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As I wake, the first thing I notice is the dull ache in my body. I frown, wondering why the hell my I hadn't already healed myself while I was out, and concentrate on fixing the damage. Nothing happens. My frown deepens, and I try harder to clear my mind and focus, but I get the same results. With a sigh, I pry my eyes open and blink against the harsh light that overwhelms me. After taking several seconds to adjust to the lighting, I check my surroundings.
I am handcuffed to a wooden chair that sits in the middle of an obnoxiously bright red circle. A devil's trap. With an unamused huff, I turn my attention away and strain my arms to pull against my handcuffs, which are locked behind me. I expect them to snap apart easily, but they don't budge. With an annoyed groan, I slam my hands apart several more times, hoping to break them. Sighing, I realize that I'm doing more damage to myself than the cuffs, and turn my head as far as I can and try to look at them. They look like a standard pair of handcuffs- most likely stolen from a police department- with the exception of a small design carved into the metal trapping both of my wrists.
More devil's traps.
"Fantastic." I drop my chin to my chest and take a deep breath. If I want to break out, I first need to remember how I got here. Thinking back, the last thing I remember is fighting Dean Winchester. The dickwad gained the upper hand and was about to kill me, but then someone stepped in and stopped him. And my mystery savior was... A Scottish accent and a pair of shiny black shoes flash through my head. Crowley.
Oh, damn. That's right.
Crowley.
As in, the King of Hell, Crowley.
I shake my head angrily, ignoring the twinge of pain it causes, as my thoughts begin to spiral. Why did the King of Hell save my life? Why is he convinced that the Winchesters need me? Why send me on this mission to kill the brothers if he was planning on dropping in to stop me anyway?
A door opens in the distance and the sound of footsteps and whistling hits my ears, ripping me from my thoughts. I look up as the shelves in front of me slide apart, revealing a short man in a black suit.
"Oh, brilliant, you're awake." "Crowley." I glare at the demon. He grins, nodding in greeting as he walks past me to a table on my right. "Alexandra. Good to finally meet you, darling. I've been looking for you." "Why?" "Because, my dear, you are the only thing that will make the wonder twins upstairs give me what I want." I barely stifle the urge to snarl at him and his lack of direct answers. "What does that mean? Why did you stop Dean Winchester from killing me?" "All your questions will be answered shortly, my dear." With a final over his shoulder at me, the King of Hell saunters out of the room.
