Damaged Goods

Supernatural

The car jerked forward as it's driver pressed on the brakes.

Though we'd only said we'd drive together for a few days, Dean Winchester and Raven Quinzel were becoming a good pair of hunters.

Neither of us wanted to admit we were using the other to get over the loss of our sibling. Dean reminded me of my sister. She was a flirt. She wasn't having a proper weekend until she had sex with two guys (if it was at the same time, then yay). She was a soldier, an assassin trained to hunt the monsters of the world. I reminded him of Sam. There had been a lot of times he found my nose deep in a book, sometimes for a hunt and sometimes not.

I'd taught him how to make the salt paste for jackets. He taught me the proper way to fire rock salt, without falling back on your ass. Good skills, in the long run. We learned from each other.

I woke up harshly, glaring at Dean. He sat in his seat ignoring my death glare. The seasoned hunter only acknowledged me when he looked towards the house.

Dean was staring intensely at the building. He didn't make any real moves towards it, just sitting in the driver's seat with a tense form.

"This isn't a bar." My deadpan would've been more effective if I wasn't pulling myself up from the floor. "You said we were getting drinks."

The hunter gave me a sort of glare. It fell flat when he looked back the building with hesitation.

"This is his house, isn't?" I asked carefully, wanting to pacify the glare. Dean's tense shoulders loosened. "So buck up, and go get your nerd of a brother."

Dean eyed me. He gave me a half confident smirk. "Whatever the lady wants."

"You're damn right." I smirked. In excitement I whacked him on the leather covered arm. "You better walk out in five, or I'm gonna come after you." I reminded him, giving him a warning look.

"We'll shoot you." Dean warned. There was an indecisive look on his face that was gone in a second.

"That'll be a laugh." Though he didn't hear me, since he had already left the car and slammed the door shut.

While waiting, I pulled out my phone to get a good song or two in before running up after the idiots. A play or two of 'Dead Girl Walking' was long enough for a wait.

Chances were, Dean was waiting in front of Sam's door piss pants scared. On TV, the man was brazen as all hell. When it came to family shit, the boy was drowning.

"That's five." I pushed the passenger door open.

I ran up to Sam's apartment. Dean had been going over this hard for two weeks so we knew as much about this place as probably Sam himself. It was easy to reach his apartment, then pick the lock of his apartment.

Pushing the door open, I could see the two brothers having a lovely reunion in the dark.

"Dean?" I called out.

The hunter stared at me in surprise. "You said you would wait in the car!" He hissed.

"I said I would give you five minutes, then I'd come in after you." I reminded him.

"That wasn't five minutes!" Dean whined.

The lights switched on, so I got a better look at Sam's place and the man himself.

He was a baby. The hair short enough that it didn't reach his shoulders, choosing instead to flair out like angel wings around his head. There were no lines on his face from all the years of loss, centuries in Hell as Lucifer's playtoy. His lips were in their typical Sam frown, the one you saw in the later seasons more often than not. There were just some bags under his eyes from the sleepless nights of college (and having sleepovers with your girlfriend). His expression was a flat lip of annoyance, staring at Dean and I like we were cats that kept finding a way into your apartment (except you don't have a cat door or open windows).