Author's Note: So, I know I should be updating Crash Course and I have started work on the last chapter but I had a stupid little muse and went with it. Enjoy!
You can tell from the lines on her face
You can see that shes been there
Probably been moved on from every place
cos she didnt fit in there
--Another Day in Paradise—Phil Collins
Chapter 1
The long stretch of deserted highway only added to the miserable feeling building up inside the young woman's stomach. Puddles and empty junk food rappers littered the darkened asphalt. Kelly's back ached from the unusual strain she was still not used to. The old tennis shoes were wearing thin in the soles and a headache that had raged on for the better part of two hours was now hitting its peek. It was only when the formation of bruised clouds parted long enough, sparking just enough hope within the woman to get her excited that it began to rain sending her into drowned rat mode.
Kelly tugged the long, soaked trench coat close, rapping it snug against her chest. The shoddy, now water proof black material let the rain seep in none the less. Within minutes her hair was drench, plastered to her forehead and cheeks. Teeth chattering uncontrollably, she trudged forward, hoping to find sanctuary around the next bend.
A twitch behind her shoulder blade and spastic chill shot up her back. She'd gotten used to the feeling and yet, she still really wasn't used to it at all. Reaching behind her neck, she massaged the ache on top her shoulder blades before commencing her hike up the shoulder of the highway.
Never in her life would she have imagined herself spending her life walking the back roads of small town America. Without food or shelter, with barely enough cash in her pocket most days, she was working to survive. She'd had it all planned out, up until six months ago. Work long hours as a waitress, save up enough cash to get into a decent college and then go from there. Perfect, simple and most of all normal. Normal was something she no longer had the pleasure of. Funny how up until that point Kelly had always thought of herself as unusual anyway. Her father had run off on her mother and her when she was three. Mom took to drinking, which meant they spent a few years living off of whatever Grandma could send through the mail and the little welfare checks every month. It always seemed as though she lived the unhappy, Cinderella life. She was just waiting to break free of that small town and her part time job to make something better for herself. Get an education and all that. Funny, because now she understood the real difference between normal and not normal. Six months ago Kelly had been dysfunctional, or at least her family had been, but she had still been normal. Now, she was as far away from normal as one could possibly get.
The wind picked up, stirring the light fog that sat, suspended above the highway. A pair of headlights cut through the mist, the high beams nearly blinding were it not for the filtration of the ethereal smoke rising from the asphalt. Rock music, set at a deafening volume cut through the peaceful sounds of the almost torrential rain.
Kelly flipped the collar of her jack up, pulling on the material until it camouflaged her pale skin with the surrounding black. The headlights rounded the corner, tires squealing against the wet cement. Whoever was drove that reckless thing, wasn't doing much of a job. The muscled Chevy, high beams stared the young woman down as they shot past her. A puddle that had gathered on the highway was trampled by the merciless tires. Water shot out in every direction but mostly in Kelly's.
"Son of a…"
The Chevy braked twenty feet down the highway. The engine purred and the ping ping of each drop of rain that hit the cars tin roof echoed off the surrounding wall of trees. Rock music lowered. Kelly stood along the shoulder of the highway, shaking her soaked tennis shoe feet back and fourth in hopes of expelling some of the water. It felt as though her toes were drowning. Flipping her head forward, she reached up and started wringing her hair. The wet, knotted mess of bleach blonde hung in front of her face as she heard the Chevy backing up. Seconds later the slick machine was parked right in front of her.
Tossing her hair back over her shoulders, she turned to the passenger side door. The window eased down and a young man, no older than herself, his hair an unruly mess of brown stared back at her. He looked slightly embarrassed and it was then she noticed a second young man, a bit older than the first sitting behind the wheel. His expression remained nonchalant. Eased back comfortably in the upholstery, he turned to his partner, looking past him and then to the young woman that stood soaking next to his car.
The younger of the two stuck his head further out the window. Kelly took an involuntary step back. Instinct, she told herself. The man noticed this and raised a peaceful hand.
"It's okay" he said.
Kelly nodded and went to give him the cold shoulder before continuing her trek down the highway when he stopped her.
"Wait. Look sorry about that. Back there." He turned to his companion and then back to her. "My brother isn't all that great a driver."
"Hey!"
