thought came to her mind, and instead of repressing it as any normal person would, she stood from her chair. "Y'know what? Screw it." Sam and Dean narrowed their eyes as she stepped forward towards the edge of the pier. "If I'm gunna die, this's the last chance I'll get to do this."
Her brothers stood to their feet and watched in amused shock as she leapt off the pier, curling herself into a cannon ball before splashing into the olive-colored water. Sam coughed out a tickled laugh as she resurfaced and spat out the water into a mist.
"What are you doing?" he chuckled.
Frankie backstroked with a grin on her glistening, wet cheeks. "Come on in! Don't keep me waitin'!"
His eyebrows shot up. "Uh, no." Dean cracked a smirk at his brother. "Your clothes are soaking wet."
"What? 'Fraid to get a li'l damp?" Frankie taunted.
Sam rolled his eyes, a rebuttal on his tongue. He only let out a small utterance of it before Dean shoved his back and pushed him into the lake. Sam let out a wail as he plummeted into the murky green water fully clothed. Frankie choked out a snorting guffaw as he resurfaced and whipped his hair out of his face like a little mermaid.
"You-," he gasped as Dean held his knees with laughter. "You sonnuva bitch!" he chortled.
"Hey, you need it, man. You're starting to stink up my car."
Sam furrowed his brows. An almost sinister smirk grew on his face. "Yeah?" He swam up to the edge of the pier and grabbed Dean's ankles. "You don't smell that great yourself!" He yanked Dean into the water before he had any time to react.
Dean fell less gracefully than Sam did. Frankie and Sam picked up their joined laughter as Dean gasped for air. "You dick! You got my jacket wet!"
"What's the matter, Dean?" Sam asked, his smile darkening. "'Fraid to get a little damp?" Dean splashed Sam's face with water as the latter wheezed out a snicker in response.
Dean climbed up the ladder and stood on top of the pier, dripping and darkening the wood. "If either of you think you're getting into my car wet…," he grumbled, taking off his jacket and fanning it out.
After they had their fun, Frankie and Sam climbed out of the lake, still whispering quiet laughter as Dean wrung out his clothes. They finished their beers while their clothes dried enough to appease him.
Frankie really needed that moment, and she could tell they needed it, too. Despite his grievance over his soaked jacket, Dean walked back to the Impala with a half-smile on his face.
Just as they were approaching the Impala, Dean's phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, flipped it open, glanced at the caller ID, and held it to his ear. "Cas. What's shakin', bacon?" As Dean listened to the angel on the other line, Sam leaned against the hood of the car and Frankie sat in the backseat with her feet on the gravel. "That's okay. You did great. We'll take it from here. Where do we find this guy? … Yeah. Thanks, Cas."
Dean took the phone from his ear. He scrolled through his contacts before dialing another number. It rang a few times before someone answered. "Jo, it's Dean. Bobby go over the plan?" Frankie looked up at her brother. There was a plan now? "Don't worry, you'll be great. Listen, I'm sending you the address. You an Ellen meet us there as fast as you can. We'll link up there and take down this Sonnuva bitch, alright?" Dean opened the driver's side door and crouched into his seat. "Yup. Okay. See you soon."
Sam sat in his seat as Frankie pulled her legs into the car and shut the door. "What's going on?" she asked slowly.
"Remember when you said we were nowhere closer to killing the Devil?" Frankie lifted a brow to Dean as he pulled back onto the road. "We found the Colt."
"The Colt. You say that like I know what you're talking about."
Sam turned his head towards her. "To make it short, it's a gun that can kill anything. Or… presumably anything."
Frankie lingered her stare on him, processing the very idea of a weapon with such an ability.
"We lost it a while back. This chick we had a run in some time ago supposedly gave it to Lilith," Dean explained. "Turns out she was a lying bitch. The chick, not Lilith. Then again…"
"She apparently gave it to her right-hand man," Sam continued. "And, if what Becky says is true, he still has it."
"So, we thought we'd drop in for a visit, maybe have a few beers," Dean jokingly shrugged.
"And… you wanna use the Colt on Lucifer?" Frankie wasn't sure about this. How could a gun kill an archangel, let alone the Devil? "Will that work?"
Her brothers were quiet for a moment, though their silence spoke a million words.
"Well, death guaranteed or not, it's the plan we got," Dean sighed. "Unless you got a better solution? Since you're, y'know, Heaven's favorite?"
"Dean," Frankie sighed.
"Hey, I'm just sayin'. This whole 'God's got a plan for you' crap is an untapped goldmine. Could be useful if we figure out what you're good for."
"Cas and I already thought of that. Gabriel flushed that theory right down the John."
"Gabriel helped you before," Sam offered. "Maybe you could get him to help us take down Lucifer."
