Sam prized the caps from two bottles of beer before handing one to Bobby and sitting in one of the chairs opposite his desk.
"Do we know much about her?"
"We know she sings in the shower." Dean muttered as he walked into the room, looking back over his shoulder. "We know she likes The Beatles, and we know she's not a trained singer." He grimaced. "Even you could sing "Hey Jude" better than she just was."
"She's a fairly minor goddess." Bobby shrugged. "She's not particularly well known… or powerful. Like any of the old myths, there's a lot of variation between stories; it probably works out best to just ask her."
"Yeah… but can we trust her?" Dean leant against the desk. "She is Gabriel's kid."
"I don't think she's untrustworthy, Dean." Sam said, between swigs. "She's got no reason to be."
"Other than the part where she's Gabriel's kid, you mean. And she wants to resurrect him. I'm sorry, but anyone who wants to bring him back needs to be treated with suspicion."
"Oh come on. So she's having trouble letting go of her Dad's death; I don't think we're the best people to judge."
Dean scowled, and moved to sit by the window just as Hella entered. Her hair, now it was clean, was the brownish-black Sam had expected, but was feathery and wavy, not straight. She wore a white cotton blouse and black shorts with black tights and boots. Dean rolled his eyes, and Sam knew exactly what he was thinking. Had they been reduced to babysitting some pagan hipster?
"Who's judging what now?" She smiled, completely failing to convince them that she hadn't been listening in to the conversation. Bobby sighed and sat back in his chair.
"Since you're here, we may as well start on getting everyone on the same page. First and foremost, who was after you?"
"What makes you think there's someone after me?"
Hella really needed to work on her innocent face, thought Sam. Bobby levelled her a look that said as much, and she sighed.
"Okay, fine. Someone is after me. At a guess, I'd say it's probably the Valkyries trying to get me back into Hellheim."
"Probably?" Said Dean.
"Valkyries?" said Sam. Hella rolled her eyes.
"I'm not technically supposed to leave Hellheim. So, it's more likely than not that whatever's after me is a servant of the Norse gods, and they'd most likely send Valkyries."
"How do you not know what's chasing you?" Dean had his frustrated tone of voice, the one he'd picked up from their father. The one that said "I know you're new at this, but use a bit of goddamn common sense". Sam wasn't fond of that tone.
"Well I'm sorry." Hella snapped. "I was a bit too busy trying to escape with my life to stop and exchange insurance details."
"Alright then." Sam stepped in, realising that the two might start arguing. "So Valkyries are a possibility. You don't sound too certain, though."
"Well… I don't know, it might be demons."
"Of course." Dean threw his hands up in the air. "Because, hey, when isn't it?"
"It's not my fault!" Hella snapped at him, and Sam stood between them again. "They might have found out what I'm trying to do, or maybe they just want me as collateral, I don't know, but it's not my fault if they make everything their business!"
"Okay!" Sam thought his brother could have been less antagonistic, but knew that mentioning it would only cause more problems. "Look, if it is demons, we're pretty safe here. Is there anything we can do to protect us from Valkyries?"
"You don't need to; they can't enter a civilian household." Hella shrugged. "They have a lot of rules about where they can and can't go."
Everyone seemed quite relieved by that. Bobby leant forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk.
"So now that's sorted, what exactly is it you want us to do?"
"You guys have transport, and contacts, and a sort of… reputation. I just want you to help me gather the things I need to bring Lok… uh…" She looked incredibly uncomfortable for a moment, before clearing her throat and continuing, "Dad… back."
"So what, we're your body guards?"
"No, I can help, I can pull my own weight. I just… I've… never left Hellheim on my own before now. I'm kind of an easy target."
"So, yes." Dean smiled sarcastically. "You do want us as your bodyguards."
"Fine." She conceded. "But I'm not useless, so you can think of it more as a partnership than a… I don't know, "servitude" or whatever."
