I heard them before I saw them, 2 new voices booming through their familiar space.

"I really don't see why I had to wait for you." One of them said.

"Hey, if you drove off in baby, how would I get back here huh?" The other asked.

The started their way down the winding staircase, the first one quietly laughing.

"Dude, I would have taken a cab."

"Look, it's done now. Deal with it."

I took a deep breath and leaned back in my chair, smiling up at them. Their faces dropped as they reached for guns.

"Greetings boys." I smiled.

The shorter one appeared more angry with me than the tall one. In any case, I had fear I tried my damnedest to hide.

"You can put your guns down, I brought my own." I said, showing it off and laying on the table. "Thing is, I have no interest in using it."

"Who are you?" The taller one asked.

"Let me rephrase his question, who the hell are you?"

I smirked and toyed with the knife I grabbed from my back pocket. "Ooo, such aggressive words for such a short guy." I knew I wasn't making matters better but, I was armed. If they tried anything, I'd be ready for it.

"Let's try this again. Who. Are. You." The shorter one demanded, slamming his fist onto the table. I blinked.

I opened my duffle bag and grabbed the bottle and set it on the table.

"Relax, short stop. I bring gifts."

They both stare at me, unmoving. Clearly I needed something more here. I rolled my eyes.

"I merely want to talk. So stop pointing your toys at me."

The taller one, slowly lowered his gun and sat at the table. The shorter one glared at him, still pointing the gun at me. The taller one glared back.

This boring charade when on for a few moments then the shorter one sat down. Holding a knife on the table.

"Well." I leaned forward, folding my arms in the table. "My name is Y/n. I am from another Men Of Letters bunker."

The taller one leaned in, while I can only assume his brother rolled his eyes at me. My first burning question was to figure which was which.

"I'm Sam." He pointed at his brother. "This is Dean."

Dean nodded at me, clearly still not believing my story.

"Uh huh? If you are, where are you from?" Dean asked skeptically.

"Canadian regiment. We're not the most popular." I admitted.

Sam smirked. "Yeah, the British we're not popular. What kind of not popular are we talking?"

I feel a small smile creeps onto my face. "No, we don't run a leadership with a Nazi bitch behind it. We just stick to our area and don't interfere too highly."

Dean smirked. "For a Woman Of Letters, you don't seem to professional. How many papers do you staple a day, 5, 10?"

I glared at him, then it turned into a cocky smile. "Hunter, actually."

Sam's eyes widened. "Really? I thought that Men Of Letters weren't supposed to be hunters."

"Yes well, our regiment decided long ago that paper punchers weren't going to get the job done. So we opted for this."

Dean grabbed the bottle from the table and examined the label. "Back to our earlier question, what do you want?"

"You never asked that, but our regiment wanted to get the American hunters to join us. There are bunkers all across the globe, meaning that the British were with us but after their 'accident', we moved to bunkers in Scotland, Sweden, Russia, you get the point. They wanted to join forces with the Americans as well."

"Kind of like the U.N?"

I snapped my fingers. "Exactly."

"So basically, you want us to join a demonic United Nations?" Dean asked, grabbing two glasses from the middle of the table next to the bottle.

I stirred on the thought. "Well..Yeah."

Dean poured the drink into two glasses, and spun one glass around in his index and pointer finger.

"It's a maple whiskey, aged for 150 years. I've never tried it but personally, it sounds like shit."

Dean smiled, and left the room. I shared a look with Sam.

"Well, I'd like to talk this over with Dean first but..." Sam trailed off.

Dean came back to the room holding another glass with ice in it. He handed it to me and sat back down at the table.

"Well, if you're going to be staying here, we might as well try this." Dean smiled, pouring the drink into my glass and into the third as well. Sam took the third glass and smirked into it.

"I figure the best way to figure out if you're to be trusted is for us to be able to check up on you when we feel like it."

"Really?" I asked.

Dean looked at Sam, he nodded and they held up their glasses, I followed suit.

"Well, let's give it a try." Sam smiled.

I lifted the glass to my lips, letting the smooth whiskey burn down my throat.

It wasn't as bad as I thought It would be.