Part 2 coming at you! Wow- y'all surprised me with how much you're loving Taron already. Well...good...is all I'll say for now :) Thanks to everyone for reading and to those who review, you mean the world to me. Special thanks to Jenmm31 for her beta work!
In this story, Natalie is 17. Part 2 of a 3 part story.
Taron grinned cockily at the girl. She couldn't be more than five feet tall, and was maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet. Sure, she was gorgeous, but she had to be all bark and no bite- there just wasn't enough of her to be as dangerous as he'd heard. Wouldn't be the first time he'd been disappointed by a over hyped sensational story. Well, he might as well give her the fight she was jonesing for. He knew he wouldn't hurt her, but maybe just take her down a peg or two because-
She got the first blow in before he could fully finish his thought.
Natalie clocked him with a right jab square in his nose. His head snapped back and he saw stars. He staggered, looking back down on her, absolutely bewildered. "Fuck me," he muttered to himself, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. "Wot the hell?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Natalie said in a super-sweet tone absolutely dripping with sarcasm. "Did I hurt you? I thought you were supposed to be fighting me. Or trying to, anyways," she quipped. She kept her hands up in fighting position as she watched him like a hawk.
Taron gingerly touched under his nose and his fingers came away slightly red. "How the bloody hell do you have that kind of follow through?" he asked, more in awe than angry, the corner of his lip turned up in an amazed smile.
Natalie cocked her head to the side, scowling. Why was he smiling? And looking at her like that? Clearly this idiot had never been in a fight before. "Comes naturally," she said casually, itching to get this started. "Wanna see what else I got, or do you just wanna give up now, you snooty, limey fuckface?"
Taron grinned wider. So the stories hadn't exaggerated her spit-fire attitude, and maybe they were on to something about her abilities. "Well, how can I refuse that offer? Think I'll go another round before throwing in the towel," he said in a charming voice.
Natalie didn't hesitate. She threw another furious right jab at him, but this time he blocked it efficiently. She immediately followed with a left hook aimed for his ear. Smooth as silk, he blocked that too. Surprised, she tried another one-two combination. He blocked them with ease. Then she really let loose.
She began a barrage of powerful upper body attacks, her eyes seeking out vulnerable areas that he left open. She fought with all the ruthlessness, speed, and agility that came from a lifetime of being a Winchester. The thing she wasn't expecting, however, was this dude was blocking her, blow for blow. Anything she threw at him, he blocked firmly. It almost appeared effortless, the way he moved so simply yet so effectively. She had been wrong- really wrong. He'd definitely been in a fight before. Clearly, he'd had some damn good fight training himself. So she upped the ante to see what he was really made of.
The two of them began speeding up, the time between blows and blocks ever decreasing. It was almost a choreographed dance, the way they moved in sync. As if he knew where she was going to be the split second before she got there. Natalie felt her ire rising. Except the very first one, she hadn't landed a single punch on this asshole, and it sure as hell wasn't from lack of trying. Her arms were beginning to burn from her constant barrage. It suddenly occurred to her that he was making her exert all the effort on attacking him to tire her out- then he'd counterattack. So that was his game. Oh ho ho. Nope. Not today.
She suddenly darted backwards, now adopting a blocking stance. The boy instantly adjusted to her new position, but scowled. She grinned as she saw the flash of irritation cross his face as he realized that his tire-her-out plan wasn't going to work. Just as quickly though, that damned charming grin spread across his face again, and he deliberately winked at her saucily. And for some reason, that wink royally pissed her off. Oh, it made her fucking MAD.
She lunged forward, attacking again, more fury than focus. The barrage was so great and so fast that she managed to land a fierce blow to his ribs, causing him to exhale heavily with a groan. Hearing him in pain only fueled her fire, and she managed another blow to his cheek while he was recovering from the rib shot. It was so damn fast he didn't have a chance to block her and took the full brunt of the punch on his already sore face. He came up swinging. His counter blows were neat and measured, as if he could mentally calculate exactly where they needed to fall to try to incapacitate her. But this time, it was her blocking him with ruthless efficiency.
They began the dance again, flawlessly switching between offense and defense as they read each other's moves and countermoves. Seeing a tiny possible opening, Natalie suddenly crouched and tried to sweep his legs. Taron realized what she was doing and managed to jump over the kick with nanoseconds to spare. Since she had upped the fight by including the lower body, he felt no remorse in going in for the full body tackle. She managed to dart to the side just as he was about to check his shoulder into her stomach.