"What, are you kidding?" Dean scoffed. "You heard him. He wants us to say 'yes' to his brothers. The only help you'll be getting from him is being hand delivered to the Devil. At least it gets us to him."
"It wouldn't work anyway," Frankie huffed. "Gabriel's long gone. He said what he needed to and took off. Wouldn't be surprised if I never saw that dick waffle again." Frankie sat back in her seat and crossed her arms. "So, how're y'all getting to this guy anyway?"
"Where this prick is, Cas can't get inside. It's warded. We expected a bunch of guards and we were right. So, Jo – you'll meet her later – she's gunna distract 'em so me and Sam can get in and take care of him. You and Ellen will keep watch outside."
Frankie's head snapped over to her brothers, her eyes going wide. "Me? Oh, no, no, no. I don't need to be anywhere near danger."
Dean narrowed his brows and looked at her in the rearview mirror. "Why?" he grunted.
Frankie shuffled awkwardly in her seat. "I don't exactly handle myself very well in dangerous situations." She didn't like remembering her several manic outbursts and inept skills in the field.
"Which is why you're keeping watch where someone can keep tabs on you," Dean explained.
"As long as you're with Ellen, you'll be fine," Sam assured, nodding his head to her.
Frankie felt that dull ache heave within her again. "I-I… I dunno. I mean with the new news from Chuck… are you sure I should be so close to demons?"
Sam's brows narrowed, taking in her words. He turned to Dean. "She's right. We don't know how she goes. It could be anything."
Dean's eyes were downcast. He took in her words, too. "I know. And I don't like it, believe me. But we're too close to this guy, and we don't gotta lot of time. By the time we drop you off at Bobby's, he could find out we're on his ass and be halfway to China." Dean linked eyes with Frankie through the mirror. "You're gunna be alright, Franks. Just stay close to Ellen, and you'll be fine. You got your machete with you?" Frankie nodded and reached back for her blade. She unveiled it, the silver shining in the afternoon light. "Good. Keep that close, too. You're gunna need it."
Frankie felt a twist in her guts. He was probably right. And for the first time in a long time, the thought of ganking a demon with her machete freaked her the hell out.
The sun was getting ready to descend by the time they reached their destination. The Impala approached another car that was parked in a clearing beside the road. Two blonde women were standing next to it, one older with distinct frown lines and a younger looking girl, roughly around Frankie's age, wearing a tight, lowcut black dress with heels. Her yellow hair was bundled up into a flattering ponytail.
Dean parked the Impala next to their car and all three of them stepped out.
"'Bout time you boys got here," the older woman quipped in a distinct southern accent. She smiled as Sam and Dean walked over to them.
"Well, that's a fine 'how do ya do,'" Dean came back, a smirk plastered on his face. He then looked over to the younger girl. He tried to hide it, but Frankie could see his eyes brighten as he looked her over. "Hey, Jo."
The girl raised an eyebrow and put on a wide smirk. "Dean," she nonchalantly greeted. "Go on an get an eye full. I didn't get all gussied up for you."
"Nah. You got all gussied up for a demon. Good to know where I rank in the grand scheme of things," he teased with a quirk of his brow. With a playful roll of her eyes, Dean's face got a little less arrogant, his ego dipping. "You look good." Frankie wasn't blind to the soft blush pinkening both of their cheeks.
"I better. If we want it to work," Jo remarked, crossing her arms. When she had, her arms had pushed up her breasts, further revealing them under her dress. Dean turned his head over to Ellen to not linger on the sight.
After a quick moment of silence, the eyes of Ellen and Jo landed on Frankie. The girl a stood a little straighter, waiting for… anything. A general reaction maybe. Her own ego dimmed when they looked her up and down without any hint of emotion on their faces.
"So. You're John's little girl, huh?" Ellen finally spoke up. Frankie stilled. They already knew about her? She opened her mouth to speak, but the words were lost in her chest. The corner of the older woman's mouth lifted into a half smirk. "You sure do look the part. I'm Ellen. This is my daughter, Jo," she heartily greeted, leaning forward and stretching out her hand. Frankie took it with a small smile and nodded to both of them. "It's nice to finally meet you. Bobby hasn't shut up about you since these two dropped you off at his house like a dyin' pup."
Frankie pulled a tight grin and shrugged. "I pretty much was a dyin' pup, not gunna lie."
Ellen puffed out a small laugh. "Yeah, I bet."
Frankie looked between the two women. They seemed nice enough. Obviously good friends with Sam, Dean, and Bobby. Hunters, no doubt. That fact brewed up a rather dismal cloud that shadowed over her.
