Bobby Singer's Daughter - A Supernatural Fan Fiction

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Five - Where do we go from here?

Turns out that the two had buried her body in separate places to keep her from being put back together, which is gross enough as I watch them sew her body parts back together except for her hands which they leave in a box to keep her from breaking free and ripping the bullet out.

"Morning sunshines," she grins at us, Dean slaps his brother's arm, "you owe me a beer."

"And I owe the both of you so, so much," she purrs, "I can't wait to tear out those pretty green eyes."

Growling I step between the boys and her, "good luck with that," she eyes me then says, "you're looking worse for wear darling."

"We figured kitty didn't need her claws," Dean states to break up the tension.

He'd reattached everything back together on her body, well except her hands which are lying in one of the containers on a work bench a few feet away.

"Then I'll stump you to death, it'll be swell."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen either," Sam says, "the bullet – remember?"

Dean shoots her just for the hell of it to prove a point that she can't do a damn thing with the etched bullet stuck in her head; while the guys consecrate the ground around the demon, I watch her closely for any sign that she'll be able to get free however there's nothing only the flicker of her eyes as she watches all of us.

"I know this tune," she murmurs, "Father Max Thompson, born October 12, 1910, died August 5, 1958. Who do you think ripped him apart?" I feel my blood run cold at that moment, "word got back to home office that Maxie was messing with things, so we made an example. It wasn't my most artful kill, it was effective – bonus before he died, he told me all about Josie Sands. I found and rode her into the Men of Letters," she starts to laugh, "and what I did to them, that was art."

"So, you think you know what Max was doing?" I ask and she nods, "fella screamed the basics, but it'll never work."

"You keep telling yourself that," Dean growls as Sam's phone begins to ring and he answers it, "Crowley," his voice is low and angry.

"Crowley?" she asks, "the salesman?"

"Try King of Hell," Dean says and she snorts, "this is a joke, right?"

Sam and Dean walk away pointing to the demon as if she'll move, I wander across the room to sit on an overturned desk and close my eyes for a minute or two wondering if this will work; I mean we did see on the film that it did, but Abaddon is so sure that it won't. I wonder then what the hell Crowley wanted. Shaking my head, I open my eyes to find Abaddon right there glaring at me, her hands are sewn back into place, and she grabs my throat hoisting me off the ground.

"I could kill you,' she murmurs, "right here and now, end this silly little experiment but the lot of you interest me; however, I'm more interested in overthrowing Crowley than you little Muppets at the moment."

"Surprise, surprise," I growl, "you don't see the big picture sweetie, I'd tell you, but I don't want to ruin the surprise."

Without another word she hoists me even higher then hurls me across the rooms towards the table and chair, I crash hard onto the wooden object my back taking a major part of the blow; I hear her laugh before disappearing. My vision swims in and out as heavy footsteps approach from the door where the guys had disappeared through to talk with Crowley.

"No, no, no, no!" Dean shouts, "she's gone. She's – son of a bitch!"

"Dean!" Sam's voice is closer, "Dean!"