Natalie watched as he didn't hesitate or lose a second, spinning around to face her once again. In spite of her absolute fury, she had to admit that was impressive, that someone of his obvious physical strength had that much muscle control. In the split second she thought that, he must have sensed that her mind was elsewhere. He latched onto her arm, spun into her, got a good grip under her captive arm, and flipped her over his shoulder like a rag doll. She heard him arrogantly huff a chuckle as she sailed through the air.
He couldn't believe it when she landed on her feet like a damn cat.
He was still holding her arm, so she ducked under it, hooked her leg around, and landed a quick heel kick to his kidneys. He dropped her arm reflexively from the pain, spun low, and, since she was still only balanced on one leg, managed the sweeping kick she'd tried moments before. It landed, knocking her to the floor. He pounced on top of her, using his muscular frame to pin her down on the ground. "Wanna tap out, love?" he asked, breathing hard.
Natalie hadn't spent her entire life wrestling with two giants to give up that easily. She bucked suddenly, breaking Taron's hold on her legs. She tucked her knees into her chest, planted her feet on his stomach, and kicked with everything she had. He didn't exactly go flying backwards- the sheer amount of muscle he had on her still gave him that advantage- but it was powerful enough that it broke his grip on her. She aimed a ramming foot towards his crotch, but he saw that coming and, with a panicked look, dove out of harm's way. As he was rolling, Natalie jumped onto his back like a howler monkey, wrapping her forearm around his throat and squeezing with everything she had as he struggled to his feet. Taron's hands immediately latched onto her choking forearm, and he was strong enough to pull her arm away enough that he wasn't in immediate danger of her crushing his throat, but it was taking everything he had in him.
"Gor blimey, they sure wasn't lying about you, was they?" he wheezed out as he suddenly backed up, slamming Natalie into the stone wall. Her grip only lessened slightly from the blow, despite the grunt of pain she'd uttered, then it came back full force. "Aw, shit," Taron muttered, still using his full strength to just stay conscious.
*SPN SPN SPN* *a few minutes earlier*
Reginald sighed heavily for the third time this evening as Taron tore out of the room. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and then looked back at the Winchesters suspiciously. "So. Sam and Dean Winchester. And…whoever the girl is, I'm assuming she's the daughter of one of you?" Both boys glared at him, refusing to answer so as not to give him any collateral. Reginald nodded his head once in a dry manner, instantly understanding their silence. "Right. Well. This is dreadfully awkward. You say that you're Men of Letters?"
"That's right," Dean snarled. "This is OUR bunker. And ain't no way I'm letting some British asshole who thinks he's a freaking knight of the round table or something come in here and take what's ours."
"I am most assuredly not a knight of the round table. I am, however, a member of the British chapter of the Men of Letters."
"Wait- the…what? There's a British chapter of the Men of Letters?" Sam said, his eyes growing wide. "We've never met another American who knows what they even are and you're telling me there's an entire chapter in Britain?"
"Yes. London, England, actually. It was how I found my way to one of the American bunkers. I was told that it had been uninhabited for years. It seems that our intel was incorrect and that I have made a grievous error. And if you'll permit me, I'll be glad to cut your bonds and let you up with my sincere apologies." Reginald stepped forward to Dean, produced a small switchblade, and before Dean could so much as breathe, Reginald had cut his ankles loose. As he quickly freed Dean's wrists, Dean reared up and punched the man straight in his nose.
Reginald stepped back, looking slightly annoyed but resigned. "I supposed I deserved that," he muttered, adjusting his now sore nose before turning towards Sam and cutting his bonds as well. As Reginald reached Sam's last tie on his wrist, he looked at Sam's face. "If you have every intention of hitting me as well, I would kindly ask you to pick a different target than your partner," he said in a congenial voice as he sliced through the last zip tie. Instead of taking him up on the offer, Sam just huffed and gave the man a bitch face before standing up and joining Dean. The boys stood as a united front, arms crossed and pissed as hell.
"You wanna tell us why you assholes suddenly decided to break into an American bunker and pretend like they owned the place?" Dean growled.
"As I said before, we're agents of the Men of Letters. We were sent here to America to investigate a series of murders we believe to be linked. We have reason to believe they could have a devastating impact on the global population. Our intelligence gave us these coordinates as a possible housing location and base of operation since the last murder occurred in the town of Lebanon," he said simply, as if he wasn't talking about a possible global horror situation.
