Holly Monroe sat in the hotel room, gazing out the window. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she was positive that she would find her intended victim that night, in that exact spot. She was going to need to be convincing to get him to trust her, but she was a damn good actress, and incredibly pretty to boot. Dean Winchester wouldn't be able to resist.
A sly smile formed on her face as a large shadow passed over the building. It was time.
The whole city, surprisingly close to the rural Nebraskan town the cult operated from, was spread out before him. Damn if he didn't fell like Jessica Alba, about to spring with cat-like agility into a world that would never be truly accepting.
Dean shook his head. No matter what, he would never be able to forgive himself for catching that all-day 'Dark Angel' marathon on Sci-fi.
All kidding and breeding cults aside, though, the view was awesome, and provided the amount of space that Sam had refused to let him have. Ever since the pain in his back had vanished, Sammy had been all over his brother, poking and prodding. When Dean had left, the younger had been scouring the internet and their father's journal, searching for an explanation to the odd curse.
Dean knew the explanation now. It was no curse. It was freedom, pure and simple. God's little way of giving him back what he'd lost in the fire.
The feeling of being in control, of having the whole sky all to yourself… it was incredible, indescribable. He liked it, which was kind of weird, considering that the day before, Dean had been terrified of flying.
Things had changed, though. Dean had changed. For the first time in his life, he could leave behind all of the stuffy motel rooms and literally stretch his wings. He could get away from everything and soar. Best of all, he didn't have to worry about Sam, not as long as he had the healing touch.
He closed his eyes and let the wind whip through his hair and ruffle the feathers that, just that morning, had been unseemly, something to be taken care of. It was, apparently, an acquired taste that Sam hadn't yet gotten used to.
"Give it time," Dean muttered to himself, "he'll come around."
He didn't believe himself, though, especially after the way Sam had acted as he'd tried to leave. Dean had learned something from his brother that night: apparently, guys with wings are not welcome in society. Gee, Sammy, ya think?
So, Dean had grabbed his trusty jacket and pulled it on as he walked out the door, slipping out behind the motel and sliding it off to stretch his wings again. There was just something to be said about sailing through the sky. It was invigorating.
The hunter smiled, sighing deeply. The wings? Definitely not a curse. The healing hands? Even better. The supernatural strength he'd randomly discovered while saving his brother from an evil psychic cult? Well, he'd just have to experiment with that, wouldn't he?
He was just starting to wonder about what other newly-acquired abilities he hadn't discovered when he heard the scream. Dean's eyes snapped open and he ran to the ledge, looking out over the roof to see a gaggle of people staring up at something.
It didn't take Dean long to find exactly what they were staring at, as another scream issued from the crowd and a body fell from one of the windows below him.
Without even thinking about what he was doing or who was watching, Dean folded his new wings into his back and dove from the rooftop, hurtling straight for the falling woman.
Time seemed to slow down as she reached up her hand toward him, tears streaming down her face. He got his arms under her and spread his wings, creating enough resistance to slow their descent. The save was going perfectly, just like the little kid that morning. The only problem was that the twenty-something suicidal woman in the hunter's arms weighed more than the seven-year-old boy.
It took a couple of flaps of the his wings before Dean had gotten the two of them sailing up toward the rooftop of the building across the street. He landed on his feet and set the trembling girl down. The redhead slumped to her knees, wiping at her eyes and sobbing.
Sighing, the hunter turned around and stepped up to the ledge. He spread his wings, ready to take flight again, when the girl called out to him.
"Wait," she said, "you saved my life. I think I should thank you."
Dean turned his head back, eyeing the girl. The first thing he noticed was that she was incredibly beautiful, with fiery red hair and stunningly clear green eyes. "Just don't do it again," he grinned.
"I'm Holly," she smiled, standing weakly and taking a step toward him.
"Dean," he grinned back.
"Um," the girl muttered, "if you don't mind my asking… why'd you save me?"
Dean shrugged, wings rising and falling slightly as he did so. "Looked like you were in trouble. Now, if you don't mind my asking, what's a pretty thing like you doing jumping out of a hotel room window?"
"It's complicated," Holly muttered, blushing, "I guess you could say that I'm just not like everyone else."
"Join the club," Dean smiled warmly, turning to face her, "anything specific you want to talk about?" Holy crap, Winchester, since when do you share and care?
Holly shook her head. "You probably wouldn't understand. And, even if you did, it wouldn't matter. You'd just leave like everyone else. You'd probably leave faster, being what you are."
"Hate to break it to you, hon, but I'm no angel."
"Then what are you, some sort of genetic freak or something?"
"I guess you could say that. So, you gonna tell me what's going on?" Again with the chick-flicks!
Holly shook her head again, red tresses whipping around her face. "I shouldn't. I need to go."
"I can give you a lift if you want," Dean offered as she moved toward the door leading back into the building.
"I'm fine, thanks. Trust me, you're better off not knowing me." She pulled the door open and disappeared through it, heading down into the building.
Sighing, Dean turned and spread his wings again, stopping off at the hotel's rooftop to grab his jacket before landing behind the large building. There was something different about that girl, and he wasn't going to stop bugging her until he found out exactly what it was.
