Sorry for the wait. I think this one was a little harder than I thought it'd be. I wrote two others I didn't like, and scraped them. I sat down this morning and wrote this all in one go. I didn't really proof read it or anything, so it might not be my best work. It's just kinda...thrown together.
A few people asked when I'll be starting thw Winter Soldier plot, so, here's the answer. The Winter Soldier plot will start soon.
One thing about this chapter; religion gets brought up. Any comments about it in a negative way will be deleted. It's in there to serve a plot-line-purpose, not to ensue debates. Not to be mean or anything; I've had problems with this in the past and I don't want it to happen here.
Enjoy ;)
~Christianne
Anna POV
It'd been three days since we kicked ass. The first two days I was out of it, I was alright now.
I didn't change out of my PJs or straighten my hair. I used my blue bandanna to twist it up like I was in my lab in '44. I forgot how the curls annoyed me. After plunking my butt down in front of my TV with a mug of coffee in my hands, I watched the news.
It showed two girls, sisters, getting their hair dyed blonde and posing with bandannas over their faces.
A mom of three got my 8-pointed star tattooed on the back of her shoulder.
Some children were playing in the park; the two boys were Captain America and the Hulk, and the girls were the Valkyrie and Black Widow.
A blonde woman in black with a blue bandana over her face, grabbed a guy in a Captain America t-shirt, yanked her bandanna down and kissed him full on the mouth. Coffee came out my nose when I laughed. Steve saw that one and just rolled his eyes; both at me at the two people.
I called Kára when a nutty historian went on and on about the history of Valkyries (he was really off) but she wasn't answering. I used my S.H.I.E.L.D. mainframe access to track her phone; she was in a tiny town in New Hampshire. I was going to call her, but she called me first.
"Hey, I was just about to call-"
"Hey, yeah, hi, I need you're help." Kára cut me off.
I sat up and frowned. "What's up?"
"Well, you remember Yolanda Ignatius?"
"With a name like that, nobody forgets Yolanda Ignatius." I half-laughed.
"Yeah, well, I came up to see her and see if she could help me get a hang of my wings again-"
"Kar, she was in her 60s when you met her in '73! There's no way she's still alive!"
"I forgot you guys have the lifespan of flies! Ok?" Kára said defensively. "I figured I was there, so why not do some good, right? I kept a kid and a cat from getting hit by cars and put out a fire-not there are feds here looking for me!"
I shot up from my couch. "Federal agents," I asked, clarifying.
"Yeah! I can't leave now 'cause they told the cops to be on the look out for me!" Kara said, her voice growing more and more anxious.
"Hang tight, I'll be there in a few hours," I told her as I brushed scone crumbs off my chest. "You have a place to lay low?"
"Yeah...Did you know Yolanda left me her place in her will?"
I rolled my eyes as I tried to jump into a pair of jeans and keep my phone between my cheek and my shoulder. "Yeah, I did. Howard and I couldn't get in contact with you since you were in the Norwegian wilderness."
Four hours later, I sighed and let my speedometer needle drift from 109 to 57 miles per hour. I was in Berlin now (New Hampshire, not Germany) and I didn't need to be tagged with a speeding ticket.
Then again, it was just a shame to be driving a 550 Spyder and go under 80. I split the difference and pushed the needle back up to 70. I blew through town, straight to the police station.
I can pinpoint exactly when I realized how beautiful I was; how beautiful Bucky thought I was.
It was 1948 and I was sitting on the bus on my way home to my apartment in Brooklyn. Two girls my age got on a few stops after I did, arms linked, and sat behind me. They were gossiping about their friends under their breath; I minded my own business and read my book.
"Excuse me?" One girl asked, tapping my shoulder. I put my bookmark in my book and turned. "Sorry to bother you, but I just have to know where you got your blouse." She gushed, while the other girl looked at me curiously.
"It's..." I trailed off briefly. "It's handmade in Italy." Her green-eyes widened and she gave a low whistle.
"I'm sorry, are-are you that Brightman girl?" The her friend with red hair asked, I sighed again and she gasped a little. "It is you! You were in the newspaper!"
"Bucky's girl, you mean?" The green-eyed girl asked.
My breath hitched and I choked down the acidic feeling that crawled up my throat every time I heard his name. I took a deep breath before answering. "You two knew him, right?" I guessed; he was always James B. Barnes in newspapers.
"Lauren here went with him for a few months," the green-eyed girl said, nudging her shoulder. My eyebrows lifted up slightly; I knew about Lauren. Bucky mentioned her once and refused to again, so I asked Steve about her. Lauren Davidson broke Bucky's heart.
The aforementioned Lauren just sighed and reached up to fix her hair. "Yeah. He was sweet."
I almost rolled my eyes. I knew plenty of girls like Lauren; rich and entitled, sweet as can be until they stop getting what they want. I knew of the Davidson family; I didn't tell Bucky or Steve, but they had been living beyond their means since '22. They couldn't even be called 'rich' anymore. I, on the other hand, could be.
