Dean heard a motorbike pull up in the car-park of the motel he was sharing with Sam and Bobby. "Is that her?" He asked Castiel, who nodded. The purple-haired girl walked in. She was grinning, her hair was windswept and her body still a bit bouncy from the dregs of the adrenaline that was earned from riding a motorbike at one hundred and fifty kilometres an hour. "Hi Sammy, nice to meet ya." she said, hugging the younger Winchester, who just stood there and looked kind of scared. "Have we met? Your face looks familiar." Sam said, but then shrugged his shoulders. "Probably just me."
"No. We haven't met." Maxael's face fell slightly and she bit her lip.
"Something wrong?" Sam asked.
"Nah, don't worry bout it." Maxael said, waving it away. "So. What do you two need help with?" She asked.
"Lucifer. And Michael." Dean said, sitting down at the small table. "We need help. Angels are a whole new thing for us." Maxael walked over and sat down on aforementioned table, her legs crossed. "Demons, we can do. Witches, we can do. Angels, not so much." Maxael nodded.
"We can help with that." She turned to Castiel. "Are you okay with throwing away every sliver of your loyalty to Heaven and those good-for-nothing angel bastards?" She asked, and Castiel nodded. "Excellent. Now, have a reasons for my lateness. Feel free to ooh, ah and thank me." Maxael pulled a large object wrapped in a dirty cloth. She passed to Dean, who looked unimpressed. He unwrapped the fabric and his eyes widened.
"How?" He held the Colt up, and Sam gulped. Castiel cocked his head.
"How many battalions did you slaughter to get that?" He asked and Maxael smiled smugly.
"Three. But wait children, there's more." She put two long silver blades down on the table. "Angel blades. The only thing that will kill angels for sure. Stab a feathery fiend with one of those babies and they're dead." She was enjoying the boy's awed looks and leaned backwards, but fell off the table. "That was undignified." She muttered, and stood up. She sat down on a chair, and pushed the blades, Colt and various take-out containers. She waved her hand and a box of thumbtacks and map appeared on the table. "Listen m'dears." She grabbed a tack. "We are going to track these sons of bitches methodically and then smite the shit out of them. Savy?" She put on her best Captain Jack Sparrow impression and Sam smiled. "Last time something Michaelish was spotted was in Texas." She jabbed a tack into the map. "I managed to find Lucy in the Lucy Clover Hotel. That gorgeous little institution of sleazebags and drunkards was in South Dakota." Maxael rolled her eyes. "You guys got anything?"
"Nope," Sam shrugged. "Just some bullshit about true vessels." Deans snorted and the angels tensed.
"That is not s good thing. But on the bright side it means that we have sufficient bait. Michael has always hated burning out vessels. Goody fucking two-shoes."
"Why do you hate other angels so much? You've yet to mention them without insulting them."
"Son of a bitch killed me." Maxael growled. "Papa dearest reckoned I deserved a second chance at life for everything I did. But let us not dwell on the unchangeable past. We are gonna gank these the bitches."
"Well. That was incredibly unhelpful." Maxael muttered, her arms folded. She slumped down in the front seat of the Impala.
"Look on the bright side." Sam piped up, from where he was sitting diagonally because of his gargantuan legs. "We know that the Apocalypse will kill us all and I'm helping start it."
"That's not a bright side. That's not a bright anything." Maxael turned to Dean. "You got any music?"
"Hope you like rock." Sam mumbled.
"Like it? I love it." Maxael grinned, and Dean gestured to the shoebox of tapes. He looked pretty happy with himself. Finally, someone who had a good taste in music. "AC/DC or Green Day?" she asked, holding up two tapes.
"Green Day." Maxael shoved the tape in and 'American Idiot' blasted out of the speakers. Dean started singing badly and Maxael joined him. She didn't sound too bad actually.
"I'm and angel, of course I can sing." Maxael laughed. "She puts her makeup on like graffiti on the walls of the heartland!" They sang, and Sam managed to fall asleep.