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Chapter 3: The Truth

"Have you heard of Abaddon?" Sam asked.

"Abaddon? As in the Ex Knight of Hell, Abaddon?"

You remembered hearing things about her years ago. A few hunter friends you were working a case with seemed to have an obsession with all things Demon. They talked almost nonstop about Hell and all of the Demons. You mostly stayed silent, almost appreciative to be able to learn about the wicked things. You hunted monsters. Not Demons. As a lone hunter, that would be a suicide mission.

"I'll take that as a yes," Dean replied. "She's back and we need Crowley so we can learn what we can to take down this bitch."

"Again," Sam added.

"Wait, what do you mean again?" If there was a demon powerful enough to come back after being killed once, it wasn't a demon you wanted to mess with. Other than your deal with Crowley, demons were the types of monsters you avoided. Small hunts were slightly safer and so those were the ones you pursued, leaving the more dangerous hunts to people like the Winchesters who could take it.

"We killed her once, but she wasn't really dead. We needed a test subject, so we reassembled her."

Your gaze was filled with disbelief. It surely wasn't your place to judge people you didn't know very well, but reassembling a Knight of Hell sounds insanely stupid.

"Why did you do that?" you couldn't help but ask.

"We found a cure for demons. We thought it would be less dangerous to reassemble Abaddon than to find some trouble and trap one," Dean jumped back in.

"Can't you just do it again? Kill her, I mean."

"I don't know," Sam shook his head and his long locks shifted over his eyes. He ran his hand through the mess to get it out of his face.

Dean noticed you watching Sam and his hair and said, "Don't mind Rapunzel over there." Sam glared at Dean who stood up and began plating the pancakes that had surely lost their warmth. "We'll figure something out. Do you like butter on your pancakes?" He shifted the conversation so abruptly it was almost smooth. The way they talked about Abaddon was like someone talking about a minor pest. The realization that these boys had more than likely gone through much worse than Abaddon hit you hard.

"Y/N," Dean said sternly, pulling you from the thoughts in your mind.

"Sorry, yes. I do like butter." Everything with Abaddon had you reeling and not quite ready to leave the conversation. "So what does all of this with Abaddon have to do with my deal?"

"Crowley's the King of Hell," Dean answered. "And Abaddon is trying to take his position."

"Wait," you stopped him. "King of Hell? I thought he was a Crossroads Demon."

The green eyed man only shrugged. "My guess is that Crowley got a little bored and did some...overtime."

You scoffed. Bored? He's the King of Hell. How could he get bored?

"Abaddon must have sent the hounds after you, hoping that the more deals that went south, the more loyalties would shift," Sam said. "But enough about her. Let's just enjoy some breakfast."

Sam slid a plastic bag down the table. It stopped almost perfectly in front of you. Before you had a chance to say your thanks, Dean was putting plates down on the table full of pancakes. Sam nodded, giving you the okay to open it. Inside was a shirt, jeans, and some socks.

"Thanks, to the both of you."

"No problem," Sam said, stabbing down into his pile of pancakes. "It's kind of a relief to hear you're a hunter."