Chapter Text
Being the heiress of the Alice fortune was just no fun. You were adopted at a young age. Your adoptive mother was the kindest woman you had ever met. Teaching you magic for tots. Always there when you needed her. But she had died due to a drug overdose when you were ten. And you were cast away by the man who was supposed to be your father.
You’d been cruelly shipped off to a London girls’ school until you graduated college with an English master’s and a certain hatred for your father. Though you could have anything you’d want, you were bored with that. So, why not buy a ticket back into America and pester your father?
The trip was long, taxing, and relatively boring overall. But why tell the truth to your father? You told your father blatant lies about your college life while he sat in his office chair. Leaving out the years you’d been practicing witchcraft behind his back. Listening to your complaints one at a time. Nodding along for what felt like ages.
“Yes, dear.” This, “whatever you want, kid,” that. You were bored, bored with your place back in London, bored with your boring father. Bored with all of it, really. So when he ushered you out of the room to take a call. You obviously eavesdropped. Picking up bits and pieces from the conversation.
“No, Crowley—“ your father’s voice rose. “Look, take your people and go find them.” You pressed harder against the oak door as his voice calmed. You couldn’t hear the other end, but you sure wanted to. Crowley and your father worked together quite often. That was nothing new. “Oh yeah, because the Winchesters have you as a lap dog.” Winchesters? Who the hell were the Winchesters?
By the time the call ended and you walked back in, your father was more upset than he had been before. You groaned and rolled your eyes. So much for some father-daughter time. He was on your last damn nerve.
-
“Who are the Winchesters?” You said, spooking the butler in front of you. Him, jumping away from you like a jack rabbit. Quite obviously startled. You laughed and waited for an answer.
“Uh- they’re brothers— why aren’t you with your father?” The man stumbled over his words. Not giving you a straight answer. Well, this was gonna be a fun hunt for information. You rolled your eyes, tapping your foot impatiently before he caught the motions and raised his hands. His fear made you grin sadistically.
“They’re associates of sorts; your father and Crowley work with them sometimes. Hunters. That’s all I know, I swear.” He continues, obviously pretty intimidated by you.
“Do these brothers have names by chance?” You crossed your arms, which made the man in front of you sigh in relief.
“Sam and Dean.” He bowed his head to you. His hands were shaking like he was on death row. Which only served to amuse you.
“Okay,” you shrugged, but he still stood there. Shaking like a leaf in the wind. “Dude, you’re dismissed, get a move on.” And with that notion, he ran off. You shook your head. You had enough information to start an investigation. Names and occupations. It was hard to believe. I mean, your father working with hunters was as probable as you dying your hair electric green. It would never happen.
Which only leads to confusing you two hours into what you considered research. Which was snooping through your father’s office for anything useful. Which was practically nothing. The room was barren and didn’t have anything worth taking anyway.
You’d given up two hours ago, now sitting in some dive bar. Tracking your father wasn’t hard. The spell was simple and the ingredients easy to find. So why not?
Your father sat at a table, looking heavily uncomfortable. This wasn’t exactly a place he belonged. Two men walk in, and she stares. The taller of the two piques her interest. But she watches from afar. She engages at the bar. Then she goes back to the manor, waiting for your father. And wait, you did. It was two hours before he showed face.
“And where were you?” you questioned, sitting on his chair with your arms crossed. Smug about the surprised look on his face.
“Y’know, dear, you sitting on my throne when you were a tot was cute. But now it’s just presumptuous and cocksure.” He started, but you weren’t in the mood for one of his monologues. Let alone when he was in a mood like this. Gloating and practically shining with glee.
“Don’t change the topic.” You glared, your eyes full of spite. Your hands clenched into fists. A short temper that you’d inherited directly from him. “Where. Were. You.” You repeated, waiting for a solid answer.
“Dealing with some old friends, nothing more, nothing less.” He said coldly, doused in lighter fluid, waiting for a spark. You grinned at his unoriginal deflection.
“Really?” You grinned at his unoriginal deflection. You had him right where you wanted him. he was gullible in that way, falling for your whims. “They didn’t look that old.” You enjoyed the way his face morphed. Anger lit that fire in him. He would be gone if you had the heart. You had the power. You were more than him. But at the end of the day, you were too much of a coward to kill him. To truly be alone.
“What do you know?” He sighed, knowing all too well how this game went. He had been playing it since you were young. Trying to get you to eat vegetables. Trying to get you to sleep in your bed and not your mother’s library. Reasoning with you was like a hostage negotiation, but he had learned as the years passed.
“You’re working with hunters. They’re pretty big deals, and you don’t enjoy them too much.” You leaned back against the back of the throne. “The tall one was cute.” You mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear. Crossing your legs as you looked down at him. Waiting for some kind of reasoning.
“Excuse me?” He asked, his eyebrows raising at your words. Looking at you like you’d just killed his puppy.
“Why are you working with hunters?” You replied quickly. Examining your nails as if you were bored with him. But really, you were hanging on every word, wanting to know more about the hunters your father had been dealing with. The one with pretty hair had caught your attention the moment you saw him. And you always got what you wanted. No matter what it took to get.
“Go to your room.” He cut off your thoughts about the man. You were about to argue before he interrupted. “Now.” He scowled, his anger coming to a boiling point. You knew better than to argue when he was like this. So you left, teleporting yourself to your bedroom in your favorite of His mansions. The one with a beachside view, the one you’d grown up in. It was nice being back.
