Chapter 3

Then:

"Oh, yeah. A little insurance policy in case you dicks showed up." Dean tugs on a sliding door and slams his palm over the bloody sigil inscribed there. It shines with white light and the room goes white for a moment. I shut my eyes and when I open them, Zachariah and his angel flunkies are gone. "Learned that from my friend, Cas, you son of a bitch!" Dean calls towards the ceiling.

"Freaking ninja," I croak, staring at Dean, "When'd you draw that?" I don't recall ever seeing Dean cut his hand or draw a sigil, but he merely shrugs and gives me a smirk.

"This sucks ass," Chuck summarizes all our feelings.

Now:

We leave Chuck's within the hour to throw the angels off our tracks and hole up in a motel. There are only two beds, both in equally terrible shape, but Sam takes the old lumpy couch despite my protests, dropping his duffel bag on it before promptly disappearing outside. I drop my backpack onto one of the beds, watching Dean go about preparing salt lines around the motel room.

"How long am I supposed to stay here?" I demand when he finally straightens after laying down the last salt line.

"Long as it takes." Dean's stern expression softens marginally. "Look, kid, I know it's not ideal, but you're safer with us than with those dicks with wings. Soon as all of this blows over, first thing we'll do is take you back to Jersey."

"I know." I drop my gaze to my clasped hands in my lap. "D'you think it's true? What Zachariah said about bringing me here to help?"

"Wouldn't put it past 'em. What I don't get is why."

"When you figure that out, let me know, too." I give Dean a wry smile. "I'm just a regular human being. I don't know anything outside of the first se - series of Chuck's books." I had almost said "seasons," which would have undoubtedly led Dean to suspect me.

"Yeah, about that. What's with what Chuck said? 'Bout that vision of you?"

I shrug. "I dunno. I'm nothing special."

Dean looks like he wants to question me further, but maybe he sees the sincerity in my expression, because he nods in acceptance. "Okay." He hesitates before squeezing my shoulder. "For what it's worth, I'm, uh...I'm sorry this happened to you."

I can't help but grin back up at him. "Thanks." There's the Dean I had loved over the first few seasons, not the rude guy who had dragged me along for the past day.

The door opens and Sam returns, carrying a plastic bag full of clothes and a small drawstring bag made of what appears to be jean-cloth.

"Here, since you're gonna be around for a while. Sorry if they don't fit right, I kind of had to guess your size." He hands me the bag of clothes and I rifle through it, coming up with a clean pair of dark blue jeans and a plain black T-shirt, along with a black sweatshirt.

"No, this is fine." I give him a grateful smile. "Thanks." I go to the small bathroom to change into the clean clothes, shoving the dirty ones into the same plastic bag to use as a temporary laundry bag. I would have to get clean underwear on my own time - it would be cruel punishment to make Sam get women's underwear as well as clothes. Surprisingly, the jeans and shirt fit almost perfectly once I cut off the tags and slip them on. I tie my hair in a ponytail using a spare scrunchie from my backpack before finally opening the bathroom door again.

Dean and Sam look tense, clearly in the middle of an argument, and I pause at the doorway.

"Look, all I'm saying is, why do we have to put this under a microscope?" Dean says at last, his eyes flicking to me before returning to Sam. "We made a mess. We clean it up. That's it."

Sam nods, swallowing.

"All right," Dean confirms with a nod of his own. "So say this is just any other hunt. You know? What do we do first?"

"We'd, uh, figure out where the thing is," Sam supplies.

"So essentially, we're searching for Satan," I deadpan. Lucifer had always just seemed more funny and casual on the show, but he's real here, real and dangerous, and the idea of actively seeking him out does not sit well with me. Still, we're stuck in this situation and there doesn't seem to be another way out.

Sam nods and that's when I notice my half-open backpack. Dean shuffles guiltily.