"How is Bucky?" The green-eyed girl asked. "I'm Lily, by the way. I went to school with Bucky." She held out a lace-gloved hand for me to shake. I took it politely and turned a little more.
"Anna," I introduced myself. "Anna Brightman."
Lilly's eyes brightened and she giggled. "Oh he talked about you! We, Lauren and I, saw him before he shipped out. I wanted to go dancing or sumthin', but he said he already had a gal. How is he, by the way?"
Lauren had been contently staring out the window as Lily and I spoke.
I took a deep breath. "He...Bucky died." I managed to say. "It-It was a few years ago...Overseas." Green-eyed Lilly put a sympathetic hand on my shoulder and gave her condolences. When the bus stopped, Lauren got up wordlessly, leaving Lilly and me to ourselves.
I frowned, and Lily huffed. "Sorry about her. She's never really gotten over Barnes. Even if she had, and she told him he'd never do better and you're much prettier than her. I never went with him and I'm honestly a little jealous of you."
She had no idea that my heart was swelling with every word. Bucky always told me he'd never seen a more beautiful woman than me. He told me Lauren Davidson was one of the prettiest girls in his class, and she was jealous of me.
"Oh, this is my stop. Give me a call sometime while you're in town Anna. Lily Jacobsen at 2-L-D-5." She chirped before getting off the bus.
Instead of going home, I went shopping to all the stores I thought I was to average for in the past. I had a new attitude, my beau's dog tags around my neck and could knew Howard Stark's bank account numbers forwards and back. I didn't think he'd mind; he had been jonesing for me to get some new clothes since I was still wearing the ones from the trunk he'd given me while at Camp Leigh.
If Howard could see me now...
Leather jacket over a t-shirt, skinny jeans and heeled-boots, aviators with wind blown hair as I stepped out of a cherry red convertible he would laugh and kiss my cheek. 'Doll-face, I don't know what happened to you, but I'm happy you're lookin' up now.'
I was smiling to myself as I waltzed into the police department. I walked right past the desk sergeant, flashing my S.H.I.E.L.D. badge at him before walking straight for the chief's office.
"Hello Chief Morency," I said cheerfully, letting myself into his office and closing the door behind me. The man looked at me in confusion as I took a seat in front of his desk.
"Who are you?" He asked cautiously; he must have seen the bulge at the small of my back.
I sighed, pushing my sunglasses off my face and up onto my head. "Call me Anna."
He shifted in his chair. "What can I do for you...Anna?"
"I'm here about the feds on your turf that are making my best friend jittery enough to break down."
"Hello?" A voice answered the phone.
"Hello," I said in a much more cheerful voice. "Is this the best FBI agent in the whole bureau?"
They paused. "What do you want, Brightman?" He sighed, exasperated.
"Just look up a few names for me, alright?" I sighed, and glanced at the business cards on the dash. "Agents John Atwater and Tommy Oscar."
There was some typing, then a sigh. "Nope."
"Thanks." I said simply, hanging up.
I frowned and screeched to a stop in front of Yolanda's former place of residence; a massive, slightly-run down estate on the outskirts of town. I wanted to put my car in the half-there garage, but Yolanda's car was still in there.
"Kara?" I called as I walked into the foyer. I dropped my bag by the door and wandered around the house. "Checked in with the chief of police and got the names of the so-called agents here...Pack your crap, let's get back to the city."
Silence.
I frowned, and put my hand on my hip, where my knife was.
There was a soft, almost inaudible sound behind me, and I spun around, and came face to face with a dark-haired man in a tan trench coat. As I spun, I grabbed my knife. When I saw it was an unknown face, I plunged it swiftly into the man's throat.
When he didn't drop right away, I didn't hesitate to kick him in the stomach. His brow furrowed, and he made no sound of pain. Instead, he just stumbled back a step and frowned. His eyes were cold and harsh as he pulled the knife from his throat and let it drop to the ground.
"If that's supposed to scare me, you're gonna have to do better than that." I said lowly. "I've been through a lot of weirder stuff that that lately."
The man stood at his full height; a little under, if not exactly, six feet. "Leave." He said in a low, rough voice.
My eyebrows raised. "Leave?" I repeated; he gave me a solum, curt nod. "See, my best friend is in here somewhere. Now, I'm gonna either take her with me, or take you down."
"If we were to fight, you would lose." He said simply; apparently the knife in his throat did nothing to impair his voice, which was weird. I plunged the knife through two arteries and his voice box.
"You know, people keep tellin' me that...But, here I am!" I said cheerfully, smiling sweetly as I gestured around us.
"It is best if you leave, Annabelle Brightman." The dark haired man said.
Aside from raising an eyebrow, I didn't react to him saying my full name. I cocked a hip and sighed. "Look, I don't want trouble, alright? Just...Scram and we'll be on our way."
"Who the hell says scram?" A deep voice said behind me. I'd heard him walk down the stairs behind me, and was ready for a two-on-one fight.
