Death's Daughter | Supernatural, D.W.

Making Aquaintances

"Discussed what?" I scrunch my face at him. "Stop being so weird. This is strictly a business negotiation and I'm barely considering it."

A small ghost of a smile happens across Castiel's face; it's almost as if he was laughing at my statement.

"You have a soul, Mallory," he states plainly. "Everything that's even partially human has a soul, whether it's half or one percent. That unmarked box? That's yours."

I laugh. It's not a laugh of sarcasm or a laugh of insult, but more of a deeply amused laugh. "Castiel, you crack me up. How would you even know? And why would I really believe you?"

"Did you not hear what I just said?" Castiel questions me, stepping closer. As he gets closer, I realize the damage he could do on me, and I realize that I'm defenseless. Intimidation riddles me speechless. "You're partially human. Which is why you have a soul. And why you're considering this, because you know that you're worthless in the veil. You know you don't do anything good for anyone. You know that maybe if you had your soul, it would give maybe even a shred of value to your pitiful life."

Castiel leaves with a cloud of anger looming over my head. For a minute, I wonder just who the hell he thinks he is, but then I realize that he's exactly right.

Damnit, he knows how to get under my skin, I think to myself. He's only using this as leverage so I'll say yes to helping him.

I relax as much as I can into the uncomfortable chair and let my mind relax as much as I can under the stressful circumstances. Then I let the time pass me by. On one hand, I'm angry that they're leaving me here to just steep in my thoughts, but on the other, I'm grateful, because they could've been torturing me all this time.

As days pass, I begin to wonder with sadness whether anyone even knows that I'm gone from the veil or not. I wonder if anyone is looking for me.

I wonder if my dad is looking for me; if Jasper is looking for me. Deep down, I know they would've found me by now, especially my dad. He can find me in the blink of an eye if he wanted to.

The thought of this inflicts more pain on my psyche. Am I this insignificant? Am I so unimportant that I can be kidnapped and not even looked for?

Quickly, my sadness turns to a bout of anger. This is what my dad has made of me. Castiel even said it himself — my dad hasn't taught me anything. He has rendered me helpless and defenseless, when I could have easily protected the sanctuary, the veil and myself if he would have put me at my full potential.

These are the thoughts that push me over the edge. These are the thoughts that influence my decision, and ultimately make it for me.

"Castiel!" I call out. There's no answer. As I'm about to yell again, the book shelves in front of me slide open, but Castiel isn't my guest. It's Dean.

"He's out on a supply run," Dean tells me. "What do you want?"

"I want to talk to Castiel," I reply dryly.

"And I want a burrito and some strippers, we can't all have what we want."

"You asked what I wanted and I told you. I don't want to talk to the person who almost killed me."

"Self defense," Dean corrects me. "I guess you can wait till he gets back, but it's going to be a few days at least. You can either wait, or tell me, and we can fast track whatever it is you want."

"Fine, but you hold off on the snarky comments," I demand. "I want a civil conversation."

Dean chuckles for a second, then wipes the grin off his face. Suddenly, he's all business. "What do you want to discuss?"