"Wait, hang on," Sam said. "Are you talking about the Brooklyn Lewis murder case?"
For all his British stoicism, Reginald looked mildly surprised. "How do YOU know that name?" he asked, bewildered.
"Because we're already on that case."
"You…you what?"
"Like the kid said. We're Sam and Dean Winchester. Best monster hunters in the good ol' US of A," Dean said in his I'm-done-taking-your-shit tone. "And this is what WE do."
Reginald's face went oddly blank. "You two…are hunters. Actual monster hunters." He said it with the tone of a skeptic who'd just seen irrefutable proof that UFOs existed. "So am I to assume that the girl I just sent my son in after is a hunter as well?" he asked, a hint of fear in his eyes.
"That kid is your son?"
"Is he in danger?"
"Well, did he remove the knives from her boots?"
"She keeps knives in her boots?"
"Yeah, she's killing him."
Dean took off first, following the path he'd watched the boy take until he disappeared. It didn't take long for him to just follow the sounds of the fight instead. Sam and Reginald were hot on his heels.
Dean found the room they were in. Well, he didn't technically FIND the room so much as watch the two of them come hurtling OUT of the room, crashing into the hallway wall. All three men froze as they took in the surprising scene in front of them. Natalie was clinging to Taron's back, her arm locked around his throat, choking him with all she had. Taron was slamming her against the wall in an effort to get her to release her iron grip. Neither of them could seem to make headway against the other.
"What in the world is going on here?" Reginald yelled over the melee of the two teenagers, looking stunned.
"Wot the hell does it look like?" Taron shot back, straining against the choke hold. "It's a fight, innit?" he gasped out as he tried to break her grip again.
"What's going on is that I'm kicking his-!" Natalie said, just as Taron slammed her into the wall again. "-ass," she wheezed out at the breath was forcibly expelled out of her lungs, her taunt sounding way less impressive after that.
Dean's blood boiled at seeing Natalie hurt, but she was giving it back just as well as she received it. He knew she wasn't going to give up either without intervention. "Alright, break it up you two! Stand down!" he roared in his loudest voice, running over to them. "Nat, let him go!"
Natalie looked at him incredulously, as if he'd just expressed a heartfelt desire to drive a Prius. "Are you insane?" she shrieked. "Dad, he chloroformed me and-"
"Yeah, I know what he did!" Dean yelled back, grabbing her around the waist and yanking. She was still too keyed up to let her grip go, and Taron let out a gasping, strangled sound as he was pulled backwards and choked by two Winchesters. Reginald darted forward, looking angry. Dean gritted his teeth. "Let him go, NOW!" Dean ordered Natalie, roaring right in her ear. "I said STAND DOWN!"
Natalie dropped her arms, looking furiously over her shoulder at her father but not saying a word. Dean ripped her off his back, and Taron staggered forward, massaging his throat and inhaling deeply. Reginald quickly pulled the boy to the side, checking him for injuries but keeping a firm grip on his arm, just in case.
Dean set Natalie down on the ground. Just as he expected, she whirled around, furious, ready to explode, but before she could speak, a laugh rang through the hallway. All three Winchesters turned to look at Taron, who was standing upright, still massaging his sore neck, but was…laughing. As if he was delighted.
"That was ACE!" Taron said excitedly. "What a banger you are, love!" he said, grinning at Natalie. Her jaw dropped. He turned to the older man. "Dad, she's everything everyone's said about her! You should see her fight! Man, she gave me a fockin' good run for my money!" he said in a rush, apparently thrilled at the entire prospect.
"Language," Reginald said simply, but with a raised eyebrow.
"Right, right, sorry, got excited there," Taron said, toning it down but not looking any less excited. "Whew, that was incredible." He shook his head, delighted with the turn of events. Natalie just stared at him for a split second in disbelief, then turned to her father.
"Okay, somebody better tell me what the fuck is going on, right now!" Natalie snarled out in Dean's face, still wound up to her breaking point. Taron pointed to her, looking like a child denied candy.
"How's come she gets to swear?" Taron pouted at Reginald.
"Not. Now. Taron," Reginald said through gritted teeth.