"The girl who's gonna kick your ass." I said, looking over my shoulder slightly.
He chuckled once. "Sorry sweetheart, I don't go down easy."
"Neither do I." I countered.
The dark haired man narrowed his eyes. "She is the one the abomination spoke of, Dean"
The guy behind me grabbed my shoulder and moved to spin me around. I spun faster and grabbed the top of his gun. While grabbing his forearm and twisting outwards, I pulled the top of his Colt forward, making a casing pop out. I put the end of the gun between my thumb and forefinger to jerk it up just as he fired a shot, and twisted my leg around his to get him on his knees. With the new angle, his gun arm was wrenched up and his other was throbbing with pain. With precise skill and precision, I hit the side of his wrist with the side of my hand and took his gun. I put a new round in the chamber and flipped it around my finger so it was pointing at his head.
"I've been called a lot of things," I said, looking down at the bottle-green eyes of the man whose gun I now held, even though I was talking to the other man. "But abomination is new."
"Dean!" A masculine voice called from upstairs; probably responding to the shot. Green-Eyes flicked his gaze to the steps.
I cocked my head to the side. "Nice to meet you Dean," I said casually. "I'm Anna."
"Anna...Think you can do that whole sweet-talking thing you did in Palestine?" I heard Kára say cautiously. Risking it, I looked away from the broad shouldered blond I had before me to the stairs. Kára was walking down them slowly, a man with a gun behind her, aim trained on her head.
I rolled my eyes. "You've fought bilgesnipe, Kar." I sighed, looking back at the blond. "Can't take a few federal-imposters?"
"You know I have a hard time fighting the worthy," Kára huffed, giving the long-haired brunet behind her a sidelong glare.
"Can't make an exception?" I asked, just as Dean at me.
Rolling my eyes, I kneed him in the stomach, grabbed his collar and pressed my shoulder to his sternum, knocking the wind out of him, and hurling him to the floor. I put a foot on his chest, between his collarbones, and trained his gun on his head again.
"I'm trying to have a conversation, think you can stop the interruptions?" I asked down at him.
"Let him go," the long-haired guy said, his jaw clenched.
"Let her go," I countered, almost smiling. He thought he was intimidating me.
"Sam, shoot her." Dean, the guy on the ground, growled.
"The second you move your gun, I'm gonna drop you like Fafnir on Sigurdsblot." Kára threatened lowly.
"Sammy shoot her." Dean said again.
"Sam, do not shoot this woman." The dark haired man said in a commanding voice.
"Careful feathers, you're compassion is showing." Kára said venomously.
"Let my brother go or I'll shoot her," 'Sammy' said, bringing the gun closer to Kára's head.
"Won't kill her," I shrugged. "Just a big mess to clean up."
"Anna, I'm still pretty new and weak-"
"And they didn't know that until you said it, Kára!" I cut her off.
"Shoot her Sam!"
"Do not shoot this woman, Sam."
"Stop acting like you care, Feather face! You kill her, you have guaranteed seats next to Hel."
"Already been to Hell, Blondie-Sam shoot this bitch!"
"Do not shoot her, Sam."
"Not like a bullet's gonna slow me down much."
"What about three to the head?"
"You have a concussion, dumbass! You could barely hit the side of a barn!"
"You have no voice here!"
"I'm sorry, when did I work for you?"
"Shoot her!"
"You shoot me, I shoot him!"
"You shoot him, I shoot her."
"If you shoot me, you're gonna wish she shot you when I'm done with you!"
"Sam, put your gun down."
"Whoes side are you on Cas?"
"No ones, Dean. I just know these women do not give empty threats."
"Prove it, let my brother go."
"Let my best friend go!"
Soon, everyone was yelling at everyone. I still had a foot on Dean's chest. Sam was holding his gun to Kára's temple. The dark haired man, Cas I guess, was yelling at Sam not to shoot me, and ordering Kara to stay silent.
The gun shot made me twitch, then fall to the floor. I rolled twice so my back was to the wall and the gun out in front of me, waiting.
Kára had elbowed Sam in the side, and smacked his head on the left side. The large man winced, allowing Kára to grab his neck and slam him into the railing of the stairs. She tried to take his gun, but Sam wasn't giving it up easy. The wrestled for the gun on the steps.
"ENOUGH!"
Windows shattered, the chandelier shook and dust fell like snow.
It was 'Cas' who bellowed out the one word. He was glaring at all of us, his piercing blue eyes seemed brighter than before.
"Hey!" I yelped when gun was yanked from my hand and slid across the floor to 'Cas,' just like Sam's gun, which Kára had just gotten from him.
I was breathing a little heavily, and looked down at my side. "Great, just what I need," I groaned, pressing a hand to the hole in my side leaking blood on my white t-shirt.
"You ok Annie?" Kára asked. After the gun flew from her grasp, she was flung back a few feet from Sam to the floor.
"You alright Sammy?" Dean asked, propping himself up on his elbows.