Holly Monroe stalked from the building, glancing nervously at the crowd that still stood across the street. News crews had arrived to document the incredible rescue. Police rushed past her and into the office complex she'd exited, undoubtedly looking for her. They were about to be very disappointed.
Holly had tied her hair back into a ponytail and pulled stolen ball cap over her head. She'd ditched the jacket she'd been wearing, and hoped that no one would recognize her as the suicidal woman that had jumped.
No such luck.
"Hey, Holly," a familiar voice said as someone slid from an alleyway and fell into step with her as she walked down the sidewalk toward her home.
"What are you," she asked the man who had his leather jacket pulled tightly around him, "some kind of Heavenly stalker?"
"Well," Dean smirked, "I'm definitely Heavenly."
Holly shook her head. "Whatever. Listen, if you know what's good for you, you'll turn around and go back to Heaven, or wherever, OK?"
"You know, you keep telling me that you're going to kill me, but you refuse to mention how or why."
The woman spun around, locking eyes with the taller man. "Look, I'm dangerous, all right, and that's all you need to know. Now leave me alone."
"I can't just let you go home alone. It's dangerous out here at night. Wouldn't want something to happen to you."
Holly rolled her eyes, turning and walking away, Dean falling behind her. "It's Nebraska," she reasoned, "not exactly the drive-by capital of the world, you know."
"Why don't you want you want to talk about this?" Dean asked, suddenly feeling like the biggest hypocrite in the world, "who knows, maybe I'll understand. Maybe I can help. You don't have to deal with this all alone, Holly. Just let me in."
The redhead sighed, quickening her pace. "Fine, but we can't talk here. Not with all these people around. In about five minutes we'll be out of the city. My house is in a pretty rural area, so it should be safe to talk."
The two strangers walked in silence for a while, as the buildings on wither side of them shrank away. The city was left behind, giving way to old dirt roads and dry prairie grass. The moon was rising up over the fields, bathing everything in an ethereal glow.
Finally, Holly spoke. "It's called pyrokinesis."
"Bless you," Dean muttered.
"No," Holly grinned, "it means I can start fires. It's a very rare psychic ability."
Dean's heart skipped a beat. "You're psychic?"
"I guess you could say that. I prefer the term dangerous, myself. This talent I have, it's deadly. My father made sure that I knew that. He blamed me for my mother's death. I don't see how it could have been my fault. I mean, I was just an infant, so how could he expect me to control it. Hell, I still can't control it."
"What happened?" Dean asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.
Holly shook her head. "My mom died in my nursery when I was six months old. She burnt up. The fire took everything. My house, my mother, my older sister. Dad and I were the only survivors, and he abandoned me, too. I was only nine when he left. I've kind of been on my own, bouncing around, ever since then. But you probably wouldn't know what that's like, would you? You don't really strike me as the murderous type."
Dean grinned. "You'd be surprised. I, uh, wasn't always this angelic."
"Right. You've got that whole 'genetic freak' thing going for you."
"Yeah. But I kind of know what you're going through. You feel like you're different and no one could ever want you the way you are, so you lie to them. You blame yourself for things out of your control, and you put on a brave face. You think it's easier to fight alone because it means no one else has to get hurt. I hate to break it to you, Holly, but that's a load of crap. Sooner or later, you have to let someone in."
"Like you?" Holly asked, turning her shining green eyes toward him and smiling.
"Yeah," he said, "I guess I'll do."
A housing development loomed up ahead of them, nice middle-class places with 'safe' and 'normal' written all over them. Holly stopped walking and turned to Dean. "I think I can take it from here. Thanks."
"I save your life and all I get is 'thanks?'"
"What would you prefer?"
Dean grinned, cocking an eyebrow.
"You're disgusting," Holly laughed, "but a good person, or angel, or whatever. Thanks for listening."
"Any time," Dean nodded, turning to walk away. The motel wasn't too far from Holly's neighborhood, and he supposed it wouldn't hurt to hoof it. Sam was probably worried sick, sitting up and fearing that his brother had been captured by some secret government agency or something stupid like that.
Dean sighed and shook his head as a green car roared past him, stopping up ahead and turning around. Bright headlights flooded his vision and Dean had to squint to see as the car barreled toward him. They weren't on a collision course, so the hunter didn't think anything of it. He probably should have.
As the car passed, a shotgun was pointed out of the window at the lone traveler. The trigger was pulled and a shot rang out in the clear night air. The bullet hit home, knocking Dean to the ground with a neat little hole in his head.
The driver of the car turned to look back at his hooded passengers as he slowed down. There was no way the precog's brother had survived.
Holly stood on the street corner, hands shoved in her pockets, waiting for the green car. It pulled slowly to stop behind her and the driver's side window was rolled down. She walked back to the car, smiling when she saw the look of triumph on the driver's face.
"We got him, Hols. That dark angel won't stand in our way anymore."
"Perfect," Holly grinned, "we'll get Sam tomorrow. He won't resist us now, I'm sure of it."
She slid into the backseat of the car, staring out the window and smiling as they passed Dean Winchester's bloody body, sprawled out on the side of the road.
dramatic music plays Yay! A cliffie of sorts... evil laughter