Dean's eyebrows had shot up at Natalie's vehemence, but he knew she was still in full fight mode, so he gave her the benefit of the doubt. This time. "They're Men of Letters. They're from England. They were supposed to check out the murder in town today, but didn't know that we beat 'em to it." Dean couldn't help the smug twinkle in his tone as he watched Reginald shift uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye.
Natalie's head spun as she took in the onslaught of information. "They're…Men of…from…what?" she said, unable to wrap her head around this. "Are you joking?"
"No, Natalie, we're not," Sam said, stepping forward and speaking in his calming, rational tone. The fact that he was using her actual name in a kind way made her snap into sharper focus. "Apparently there's still an entire faction of the Men of Letters alive and well and living in London. They think the Brooklyn situation might be an international threat, so…here they are."
Natalie wished she could remember how to shut her mouth, but she simply couldn't. Still breathing hard from the fight, she put her hands on either side of her head, trying to make it all make sense. Sam could tell she was on the verge of freaking out, so he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Without even thinking, she angrily shrugged it off. As that moment registered, all three Winchesters looked at each other, stunned.
"I…sorry…that was…I…" Natalie stammered, completely overwhelmed. She looked up at Sam, but couldn't muster a full apology. This time, Dean stepped forward.
"Take a deep breath, kid, everything's okay," he said in his gruff but gentle tone. He saw her fight her own mind for a second, then do what he said. Upon seeing his daughter's attempt at a return to normalcy, he turned to the group at large. "Alright. So. This…has been a weird freakin' night."
"Indeed," Reginald said, dropping Taron's arm and standing up straight. "We do sincerely apologize for our initial meeting, but if you would permit, we would like to try to make amends by offering you additional support as you look into this case. As I said, it could be a matter of global impact, and I think you'll find our resources could be most helpful. We put ourselves at your disposal."
Sam and Dean exchanged a quick look between themselves, before Sam offered a subtle nod. Dean turned back to the well-tailored men. "Yeah, alright," he said in a tone that conveyed he was going to watch them like hawks. "We'll get started first thing in the morning." He felt Natalie tense up beside him, but he ignored it.
"Very good," Reginald said with a gentlemanly nod. He turned to his son. "Taron, we need to get out of these good people's homes and go find a hotel in town." Taron, having gotten over his adrenaline kick, folded his hands behind him and nodded back. But before they could take a step, Sam exchanged another quick look with Dean then cleared his throat.
"Look, it's nearly 2 am," he said. "If it's not all kinds of weird for you two…do you want to just stay here?"
"You've got to be kidding me," he heard his niece hiss at him. He silenced her with a look before focusing back on their British guests. Reginald and Taron were exchanging surprised looks themselves. The boy opened his mouth to speak, but Reginald clapped a hand on his shoulder, instantly silencing him. Reginald turned to Sam.
"It's more than gracious of you to offer, considering the circumstances. I can guarantee that we will be utmost gentlemen about the whole thing. We are in your debt," he said formally, with a respectful nod. Sam nodded back.
"Then let me show you the way," he said, stepping forward. He held out his hand to indicate the direction, and Reginald, with another grateful nod, followed. Taron, however, turned back to look at Natalie.
"Hey- that back kick you landed on my kidneys- that was WICKED," he said with a roguish gleam in his eye. "Maybe you can show me how you did it tomorrow, eh love?" He winked at her again. It wasn't in a taunting way, but a charming one, before turning and following his father down the hallway.
Before Dean could wrap a restraining hand around her arm, she spun on her heel and stomped off in the opposite direction. Never in a million years would she ever admit, even to herself, that his charming wink made her knees weak, if only for a second. No way. Screw him. Fucker.
*SPN SPN SPN*
The next morning, Dean rubbed his eyes as he made his way to the alchemy room. He was unsurprised to find Natalie sitting there, already flipping through a thick book. He took a sip of the coffee from his "World's Best Hunter" mug (a gift from Natalie last Father's Day).
"Did you get at least four hours' sleep?" he said by way of a greeting.
"Five," she said, not looking up from the pages. Dean rolled his eyes at her less than enthusiastic answer.
"Kid, look, I know you're pissed that they're here."
"Whatever."
"You heard that old saying 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer'?" he asked her. "Until we figure out which one they are, it makes sense to keep tabs on them."
"Fine," she said in a tight voice, turning a page and reaching for her own tumbler. "Just wish I'd gotten a say, that's all," she muttered before taking a long drink.
