Aderyn Lunette has known only a Hunter's grueling, unforgiving life, always under the constant watch of her infamous, controlling mother. That is, until the day the Winchester brothers come knocking. The case is unlike any Aderyn has faced before, a...
The sound of Crowley's fingers snapping echoes like a gunshot.
And then—she's gone.
Aderyn disappears in a blink of sulfur and smoke. One second she's there, wide-eyed and trembling, and the next—
Gone.
"NO!" Sam's voice rips through the air like thunder. His back slams harder into the wall, straining against the invisible force holding him in place. "ADERYN!"
But there's nothing. Just the hiss of fading hellfire and the lingering smell of sulfur. Dean lowers the Colt slowly, his hand trembling.
"Son of a bitch," he mutters.
As suddenly as it appeared, the wall of force pinning Sam releases, and he collapses forward, hitting the ground on his hands and knees. He doesn't stay down long. He launches to his feet and storms toward Dean, eyes blazing.
"You let her go!" he shouts, shoving his brother back a step.
Dean doesn't resist. He just stands there, still holding the Colt.
"We didn't have a choice, Sam."
"There's always a choice!" Sam growls, jabbing a finger at him. "You told her it would be an easy case. You told her he wouldn't touch her. You let her sacrifice herself!"
Dean glares, his own anger rising to the surface. "I didn't make her do anything! She knew what was at stake! She made the call."
"She shouldn't have had to make the call!" Sam shouts back. His voice cracks on the last word, and he turns away, breathing hard, running a hand down his face like he's trying to hold it together.
Dean exhales sharply, guilt rippling across his face. "I didn't want this, Sammy. You think I wanted to trade her to that bastard? She's one of us."
"She trusted us," Sam says quietly. "She trusted me."
The room is too quiet now. The weight of her absence is unbearable. Aderyn's energy—sharp, smart, stubborn—gone like a candle snuffed out. Dean stares at the Colt in his hand like it's cursed. Maybe it is. But maybe it's warranted.
"This better be worth it," he mutters, sliding the bullets into the chamber one by one. "This gun better be the thing that ends it."
Sam turns back to him, eyes red with fury. "We're getting her back."
Dean nods. "Damn right we are."
"He's the King of Hell, he can enact any type of torture on her," Sam whispers, his hands shake as he steps forward, his voice tight and brittle. "And we stood there and let him take her. You saw her face, Dean. She was terrified."
"She was also brave as hell," Dean replies with a shrug. "She made the same kind of call we would've made."
"But she's not us!" Sam explodes. "She's not hardened like we are. She's barely an adult, Dean! She hasn't been in this world as long as we have. She hasn't shut off the parts of herself that feel everything!"
Dean looks away. The guilt sits heavy in the lavish office, pressing into both of them.
After a long beat of silence, Sam speaks again, quieter now. "I felt her shaking. When I held her hand. I felt how scared she was."
Dean closes the Colt with a hard snap. "And now Crowley's gonna find out what happens when he takes someone we care about."
Sam nods. "We're going to burn his world to the ground."
"After we shoot Lucifer in the face," Dean adds darkly. "Then we go after him. No deals. No mercy."
Sam walks to the middle of the room, looking at the space where she'd stood. He kneels down slowly, almost reverently, and picks something up—a clasp, from her dark hair.
She must have dropped it in the rush. His thumb brushes over it like it's made of glass.
"I'm not losing her," Sam whispers.
"You won't," Dean says. "We'll get her back."
Sam rises, the clasp clenched tightly in his fist. "Let's go end this."
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