The young woman jumped at the new voice. Sam noticed the movement immediately and watched as her back tensed beneath the dark trench coat.
"If you want, we can give you a ride towards town. We're going that way ourselves."
Hmm, how convenient, thought Kelly.
Once again she shook her head. "Thanks but no thanks. I think I can manage the rest of the way on my own."
Sam smirked. "I'm sure you can but why would you want to? It's pouring rain out and all I'm doing is offering you a ride into town."
Kelly looked longingly at the black Chevy. Impala was scribbled in silver handwriting along the side. She didn't know what an Impala was or even what year the Chevy was made, just that it was gorgeous and the interior was looking very inviting at the moment. The heat from inside was seeping out the open window, hitting her cool skin and begging her to embrace it.
She parted her lips, the thought of agreeing to go with him almost being vocalized and then she stopped. Her back twitched, shifting the jacket along her spine. It itched and moved back and fourth, almost slapping her stupidity away. She looked into the man's eyes, knowing that she had come close to loosing all that she had fought to protect. She couldn't be so naïve. She had to stay atop her game.
"It's fine. I'm a big girl. I'll get into town on my own thanks."
"Come on. It's just five minutes in the car. At this rate it'll take you at least twenty…"
Kelly folded her arms and glared at the boy. "I said I can manage. What about that don't you get? I just don't like Imphaulahs I guess."
"Impala" muttered the rough voice from behind the wheel.
"Whatever. Just take your Chevy and be on your way. I don't need your damn charity alright. So you sprayed a little water on me. No biggie."
"Look lady." A head of spiked hair and a set of green/hazel eyes leaned over the first man and stared at her. "It's cold out and it's raining and I don't feel like sitting here with the engine running all night playing ask the hitchhiker for a ride. So either you want a nice warm ride into town or you can keep wandering this highway until you find your own way there or until some man in a conspicuous white van with a fetish for trench coats comes driving by. Your choice."
Sam gave his brother a hard look but waited patiently for the strange woman to be lured into the Chevy.
"Thanks, but I'd rather take my chances with this famous man with the fetish."
Dean smirked "Suit yourself."
"Dean!"
The older man pulled himself away from the window and got comfortable behind the wheel. He gunned the engine moments before his friend could say anything else, leaving Kelly to stand in their wake.
Sam flung his damp jacket onto the desk chair while his duffel bag formed a puddle on the carpet next to his double bed. Dean was whistling some tune in the bathroom. Door ajar, he watched as Dean came out a new man. Dressed in a fresh pair of clothes and hair neatly brushed, he stepped across the room to grab his leather jacket.
The rain had yet to let up and he'd been stuck on the road for two days with his younger brother. Already they'd been in the cramped motel room for far too long and his pool hand was just itching to get a cue in it. He'd asked Sam to come along with him. Get some fresh air, or at least the alcoholic fumed air inside the bar down the street. Sam as per usual declined the invitation and instead stretched out on the bed.
"You know Sammy, a bit of exercise would do you some good."
Dean slipped on his jacket, grabbing the spare key to the room of the table.
"Exercise? Dean the only exercise you get at the bar is working your mouth and picking up shot glasses. Thanks but I think I'll just watch some Tv. Besides, aren't you even the least bit tired? I mean come on man; you've just spent the last seven hours driving."
Dean raised his hands in a defensive plea. "Sam please. I'm going out no matter what you say. I'm tired and I'm sore and if I can manage to score a little fun for myself tonight then I'll be a happy camper. Why can't you just be happy for me?"
Sam laughed and fell back onto the stiff mattress once more.
"Dean, that line sounds like it came right out of a Grade A chick flick."
The older hunter scoffed and reached the door. "Whatever dude. I'm heading out. Try not to pull anything while watching certain channels, okay?"
Sam rose off the bed, about to defend the accusation his brother had just made but the door was already closing, silencing whatever the youngest Winchester had to say.
2 hours later…
Sam had gotten fed up with basic cable. Nothing but reality Tv; a lot of stuff he could do without. With a frustrated toss, he sent the converter flying across the room. The plastic snapped and the back broke off, sending two batteries to roll under Dean's bed.
"That's what you get for not bolting them to the nightstand" mumbled Sam.