She would have been so excited to meet other hunters. She would have questioned them about everything they knew, cases they had solved. She would have felt honored to be in their presence. Now, she only felt disappointed that she would never be like them. Not only was she unqualified to be a hunter, but she wouldn't live long enough to try.
"So. We ready to take on this bastard?" Jo finally asked the group. "I'm freezin' my ass off in this get up."
The mansion was within sight. It was a huge, crème colored building with a spacious lawn and a lavish golden gate sounding the perimeter. It seemed vacant, save for the few rooms that were dimly illuminated, but they knew better. Demons were surely waiting just beyond the entrance. Now it was up to them to lure them out.
"Okay, Jo. You ready?" Sam quietly asked, placing a comforting hand on her bare shoulder. He could feel that she was shaking from the cold air.
"Yeah. Just don't, y'know, leave me hangin', okay?" Her words were meant to be playful, but the anxious undertones spelled out a different mindset within the girl they were using as bait.
"Don't worry. We'll be right behind you," Dean assured, taking out the jagged demon-killing knife and tossing it to Sam. He placed his own comforting hand on the bare skin of her upper back. "You're gunna be fine." She visibly relaxed under his touch. She spared a tight, uneasy smile to him before taking a deep breath and walking forward down the road to the massive gilded gate.
She put on a faux feeble demeaner as she approached the gate. Sam and Dean moved to their positions as Ellen and Frankie stayed back on a slightly elevated hill to watch over the scene. They scanned the area for any hidden threats while the plan went into motion.
Jo pressed a button on the gate and a muffled voice spoke through. "Hello?" she answered. "My car broke down! I-I need some help!" The voice crackled through the speaker again, but Jo didn't answer. She turned around, scanning her surroundings, before the gate hummed and opened into the property.
Two men in black suits walked out of an offset building and strutted over to the young girl. They had long, mischievous grins on their faces that made Ellen squirmed with a tense grimace on her face. Her eyes stayed glued to her daughter being cornered by two hulking demons.
"Evenin', pretty lady," the blonde and bulkier of the two greeted with a haughty sway to his step. "Get yourself on in here."
Jo flashed a timid, innocent smile. "I just need to make a call."
The man shook his head, still flashing that disgusting smirk. "You don't need to call anyone, baby." He glanced at the darker haired demon behind him. "We're the only help you're ever gonna need."
Jo began to nervously shift her feet and back away. "You know what? I… I think I should wait by my car." She turned around to walk through the gate. The blonde demon reached out and grasped her shoulder, holding her in place.
Ellen tightened her grip on her gun. Frankie adjusted her fingers on the machete's handle. They could see the demon's eyes change to black from their hill.
"We said, get your ass in here."
The demon barely finished his snarl before Jo whipped around and swatted his arm off her. She reared back and jabbed at his neck with her flattened hand, a distinct crack echoing through the compound. He growled in pain as Sam ambushed them from the bushes.
He stabbed the dark-haired demon through the neck, its body lighting up and twitching as soon as the blade sliced through his skin. The blonde demon got the blade through his spine, gaining another agonized wail from him before they both collapsed onto the grass.
Dean revealed himself behind Sam and handed a pack to the girl. "Nice work, Jo."
"Thanks," she panted. She reached in the pack and took out a pair of pliers. She shook her head to move the hair from her face. "Shall we?"
The three hurried off to find the main powerlines to the mansion. When they disappeared behind a corner, Ellen pushed herself to her feet. "That's our cue," she huffed, holding out a hand to Frankie. She took it and was hoisted to her feet. "Let's get a move on."
Frankie and Ellen crept through the gate and made a move for a secluded spot by the bushes. They crouched down and looked up to the windows. "That's gotta be our guy."
Frankie stared into the window of a dimly lit room. A silhouetted figure walked by the window, a drink in his hand. His image was only a blur as he set himself down in a chair. Frankie's fingers curled around the handle of her machete.
The lights suddenly shut off. Only the soft flickering of a fireplace illumed the room. The rest of the complex's power switched off with a low hum. Sam and Dean would be making their way into the house soon. Now all they had to do was keep a sharp eye and wait.
They watched as Jo made her way out of the mansion safely. A soft jingle emanated from her as she clutched onto the keys to Ellen's car. She was off to get the car and bring it over to pick all of them up once the mission was completed.
Staking out was boring. She should have expected as such. After all, she staked out with Sam on her first case and nothing happened for hours. Well, they didn't have hours. If they didn't hear anything from the boys in half of that time, it was cause for alarm.
Crouching was too painful, so Frankie sat down on the well-kept grass. Ellen followed her lead and sat back on her haunches. It was quiet for a while, nothing but the sounds of the crickets in the woods and the wind in the trees.