"Well, I'd be fine if I wasn't still covered in bruises from the Chitauri," I said, taking low, controlled breaths to keep the pain at bay.
"I'm good...You?" Sam responded to his brother.
"Been better." Dean reasoned.
There were a few moments of silence before I sat up from the floor, feeling my back for an exit wound. I didn't feel one, and moved to press both my hands to the hole in my hip. I winced when my fingers, slick with blood, slid through a hole in the buttery leather of my jacket.
"The five of us need to talk, don't we?" I said, glancing between the men and Kára.
Dean, still on the floor, nodded slowly. "Hate to agree with the bitch that took my Colt...But yeah...Think we do."
"Talk?" Kára half-yelled at me. "You can't talk with this thing!" She gestured wildly to the dark haired man, taking a few steps towards him.
"Think you can wait to blow your top until after you sew me up?" I snapped back in the same tone. I had one hand pressed to my side. "Though this is hardly my worse wound yet, it kinda hurts!"
"Let me heal her." Cas said lowly.
"You go near her, I will choke you with your halo." Kára said flatly.
"If I am being kept from healing one of the most important humans to walk the Earth, you will keep your distance as well...And you can hardly perceive my halo, let alone touch it." Cas said, almost smugly.
"When you say crap like that, it really makes me want to summon my spear and throw it through your stupid head!" Kára snapped back.
"It would not kill me. I am a celestial being."
"Hey Kar? I'm kinda bleeding over here! Think you can stitch me up?" I asked, giving my best friend an annoyed look, but she was too busy glaring at 'Cas'.
"Oh, a celestial being? 50 bucks says you can't work a toaster!" She shot back, ignoring me.
"We do not require nourishment." Cas responded simply.
Soon, they lapsed into another language. Or, languages. I recognized Kára's ancient Norse tongue, but Cas's was alien to me.
When a clap of thunder clapped hard enough to shake the house came when Kara yelled particularly loud.
"Kára what the hell happened between you two?" I half-yelled, making her look at me. For my Valkyrie best friend to not be stitching me up and swearing to kill who ever shot me like she usually did, it must have been pretty bad.
She just scowled, crossed her arms and looked at the floor. "This have anything to do with when you were a Valkyrie?"
"You knew she was a Valkyrie?" Dean asked me in an accusatory tone, finally getting up off the floor to stand next to his brother.
"Yeah, she's my best friend. I've known she used to be a Valkyrie for years," I half-snapped at him while trying to control my breathing. I could feel myself breaking out into a sweat, and my heart was beating faster, trying to compensate for the lost blood.
"Used to be?" Dean half-laughed. "Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but she's still got her mojo."
"Sorry to disappoint you, sweetie," I bit back. "But I knew that too. I was there when Thor gave her her power back."
"Thor willingly gave this-this abomination her wings?" Cas asked, sounding outraged.
"I'm sorry, how do you play into all of this?" I asked, giving him my best glare.
"I am an angel of the Lord." He said simply.
I looked at him with raised brows. "An angel of the Lord." I repeated to him, getting a nod. I leaned back on my hands for a moment, narrowing my gaze.
"An angel, with, like, wings, a halo and the almighty power of God behind you." I stated flatly.
Cas nodded once. "Yes. My true name is Castiel. Dean likes to give nicknames; he gave me Cas."
I nodded once. "Castiel...Like the archangel from Kabbalah?"
Sam and Dean gave me another odd look. "You know about a 12th century offshoot of Judaism?" Sam asked doubtfully.
I shrugged, and wiped sweat off my cheek with my shoulder. "Over the years, I've had a lot of spare time on my hands."
"Archangel my ass." Kára huffed. "He's a foot soldier. Basically cannon fodder."
"Cannons would have no effect on angels in battle. We are impervious to most mortal weapons." Castiel said in a tone that would paint Kara as a small child.
"Hey, I'm not a mortal, feather face," Kára snapped. Castiel lapsed into his ancient language, and Kára bit back in Norse.
"Hey!" I said sharply, something that was getting kinda hard from my labored breathing.
"You're a Valkyrie, you're an angel," I said, looking at each of them as I said their perspective race. "Don't you winged people stick together? You know, look out for mankind?"
"You jumped on the angel bandwagon pretty quick," Dean put in.
"I'm Catholic," I said dismissively. "I've known angels are up there since I was young enough to understand the idea."
I looked back up at Kára. "This have to do with your fall?"
"Fall?" Sam asked.
Ignoring Sam, Kára answered my question. "Remember when I told you about our banishment?" I nodded.
"The All Father-"
"Who?" Dean cut Kára off.
"Odin, the king of Asgard," I told him, then glanced at Kara. "Keep going."
"The All Father held a massive council, the only one ever conducted, about the Valkyries involvement in Midgard-Earth, I mean. He sent out a message through all the realms and the heavens; inviting leaders from all corners of Mid-of Earth, to have input on the Valkyries fate. Gods like Zeus, Poseidon, Shiva and Ganesh, Ra, Uni, Pangu-basically anyone with warriors who we carried to Valhalla at one point in time or another. The council was supposed to be eleven days; a day for each Valkyrie, and by the seventh they were going to let us continue our work on Earth...I mean, it's what we're born for."