The past few days had not only been getting to Dean but to him as well and in more ways than one. They'd finished their latest gig, a simple salt and burn and now they were taking a few days of R&R before they started their next job. Whatever that would be. The fact was that Sam could do without the semi vacation.
Yeah, his brother got on his nerves. The guy blared AC/DC for hours on end only to switch it up with Metallica. He'd gotten to know his brother's every habit and had therefore developed a small hatred towards Dean because as it turned out his brother did a lot of things that annoyed him. The other day they stopped for breakfast burritos. Not the healthiest choice of food but he'd gone along with it. The minute they had the refried bean snack inside the Impala, Dean had started to inhale it. The man nearly choked when half the thing got lodged in his throat. Disgusted, Sam had watched him spit it back up only to watch him swallow it again seconds after. That had been only one incident among the many that had irked Sam to the point of debating whether or not to launch himself out of the car while it was still in motion.
So, the vacation was a good decision in a way. It gave the youngest Winchester some time off from his brother. He knew they both needed it and yet, he so desperately wanted to get back on the road. He wanted to be smothered by Dean's overprotection and all those irritating things he seemed to do. Not because he really cared for it, but because he needed it.
Ever since the incident a month ago when he'd gone all demonic on Jo and had killed a man he hadn't felt safe being alone. He was even surprised he'd agreed to stay put at the hotel by himself, but that was because he knew Dean needed space and he was only a five minutes walk away. Without Dean he didn't know what he'd do. He needed his brother to watch his back, now more than ever. If something like that ever happened again…
No. He couldn't think about it like that. He didn't want to think about it. That's why they needed to be on the road. With rock music cranked to an unbearable level he could drown out any of those thoughts.
A deep growl erupted within the confines of Sam's stomach. Startling him out of his misery laced reverie; he stalked hurriedly towards his drying jacket and threw it on. Scooping his own motel key into his hands he left the room.
He locked the door and immediately spotted the vending machine at the other end of the motel strip. It flashed the word Lays and he grinned, feeling the hunger already beginning to subside. Although junk food wasn't much of a gourmet meal it would do. Besides, who didn't like a little sugar high now and then?
Sam crept upon the vending machine, mimicking a lion about to pounce upon its prey. He pulled a five from his pocket and inserted it into the slot. It didn't take at first, but when the machine finally sucked the green bill inside and the numbers lit up, he found his mouth began to water. Chocolate bars, junior mints and chips galore, all waiting to be bought by him. Sam Winchester.
The decision process was proving difficult. He finally went with a bag of salt and vinegar chips. That would quench his craving for something not so sweet. He typed in the code, the chips dropped and the change rattled in the slot. Sam picked the change up and tossed it into the machine again. This time he went with a Mr. Big. He was a growing boy after all and therefore he needed twice as much chocolate as the average man. Or at least that's what he told himself as he punched in the code. The chocolate bar dropped next to the chips. Sam took what was left of his change, pocketed it and went to take out his supper.
His hands were far inside the slot, fingers barely able to grab the bagged snack when he heard the slap of a foot as it hit a wet spot on the cement. Sam tensed; the bag now within reach. Slowly he removed his hand. He could feel a set of eyes upon him. Another set of footsteps followed the first. Two, great, he was outnumbered.
Sam tried to reassure himself that he had training in hand to hand combat and although he hadn't excelled at it like Dean, he could still hold his own. The fact was there was two of them, maybe more and all he had was a hardened, stale chocolate bar to fend off his soon to be attackers.
Pivoting on the balls of his feet, Sam whipped his head around in time to catch it on the descending body of a glass bottle. Green shards shattered as the bottle made contact with Sam's left temple. An instant later his knees folded in and he hit the ground, the impact sending him into a daze. A red fog danced across his line of sight and purple dots did a merry jig along the motel wall. The shuffle of feet stirred him from the pain long enough for him to realize that he was now in the middle of a mugging.
He could already feel the blood seeping from the head wound. Thick and wet, it drowned out his vision, making everything appear as a red blur. Wiping at the mess on his face, he felt a rough set of hands grab hold of the collar of his jacket. Sam caught his breath, shook his head and kicked out with a strong right leg. His foot connected with the attackers side and a satisfying crack echoed through the empty parking lot when the mans ribs snapped under the impact.
