Brothers Keep Her

“Teach me how to do that,” you demand as the Impala speeds down the highway. Even Baby sounds fired up. “What you were doing back there.”

“It’s not safe,” Sam counters. “You shouldn’t get caught up in it.”

“I’m already in it!” You snap, glaring at him.

His phone interrupts before he has a chance to respond. “Dean,” he says when he answers it.

You lace your fingers and squeeze until your knuckles turn white, staring at the dashboard. That’s when you see them: D. W. S. W. The boys’ initials. The same exact initials that were keyed into your car all those months ago. The same initials carved into the back of your hand. Would any of this had happened if you’d never met Sam? If Sam had never walked into your coffee shop that afternoon? If he’d never been in Your library?

“I left you a note,” Sam says into the phone. “Dude, you hadn’t slept in days. It was just supposed to be a little recon.”

You can’t sit still; the adrenaline coursing through your body shakes you at your core. Your muscles tense as your heartbeat pounds against the walls of your chest - but not like before. That was fear, then. This is entirely different. Fists unclench and clench over and over. How do you kill a demon? How do you kill a demon without hurting Jonah?

“I don’t know where it went,” Sam says to his brother. “It took off. I’m pretty sure it’s not driving the kid’s car.” Sam sighs heavily. “No, Dean. I didn’t follow it. I was protecting her. It wouldn’t even look at me, man. I’m telling you - they’re after her.” He listens to Dean for a few moments. “Right. Well, we’re going to have to track it down somehow. What about Crowley? Have you heard from him?”

You hear Dean curse on the other end of the line.

“We don’t have a lot of options, here. It said, ‘There is no Crowley.’ Whatever the hell that means, I don’t know. But if anyone knows something, maybe he does.” Sam slows to exit the highway. You must be getting close the bunker again. “Yeah, well, we’re going to have to lure it out-”

“Me,” you say, steeling your gaze on Sam, but he’s already shaking his head. “Use me. It wants me, use me as bait.”

“No. Absolutely not. Not a good idea.”

“It’s the ONLY idea we have!”

You hear Dean yammer in Sam’s ear. “We’ll talk about this at the bunker,” Sam tells you and goes back to talking to his brother.

In the bunker...

“You wanna sit down?” Dean says, standing in the study with a cup of reheated coffee in his hand as you clunk down the last few steps ahead of Sam.

You turn and glare, and it’s the first time you see Dean flinch.

“Listen, [Y/N] - we have to think this through. There is always a better plan than putting you in danger,” Sam says as he comes off the stairs. “We can’t just-”

“I’ve seen The Exorcist. We’re wasting time. If you know how to exorcise the fucking thing, we do it,” you say. Spittle builds in the corners of your mouth.

Dean interjects, stepping toward Sam. “She has a point. Crowley’s MIA, Cas is ....” He glances at you and doesn’t finish that thought. “If we want any chance at sparing the kid, we have to act fast. The sooner we get the demon out of the meat suit, the better.”

“Meat suit?!” you repeat.

Dean flinches for the second time. “Uh...”

“Right, because fast is best,” Sam retorts, and storms through the study. He stops short at the other end and turns back. “You still have that pendant I gave you?” He presses his lips together in a thin line.

“I haven’t taken it off.” You lift the silver chain from under his hoodie.

“Keep it hidden.” Then he disappears down the corridor, probably to his room.

The awkward silence is broken by Dean’s slurping. “Do you always drink like livestock?”

“Hey,” he chides, his free hand up with his palm toward you. “Cool your jets, missy. You’re angry at the wrong guy.”

You turn on your heels and storm out, shoving one of the chairs into the big table on the way.

“Hey, that chair didn’t do anything to you!” Dean yells as you disappear around the corner.

You pace your room. You kick your bed. You let out a guttural growl, but none of that makes you feel any less enraged at what is happening to your friend. You hate feeling helpless.

Then you get an idea. If Sam refuses to teach you how to exorcise a demon, you’ll just have to figure it out yourself. This place is full of books; the Men of Letters must have known a thing or two about demons. They had to.

You step into the curved corridor, listening for footsteps. You hear the low murmurs of Sam and Dean’s conversation a few doors down, but you don’t stick around to eavesdrop. Treading lightly, you make your way back to the library as quietly as possible. If Sam catches you, he’ll try to stop you.

You’ve pored over three old books before Dean finds you on the floor in the study. “What are you doing?” he asks cautiously.

You don’t look up. “Reading.”

He sighs and out of the corner of your eye you see him run his hands over his head. “Okay. Look. You can’t do this on your own.”

Now you look up. “You’ll help me?”

“I’m not going to let you hand yourself over, which is exactly what will happen if you go through with this without us.” Dean stands over you and offers his hand. “C’mon.”

You blink up at him. Do you believe him?

“It’s not a trick,” he says, rolling his eyes to the side. “Scout’s honor.”

You take his hand and he helps you up, leaving the books on the floor. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“What type?” he asks.

“Boy scout type.”

He smirks. “Yeah. You’re right.”