Kara's voice turned a little sad and wistful. "We took the worthy men who die in battle to the glowing land of Valhalla, where they can fight their enemies every day and win, and return to a massive feast in the golden halls. They were the only ones we served, you know. In Asgard we were waited on hand and foot, but in Valhalla we devoted our time to serving the men we brought there."
"And in doing so you made thousands of villages mesmerized." Castiel cut in bitterly.
Kára gave him another eye roll. "Well, Cassie, we were a faction of eleven beautiful women on horseback with wings, wearing armor and carrying shields and spears. We were mesmerizing."
Dean gave a slight head bob in agreement; he must have liked the idea of winged women in armor with spears.
"On the eighth day, the Christians showed up." Kára growled.
"Watch it," I said lowly.
She just rolled her eyes and kept talking. "Their God was invited, instead we get a bunch of winged douchebags with seven heads and 48 wings. They bullied the rest of the council members into banishment and didn't even stick around for the results. And he was there!" Kára yelled, pointing at Castiel.
"The council was not bullied. The council was a formality; we would have had the final say in the end." Castiel said. "There is only one God."
Kára laughed cynically. "How can you be so close minded?" She half-yelled. "There are hundreds of gods! Hundreds of them!"
"My Father allows there existence. When he created the Earth-"
"Yeah yeah yeah, he made the Earth in six days and on the seventh he made you to piss me off!" Kára shoved him hard on 'you,' making him stumble back a few steps.
"I believe that Odin, Villi and Vé made the Earth from the body of the giant Ymir who lived between the lands of fire and ice. They used his flesh and bones to made the mountains and land. They took his blood and let it pour freely to fill the lowlands to create the seas. They use his teeth to make boulders, his brains to make clouds, his eyebrows became the forests. The primordial fires of Muspelheim became the stars, sun and moon. Ymir's daughter, Night, birthed a son to an Æsir man and called him Day. They were given chariots and horses to allow them to travel around the Earth. The morning dew is the dripping sweat from Night's majestic steed and the gods had to attach blowers to Day's steed so he didn't burn the Earth to a crisp. A witch in Midgard birthed to wolf sons, Skoll and Hait. Skoll chases the sun and Hati chases the moon; together they keep the cycle of day and night. The three sons of Bor made the nine realms and the races with them in a day and grew the life tree Yggdrasil from the body of their dead mother. Yggdrasil grew and grew to the size of the universe and connects the nine realms with it's branches, its leaves and roots." Kára paused and took a breath.
I'd never seen her like this; so intense and passionate to the point it was raining, and the air buzzed with electricity.
"Your creation story is not the only creation story! My creation story isn't the only creation story! So get off your high-fucking-horse! You can't go around saying shit like you do anymore!"
"The Hindu one is about Lord Vishnu crawling out of the belly of a cobra, making a lotus flower and breaking it in three parts for the earth, sky and heavens. "
"In Japan, it starts with the earth being a shapeless mass, then the god Izanagi and the goddess Izanami were given the job of stirring this mass with a jeweled spear. As they stirred, the mixture thickened and dropped off the spear point and hardened into an island. On the island the god and goddess were married and had children. These offspring included the eight islands of Japan, many gods and goddesses, and finally the sun-goddess Amaterasu. From her descended the emperors of Japan."
"In Zulu culture, The Ancient One, Unkulunkulu, came from the reeds and brought forth the people and the cattle. He created everything that is; mountains, streams, snakes, stuff like that. He taught the Zulu how to hunt, how to make fire, and how to grow food. He is considered to be the First Man and is in everything that he created."
"The Iroquois believe the Earth is the on the back of a turtle for safe keeping!"
Castiel remained completely stoic through Kára's intense rambling. Sam and Dean seemed both mildly impressed, and slightly worried; I could see Dean reaching behind him for a gun that wasn't there.
"This isn't about creation myths!" Castiel boomed, his voice shook dust from the ceiling and shattered the overhead light bulbs and the ones in the lamps.
Kára didn't seem rattled at all.
"The decision to banish Valkyries to Asgard was in the best interest of mankind." Castiel took a breath and kept talking. "While there may be differences in our beliefs, it is a fact that Valkyries were far too involved with humans."
"We were involved with them because it was our duty!" Kára yelled. "Valkyries and angels might be preaching the same things, but we're the ones who came down from Asgard and fought alongside them for centuries! You feathered dickbags just sat up in the clouds and watched as we suffered! Being stuck in Asgard-it was like Valkyries were being treated as zoo animals!"
"If you would like to compare your race to animals, may I suggest rabid dogs or starved lions?" Castiel said in a low, harsh voice.
"Kára...!" I trailed off, and took a deep breath. "Son of a bitch-Would you two get your heads out of your feathered asses?"