Sam dropped to the ground as his attacker stumbled backwards, hand over his side. Blinking desperately through the blood, Sam made out two more men swaying in front of him. They were heavily built but they didn't appear to be very quick. Sam could use that to his advantage.
Slowly advancing forward, Sam soon realized how bad a bottle cracked over the old noggin' could be. Vertigo overcame the young hunter and he nearly tripped over his own two feet trying to regain his equilibrium. The two other men picked up on this and before Sam had fully caught his breath, they rushed him in one swift sweep. Meaty hands fisted themselves in his shirt and brutally shoved him upside the vending machine. Glass broke as Sam's back went through the machine. He groaned and was pulled back and tossed carelessly to the ground. By this time the third man was back up and made his way over to the youngest Winchester.
"Stupid punk" he spat and repaid Sam the favor by giving him his own toe jab to the stomach.
Fire ignited inside the younger man's stomach. He wrapped sore arms around his gut and curled around it in hopes of protecting the soft, tissue area. He did not feel like spending the rest of the night in the hospital because of some mugging.
The third mugger prepared to strike again, foot mere inches from Sam's stomach when a shrill voice cried out through the parking lot. Distracted by the shout, Sam rolled away from the men, only to end up on his back a few feet further from where he was before.
"Well now. What's a cute little thang like you doing out here so late at night?" called the third mugger.
Sam craned his neck to see what the three men were looking at but it only made the pain worse and he didn't have it in him to strain his muscles anymore than he had to.
"Trying to get a room but it looks like that's going to be a bitch with you three beating up one of the tenants."
"Ain't none of your business doll."
The voice turned harsh and Sam knew what that meant. Whoever this crazy chick was with the superhero complex was going to get more than she bargained for if she stuck around any longer.
"Well, now it may not be my business but I can't just leave now. I'm involved."
"You are one stupid broad, you know that?"
The woman let loose a hearty laugh. Her footsteps grew close and Sam cringed inwardly praying that she wouldn't get hurt.
"Yeah that's what they keep telling me. So come on. Move along and things will stay all peachy keen. Hmmm?"
"No can do babe."
There was a moment of silence as if the woman seemed to be thinking over her next move and then he heard it. Clear as day. It was the cocking of a gun. The safety had been released.
"Look, I don't got all day to deal with this bullshit blondie. Now take your trench coat wearin' ass on outta hear or I'm a pop you one."
Trench coat? Blondie?
Sam bit back the pain for a second and sat himself up and sure enough there she was. If there were a prize for drowned rat of the year she'd have taken it hands down. She looked miserable with her jacket sticking tightly to her chest and she was shivering beneath the harsh glow of the fluorescent lights. And yet, there she stood, like an idiot, with a stupid, stubborn grin on her face that would put Dean's to shame. What the hell was she doing? What was she thinking?
Sam was near ready to tell her off himself when he saw her right hand fidgeting inside her coat sleeve. The left one dangled comfortably at her side, but it appeared as though the right one was searching for something. It was then he caught the glint of metal and saw a thick blade inching its way into her hand. Great, we got ourselves a regular superhero.
"I'll ask you again" she said, voice even and teeth clenched. "Leave."
The men looked to one another and laughed.
"You're something you know that?" said the one with the gun. "But I'm tired of playing games and I want to finish what I started."
The small handgun rose into the air. Sam's eyes widened and he started to stand up in an attempt to do something. He turned to the blonde stranger from the highway, saw her own hand in the air and then everything just went quiet. God put on the slow motion and Sam stood on the sidelines watching. The large hunting knife left her hand, cutting dangerously through the air before lodging itself into the man's left shoulder, a few good inches above his heart. The burly man, with the goatee and beady eyes toppled back as his finger coiled around the trigger. The woman saw it coming. Sam was certain of it because she lunged towards him out of the path of the oncoming bullet. The gun cracked and the bullet soared and then things once again turned to silence.
The strange woman had managed to knock him over and they both lay spread out on the ground, panting, and tangled up with one another. Behind him Sam heard the muggers begin to scatter away into the dark depths of the parking lot, leaving him with an arm full of bleached blonde mess.
Kelly shifted off the young man beneath her. She could feel him tense, either out of pain or the situation he was in with her body pressed against his, she didn't know for sure. Sitting up straight, her back protested the motion and she reached out a hand to where the pain was now lingering. The dark haired boy had caught site of what she was doing and immediately went to help her. His hands were pushing the trench coat off her shoulders when Kelly startled from the pain and shuffled away from his touch.
