Inside the Fire

Devin finally had a hit on where she had to go. It was some daft motel somewhere inland Maine, and it was about bloody time she'd caught up with the brothers; she knew they were the last people to see Bela Talbot alive, and she was out for blood.

She wandered nonchalantly through the front door of the Dorian Inn Motel, shaking the rain from short, spiked up hair. It was nothing like the storms she had encountered in her native area of the world, Southwest Wales, but she'd rather been enjoying the tamer, milder weather of the states she'd been chasing them through so far.

"Can I help you?" The nasal sounding man behind the counter asked Devin as she closed the distance between the front door and the front desk.

Devin smiled sweetly at him, pulling a photo of the Winchester boys out of the breast pocket of her button-up shirt and a .9mm gun out of the waistband of her trousers, pointing it at his head. "If you know what's go for you, you'll tell me what room these boys are staying in, 'kay pumpkin?" Her tone was sweet to go along with her smile, but her eyes were stern. She was kind of enjoying taunting him; the terrified look on his face couldn't be beat.

His hands raised into the air shakily. "Upstairs, room 201," He stuttered, giving in immediately, "Just please, don't shoot me!"

Devin resisted the urge to shake her head; she thought he'd put up more resistance. "Don't worry, sweetheart, you've given me all I need," Devin smirked and gave him a wink, "Don't call the fuzz or let these lads know I'm here and we'll be on good terms in the future."

Tucking the folded-up picture back in her pocket and the gun back under her shirt and slid into the waistband of her trousers, Devin bounded her way up the stairs, completely ignoring the frantic nods of the idiot behind the counter. She traveled all the way up the first flight of stairs until she hit the second floor and walked over to the first door and the left. "Bingo," She muttered, admiring the gold '201' hanging atop of the off-white door as she pulled her lock-pick out of the back pocket of her jeans. Voices could heard inside the room; she could've just knocked, but that totally would have killed the fun and her favorite element of surprise.

The lock clicked open and Devin ever so quietly twisted the doorknob open and slipped through the smallest crack between the wood of the door and the doorframe that she could fit her slender body through without drawing the attention of the two arguing brothers inside the room.

"It's not right, Sammy. He should be all on board to help us!"

"Dean, it's his ass he's trying to protect! They'll kill him if he rebels!" Sam shouted back in his always sympathetic tone of voice.

"Yeah, well, there won't be much of an ass to protect if these winged assholes take over what's left of the planet." Dean sat down on the edge of the rock-solid motel room bed. "We need all hands on deck, Sam."

"Aw, how charming! You guys are arguing about the apocalypse like an old married couple on your day off!" Devin grinned devilishly, "How sweet!"

Dean jumped off the bed and Sam spun around to face the door so fast that he almost fell over. "Who the hell are you?" Dean shouted.

Sam looked over at the door behind Devin, "Better yet, how'd you get in here?"

"I hate it when boys like you always want to get straight to the point." Devin sighed, plopping herself down in an odd looking blue armchair dramatically, "The lack of foreplay your gender holds is severely troubling to me."

Dean scowled at her, ready to shout some more, but Devin cut him off before he could even begin. "Don't bother, Skippy." She frowned, standing up from the chair and furrowing her eyebrows into a glare, "I know you lot were the last people to see Bela Talbot alive, and I also happen to know that you swiped something that she bloody swiped from me. I happen to want that item back. It would be the knife, that strange blue one that glows, you know?"

"Listen, princess. That knife is some heavy duty shit. I don't think you could even handle it!" Dean pointed an accusing finger at her.

It took everything Devin had not to reach forward and rip his finger off. "Who do you think it belonged to before that bitch stole it, boy?!"

Dean was quiet for a second. "Wait, you're telling me you're a hunter?"

"No, I'm telling you I'm the prince of bloody Wales! Of course I'm a hunter, you idiot!" Devin shouted her sarcastic comment, making her point like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Dean shrugged, "I didn't think there were demons in places where you couldn't even understand what the people are saying despite the clear English."

"Bloody fucking Americans," Devin fumed, muttering more to herself than anyone else before looking back at Dean to continue her ranting. "What, you think you're the only country in the world "blessed" with the supernatural? You should see the things that show up in Wales! The monsters I've had to deal with are MUCH older than any of the ones you've ever seen here; you'd probably piss your pants going on a hunt with me back home!"

Sam stepped in between the two of them, "All right, that's enough."

"That doesn't change the fact that no one can even understand a word you say!" Dean teased childishly.

"Hey! I have a whole country of people who understand what I say! Don't mock the afflicted!" Devin retorted.

Suddenly, Sam pulled out a knife; the exact knife Devin had been searching for. Devin's eyes went huge and she smiled, shutting up immediately. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, "Is this what you're looking for?"

Devin nodded, lustfully reaching her grabby hands out for the pure platinum hilt, but Sam pulled it away before she could get her hands on it. Devin scowled at him.

"If you want it back, you have to answer my questions first." Sam bargained.

Devin crossed her arms across her chest childishly, rolling her eyes. "Fine. Shoot."

"What exactly can this do?" Sam laid the blade over the length of both his out-turned palms, almost teasing Devin with it.

She resisted reaching out for it and sighed. "The question should be: What can't it do," Devin pointed out the ancient symbols along the dark blue bottom of the knife by the hilt, the silver etching traveling along the sharp edge of the blade all the way up to the tip. As the deep sapphire blue faded into a blinding white at the very top they became less defined, but they were still there.

Dean raised his eyebrows, eyeing the blade along with his brother and the strange girl that had busted her way into their lives. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? A little less cryptic, please."

Devin smirked, looking up at him, "Well, hypothetically speaking, this bad boy can kill anything." She reached out for the knife once more feeling that she had given a satisfying answer to the question, but once again Sam yanked it back away from her. "Dude, seriously. What the hell!"

"I'm not done yet." Sam said sternly.

"Come on, give it up." Devin rolled her eyes and held out her hands, done with playing games.

"No." Sam said, making her frown. "You have to agree to help us first."

"Ha, help with what?" Devin laughed in disbelief, "Fix your little 'end of the world' problem? Sorry, I don't think so, you're on your own for that one. I'm going to go back home and help my own people solve their own problems." She reached out for the knife again, but Sam continued to yank it away. "Sam, seriously. Give it to me!" She growled, jumping up for the blade that the giraffe of a man had held way over her short head.

"Not until you agree to help." Sam gave her a coy smile.

"And what's in it for me?" Devin took a step back and crossed her arms again, giving him the best sassy look she could muster.

Sam tilted his head a bit and looked at her, about to open his mouth to say something, but decided against it. He and Devin just sat there staring at each other until a slight breeze blew throughout the room, sending a few papers flying and Sam looked up from Devin's eyes.

"Cas." He stated, but the look still held on his face made it seem like more of a question.

Devin whipped around to investigate what Sam was seeing, and she was slightly flustered when she saw a man standing there. She didn't remember hearing the door opened; it seemed a bit strange for him to be standing there, but his appearance made her blush. He wore a suit, the tie loosened at the top and his dark brown, almost black hair, was messy. His disheveled look and the light brown trench coat he wore were two things that Devin wasn't able to ignore. She was immediately nosy: Now she absolutely had to know what was going on here and who that reasonably attractive man was.

She turned back around to Sam and pointed at the man who had just entered the room, "I'll help you if I can have him."