Omniscient POV
"Son of a bitch-Would you to get your heads out of your feathered asses?" Anna yelled before going silent.
Sam's brow furrowed, and he glanced at Dean. The blonde's head lolled back to rest on the wall, and her chest moved more heavily with each breath. Cas and Kára were still yelling at each other, neither noticed Anna's worsening condition. A few moments later, her grip on her side fell slack.
Dean huffed and grabbed his gun from the floor in front of Cas. He put a round in the chamber, and raised it towards the ceiling. He fired three times, which got the two yelling winged people to look at him.
"Think someone should help her?" Dean half-yelled, using his gun to gesture to Anna. Sam reached down to take her pulse, which was surprisingly strong for someone who passed out from exsanguination.
The two looked at each other, and Kára frowned. "I'll grab her bag from her car." She called over her shoulder. Castiel followed her, and she groaned. "I'm...I'm so old I don't remember how old I am! I don't need a babysitter to get a bag from a trunk!"
"Sam, Dean, take Annabelle Brightman upstairs," was the angel's response as he followed her.
The Winchester brothers watched the bickering pair walk out the door. "Grab her knife," Dean told his brother, who noded and did so. He reached down and scooped the girl up. She was pretty small, maybe 5'6", but she was a little heftier than Dean thought. He remembered how easily she got him down on the floor, and figured she was heavy with muscle.
Sam was examining her knife. It was old and battered, with nicks and gouges over the 7 inch, double edged blade. It was razor sharp thought, just by skimming the pads of his fingers briefly over the edge of the blade, Sam frowned when a paper-thin cut on the rough outer skin appeared. He hadn't even felt it. The grip was wrapped tightly in leather that looked much newer than the knife itself, and held in place by two small nails on the butt of the knife and the other just under the hilt. Adding to its oddity, it was perfectly balanced. He balanced it, roughly in the middle, over two fingers, and it wobbled briefly before straightening out.
Dean carried 'Annabelle Brightman' up the rickety stairs and past the first few rooms. They were pretty much destroyed in the first confrontation with the Valkyrie; she only calmed down (if you could call it that) after Cas flew in. She stopped hitting them at least.
His younger brother followed, examining the knife as he walked. Sam vaguely recalled some history classes in high school and his brief college experience where trench warfare was discussed. The knife he held in his hand reminded him of the trench knifes early World War II soldiers had. The name Annabelle Brightman was nagging him too; he knew that name.
After dropping the young woman on a musty, dusty bed, Dean tugged her jacket until it came off. He dropped the dark brown leather jacket (lined with blue silk) on the floor and grabbed the edge of her shirt to look at the wound.
"Get out of there if you want to keep your face."
Dean chuckled once and glanced up at her face. "Big talk coming from someone with a .45 in 'er."
Anna rolled her eyes and pressed a hand to her side. "This is nothing." She scoffed, falling back to lean on the stack of pillows. "But I've been through the ringer this week. Not in the best shape."
Sam nodded slightly; with her jacket off, he could see the blue, purple and green bruises that peppered her arms. "Looks like it."
"You should see the other guys," Anna said with a smirk, grabbing the bottom of her shirt. She yanked it over her head and used it to wipe sweat off her face, leaving her in only her bra on top.
Dean wordlessly lifted his eyes to the ceiling, crossing his arms over his chest. Sam cleared his throat slightly and focused his eyes to the ground. Anna laughed once.
"You can look if you want to, guys," she said, pressing her t-shirt to her side. "I've been in much less in front of many more men...Some of which were way better looking than either of you."
That got them both looking in her direction.
"Why would I leave?" Kára asked incredulously, walking into the large bedroom. She dropped the two black duffle bags she held at the foot of the bed Anna was sitting on, and put a hand on her cocked hip, pairing the action with a glare at the angel. "My best friend needs help."
"Valkyries only care for their own kind." Castiel answered coldly.
Anna rolled her eyes and grabbed on of the duffle bags, sliding it over the quilt towards her. Kára and Castiel continued to argue, lapsing into languages Anna didn't understand.
Anna pulled a large, bright red medical kit from the duffle and yanked it open. As she dug through it, she glanced at Sam. "You know, I sort of hate you now." She said, looking at Sam as he leaned on the wall across from me.
"Cause I tried to kill you?" He asked flatly.
Anna snorted, pulling some long medical tweezers from the kit. "Oh please," she scoffed. "If I hated everyone who tried to kill me I'd have no friends."
"So why do you hate me?"
"I kinda hate you 'cause you ruined my jacket." Her gaze returned to the dark, ebony leather jacket lined with flawless blue silk.
"That the Saks Fifth one?" Kára asked, walking away from Cas to stand on the other side of the room.
"No...that is the jacket Guccio custom made for me before I went to Korea." Anna answered sadly.
"Guccio?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows.
Anna nodded. "Yeah, Guccio Gucci." She got a blank look. "The founder of Gucci."
