"Aren't we all Damaged?"
Being a Hybrid has its perks, but it also has its disadvantages. Abigael had been on both ends of those sticks, she's been on them for a while. But there was a fraction in the Demon world that would want her dead and another...
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I stayed clear of the Winchester men for a while, finding that I needed some time to myself, time to process what is inevitable. Yet I always find myself wondering back to the boys, and how they were feeling in this. But the answers I seek, there was no getting to them, they seemed far, and I was just out of reach. Every book I read, there was no mention of Adrida, just Michael and Lucifer, it was like she never existed. She was no minor player in all of this, I was sure of that.
The phone to my right - which was sitting upon an end-side table - began to ring. It was one of those old Victorian telephones. I reached my arm out, and picked up the receiver, and brought the phone to my ear. It could be a handful of people, as the phone number was private.
"Adams' residents, Abigael speaking," my British voice sounded posh, as I leaned into the receiver.
"Abigael, it's Sam," his husky voice came across, making me screw up my face, as I didn't think I would hear anything from him. "It's Dean, he's gone-a-wall, and I need some help. He's going to say 'Yes' to Michael, and we need to stop him. Find another way," before Sam could speak anymore, I slammed the phone back onto the receiver, and the call disconnected. Dean would never in a million years say 'Yes' to Michael, and after what happened in Heaven, and probably what I've missed. He's been pushed too far, and the only way he 'thinks' he can save a lot of people is by saying 'yes'.
Screw that! Dean isn't going to say yes, if I have something to say about it. I flourished my hand up, and was engulfed by black smoke, and sent me on my way. Tracking Dean wasn't going to be hard, though he would have made a hex-bag to shield himself from being found. But my way of tracking was stronger than those hex-bags.
...................
I reformed in the kitchen of Bobby Singer's house, seeing that the sliding doors leading into the living room were shut, but half-open, enough for me to peer in to see Cas, Sam, and Bobby huddled around his desk.
"Well I guess she ain't coming," Bobby's voice pierced the air, kind of sounding annoyed at the fact. "Why did you bother Sam?" Bobby states, taking his gaze up to look at him.
"She doesn't want this either, I know it," he came to my defense, which was kind of sweet of him. "Just give her time," there was no need to come to my defense, but if Sam believes that I won't sit around, and allow this to happen, then I will not.
"No need," my voice soared through the air, as I made my grand-entrance into the living room, in a blink of an eye. Sam and Cas turned from their spots to look at me. "Don't get all emotional," my eyes focused on Sam, knowing it was right up his alley. "Only here so half the planet doesn't get roasted," I offered a pointed look, before clapping my hands together. "So. Do you know where he is?" The question was aimed at Sam.
"I do, but I just want to make sure,"
"And Angel boy here can't locate him because of the marks he placed upon your ribs," my eyes wandered over to Cas, as the idea of it was fitting at the time, but now, when we needed to locate him. "That's where I come in," a smug smirk came to my lips. "Ok, I need your hand," I stepped closer to Sam, my eyes never disconnecting from his.
