Help From Frank

"So-" Dean and (y/n) take cautious steps into the cluttered trailer, his green eyed gaze examining every strange looking switchboard around him, "-why the downsize?"

Frank sighs, slamming down a few manila folders he was carrying onto a messy desk beside him. Turning to the pair, he points an accusing finger at Dean

"You!" He states in a huff of frustration, now directing his comments towards (y/n) who smiles awkwardly, "Can you believe the nerve of this guy? Asks me to dig up dirt on Richard Roman...that night, I was burned off every I.P. I had. Ears on my phones, eyes on my house, unbelievable-"

"Wait, Dick's got people watching you?" Dean asks, somewhat offended that Frank was talking shit about him to (y/n) when he was right next to her. Frank scoffs

"Do I look like I know?" He replies lowly, shoving his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, "You think it's easy to see this deep into what's real and also be bipolar with delusional ideation? There is no pill for my situation, sweetie pop, so, yeah, best guess, the bigmouths are onto me. Next question!"

"Well, uh, what's the word on...said bigmouths?" (y/n) asks the question gently, understanding the man they were dealing with was fairly unstable. Frank, visibly appreciating her softer approach to him, sighs lightly

"Their tentacles are everywhere-" He begins to count on his calloused fingers, "-I'm looking at bankers, military high-ups, politicians-"

"This is why you didn't call me back" Dean's question comes out as more of an accusation, Frank furrowing his eyebrows at the attitude

"Hey, cut me some slack! You called me like, what? Four days ago?"

"Frank, I called you four weeks ago"

"What? No...really?" Frank seems genuinely confused, light eyes scanning his watch for a moment before he's waving his hands up in the air, "Days, weeks, whatever! Quit busting my chops"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Cool your heels, Buster Brown"

"Frank, I paid you 15 grand for this!"

"Which I am willing to give back-" Frank replies coolly, a small smile pulling at his stubbled face, "-in exchange for something else."

"What?"

"Feathers"

"What?"

(y/n), upon hearing his request, finds herself chuckling lightly. It all made sense now. The second he found out what she was, he put his gun down immediately, personality softening when he spoke to her. He needed to be on her good side for this exact moment.

"How many?" She asks, earning a confused glance from Dean who was still in the dark about the whole situation.

"Five?"

"Three"

"Deal"

"What the hell is going on?" Dean finally asks, hands held up in the air as if physically trying to work out that entire exchange.

"Phoenix feathers, moron-" Frank sighs, motioning towards the girl stealing the small blade from Dean's back pocket, "-one of the rarest things you can get your hands on. Worth a fortune if you sell to the right people."

"(y/n), you knew about this?"

"I've been hunted down and tortured for this-" (y/n) answers through a crooked smile, silver blade glinting beneath the dim yellow light above, "-not really something I like to talk about"

Without saying anything else, the girl lifts up her shirt to expose her (s/c) abdomen. Sharp blade vertical towards her ribcage, she digs the knife into her own flesh. Cutting a deep line into her body, she pulls back the layer of muscle and fat shielding her Phoenix form, orange iridescent plumage shining from within the layers. Plucking off 3 large velvet textured feathers, she cauterizes the gaping hole and yanks down her shirt

"That was disgusting to watch" Frank comments plainly, gently taking the precious feathers into his own rough fingertips.

"Thanks, Frank, that's totally what I needed to hear" (y/n) chuckles weakly, Dean quick to quietly check up on the girl before turning back to the man admiring the small pile of fire like feathers in his hand

"Alright, you got your...weird payment-" His voice is gruff as he continues, obviously frustrated with how things have been going, "-can you do your damn job and tell us what those numbers mean yet?"

"Sure thing, asshole, since you asked so kindly! Follow me"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With Dean seated on a small office chair next to Frank in front of his massive set of monitors, (y/n) sits cross-legged on the cool metal floors behind them, back up against a confusing looking switchboard as she stares up at the pair eyeing the glowing screens. The air is filled with the warm humming of the thousands of devices around them. Frank, motioning to one of the fluorescent screens, tosses a crooked smile to the hunter seated beside him

"You run most reasonable possibilities for a levi-related five-digit number written by a dying drunk-" He explains whilst waving his hands through the air as Dean watches through narrowed green eyes, "-you come up flat."

"Okay..."

"Know what you start to wonder?"

"Maybe there's a number missing?" (y/n) throws the idea out gently. Frank's smile grows, pointing a finger towards the girl on the floor behind him

"Ten points to the lovely little Phoenix!" He exclaims, turning to Dean who's eyebrows seem to be fixed permanently in a furrowed position, "So, what do we do when something like that happens?"

