Princess Of Hell? · Y/n story by @cammilarocker

The bunker’s library was quiet, save for the hum of the fluorescent lights and the occasional rustle of a page turning. Sam sat at the long oak table, a stack of lore books spread before him, his laptop glowing beside them. Dean leaned back in his chair, boots propped on the table, flipping a knife between his fingers.

Dean Winchester

stops the knife mid-air, eyes narrowing You hear that?

Sam Winchester

looks up from his book, frowning Yeah. Thought you locked the door.

Dean Winchester

I did.

The footsteps grew closer. A figure emerged from the shadows between the shelves—a woman, mid-twenties, with sharp brown eyes and dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail. She wore a leather jacket that looked a size too big, and she was holding a worn copy of The Monster at the End of This Book.

???

tilts her head, a faint smirk playing on her lips Which one of you is Dean?

She didn’t look like a threat. But then again, they never did.

Dean Winchester

slowly lowering his boots to the floor Who’s asking?

???

flips the book closed, tucking it under her arm Name’s Jennifer. Crowley sent me.

Silence stretched like a wire. Sam exchanged a glance with Dean, hand already drifting toward the demon-killing knife in his jacket.

Sam Winchester

Crowley doesn’t send people. He sends threats. And bad whiskey.

Jennifer

laughs, and it’s easy, unguarded Yeah, that sounds like him. But he’s busy. And he figured you two would need a head start. She gestures vaguely at the books Something about a blade. A mark. A very pissed off Knight of Hell.