Frankie glanced over to Ellen. She was tossing her gaze over the lawn and through every window, but even she looked bored. Frankie crossed her legs and set her machete down in her lap.
"You okay, kid?" the older woman quietly muttered. Frankie looked up and met Ellen's eyes.
"Uh, yeah," she answered in a hushed voice. "It's just… y'know, for as worried as I was for coming on this mission, there isn't a whole lot going on."
Ellen nodded with a small smile. "Keepin' watch isn't the most exhilarating of tasks, but there ain't a more important job to have."
Frankie half-smiled and turned her attention back to the mansion. "So, how long have you known Sam and Dean?" As long as they were speaking, she might as well know more about the woman practically babysitting her.
"'Bout three years." She snorted and adjusted the gun in her hands. "Geez, has it only been that long?" She shook her head, a faraway smile on her face. "They came skulkin' into my saloon one day and got some sense knocked into 'em. They started knockin' on the door after that." Frankie muffled her giggle. "They made their appearances here and there. Don't see 'em as much as I did John."
Frankie froze at the mention of her father. It seemed that whenever someone dropped his name, she was reduced to a doe-eyed statue. John now felt like a mystical creature, a cryptid, that everyone had spotted but her. These days, it seemed that she was the only person in her world that didn't know her own father.
She titled her head up to look at Ellen. "You knew John?"
Ellen nodded her head, her smile dimming. "Yeah. I knew him. Good man. Damn fine hunter. We were real good friends back in the day. Hell, John was practically family once." Ellen's eyes somberly glistened in the moonlight. She flicked them down to Frankie. The corner of her mouth curved. "You have his smile, you know that?"
A sheepish grin involuntarily spread on Frankie's cheeks. "Yeah, I've heard that once or twice."
"You ever meet him?" Frankie was caught off guard by the question. She would have been even if she was expecting it. Her eyes drained of any light that had been in them. That was enough of an answer for Ellen. "Eh, well. I know he woulda loved to meet you."
A foreign feeling budded within her chest. It was clouded and too distant to make out exactly what the feeling was, but it didn't sit comfortably in her. "Really?" her voice spoke without her consent.
Ellen nodded, her blonde hair fluttering against her cheeks. "Oh yeah. John loved his kids. Loved 'em. Even that boy Adam." Frankie's heart clenched. Ellen made an amused noise in the back of her throat as a memory surfaced. "I remember this one time we were drinkin' after he'd wrapped up a case. Little girl was seein' a ghost or somethin', so he had to interview her. She said some'a the damnedest stuff you ever heard, but she was the most precious thing you ever seen. John was just tickled. He told me he always wanted a little girl."
The foreign feeling inside Frankie flared. Vines sprouted from the cloud and extended down to her stomach, filling her gut with a tingling, jovial sensation.
For years, decades, she assumed John would want nothing to do with her. She assumed he would take one look and turn his back on her. But after hearing how he drove all night to see Adam and learning that he always wanted a daughter, it dawned on Frankie that he just might have tolerated her like she always hoped. Maybe he would have even taken her to a ball game. Maybe he would have showed up to one of her birthdays.
Maybe… maybe she could have been one of the kids he loved so much.
"So, I turned to him, drink in hand," Ellen said, continuing her story, "and I said, 'Well, hell, John. You can take Jo any day of the week. Gimme a night off!'" She chuckled quietly along with Frankie.
There was a certain air about Ellen, an air of comfort. She was nice to talk to. Even though this was literally their first conversation, Frankie felt like they would get along pretty well in the long run. Too bad she didn't have a "long run."
PANG.
PANG.
Two gunshots cracked from inside the mansion, sucking the calm air from the two women. Frankie's eyes snapped to the window where the demon had been. The fire still flickered, but he was nowhere to be seen. Frankie glared at it all the same.
She hurriedly stood to her feet. She took a single step before Ellen grabbed her shoulder. "Woah, there, kid. There's no sense in runnin' straight into open fire."
"Two shots. That coulda been-"
"I know."
"We gotta help them! They could be-!"
Ellen soothingly shushed Frankie and grabbed her other shoulder. She pulled her back down to crouch behind the bushes. She squeezed the girl's shoulders and looked her in the eye.
"I know," she repeated. Her voice was hushed but held gentle tone. "But you run in there after 'em, there's no tellin' what you'll find. You could get a bullet yourself." Frankie clenched her teeth as fear for her brothers swirled in her head. "I know those boys wouldn't want you killin' yourself without thinkin' things through. Now, you stay here. I'll go and check things out."
"You're leaving me?" Frankie gasped, her eyes going wide. "No, no, I can't be alone. You can't leave me alone!"
"Listen, listen, honey," Ellen soothed. "I know you're scared. Just remember what Dean taught you, alright? I won't be long. You'll be fine."
