Death's Daughter | Supernatural, D.W.

The Hunt, Part I

A few days later, Castiel finally returns to the bunker. I'm the first to see him, and the first to let him know what's on my mind.

"Mallory, hello," he greets. There's a nervous air about him; he knows I'm unhappy.

"Cas," I acknowledge him. "Can we talk?"

He nods, "Of course."

"I wish you would've talked to me about this whole soul thing instead of Dean," I admit, doing my best to keep my cool. "I still don't understand why it can't work."

"Let me explain," Cas offers, taking a seat. I follow suit. "I did more digging and have more to inform you of." I nod, encouraging him to continue.

"The reason it is less likely to work is because of your blood. I know that doesn't make much sense, but hear me out. Humanity isn't simply a celestial thing — your soul isn't the only component. Your DNA, the material you're made from, tips the scales greatly. What I'm telling you is that your material is predominantly reaper DNA."

"So reapers have different DNA than people?" I ask, my face scrunched in confusion.

"Every living kingdom has a different DNA structure. That's just basic science," he rolls his eyes. "But yes. You need more material from your human side. And your mother is..."

"Dead, yes," I complete his sentence. Cas is taken aback for a moment at my abrupt response. "So?"

"That would have been your best bet for making this work," he explains. "You need a DNA transfusion from a human closely related to you."

"How would that work?" I ask. "DNA is tiny and inseparable from the rest of everything."

"Not for an angel," Cas reminds me. "I have my ways. If I can get a sample from you, I can track down people related to your mother and find your best bet." He pauses. "Second best, anyway."

"O-okay," I stutter. I felt apprehensive of whether or not this would really work. Nevertheless, I hold my arm out and pull my sleeve up some to expose my veins.

"You're ready now?" Cas questions.

"There's no sense in waiting," I shrug. "I've done enough of that."

He nods in agreement and tells me to wait a second. He disappears for a few minutes, then returns with a syringe and some cloths. I take the cloths from him and rest my arm on them, holding it still and ready.

"You're sure about this?" Cas ensures one last time.

"Yes," I repeat myself.

Cas ties a tourniquet onto my bicep, cinching it just enough for discomfort. I look away, and feel the prick of the needle piercing my arm. He draws the plunger back, filling the receptacle with the dark red liquid. When he's finished, he removes the needle and places a cotton ball on the draw site.

"This will do," he nods, assessing my blood. "I'll begin my search immediately. I'll be in touch."

Before I can thank him, he's gone again. Dean enters the room and gives me a look of confusion and uncertainty.

"Cas needed some blood," I fill him in.

"Alright then," Dean shrugs and walks over to me. Without warning, he rips the cloth tourniquet off my arm. "You don't want to keep that on. You'll lose an arm."

"Right," I nod.

"Question, do you want to go on a hunt?" Dean asks out of the blue.

"Why wouldn't you just take Sam?" I reply.