Tragedy ° DEAN WINCHESTER

xxxi. | bitch; jerk

Disclaimer; I do not own Supernatural. If I did, well, I'd be a millionaire, so this fanfic wouldn't exist.

Hunted; Part Two
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"900 years of time and space and I've never met anyone who wasn't important." -The Doctor

WHEN EMERY CAME TO, SHE WAS tied to a chair. She pulled on the ropes restraining her, but it was no use. Dean was coming to beside her and she spotted Gordon in the corner.

"Listen, Gordon, I'm into some kinky shit, but being knocked out and tied to a chair is just psychotic," Emery spat, looking at Dean's jaw and seeing it lightly bruised. She still had a pounding headache from her fall and the rifle and deduced that she probably had a concussion.

Well, this was just great.

The ringing of the phone interrupted Emery and Dean from cussing at the other hunter. Gordon took out a phone and glanced at the caller ID.

"It's your brother," Gordon stated simply, walking over to Dean, his face serious. "Act like you're not tied to a chair and I won't blow Emery's brains out."

"You son of a bitch," Emery and Dean stated in unison, glaring at the dark skinned man.

Emery spends too much time with Dean, it seems.

Gordon answered the phone, putting it to Dean's ear so the man could talk. Emery was still death glaring at Gordon, swearing to God that she was going to snap his neck.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean talked normally, like he was simply driving the Impala. "We're looking for you."

Sam said something Emery couldn't understand, making Emery huff. She hated not knowing things. It was the one thing she hated more than vampires. And since that case with John and the Colt, man, did she loathe vampires.

"I know," Dean stated. "Yeah, I talked to Ellen. Emery and I just arrived here ourselves. It's a real funky town."

"Hey, Sammy," Emery shouted, trying to make her voice sound stable. She didn't want to die. She also didn't want Dean to die. Sam either, for that matter.

"You ditched me, Sammy," Dean said, quite loudly at that. Emery really hoped that Gordon wouldn't catch on to what he was probably going to do next. "What? Who?"

Dean glanced up at Gordon and Emery realized that Sam was going to ask Dean for help. About the sniper, about his safety. And that girl's, whoever she was.

"I'm staying at 56 37 Monroe Street. Why don't you meet me here?"

A second later, Gordon hung up the phone, a smug look on his face. "Now, was that so hard?"

Emery answered for him, "yes, it was fucking terrible. Now, get us out of these fucking ropes!"

Gordon ignored the girl cussing at him from under her breath, still looking at Dean for an answer. Without looking at the dark skinned hunter, he said two simple words.

"Bite me."

It wasn't even a minute later before Gordon was getting ready for Sam's arrival. He pulled a bag full of weaponry off the floor and started making sure each magazine was full, that each gun was ready. He really wanted Sam dead for some reason.

"Look, Gordy, I know Sam, Em, and I aren't exactly your favourite people, but don't you think this is a little extreme?" Dean asked. Emery was wiggling in her chair, trying to get her wrists out of their bindings. Probably giving herself rope burn too, but it was worth it.