Star Fall / Book One (SPN Fan Fiction)

Chapter Four

The boys stand on one side of the bunker, gawking at the gothically styled huntress.

"Are we just gonna stand here and make googly eyes at each other all night?" She asks sassily, hands on her hips. Dean lowers his glance, watching her remove her midnight cloak. Coaxing her dark lengthy waves to cascade amiably down her back, falling into a v shape.

"If that's what you're into." He humors. Kyiah squints, removing a sable, seventeen inch, Kongo machete from a harness on her back. Threateningly laying it on the map table, only adding to Dean's arousal. "Helllooo." He purrs, ogling the weaponry. "Nice blade." He compliments, she crosses her arms.

"Yeah." She agrees egotistically. "I take good care of my baby." The use of the word 'baby' with her attractively new voice furthers his interest.

"Baby have a name?" Sam uncomfortably chimed. Earning her attention.

"Vlad." She responds edging his way, her pugnacious energy tweaks to one of hostile gratitude. "Thanks for asking." She rewards honestly. Sam lifts his wide face in over elation, compensating for his discomfort. Eyeing the twin glocks just under her arms.

"Well, we really should be thanking you. For uh, saving us back there." He cleared his throat, motioning for her to sit at the table. Dean sarcastically bobbed his head for a while before walking into the study to fix himself a drink. He quickly downs it, re-fills it, and pours a second glass, bringing it back to Kyiah. Leaning over his seated brother to hand her the drink.

"Thanks." She takes it with her fingerless gloved hand, watching as he creates some distance between them. Rounding the far corner of the table to sit on edge of an obsolete motherboard with lit panels and buttons.

"So, how long have you been hunting?" Sam questions politely. Kyiah kicks up her feet, taking a heavy inhale.

"All my life." She stated in boredom.

"Welcome to the club." Dean muttered, raising his drink. She did the same, taking a gulp of liquor.

"Cas mentioned that you're by yourself. How long have you been on your own?" Sam's face shifts to a bit of worry. Swing her abrasive attitude and raunchy persona as a shaded shell, similar to Dean's.

"Uhh, years." She blew out. "Since I was nine."

"All alone?" Dean intriguingly leans forward.

"That's what 'on your own' means doesn't it?" She said cattily, making him sneer. She turned her attention back to Sam. "I specialize in weapons combat and European dwelling creatures. Specifically, vampires and werewolves." She dishes. "I've hunted all over the Eastern block. Scandinavia, Romania, Latvia, Poland. And I'm well versed in all ranges of spell craft..." She stops, seeing the awe in their faces. "But, I digress...However, those werewolves you guys were pinned under? Cheap meat compared to the demented, full bread, animals I hunt." She finished off her whiskey, setting the rim of the glass upside down on the table. Dean had never come across a female who could finish a drink before him. Intensifying the beckoning sensation she sent swarming through him.

"Wow." Sam breathed, impressed. She basks in the glory of their admiration.

"So, are uh, those chains real?" Dean peers judgmentally, seeing the heavy metal arrowed tip.

"Solid silver, double welded, and weighted for full function." She educates, looking back to Sam.

"Where the hell'd you grow up?" Dean bullies.

"Transylvania." She answers as an aside.

"How's America treatin' you so far?" He almost mocks, gulping his drink to catch up. She inhales bitterly, angling to him.