Dean's eyebrows knit together. She normally wasn't this snappish in the morning. "What's in that cup of yours?" he asked nonchalantly. She was his daughter after all- he wouldn't put it past her to be sneaking whiskey.
"Mountain Dew."
"At eight in the morning?"
"You're drinking coffee. What's the difference?"
"Alright, what's your problem?"
"Don't know what you mean."
"You're still pissed that you couldn't beat him last night, aren't you?"
"No."
"Nat."
"Where the HELL did he learn to fight like that?" she spat out suddenly, looking up from the book. "It was like he could read my damn mind or something. Maybe there was some sort of mind control serum or something in whatever they used to knock us out."
"Or maybe he was just really, really good," Dean said, arching his brow at her furious defensiveness. "Kid, if he's been training with the Men of Letters- well, you've seen the archives of what they used to be like." Refusing to accept that answer, Natalie took another slug of Mountain Dew, muttering to herself. "It ain't like he beat you," Dean continued. "He said it himself- you definitely showed him a thing or two. It was a draw. Ain't nobody can beat you, kid."
Just then, they heard the clicking of expensive dress shoes down the hallway. "Oh goody. The British Invasion's here," Natalie growled, flipping angrily through the book again and ignoring The Eye. Dean growled under his breath as a warning to her to behave and turned towards the door. Sam entered, followed by Reginald and Taron. Dean's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. They were both in full suits again- today a rich brown for Reginald and a dark blue for Taron. Both immaculately tailored, and if anything, their shoes were even shinier than last night. Holy hell it was eight in the morning- who dressed like that this early?!
"Good morning to you all," Reginald said, nodding respectfully at Dean, and, when she raised her head, Natalie. She gave him a thin smile back and refused to acknowledge the grinning dope next to him.
"Did you sleep well?" she asked in a strained but polite voice. Dean knew that was her attempt at playing nice. At least she was trying.
"Quite well, thank you," Reginald said.
"I slept good as gold after that battle royale last night," Taron said happily. He looked Sam and Dean up and down, then turned to his father. "See, Dad? I TOLD you they wasn't gonna be dressed to the nines. Can't I wear normal clothes for once?"
"Despite the fact that we are guests in their home," Reginald said, a warning tone in his voice as he turned to look at his son. "We still have our own code to keep to, Taron. And I expect that you will continue to follow the gentlemen's code the entire time we are here working with them. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," Taron said back respectfully. But the second Reginald turned back to the Winchesters, Natalie caught a flash of annoyance cross the boy's face.
"Now, then, to get right to business. Sam told me that you two were at the crime scene yesterday, and that you also managed to extract some samples from one of the victims."
"Yeah, that's right," Dean confirmed.
"Jolly good. Might I suggest that you and I discuss the layout of the house and the scene, while Taron assists with the diagnostic analysis of the samples in question?"
"Why don't I stay with the kids and help with that too?" Sam said quickly, sensing the ticking time bomb of leaving a Winchester with wounded pride alone with the object of her anger.
"Excellent," Reginald said. He gave Taron a significant look, and the teen stood up a little straighter, folding his hands in front of him like a gentleman. Reginald nodded, then turned his attention to Dean.
"Yeah. I'm gonna need more coffee for this. Follow me, Reg," Dean said, walking out in the hallway.
"I'd prefer my full name, if you don't mind."
"Yeah, I don't mind, Reg."
Natalie bit her tongue. So she was supposed to sit here and play nice while Dean got to taunt the asshole that tied him up? What a fuckwad her father was sometimes. She slammed the book shut, gritting her teeth when she realized that she was going to need that book open to where she'd just been, and stomped off to the shelves under the guise of getting another book.
"So chaps, what can I help with?" Taron asked brightly. Before either of them could answer, he dropped his folded hands and extended them towards Sam excitedly. "I gotta say that when HQ sent us to America, I never dreamed I'd be working with you lot. This is ace."
"Yeah, about that," Sam said, honestly curious and a little taken with the boy's obvious enthusiasm. "You knew our names. You talked as if you've heard stories about us over in the UK."