"You went through my stuff?" I demand exasperatedly. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but still, I had expected a little privacy. My purse remains untouched, surprisingly - maybe I had interrupted Dean's search before he had reached it, which is good because the dates on my driver's license would have been far too difficult to explain.

"I was curious," Dean defends himself.

"And you didn't stop him because...?" I look at Sam, who flushes.

"Um. I was curious, too?"

"Screw you both." I wish I could hit them, but they're both at least a foot taller than me, so I settle for punching Dean's arm. It hurts me more than him and he snickers as I flex my fingers, wincing, before grabbing my backpack and settling for sorting the books inside, only to find that they're not there. "Where are my books?" Sam coughs and I turn to see my books on the coffee table. The giant is flicking through my Differential Equations textbook, his expression flashing somewhere between interest and confusion.

"Never had to take beyond first semester calculus," he informs me and I huff.

"Pre-law." I grab the book back from him and shove it into my backpack.

"Pre-med," he scoffs in the exact same tone when he sees my biology textbook in the pile.

"Biomedical engineer," I correct. Dean's head snaps back and forth between us, as if he's watching a fast-paced volleyball game.

"Well, that explains this." Sam holds up my biomechanics textbook. I shove it and the biology textbook into the bag. Sam picks up the last textbook, Microeconomics, and raises an eyebrow.

"Dude, even I don't know why I have to take that." I take it back from him, glad that my textbooks are relatively lightweight this semester. "Quit touching my stuff," I scold both of them and they look chastised. It's rather satisfying to see two grown men, both over six feet, looking guilty because a five-foot-two midget has scolded them. "Look, I'm trusting you two not to get me killed, as stupid as that might be on my part, so you're gonna have to give me a little trust, too. Okay?"

Sam nods first and after a moment, Dean agrees.

After those eventful first few hours in the motel, things calm down after Sam explains that we now have a hex bag concealing us from both angels and demons. Sam is now staring at John Winchester's journal, which has been placed on the table - but not before both Winchesters warn me never to touch it - while Dean watches the news on the small motel television. I hover between the two indecisively. I want to read, but the only thing I have are my textbooks.

No way am I touching those. I barely touch them when I'm in school.

"How would you then explain an earthquake, a hurricane, and multiple tornadoes, all at the same time, all around the globe?" a newscaster spoke on the television to an environmentalist.

"Two words. Carbon emissions."

I snort and, in agreement with me, Dean grumbles, "Yeah, right, wavy gravy."

A knock on the door starts us all out of our relaxed states and we glance at each other. Sam heads for the door while Dean pulls out his gun. I sit back on the empty bed, worried, but when Sam pulls open the door, a young woman with dark blonde hair is standing there. She looks excited, her breaths coming out in tiny gasps as she stares at Sam.

"You okay, lady?" Sam asks cluelessly.

"Sam, is it really you?" Sam looks at us, bewildered, and the woman takes the opportunity to touch his chest shamelessly. "And you're so firm." I think I might have broken a rib from trying not to laugh.

"Uh, do I know you?"

"No." The woman pulls back at last. "But I know you. You're Sam Winchester. And you're-" She looks past Sam at Dean, who puts his gun away hastily. "-not what I pictured." She blinks at me next. "And who're you?"

"Me?" I get an awful idea then and duck under Sam's arm quickly, snuggling against his side. "I'm his girlfriend." Dean chokes with laughter as Sam turns bright red.

"W-What?" The woman looks horrified.

"She's kidding!" Sam says hurriedly, shoving me off him, and I snicker as I return to my bed.

"Nah, I'm just their hostage."

The woman doesn't look inclined to take my word for anything anymore. "I'm Becky," she says, now speaking to Sam as she enters the motel room. Sam shuts the door behind her. "I read all about you guys, and I've even written a few-" She looks down, flushing, and I groan.

"Oh, no, you're that type of fan! You ship it, don't you?"

"Oh, yes." Becky grins wickedly and I resist the urge to puke.