"N-No, you don't understand. I'm-"
"Hey." Frankie's panicked stammering silenced as she looked into the dark eyes in front of her. "You're gunna be fine. I'll be right back." Frankie's mouth remained suspended after Ellen stood up and walked off.
Frankie was now alone. In a mansion filled with demons. That could easily possess her. And kill her when the time was right.
In less than two days.
Frankie clutched her machete close to her. Her fingers squeezed against the handle until blisters spawned. She couldn't die yet. There was so much she still had to right out. She was still keeping things from Sam and Dean, and she hadn't found the right moment to tell them. Every time she had the chance it was taken from her. Now, they very well could be dead.
She puffed out a short breath. No, they couldn't be dead. They couldn't. She refused to let them. She was the one who was supposed to be brutally killed, not them. That was her destiny, her burden to carry. Luckily, she wouldn't carry it for long.
Thoughts of her death began fluttering through her mind. Chuck said it was a horrible, messy one. Well, what in God's name could happen to her that would be so terrible? Would she be tortured by demons for information over an importance she didn't know about? Would angels have her killed to send a message to Sam and Dean? Would it be something stupid like a car crash or a long fall down a sewer drain? That would be so embarrassing. No wonder the fans didn't like her.
Her ears picked up a quiet sound. Grass shuffled behind her. Her eyes widened as she clutched her machete.
Before she could whip around, and unknown arm wrapped around her neck and squeezed it. It stood up, raising her neck with it until her feet were no longer on the ground. They kicked out and dangled helplessly in the air. She clawed at its arm with her free hand as she turned her blade towards her attacker. She struggled to inhale a quick breath passed the choking forearm as she readied her machete.
Squeaking out a muffled growl, she jabbed the machete behind her to her attacker. There was an instant jerk and a deafening yell of pain in her ear, but there was no twitching and no lighting. She must have just grazed it.
The attacker snarled as it lurched forward towards a tree. It rammed Frankie's body into the thick trunk. Jagged bark cut into Frankie's face, sending splintering jolts of pain through her nose and cheeks. It rammed her into the tree again, causing white spots to flutter behind her eyelids. She struggled to keep her strength, but the lack of steady oxygen and sharp pain in her face clouded her mind.
She tried the only thing she could think of it such a panicked state. Her legs reached behind her, aimlessly searching for the demon's knees. When her heel touched what felt like the kneecap, she pulled her knee up as high it would reach before kicking back with all her might.
She felt the leg give, and she heard the cracks. Her body was dropped to the grass as the demon snarled like a ravenous beast behind her. She coughed through her bruised throat and struggled to fill her lungs with air.
She clenched her jaw through the pain stinging all over her. She grabbed her machete tight and jumped to her feet. She turned on the demon, raising her machete in the air. The demon's eyes locked onto the shimmering blade as it made its decent to his head.
It grasped Frankie's wrist before the machete touched his shiny forehead. He reared his leg back and kicked Frankie square in the chest. The air she tried so hard to inhale was knocked out of her as her back collided with a tree trunk.
Frankie's blurry eyes cleared to see the demon readying his fist for her face. Widening her eyes, she snatched his wrist and leaned to the side, dodging the blow. She yanked the arm behind her attacker's back and pushed down on his body. She tightened her grip on her machete and tucked it under the demon's neck. In one swift tug, Frankie dragged the blade deep into the demon's neck, splattering blood across her sneakers.
The demon twitched in her arms, his orifices lighting up before the body went limp in her hands. She practically threw it on the ground. She panted at the demon's former vessel with a scowl on her face. She dragged her shoes over the pristine black suit to wipe its blood off her sneakers.
Frankie sensed more danger too late. A solid mass exploded against her head. An immediate ach burst through her skull as the ground got closer and closer. The tickle of grass in her ear registered before she realized that she was lying down.
Her eyes were blurry and unfocused. The only indication of what happened came in the form of a slick, expensive-looking shoe just stepping into view.
Damn. She should've known they traveled in pairs.
Her attacker gathered her hair into its hands and yanked. Her hair caught on its fingers, tugging some of the strands out of their roots. She rasped out shouts of pain as the suited demon dragged her body into the mansion, pawing helplessly at its fist in her hair. She was slow to notice the severe lack of machete in her hands.
She was dragged through hallways and up stairs by her hair, unable to catch her footing with how fast the demon tugged her along. All she could do to muffle the pain was hold onto the rest of her hair not being tugged by a demon.
While being dragged along, Frankie noticed two dead bodies on the ground down a long hallway. Rapid fear pulsed within her. However, they were not her brothers, but rather two dead suited demons. Small hope that her brothers could still be alive flared within her. The one dragging her had no reaction to them as he passed.