You’d snuck into your mother’s old room. It still faintly smelled of her. Floral and rich with vanilla. Her sheets a light blue, soft to the touch. Crawling under them, falling asleep curled up like a child.
-
The floor was cold, and you lay there behind her. Your cries sound from the walls. Every ounce of power drained from her being. Too weak to truly do anything. When a piercing scream sounded out—
You shot up, the screams that woke you being yours. You scoffed at your own reflection of your vanity. Hair mused up messily. You looked out the window, it was night now. You checked your alarm clock and found it had just hit nine o’clock.
What else would someone like you do late at night on a Friday?
So you got up, showered your nightmare off of you. Doing your hair, putting on sunglasses to hide the bags under your eyes. And you headed out. Deciding against going to your usual spots. Tonight was a night for new beginnings. Anything to get your mind off of your father’s idiocy.
So, some dive bar you’d stick out in was a choice. Always one for attention, and hell, the free drinks didn’t hurt either. So you found some place, the most empty, but it was still early. You surveyed the room, getting a scope of the place.
You were bored with the few blue-collar truckers who had tried to pick you up for the night. Sure, you got a few free drinks out of it. But you didn’t come here to be bored.
And you stopped being bored the moment the Winchester duo walked in. Your eye line follows them all the way to their booth. Where you stared at them, the shorter one winking at you. You had just rolled your eyes. Turning back to face the bar.
Sure, you wouldn’t let it discourage you, but it seemed like it would get in the way of you and the tall one. So you gathered yourself. Finishing off your drink and walking up into the booth. Sliding into the faux leather seats next to the one who had winked at you.
“Well, hello.” He grinned, setting down his beer. Looking you up and down as you ignored him. Your eyes stuck to his brother. “How are you tonig-“ you held up a hand silencing him.
“Not interested,” you kept your eyes on the taller brother. “Now, are you Sam or Dean?” You smiled, taking a sip of his beer. Making eyes at him.
“Sam, how did you know our names?” He cocked his head. A few strands of hair falling into his face. You craved to push it behind his ear. But you had self-control.
“Semantics, don’t worry about it.” You said, putting your hand on his on top of the table. His eyes diverted to Dean, who was still silent, though trying to talk.
“What are you?” Sam said, you heard a gun click under the table. Which only deepened your grin.
“What do you want me to be?” You winked at him, laughing to yourself as you waved your hand again. Dean’s gun is visible to you in his lap.
“Relax, boys.” You soothed, or at least attempted to. “I don’t mean any harm,” you turned to Sam. “Especially not to you. I come in peace. I just have a few questions.”
“Yeah, and why would we answer them?” Dean spoke up, his lip curling into a snarl.
“You met with Crowley and Henry Alice earlier today, why?” You crossed your arms. Ignoring the look the brother shared beside you.
“How do you know about that?” Dean said, eyeing you wearily.
“We’re looking for a witch,” Sam answered. You tensed, fuck was your cover already blown? “Now answer my question.” He leaned forward, forearms on show for what felt like just you. “How do you know Crowley and Henry?”
You smiled, he knew how to play this game that was for sure. Still on edge, but you were entertained enough to continue this game. You made eyes at him for another moment before answering.
“I grew up with Crowley around, and well, Henry is my father.” You deadpanned, the brothers shared another look before Dean nodded.
“Why don’t we make this conversation more private?” Dean said darkly, setting a ten-dollar bill on the table and nudging you. Sam is already standing.
“Now why would I-?” You stopped when you felt the muzzle of deans gun against your hip. “I doubt that would kill me.” You tried to keep up your facade.
“No, but it would hurt like a bitch.” Sam said, attempting to help you out of the booth. You refused the help, smoothing out your clothing before following Sam to the exit. Dean hot on your trail.
You’d accepted your fate when you were cuffed and put into the nice-looking car. The car ride was silent until you pulled up to a dingy-looking motel.
“Get out.” Sam said as he pulled the door open for you. Leading you into a motel room that obviously hadn’t been renovated since the dawn of time.
“So was I the witch you were looking for?” You said, trying to distract them while you looked for an exit route. “Or did you just wanna get me alone?”
“Sit down.” Sam nodded to the bed, furrowing his eyebrows when you had laughed in his face. Grabbing you by the elbow. “I know you heard me.” He looked down at you. And damn if you had any less self-control, you would’ve.
“No thanks, I really don’t want to sit on that infested thing.” You looked at the mattress. Then him. Waiting for a response or an opening to run. But with Dean right next to the door and Sam with his ironclad grip on your arm, you were a bit low in the luck department.
“My father will kill you once-“ you stared, scrambling for anything that would give you the high ground.
“Yeah, we’ve heard that before.” Dean nears, sitting on the bed to the left of the room. You look to Sam. Eyes pleading, something flashes in his face before it steels again.
“Well, can I at least use the bathroom?” You huffed, glaring at the two. Trying to maneuver the cuffs behind your back.
“The cuffs stay on,” Dean says coldly, his gun still in his hand. Holding up a hand as you tried to protest. “Figure it out.”
You scoffed and turned on your heel. Walking into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Bingo. A window at the top of the brick wall. You stepped over the cuffs. This wasn’t exactly your first rodeo.
But you liked the Winchesters, or more so Sam, so you’d keep the cursing to a minimum. You unlatched the window and crawled out. Scoffing as you snapped out of the cuffs and brushed the dirt off your coat. Hot-wiring the nearest car to drive back home. All while the boys were none the wiser.
You’d sink your teeth into Sam some other time. But for now, he was just an annoyingly pretty obstacle.