"Everybody who's anybody in the monster world knows you, don't they? You three are American legends," Taron said, almost in awe again. "There's nobody who don't know the stories at HQ. People like my dad won't stop giving me grief about it- says I've got an-" At this, Taron made a childish, sarcastic face. "-unhealthy obsession with American culture." He rolled his eyes and shook his head dramatically. Sam couldn't help but grin at how much it reminded him of Natalie. "But that 'unhealthy obsession' saved our arses from making a big fockin' mistake last night, dinnit?" Taron gave an involuntary little jump, like he'd just gotten a tiny shock, then looked at Natalie. "Sorry, love. Not gentlemanly to swear in front of a lady. I apologize."
"I don't fucking care," Natalie said dismissively. To her surprise, he laughed again.
"Ay, I knew there was a reason I liked you. You ain't bothered by that, are ya? They're just words, eh? Right? Don't mean no harm," he said, grinning at her again like all he wanted was for her to agree with him. "And you're damn good at using 'em too, if I remember correctly."
"Alright, so let's get on with trying to identify this orange substance, okay?" Sam broke in loudly. Taron rubbed his hands together delightedly. Sam had to admit- the kid's enthusiasm was infectious. Natalie's sour mood, however, definitely kept things in balance.
She immediately snapped on some rubber gloves and dug for the swab, ignoring the boy completely. Taron finally seemed to realize that he was treading on thin ice with her, and kept silent, watching curiously. She and Sam looked at the sample under a microscope, UV light, anything they could think of. Natalie begrudgingly set Taron to the task of looking up different substances in supernatural lore to see if they could make any matches. He began his diligent search cheerfully and without comment, which mollified her. A tiny bit.
She and Sam were discussing the possibilities of trying to separate the components of the orange goo to see if that could give them any leads. "I mean, we could try distillation," Natalie offered, biting her lip. "It would take forever but we might get something."
"I don't know if there's enough of the stuff to try that, Bug. We might have to go back to the morgue and try to get more, if we can."
"Hey, uh…" Sam and Natalie both turned to face Taron. He was looking up at them a bit sheepishly from his book.
"What?" Natalie barked, louder than she meant to.
"Um, don't mean to step on your toes or nothin', but…have you thought about chromatography?"
"Chroma…what?" Natalie asked.
"What's chromatography?" Sam said, curious.
"It's where you separate elements by putting 'em in a glass container with silica. You then add an organic solvent, give it a little shake. Usually one of the elements will stick to the silica, and the other one passes it by. Pretty easy to do, actually. Can I show you?"
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's be great," Sam said, his eyes wide with surprise. So the kid knew his chemistry too. Impressive.
"How did you learn how to do that?" Natalie asked, in spite of the fact that she was still mad at him. Taron shrugged modestly, but continued to carefully prep his experiment.
"Learned it in training. Kinda on accident. When I got bored with the non-stop drills, I'd sneak over to the chemistry lab." He looked at Natalie with his charming grin. "I'm really good at blowing shit up, if you ever need that."
Natalie folded her arms impatiently. She didn't know why, but this guy was messing with her head. She still wouldn't admit that the wink, his laugh, and those damn blue eyes were…interesting because she was still so fucking mad. Mad at him, at his stupid stuck up father, at her own father and uncle for letting these douche canoes stay here and horn in on their investigation. Mad at the world.
While she was fuming silently, Taron suddenly stood up, looking very pleased with himself. "Hey, look here!" he said, his eyes never leaving the vile. "What's that look like to you, mate?" he asked Sam, holding it out to him.
Sam examined it closely. "Looks like blood," Sam said, his eyes widening at the tiny specks of red in the tube. "But this was from the wound. It could easily have just been mixed in with Brooklyn's blood."
"Not to this level of absorption," Taron said seriously. "See how it's beading like that? I'm willing to bet that whatever caused this was literally consuming and altering the girl's DNA. Probably what caused her to go bat shit."
"Unless it's blood from the actual thing itself," Sam mused.
"We could run a blood sample test and see?" Taron said, his eyes widening at Sam for permission.
"Yeah, great idea. Go for it."
"Wicked. Hey, Natalie, could you grab the file with Brooklyn's blood type in it? That way we can make sure it's hers," Taron asked politely.
Instead of answering, she stomped off, down the hallway towards the kitchen where Dean and Reginald had disappeared to. She was fucking furious that he'd figured this out. She was still pissed about the fight last night, and now this. She was angry at the whole freaking world.
She absentmindedly scratched an itch on her neck, and felt a small, hot bump there. Oh great. Now she was breaking out. She blamed this guy for giving her zits.
