Deathly Slaves

I do not own Dean, anything with Winchester Guns, or Sam. I rock all else though…

Chapter Nine

Dean and Leah couldn't wait any more. Sam wasn't answering any of Dean's calls and Leah's premonition would happen and soon. They had to leave before Sam got there, something Dean didn't think too highly of.

"You know, I don't want to do this," Dean said as he paced around the living room.

"I know," Leah said from the couch, "But we have too. No ifs, ands, or buts."

"Alright."

Dean stopped pacing and looked at her. He nodded and started walking toward Sam's room. Sam had kept all the weapons in his room, for the fear that Leah might get into them and use them against the Winchesters. But that was before the men got to know her. And before Dean got her pregnant. That changed the whole damn story. Once in Sam's room Dean looked under the bed. No weapon bag. He looked in the closet and in the dresser. Even in Dean's favorite hiding spot, under the pillow. No weapons or weapon bag to be found.

"Shit."

"What," Leah asked as she entered the room.

Dean stood in the middle of the baby blue colored room, running a hand through his hair. Once she spoke, he turned to face her.

"No weapons."

"None? Where'd they go?"

He thought for a minute. If I was a smart ass college boy, were would I put my revolver filled with rock salt? The thought made him chuckle. What college kid would have a gun loaded with rock salt? Nonetheless, one used to fight ghosts?

"I think he took them. That's the only explanation."

"Well, then…."

"Oh god. What?"

"You'll just have to use my weapons."

"Awww…. Come on!"

Dean acted like a child, and stomped his feet as Leah, who was smirking, led him through the hallway into the study. She's a good deceiver, he thought, That's why her computer is in the living room. Her study is her weapons' room. Bingo. The two entered the study or weapons' room, depending on what you want to call it. It couldn't have been much bigger then a bathroom, but it was hard to tell because the room was packed full with weapons, news articles, containers which Dean assumed held gasoline and salt, and of course, books among books. The room looked like it was painted green, but it was hard to tell, again, because of all the newspaper clippings tacked to the walls. Leah started toward the weapons as Dean looked around. He was amazed. Clippings on every possible surface. Weapons in gun racks. Barrels of salt and gasoline. Books scattered on every single book shelf.

"So what do you think?"

"Sweet."

"Thanks."

She smiled. This was her domain. Her nature was in the weapons. Her nature was in researching these things. There was definitely something that made her look like a natural.

"Here," she said handing him a gun and a grenade looking thing.

"What's this junk," he said inspecting it.

"First of all, it's not junk. Your weapons maybe but mine aren't. Plue mine are legal."

Dean blushed and looked down. She was right.

"And," she continuted,"That is a salt grenade; it wards off evil like salt would, but once you throw it, hit the ground. Or your eyes tend to burn after it explodes. Salt, ya know?"

Dean nodded. Salt in the eye did hurt. A lot.

"The gun," she said as she went back to getting her weapons, "Is a Winchester gun. Good models."

She smirked. He still didn't understand.

"The names kind of matched."

He glared at her, while holding back a smile. This was not a time to be funny.

"Ready," he asked, getting impatient.

"Yup."

She followed him out with a gun in one hand and a bag in the other and closed the door.This job would be finished with or without Sam.