Of Reluctant Allies (The 9+1 Rule For Survival)*SPN x Daredevil*Damned If I Do

The First Three Rules

1) Don't piss off the baristas (they hold power over your caffeine levels)

„Is there anything hot on the menu apart from you?" Sam heard and couldn't help rolling his eyes, giving Dean the look. The look saying I'm so done, you're not my brother and I'm gonna kill you one day without a single word.

Sam and Dean arrived to New York yesterday – following a case, naturally. There had already been three victims of presumed animal attacks, all of them having one significant feature according to the autopsy reports; a missing heart. They hadn't seen the bodies yet, but if the reports were true, they had a werewolf on their hands.

From what Sam read, New York's Hell's Kitchen was a place where lots of shitty things (as Dean would put it) were happening, the crime rate high even for such a large city as New York. Corruption. Kidnappings. Human trafficking. Murders. Bombings. None of these events pointed to anything supernatural though – 'monsters I get, people are crazy' (actually one of the rare wise lines that had ever left Dean's mouth). It would be a freaking paradise for demons who would enjoy the suffering of local people. Yet, it was the case of werewolves what had brought the brothers here.

Sure, there was another catch. The catch that was wearing a black tight outfit and a mask, was running around at night and supposedly was saving lives. Sam would be almost excited about the vigilante figure, only if he wouldn't have had the weirdest name – the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. He might laugh it off if it was few years earlier, but now, discovering angels were after his brother and one very deeply fallen angel was after him, it seemed like a stupid idea to willingly move closer to a creature that was being called the Devil.

They had done it anyway.

Sam had checked – he had read the reports, he had seen the pictures, he had watched the security footages. There was nothing indicating that the vigilante was anything but a very capable human. When he was shot, he bled. When he was punched, he held himself like he was hurt, at least after the fight was over. His moves were gracious, but his punches didn't seem to be supernaturally strong or fast. He was just a man. But then again, the greatest trick the devil had ever pulled was convincing the world he had noted exist. Sam didn't feel good about this.

Finding a motel in the area that seemed to targeted the most, staying up late (Sam to reread the police files, Dean to...whatever he was doing, hunting in a bar), Dean now demanded another morning coffee despite already having one. But Sam understood – if he had Vienna sausage with scrambled eggs and burger as a side dish for breakfast, he would need more caffeine too.

So they found a small café with a quite fitting name (My Daily Dose of Caffeine), several people standing in the line in front of them, providing them enough time to choose. There were three girls behind the counter, all shooting smiles, some honest, some fake. Sam liked it here though – the space was warm, homey, and the baristas tried if anything. The choice was wide enough and Sam chose caramel latté, well-aware he might need a lot of sugar that day.

Their server was a black-haired girl, taller than the others, with a smile that looked natural, honest, the kind that made people to return the gesture just because. Of course, his brother, who needed to flirt with everything that moved, tried out one of his favourite lines. Her cheeks blushed furiously, gaze lowering to the counter shyly and Sam groaned internally. Really, Dean? This one again?

The girl – Vera, as the nametag read – surprised them both when she looked up again, one corner of her lips raised. "I'm sorry, sir. I was taken away from the menu a while ago. I suggest you to choose something else. Would you like me to read it out loud for you? It's no trouble."