38.

Shannon sat on a chair in the motel room, her bag clutched on her lap. Dean and Sam were on the other side of the room. They'd lowered their voices, but she could still hear them.

"Are you crazy?" Sam hissed. "We can't take her with us."

"The angels can use her to get to me," Dean replied.

"Then just kill her and be done with it," Sam retorted.

"I don't want to kill her just yet," Dean said firmly.

"We don't have time for pets, Dean," Sam growled. "In case you've forgotten, we're trying to stop the fucking Apocalypse."

Shannon twitched at that, but said nothing. Her fate was being decided ten feet from where she sat, but she couldn't find it within her to beg for her life.

"Look, if she slows us down, I'll kill her myself," Dean said. "Until then, she stays with us. End of discussion." Sam crossed his arms and glared down at his brother, but Dean didn't budge.

"Fine," Sam spat. "But she's your responsibility." He stomped past Shannon, grabbed his jacket, and slammed the door after him on his way out the motel room. Dean sauntered over to Shannon.

"You can take that bed," he told her, pointing. "I'm going to get us something to eat. Don't leave the room and don't let anyone in."

"Okay," she whispered, not looking up at him.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, it's not like I'm going to tie you up and torture you," he said impatiently. "You don't have to be like that."

Shannon raised her eyes to his face. "How do you want me to be?" she asked quietly.

Dean's expression darkened and Shannon lowered her face again, hiding behind her bangs. "You know what?" Dean snapped. "Forget I said anything." With that he followed Sam out, leaving Shannon behind wondering what the hell she'd got herself into.