The demon finally reached a room and yanked her to her feet. She yelped out a raspy cry. The demon opened the door to the room and pushed her in. "Found another one," the demon spat. Frankie rubbed her raw skull as it slinked out of the room just as quickly as it entered.
Her throat hurt too much to spit a curse in its direction. Instead, she turned and observed the room she was thrown into.
Sam and Dean stood in front of her. She let out a great sigh. Seeing them okay washed her with a such relief that it nearly dulled the pain in her aching body. A smile made an attempt to form in the corner of her mouth, but she quickly noticed that they weren't the only ones in the room.
Her eyes flicked to the center of the room at a figure behind an ornate desk.
Her breath was sucked from her lungs. Her eyes widened so much that the cold air around her stung them, but she didn't dare blink. Her throat tightened, stinging the bruises just placed there.
The "man" standing on the other side of the room gawked at her. He stood in his well-tailored black suit and lavish tie, the very same she saw him in months ago. His face was just as she remembered, though the smugness that was once so prominent on his face was gone, traded in for a stunned gape.
But his eyes… those two malevolent amber marbles that hungrily craved her soul were still just as they were that night. Wicked. Evil. And staring at her with such a calculating and stone-cold glare that froze her in place like witchcraft.
Of all the fucking demons in Hell, why did it have to be him?
"Crowley?" she squeaked in her fragile voice.
"Frankie?" he lowly rumbled. His voice was lined with confusion, but his eyes flared with curiosity.
Sam and Dean gawked between the two. "Woah, woah, wait," Dean blurted, holding up a hand. "You two know each other?"
Frankie twitched. Oh God, don't let this be the moment. Don't let this be the place where the truth comes out. Not in front of him.
The demon, Crowley, kept his eyes tethered to Frankie. It was nearly impossible to even breath in his presence. His intense pupils were blazing with contempt, draining her lungs from air and burning their walls. Frankie's eyes betrayed her just like they did that night. They flicked down to his curvy lips.
They were smirking.
His teeth shined too brightly in the moonlight that oozed through the windows. A short cough of laughter erupted from his throat. "Oh no, no. You don't mean…," he chuckled in that pretentious British accent of his. "You? You're what everyone's been going on about? You are their…?"
He pointed his drink towards Sam and Dean, but Frankie didn't tear her eyes from his malicious grin. A loud bark of laughter ruptured from his chest. He placed his glass down on the desk. "Oh, this is too rich, it's practically diabetic!"
Frankie was cold from her toes to the roots still left in her head. She could've sworn that her blood had stopped flowing.
"Will someone tell us what the hell's going on?!" Dean snapped, glaring at the girl and the demon. His eyes lingered on Frankie.
Crowley rounded his desk and leaned against it. His eyes bore deep into Frankie's. "Do you want to tell them, or shall I?"
Frankie's gulp was painful as it struggled down her tight throat. Her eyes began to sting with sweat pooling around them.
"Somebody better tell me something or I'm about to pull answers outta both your asses!" Dean shouted, taking a step towards the two.
Crowley lifted a brow at Frankie, a silent dare to tell them the truth. He was loving the sick humor of the situation and was going to push it further, no matter what it costed her.
Frankie knew the truth had to come out. This was the moment, but she had no way to even begin what she was going to say.
Crowley lazily blinked his eyes over to her brothers, his smirk growing just like the Grinch's. "Frankie here sold her soul to me-"
"No!" she shrieked. She stepped forward, glaring at the demon with every drop of wrath within her. "You bastard!" Crowley merely grinned at her.
Sam and Dean gaped at Frankie. Their eyes narrowed on her, their mouths parted in a silent exclamation. Sam eventually puffed out a small scoff. "What?" he gasped.
"You still have a chance to tell them yourself," Crowley mused. His eyes were sluggish, laidback as he watched the entertaining scene before him. When she didn't answer him, he slowly blinked, too languid to shrug. "She practically crawled on her knees, begging me to heal her kidneys."
Frankie's breath hitched. Even though she had a chance to stop him and explain herself, she felt powerless against his loose lips.
The demon's eyes reached for the ceiling. "Oh, and there was another part of it, wasn't there? Something about wanting her family gone?"
Frankie clenched her teeth and dug her nails into her palms. She took a few more heated steps towards him. "I told you I never wanted to see them again! I didn't ask you to murder them!"
Crowley's hooded eyes were the physical embodiment of apathy. "Fine print, darling. Watch your wording next time." His lips stretched into yet another impish smirk. "Course, there won't be a next time will there?"
"Sonnuva bitch!" she hissed.