"What?" Dean and Sam look at me.

"Wincest." They blanch and don't bother asking me to elaborate.

"Anyway, Mr. Edlund told me where you were," Becky cuts in.

"Chuck?" Dean raises his eyebrows.

"He's got a message, but he's being watched. Angels. Nice change-up to the mythology, by the way. The demon stuff was getting kind of old." Becky's speaking as if it's still a story, as if we get a choice in the matter.

"Right." Sam looks increasingly more uncomfortable in her presence. "Just, um...what's the message?"

"He had a vision. 'The Michael Sword is on Earth. The angels lost it,'" Becky repeats.

"Michael Sword?" Dean echoes. I have a horrible feeling I know where this is going, but I remain quiet.

"Becky, does he know where it is?" Sam prompts.

"In a castle, on a hill made of forty-two dogs." We all stare at her. "I know, it doesn't make sense, but that's what he said. I memorized every word." She steps closer to Sam, placing her hand on his chest again. "For you."

"Um, Becky, c-can you...quit touching me?" Sam stammers, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"No." Becky's eyes are closed and she looks blissed out.

Dean and I don't bother trying to hide our laughter anymore.

It takes a long time to shove Becky out the door and even longer for Sam to stop blushing, especially since I keep poking fun at him for it, but at last, the motel is quiet once more. Dean calls Bobby after Becky leaves and Bobby promises to be there within a few hours.

I'm not sure when it happens, but I doze off after about half an hour of inactivity, and wake up to Sam shaking my shoulder.

"Bobby's a few minutes out. Figured you should be awake when he gets here." I nod with a yawn, rubbing my eyes to rid myself of exhaustion. Ironically, I feel better rested than I have felt even before this mess started. I look around for Dean, but he's not there. "He's in the shower," Sam supplies and the sound of water running reaches my ears then.

"How long was I out?" I ask as I stifle another yawn.

"Two hours. You look like you needed it." Sam looks amused.

"Yeah, I'd only gotten two hours of sleep before this whole mess started. My roommate, Piper, had me pulling an all-nighter while we crammed for an exam and-" My throat tightens as Piper drifts to the front of my mind.

"Ariel?" Sam sounds concerned as he squeezes my shoulder.

"What if they're looking for me? Piper, my parents, everyone I know?" I swallow back the lump in my throat. "I can't be here, I have to go home."

"I know." Sam looks genuinely apologetic as he continues, "But you're-"

"-safer here," I finish for him, forcing back the tears threatening to fall.

"I'm sorry." Sam's arms wrap fully around my shoulders, tugging me against him, and I don't hesitate to bury my face into his chest. I don't cry, but the embrace is comforting enough that any tears that had been in my eyes spill down my cheeks. I wipe my face with my sleeve, sniffling even as I huddle against Sam. He holds me tightly without saying a word, for which I'm grateful. The last thing I want is to be coddled over my own inability to grasp the situation.

I calm down after a few minutes and pull out of the embrace, which is good because Dean chooses then to step out of the shower.

"Thanks," I mumble so that the older Winchester can't hear and Sam smiles back faintly. There's still something lurking behind his eyes, the same weary miserable look he'd worn since I had first seen him on the plane, but I can't bring myself to ask about it. Even if I know the true cause of it - come on, I might forget stupid things like the crazy fangirl, but even I know what happened at the end of the fourth season of Supernatural - it's not my place to ask.

My musings are cut short by a knock on the door and Dean gets it. A bearded man in a trucker's cap stands there, his eyes crinkled in a smile. I recognize him immediately from the show, of course, but if I distance myself from having already known him, I would have liked him, anyway, grumpy mannerisms and all. He just seems like that one nice uncle you've always been close to from childhood.

"Hey, Bobby." Dean hugs Bobby tightly, relieved, and Bobby squeezes his shoulders in return, patting his back briefly.