"Hey, it's alright. I'm just trying to help."
"I…I don't need the help" Kelly stammered.
Sam shook his head. What was up this chick?
"You were shot weren't you?"
"What?"
"When the gun went off. You tried to dodge the bullet but I think it hit you."
Kelly got to her feet as fast as she could manage. She knew the young man was right, she could feel the pain only increasing with each passing second but she would take care of herself her own way.
"I'll be fine…"
"Oh, I don't think so. You just saved my ass from a bunch of goons. The least I'll do is check out your back. Besides I have some training in first aid."
The girl laughed at that. "Sure."
"I do" Sam defended.
"Look…"
"Your fine. Yeah, I heard you the first couple of times you lied, which by the way you aren't very good at. So come on."
Without giving her a second more to argue Sam ventured forward and grabbed hold of Kelly by her arm. Kelly panicked at the new found touch and at the surprising strength the young man had left in him after getting kicked around like an old medicine ball. She tried to pull away, struggling to free her arm but it sent a wave of dizziness into her head and her knees folded in. Sam was quick to catch her before she hit the ground.
Disoriented from the pain, Kelly was led into the small motel room and forced to sit on the bed. The pain was subsiding now that she was sitting and she did her best to check every possible escape route. Her eyes went wide as they played across the room, spotting an opened duffel bag filled with guns and other sharp objects next to the bed.
"Who the hell are you?"
Sam caught her gaze and mentally berated himself for leaving their weapons out in the open like that. It was bad enough the girl didn't like him being around but she was probably near hysterical with the new knowledge that him and his brother had a stack of guns in their room.
"It's not important."
"Like hell it's not" she cried. Sam shushed her and took a seat next to her on the bed. Kelly sprang to her feet in the next instant only to feel Sam's hands around her waist, pulling her back against him. The shifting beneath her jacket started once again. No matter how much pain she felt it wouldn't stop, not as long as she was panicking like this and damn it how was she not supposed to panic?
Sam picked up on the movement beneath Kelly's jacket and gently sat her down next to him. He shot her a questioning look that the young woman only dodged. Her bottom lip trembled as her hands began to shake. Sam caught the hands in his own, startling her once again but only enough to draw her eyes to his own.
"Look I'm not going to hurt you, alright? I just want to help. I promise."
Kelly looked to the bag and then to him. She knew it was stupid, she was already scolding herself for getting sucked in by his watery eyes but somewhere inside her she knew it was okay to trust him.
"Fine" she whispered.
Sam nodded but noticed her hands never stopped their violent shake. Her coat shifted once again until it became almost a ruffling of some sort. Something dropped down from the long coat. Something soft and black was piling up on the carpeted floor. Sam watched Kelly's eyes well up and her top set of teeth bit into her bottom lip as whatever pain she was feeling started up again.
"Shh, it's okay" Sam calmed and reached a tentative hand up to her jacket.
Kelly tensed, knowing what he was about to do, but it was really too late. He'd noticed the movement beneath her coat. She knew there was no way out of this. His hands took hold of her coat and began to slip it off her shoulders.
"Wait…"
The trench coat fell to the floor next to the bed. The pain winding up through her back increased ten fold and she let loose a loud moan before succumbing to the pain and flopping onto her back.
Sam stumbled back from the now unconscious woman. Her body spread out across his bed. Six foot long wings, black as the night sky had erected themselves from the confines of the coat the minute it was removed. Nearly four feet wide, the black feathered appendages took up the entire bed, while one was leaning partially up the wall of motel room, the other hung limply off the mattress. They weren't anything angelic, not like the wings you normally see in movies, if anything they were more demonic looking.
The girl whimpered in her sleep and the wing that leaned against the wall immediately folded itself across her chest like a safety blanket. The right wing continued to lay motionless half on the carpet and half on the bed. As Sam went in for a closer look he soon discovered that she'd been shot in her wing. Blood pooled onto the floor and onto Sam's hand as he ruffled the black feathers. They were almost three inches thick and unluckily for her, the bullet had managed to lodge itself inside.
"Great" muttered Sam. "I hope Dean knows how to remove a bullet from a six foot wing."