"Speaking of defending yourself…" Bobby was still watching her closely. "Where do you fall on the demi-god-angel scale? You got any of your daddy's powers, or are you something shiny and new?"
Hella bit her lip, looking like she'd been put on the spot. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and shrugged.
"A little. I guess. I can make stuff appear, but nothing big or… you know, fancy. I can appear, disappear… I have all the basic angel powers, in theory, but I've never had much occasion to use them."
"Why not?" Sam was watching her closely.
"Hellheim. I'm not allowed to leave, not allowed to do much of anything except take care of the drifting souls."
Sam realised how sad she seemed. It wasn't the outwardly angst-filled sadness that he was used to seeing with Dean. It was something… innate. Something she seemed to have carried with her for so long that she probably didn't realise it was there.
"When was the last time you saw Gabriel?"
She thought for a moment. "When were they airing "I Love Lucy"?"
No one had been expecting that answer. Bobby rested his chin on his steepled fingers, staring at her.
"I don't know; back in the50s?"
"He stayed for a year or two back then. That was probably the last time we saw each other face to face."
Dean's brow furrowed. He exchanged a glance with Sam. Hella seemed surprisingly nonchalant about not having seen her father for over fifty years. Maybe she didn't even realise it wasn't normal?
"We'll do it." Sam's definite answer seemed to surprise Bobby and Dean. Hella smiled at him, and he realised that she looked a lot more like Gabriel when she did. This wasn't some cocky, shit-eating grin though. This was a warm, deeply grateful smile. Dean was less impressed.
"Sam. A word."
He practically dragged is brother into the kitchen.
"Are you kidding? We don't know anything about her, about what's going on right now, and you think we should go run errands with her, for a ritual that might or might not even work?"
"It's not like we've got a whole lot of options, Dean. You want Cas back?" He didn't wait for Dean's denial. "This is the only plan we've got. Besides, are you honestly going to tell me you're not going to give her a chance to reunite with her dad?"
"I'm glad you're all soul-full and whole again. Really, I am. But that's a low blow, even for a giant girl like you."
They let themselves smile, on the verge of having a moment, before Dean pushed the kitchen doors back open.
"Ok, fine. But you do what we say, when we say, and I pick the music."
Hella practically jumped for joy. Sam grinned, but his happiness was cut short as he realised something.
"Oh, man… the Impala…"
Dean seemed physically wounded, flinching as Sam mentioned it.
"We'll have to wait 'til we roll out; we don't have a car."
"Oh no, wait!" Hella's excitement was quickly reignited. "This can be job number one! Black, right? '67 impala?"
"Yeah." Dean sighed. "Why?"
She said nothing, but closes her eyes and clicked her fingers, promptly disappearing. The hunters looked at each other, confused. Bobby sighed, finished his beer and stood.
"I suppose I should plug the phones back in. Sam, it's your turn to cook dinner."
"Bobby?" Sam grinned, seeing the old hunter stir his stumps like a bear waking up after hibernation.
"Looks like we're back in business, boys."
Sam cooked for four people, but Hella hadn't returned by the time he'd finished. They researched Valkyries, and came up with some ideas on how to kill them, or keep them at a distance. Hella still hadn't returned. They ventured out into the scrap-yard, and started warding it with every sigil they knew. It was dark by the time Hella clicked back onto the porch of the house. Behind her, with a more pronounced thud, the Impala landed. Dean ran to it, and instantly popped the hood.
"The hell?" He glared at her. "My baby's all messed up..."
"I had to drag it out of a ditch to get it here; a little gratitude would be nice." She sat down on the step of the porch, her breath ragged. Sam patted her shoulder, realising she had effectively carried the car from wherever it had ended up, even if she'd done it quickly.
"He's just protective. Dean, you can fix her, right?"
"Of course I can." Dean snapped, examining the engine. "I'd just rather have it that I didn't have to."
"See, he'll be fine." Sam nudged Hella. "You want some food?"
She nodded, and gratefully accepted his help into the house.