"Good to see you boys in one piece." Bobby hugs Sam, who is beaming widely, next. Both Winchesters seem much more relaxed now as Dean closes the door.

"You weren't followed, were you?" Dean asks.

"By who? Angels, demons, or Sam's new superfan?"

Sam laughs. "You heard."

"I heard, Romeo." Bobby glances at me, his eyebrows furrowing. "Who's the kid?"

"She was pulled out of Jersey and landed on that plane with us," Dean explains as he circles around to sit on one of the beds. "We couldn't let the angels just get a hold of her, so we brought her with us."

Bobby nods. "Just as well. What do you reckon the angels want with her?"

"Well, she doesn't have a clue, but-"

"She is right here," I cut in irritably. Bobby rolls his eyes at me, as if he could care less, but at least Dean looks apologetic. "Can we just get on with this 'Sword of Michael' crap?" I add so that the subject can be turned away from me.

"You think we're talking about the actual sword from the actual archangel?" Sam asks, going along with the subject change.

"You better friggin' hope so." Bobby nods to the door. "I've got a couple books in the trunk." I hop up from the bed; at least I'd be useful in carrying books. Sam and I carry the books in - by which time I feel like my shoulders are about to dislocate while the overgrown man laughs at me - and set them down on the table.

Bobby picks up the topmost book from the pile and opens it to an oil painting. "That's Michael. Toughest son of a bitch they got."

Dean snorts and even I can see the amusement in it. Michael looks like a girl.

"You kidding me? Tough? That guy looks like Cate Blanchett."

"Well, I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley, believe me," Bobby retorts, "He commands the heavenly Host. During the last big dust-up upstairs, he's the one who booted Lucifer's ass to the basement. Did it with that sword." He points to the long broadsword in Michael's outstretched hand. "So if we can find it..."

"We can ice the Devil," Sam realizes, "All right, so where do we start?"

"Divvy up and start reading. All three of you. Try and make sense of Chuck's nonsense." Dean grabs the book Bobby had been using while Sam and I head for the pile. Halfway there, Sam stops in his tracks, his expression pensive. "Kid? You all right?" Sam turns at the sound of Bobby's voice.

"No, actually. Bobby, this is all my fault. I'm sorry." I hesitate, hovering anxiously behind Sam.

"Sam," Dean says gruffly, a warning to shut up, but Sam continues.

"Lilith didn't break the final seal. Lilith was the final seal. I killed her, and I set Lucifer free." Sam looks resigned to his fate, and despite the horrible things he's admitting to, something in my chest twists painfully at the broken expression on his face.

"You what?" Apparently, Bobby doesn't share my sympathy.

"You guys warned me about Ruby, the demon blood, but I didn't listen. I brought this on." I remember that; Sam's addiction to demon blood is what fueled all of the fourth season of the show. Sam's struggle seems all the more painful now that it's real.

"You're damn right you didn't listen. You were reckless and selfish and arrogant." Bobby scowls as he approaches Sam. The younger Winchester swallows and I look at Dean, who watches the scene play out silently.

"I'm sorry," Sam croaks weakly.

"Oh, yeah? You're sorry you started Armageddon? This kind of thing don't get forgiven, boy. If, by some miracle, we pull this off...I want you to lose my number. You understand me?" Now that doesn't sound like Bobby, but it doesn't stop the hurt flashing across Sam's face. Sam ducks his head and nods sharply, clearly fighting tears. Dean still says nothing, his expression stony.

"There's an old church nearby. Maybe I'll go read some of the lore books there," Sam suggests quietly.

"Yeah, you do that." Bobby crosses his arms as Sam turns to leave. I move around Sam to stand next to Dean before smacking him upside the head.

He starts and rubs his head. "Woman!" I hit him again before following Sam out the door.

I swear, I don't mean to make Ariel so Sam-oriented. She'll warm up to Dean when he quits being an awful brother. Or when Cas arrives. Or both. ;)

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