"Frankie." Her eyes finally did the right thing and darted over to her brothers. Her heart broke at the sight of them. Sam's wounded eyes looked her over in disbelief. Dean had a frigid glower on his face, but Frankie could clearly see the anguish in his twinkling green eyes. "Is this true?" Sam asked. His pained voice stabbed her gut with sorrow.
"Oh, it's true," Crowley answered, pushing off his desk. "Just look at that pent-up guilt in her eye. She made a deal. Summoning box, lying out terms," his eyes flared with a carnal glint, "and a kiss. The firm, chapped, slightly moist icing on top." Frankie cringed and crossed her arms. "Oh, don't be so proud, you loved it."
He tilted his head in a shrug. "And I held up my end of the bargain. You're getting exactly what you settled for. Ten years for two healed kidneys." Crowley stepped toward the girl. "Ten years to live healthily with your brothers." He took another step. His voice lowered to a dangerous growl that struck fear into her fragile chest. "But you failed to mention your brothers were the bloody Winchesters."
Crowley was as close as he had been the night they made the deal, toe to toe. His voice quieted to a low rumble, the nauseating smell of scotch on his warm breath fluttering into her nostrils. "You failed to mention you were one, too." A single corner of his mouth curved upwards. "And not just any illegitimate daughter of John Winchester, the illegitimate daughter of John Winchester. The one all of Hell has been scrambling for. And I had her all along." Frankie could now clearly see that the amusement in his eyes was squished into a scowl of utter hatred. "Do you have any idea how useful that information could've been to me?"
Frankie battled him with her own intense glare. "I don't care," she hissed.
The demon's brows listlessly lifted. "Of course not. Why would you?" he backed away from her, much to her silent relief. He turned away from her, making his way back to his desk. "But, me thinks you'll care more when I take five years off your sentence. How's that sound?"
Frankie's back snapped straight. Stunned fear trickled down her back like raindrops. "Th-That's not fair! We had a deal!"
"Yes. We did. And still do." He rounded his desk, now standing on the other side. He knocked back the rest of his drink. "But I'm afraid the Winchesters' darling little sister's soul is not worth ten years." He tilted his head in an almost shrug. "I can make it four if that works better for you."
Though it didn't really matter, seeing as she was going to die in a few days anyway, Frankie couldn't believe that the bastard would tweak their deal like that. It wasn't fair! And if they did miraculously figure out a way to prevent her death, five years was all she got?
"You can't do that!" she barked.
Crowley stilled, his eyes hardening. "Can't I? Firstly, you sold your soul to me. I own it now, you don't. Secondly, I'm the bloody King of the Crossroads. I handle all contracts, so I can make whatever changes I feel fit to make. And thirdly, I'm bloody Crowley!"
Frankie flinched at his sudden roar. He jabbed a pointing finger at her. "Five years!" he screeched. His head snapped over to Sam and Dean. "And you two." He threw something over to them. Dean caught it and opened it to see a round of bullets. "Don't miss! Morons!"
Crowley was gone in an instant, leaving the three Winchesters in the room alone. He left behind only the crackling sound of a fireplace and the thickening air of her revealed secret.
Frankie was paralyzed. Months of keeping her biggest mistake hidden, and now the damn demon that owned her soul told them to their faces. Months of rocking back and forth, rehearsing how she would tell them, just imploded right in front of her.
She wished she never left that hospital.
The weight of the tense air in the room was crushing her. She couldn't breathe. She needed them to speak. She needed to get this over with. She couldn't handle the prolonged silence. She needed them to speak!
"Say something," she peeped. "Please." Her head refused to move in their direction. All that she could see from them was Sam shaking his head and shrugging.
"What do you want us to say?" he tersely asked.
That was a damn fine question. And she didn't know. She didn't want them to tell her it was fine. That it was okay and that they would find a way to help her. She didn't want them to yell at her. To scream that they never wanted to see her again and take off in the Impala. She didn't know what she wanted them to say, but she needed them to say it.
She finally shoved her paralyzing nerves away and turned to look at them. Sam focused an emotionless face on her. His mouth was a thin line, his arms loosely crossed over his chest. His eyes were shadowed by his lightly furrowed brows. When he looked at her, it appeared as if he… wasn't surprised. That he had an inkling that she would have done something like this. But… but he had no room to talk. He started the end of the world! We all make mistakes! And yet why did it feel like her crimes outweighed his?
Her eyes flicked over to Dean's. God, she wished they hadn't. He glowered, scowled, at her. He forced an intense anger into her the likes of which she had never received from him. Not in any of the first days they had known each other, not in any day of training, not even earlier that day when he found out about the other thing she had been keeping from him. But this look of rage derived from something deeper than surface level vexation.
He looked betrayed.