"It's an expensive clothing label." Sam finally said under his breath. Dean gave him an odd look, to which Sam shrugged defensively before putting on a sarcastic voice. "See, I listen when girls talk."
Before the brotherly bickering got irritating instead of cute, Anna spoke up again. "I guess I can't expect a guy in flannel to know about the current fashion."
Dean rolled his eyes at her, but they got wide quickly.
Anna bit down on a unbloody part of her t-shirt, laid back on the pillows and stuck the medical tweezers right in her gunshot wound. The slick sound of open, moving flesh made both brothers wrinkle their noses. Anna, other than biting down hard on her shirt, didn't seem to react to the foreign, metal object digging around in the flesh over her left hip.
She finally pulled out a smushed, bloody bullet. Spitting out the shirt, she smiled. "There you are you little bastard," she mumbled, tossing it on the bed and reaching blindly into the kit for gauze.
"Kar, can you grab me the morphine?" Anna asked as she sat up, pressing the gauze to her sound.
"Nope...I'll grab you the novocaine." She offered, cocking a hip.
Anna groaned. "Seriously? Now? I was shot-and my problem wasn't with painkillers!"
Kára rolled her eyes and handed her a syringe. Grumbling, Anna grabbed it. She bit the cap to pull it off, and spat it to the floor. She jammed it into the fleshy spot just over her wound, and pushed the plunger down. She threw the syringe to the floor as well.
Sam took notice of the dog tags dangling between Anna's breasts. "Where'd you serve?"
Anna scoffed as she found a suture kit. "No where you need to know, Sam."
"Annabelle was never in the military." Castiel said suddenly, making everyone look at him. "She is a mission specialist, and a special agent for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division after it's creation."
Kára rolled her eyes, and Anna's brows rose up. "Huh...I guess I never really thought about it..." She trailed off briefly, her face pinching as she tied off the first stitch. "God and His angels really do know everything."
"Yeah, but they don't need to know about it," Kára said venomously, looking at the Winchester brothers. Dean rolled his eyes, Sam barely heard her; he was racking his brain to remember where he knew Anna from.
"The what?" Dean finally asked.
"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division." Anna repeated, throwing the bloody suture needle to the floor. "More commonly known as S.H.I.E.L.D."
Sam's brows raised. "Oh." He said suddenly. Anna looked over at him expectantly as she taped a square of gauze over her wound. "You're...You're Anna Brightman."
The young woman in question smiled wryly. "High school classes tend to glaze over Project Rebirth. You took a college class, right?"
Sam nodded, recalling all the information he learned in his American History 1930-1945 course.
"Care to share with the class, Sammy?" Dean asked, crossing his arms.
"Uh..." He said, dumbfounded. "Aren't-Aren't you supposed to be dead?"
Anna tugged a shirt over her head and nodded. "Yeah, Annabelle Brightman officially died in 1952."
"Sweetheart, I still have no idea who you are." Dean chuckled.
Anna sighed and glanced at Kára. She just shook her head and shrugged.
"Pull up a chair, boys. It's a long story." Anna groaned when she sat back down. Dean pulled a chair out from the desk in the room, and straddled the back. Sam stayed leaning on the wall.
"Go ahead," Sam said, nodding towards her, signaling for her to start the story. He knew the bare bones, but the details slipped his mind over the years.
"Either of you boys heard of Captain America?"
A few hours later, all the humans, angels and Valkyries left the run down, dusty and cracked residence that belonged to the late Yolanda Ignatius. Once Castiel was outside, he disappeared before Anna's eyes. She sighed, and did a quick sign of the cross before continuing to walk.
It took a long time to explain how Anna was still alive after half a century. To Anna, it was a well practiced speech; she sidestepped everything about her dog tags or Bucky during the whole thing.
They came to an agreement; Castiel wouldn't kill Kára is she promised not to bring anymore warriors to Valhalla. She didn't like it, but she just got her wings back; she didn't want some angelic freak taking they away again.
Dean stopped dead. "Oh...Oh my God." He finally got out.
"What?" Anna asked, opening the trunk of her Porsche to throw her two bags in. After she closed it, she sighed. "It's the car, right?"
"A Spyder 550..." Dean breathed, walking closer. He reached out and just barely touch the bright red paint. "You know, James Dean had a car just like this."
"We know," Kára sighed, leaning on the passenger's door. "Every time we saw him, he always bragged about it."
"Every time you saw-You knew James Dean?" Sam asked, his voice raising half a pitch in surprise.
"He asked me to marry him three times," Anna sighed, wiping her aviators off on her shirt. It was a bit dark to wear them now, but she didn't want them scratched up.
"I thought it was four?" Kára asked, frowning in thought.
"Well," Anna considered. "I think of it as three. He asked twice in one day."
Dean was looking at the two women absolutely stunned. "You...What?" He finally got out.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. investigated him. He was the first technopath recorded, and the first on the Gifted Index." Anna said, nodding while she spoke.
"Technopath?" Sam asked, frowning at the term.
"People who can manipulate technology." Kára clarified.
