Reckless [Dean Winchester]

2. Crazy Town

2. Crazy Town

These dudes have some serious issues.

Instead of holing me up in the bathroom or letting me go (like I had hoped for), I had been handcuffed to one of the chairs at the small table that was in the cramped room. I knew I could pick up the chair and run away, but I wasn't that strong, so I discarded the option.

Oh, and how do I know these guys are off their rocker?

Well, for one thing, they threw water at me, again. The douche who caught me for trying to hotwire his car nicked me with a knife, so now I have a thin, healing pink line on my forearm. There were a few other tests which only proved these two were insane.

So now, here I am, handcuffed to a chair, in Normal, Illinois, where right now anything is but normal. So far, this city has been proven wrong several times, and this was before I met these two lunatics.

I try and avoid contact with either of them. They disappeared earlier to another part of the room after their tests on me. Maybe I stumbled onto the wrong people. I just ran into killers' hands. Well, it's not the first time my life has been at stake. Though, usually, when my life is on the line, I have an even chance of surviving. Right now, being stuck to a chair lessens my odds. There's nothing around to pick my locks with.

I groan loudly enough to annoy the guys and lean against the chair, which is becoming quickly uncomfortable.

"We're not happy about this either," comes the owner of the deep voice that's not Sam.

I look at him with a hard gaze. "Really? You looked like you had a sparkle in your eye when we had a go in the lot," I snarl. "Is this what psychos do nowadays? Prey at motels?"

"I might as well be asking the same about people like you." His arms are folded across his chest.

"Watch your tone." My hands go into fists. "Dangerous territory."

"I'm no stranger to danger."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. Why am I still here?" I jiggle the cuffs. "Are you two going to kill me?"

Sam's eyes go wide. "Why would we do that?"

"Well, Killer over here"-I gesture to Sam's counterpart-"looked like he would have been more than happy to put a bullet in my brain."

"We're not killers." But the look in Sam's eyes tell me that he sounds off saying the words.

"Neither am I." I raise my chin.

"Yeah, okay," scoffs the other guy.

"Sorry, but not all of 'my kind,'" I say bitingly, "are murderers."

"Your kind?"

"She's normal, Dean," Sam tells him. "She passed all the tests."

"Are you guys saving me for the cops?" I pause a beat. "You two aren't cops, are you?"

"No, we're not," Sam assures me. "We would have been at the precinct by now."

"Does sound like a good idea, to drop her off there," says Dean. He sits in the other chair, I scoot away instantly. "Relax, I'm not gonna touch you." He pulls his foot up to barely rest it on the chair. He begins to tie his shoe. "Somebody can take her off our hands."