Her heart crackled inside her. Streams of remorse drizzled over her. "Dean, I know you're mad-"
"Mad?" he quickly cut off. "You think I'm mad?" His voice was eerily level. He brought a hand to rub his mouth as he looked anywhere but at her. After a huff and a shake of his head, his flaming green eyes bore into hers. "Jesus Christ, Frankie, you sold your soul to Hell. You're going to Hell. Do you even care?" Air was building up in Frankie's lungs with no hope of escape. "You know better than this, Frankie! You know that you never make deals with demons! Why would you do something so stupid!" Dean shoved a chair, knocking it on its side with a thunderous crash. Frankie flinched, finally expelling a shock gasped.
"I-I didn't know what else to do," she weakly vouched.
"Right!" he scoffed, turning his body and nodding his head.
Frankie puffed out a failed breath. "Look, I knew it was a bad thing to do-"
"And you still did it anyway!" Dean snapped, whipping his glare back to her. "After everything I taught you, everything I tried to drill into your skull to save your life and your soul, you still bartered it off to the first demon who would listen! God, I know you don't listen to us, but don't you care at all what your conscience says?!"
Frankie retaliated under the suffocating weight of failure, gathering a few morsels of hostility. "There was nothing else I could've done, okay?! I was lying there in a hospital dying with no other options! No one was gunna just give me a kidney!"
Dean furrowed his brows. His lip quirked in a contradicting grimace. "You don't know that." His tone differed from his enraged outburst. His voice was lower and came from a broken origin. Though Frankie could have picked up on the wounded sound to his words, her own rising frustration deafened her to his true emotion.
"Yes, Dean, I do," she bit, wearing a glare of her own. "We tried the waiting game and it wasn't working. I was at the bottom of a long list and my family wasn't gunna give me theirs!"
"So you had them killed?!" Sam blurted, finally revealing his suppressed rage.
Frankie glanced over to him, grief flooding her falling face. "I didn't know he was gunna-"
"He's a demon!" Sam barked. "He gets off on death and carnage! You really thought he was gunna play fair?!"
Frankie was quickly losing grip on herself. It was a lost battle to begin with, but her last defenses were crackling. "I-I wasn't thinking about that!"
"No, you weren't thinking at all," Dean spat.
Frankie darted her eyes to her eldest brother. Her hands gripped her arms tighter as her glare hardened.
"I was thinking. I was thinking of how much better my life would be without my sickness being a roadblock. I was thinking about my life with y'all! How much better it would be if I lived long enough to be your sister! I was thinking about how much help y'all needed to stop Lucifer!" Her eyes blurred with bubbling tears. Her voice cracked in her throat. "I was thinking of y'all."
Dean nodded his head and pursed his lips. "Sure. But did you think about what happens in ten years?"
"Five," Sam spitefully interjected.
"Five years?!" Dean's eyes morphed into an ethereal visage that penetrated Frankie's soul. "Did you think about being torn to shreds by hellhounds? About you own blood being the last thing you tasted? Did you think about being dragged down to Hell and tortured forever? Feeling pain and fear not even your nightmares could make up?"
He tilted his head, gazing at her with aggrieved eyes that began to appear misty. His voice lowered, possessing a pained edge. "Did you think about how we would feel knowing where you were? Did you even think about that? That we would stay up at night, not able to sleep 'cause we knew you were in Hell?"
Her eyes flooded and spilled over her cheeks. The scratches there stung against the salt seeping into them, but the pain there was microscopic compared to the utter anguish writhing within her as Dean appeared just as he did in her nightmares. His brows dug deep into his face, reaching desperately for his nose. His lips were scrunched to hold in the roof shaking reprimand on his tongue. His face showed ferocity, but his eyes…
"No," he hissed. "You were thinking about yourself, that's what you were thinking about. You wanted a happy-go-lucky life with your new family so much that you were willing to give up everything just so you could get what you wanted. You were selfish. And now you've damned yourself to Hell."
His eyes held such a shining image of disappointment, so much that those eyes appeared to be glossy and wet with tears.
"You promis-"
Frankie's heart shattered into billions of unrecognizable pieces. Dean had tried to muffle the crack in his voice by rubbing his mouth and heaving a heavy sigh. The fading of the glossiness of his eyes seemed practiced with how quickly they reverted back to a stoic façade.
He stormed passed both his siblings. "Sam," he gruffy commanded. Even if it was hardly a command, Sam still followed his brother's haste order and marched out of the room without another word. The door deafeningly slammed, but she did not flinch.
She finally dropped to her knees, unable to hold herself up anymore.
She once thought revealing her secret would make her shoulders feel lighter. Now they might as well have been duel minivans crushing her entire body.
Her secrets revealed, yet her guilt raged on.
Her world had finally crumbled.