"...you figure out what number is missing?" He answers skeptically, as if a teenager who's just been called on in class and loathes the idea of being wrong. Luckily for him, Frank seems satisfied enough

"Five points to the grump!" He announces in amusement.

"Wait, why does she get more points than me?"

"Because she's easier on the eyes and isn't rude to me, be thankful I gave you any"

"Hey, that's not fair-"

"Anyways!" (y/n) is quick to interrupt the bickering pair, chuckling lightly at the fact that she really was needed to babysit today, "How are we supposed to know which number is missing? Better yet, how can we tell if any number is the right one?"

"That's where a genius like me comes into play, my dear!" Frank uses the small computer mouse to click on a few strange looking files, "I set up a program to run possibilities for six numbers, seven, eight...but! Good news!"

"Good news?" Dean echoes

"Never had to go past six, because this, my little lambs-" he types in the set of numbers into a small black box, the pair watching in intense curiosity, "-is coordinates"

(y/n), standing up from her seated position to lean in next to Dean, stares down through narrowed (e/c) eyes at the glowing screen before her as it redirects itself to a map. Zooming into the area, she finds herself furrowing her eyebrows at the almost barren grass field. Dean seems to share her confusion

"What is this?" (y/n) asks softly, still scanning every patch of dried grass she can for any sign of anything unusual. Frank sighs, leaning back into his office chair

"A field in Wisconsin"

"No-" Dean scoffs in disbelief, "-Bobby didn't give us coordinates to some patch of weeds in cheeseville"

"Of course not, he gave you coordinates to a parcel-" Frank explains directing their attention back onto the glowing screen, "-recently purchased by Willman, Inc., a subsidiary of...Richard Roman Enterprises."

"I'm assuming the smart thing to do-" (y/n) sighs out tiredly, crossing her arms over her chest as she meets the eyes of the men in front of her, "-would be to stay the hell away, yeah?"

"Generally, yes, the smart thing to do would be to hitchhike in the mountains of Puru and hope the bigmouths never find out you even breathed in this direction."

"Well-" She smirks lightly, nudging Dean playfully, "-it's a good thing we're not smart then, huh?"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Dean?" (y/n) calls out the hunters name softly, carefully peeking over to the massive man slumped over in his chair with his arms tucked protectively around his chest. Instead of a coherent answer, she receives a mess of mumbled words in response, his freckled skin illuminated by the pale light overhead as he shifts lightly in his seat. She finds herself smiling at the sight, almost motherly as she watches the man finally get some sleep after spending countless anxious filled days pacing around a cluttered living room. Suddenly, her thoughts are interrupted by the low hum of a cell phone. (e/c) eyes moving down, she sees the faint blue glow of the device from inside Dean's coat pocket, phone vibrating against his thigh as he slowly stirs. Not wanting to wake him up from the first real sleep he's gotten in a long time, (y/n) is quick to gently pull the device out and answer the call

"Hello?"

"(y/n)?" Sam's voice sizzles through the speakers, (y/n) smiling lightly as the sound, "What's going on? Is Dean okay?"

"Don't worry, Sam-" She's quick to reassure him, chuckling softly, "-I answered 'cause Dean's finally asleep and I didn't have the heart to ruin that for him."

"Good thinking-" Sam laughs on the other end, (y/n) noting the low purr of a car in the background, "-How're things over there?"

"Frank found out that the numbers are actually coordinates-" She explains with a sigh, stepping out from the cluttered trailer so that she's able to talk more freely without worrying about bothering the pair of grumpy men inside, "-shows up as some field in Wisconsin that Dick Roman bought. Can't really do anything else but wait and watch right now, so-"

"You're waiting and watching-" Sam finishes for her. She smiles

"Wish you were here, huh?"

"Not as much as I wish you were here-" Sam chuckles lightly into the phone tucked in between his shoulder and ear while he continues driving, "-I think I might need some help with this case"

"Why?" (y/n) finds her body instantly reacting to his words, worry slowly filling her veins, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I just...have a bad feeling I shouldn't have come alone"

"Where are you?"

"Are you sure about this, (y/n)? Maybe I'm just being paranoid-"

"Sam, just tell me where you're headed-" (y/n) chuckles lightly, being with the brothers long enough to know the hate asking for help if they aren't sure they need it, "-I'll meet you there, alright? It's okay to be cautious sometimes"

"Fine-" Sam sighs through a small smile, "-meet me at the diner just off the side of the highway, big red sign, you can't miss it."

"Sounds good, Sammy. First one there gets treated to dinner?"

"You're on"