"But James Dean was around in the early '50s. What did he have to manipulate? Blenders?" Dean asked.
"Uh, first, you're probably thinking of malt mixers. They're totally different from blenders." Anna started out. "Second, yeah, he manipulated malt mixers. And radios. And refrigerators, cars, tanks, trucks, cameras, lights, TV sets, microphones, electric razors, phones, radars, primitive computers, weapons systems, projectors and vacuums."
Dean was stunned. "What the-How do you know all this?"
"He only agreed to be investigated and tested if Anna was there." Kára teased, batting her eyelashes.
Anna shoved her shoulder and pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. "Our first interview with him was on the set of his first movie. He said he didn't have time to talk to a bunch of stiffs in suits. So, I said I'd race him for it."
"You raced against James Dean?" Sam asked, his brows raised up.
"Uh, I won a race against James Dean." Anna corrected, grinning. "I got out of my car and leaned on the bumper. Jimmy slid to a stop next to me, sat on the door of his car, looked over to top, and in a dead serious voice; Marry me. After that, he was just mesmerized by the smart girl who beat him in a race."
Kára chuckled slightly like Sam, while Dean leaned on the car. He was holding his stomach as he almost doubled over.
"We were around him for a few years. S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted to know what Jimmy could do, so we took him to a few military bases with the newest tech," Kára explained. "After that, it was decided that it might be best for him to stay away from bases unless necessary."
"Why?" Dean asked curiously.
"He wasn't used to being around technology newer than the radio in his car." Kára shrugged.
Anna laughed at the understatement. "He started six tanks, two weapons systems and made all the radios blasted Elvis with a sneeze."
"What about his death?" Dean asked, a grin on his face so big Sam thought his face was going to break.
"Well, we flew him to a nuclear plant in Turkey for a few days, and he was kinda messed up after that. Too volatile to be around people." Anna shrugged. "We faked his death and plunked him in a villa in Spain on the ocean with a fake name."
"So he's still alive?"
Kára snorted as she got in the car. "Still alive and still causing trouble. he needs at least seven agents around so he doesn't do anything stupid."
"Well, nice to meet you, Sam and Dean Winchester," Anna said, putting her sunglasses over her head as she got behind the wheel.
"Wait! Wait, one more question," Dean, bargained, leaning on Anna's door. "What about his car?"
"Jimmy had a lot of cars. You need to be more specific." Anna told him.
"Little Bastard," Dean clarified. "It was a 550 like this one."
Kára snorted. "There are more similarities than you think."
Anna smacked her shoulder and looked back at Dean. "When he was shipped off to Spain, he couldn't keep it. Too ostentatious. He wanted to give it to someone who deserved it."
Anna paused and straightened her shoulders. "I was the only girl who ever beat him in a race." She said proudly.
"You have James Dean's Little Bastard?" Sam asked, remembering a hunt a few years ago when a guy was killed because he thought he got the iconic lost car.
"Yeah," Anna said, again, proudly. "Had it in Germany for a while. Let me tell you, when you get that thing cruising on the Autobahn..." She trailed off and both her and Dean sighed.
"I missed it, so I gave it a paint job," she paused and turned the key in the ignition, making the car roar to life. She looked at Dean and winked before speeding off.
"Holy crap." Was all Dean said when he figured it out.
He had been touching James Dean's car.
Not long after Anna and Kára rove off, the brothers went to the Impala parked in the garage.
"Did you make plans to meet Annabelle again?" Cas said suddenly; he'd appeared in front of the black car with no warning. No matter how much Anna insisted the angel call her Anna, Castiel wouldn't.
Shaking his head, Sam answered. "No, why?"
Cas didn't answer right away. He looked out of the garage, at the road the two blondes had driven down moments ago.
"I've heard her prayers." Cas finally spoke. "Every angel in Heaven has heard her prayers. Even the archangels."
"Well, if someones religious and ninety-odd years old, I bet every angel has heard her prayers." Dean shrugged it off.
"That's not why we've all heard them." Castiel shook his head.
"Why, then?" Sam asked, frowning slightly. The idea of leaving a deadly woman who didn't age didn't settle with either brother, but Cas insisted they leave her be, and Anna insisted Kara be left alone too.
"Her prayers are painful." The angel elaborated. "It is rare a human lives as long as her, and even rarer that one experienced as much pain as her."
"War is Hell." Dean muttered.
"Yes, it is." Castiel said, looking at Dean. "And Annabelle Brightman has had 70 years of war."
He looked back out at the road. With his celestial abilities, he could hear Annabelle and the Valkyrie laugh.
"I, as well as most of Heaven, fear that if she does not find something good and pure in this world, she will think she is unworthy of Heaven." Pausing briefly, Castiel remembered the first time he heard her prayers.
Seven year old Annabelle kneeling next to her bed one night with a blue and purple bruise on her cheekbone, asking God to make her father less angry.
"She seemed alright to me." Sam shrugged, and wondered why he was surprised with Cas's answer.
"She isn't."