"Dean Winchester…"
Dean's eyelids fluttered for a moment, flickering like a candle's flame caught in a breeze. He winced and let out a harsh groan, as he lifted his head, and pushed himself up onto his elbows. He was in a dark, nameless hotel, somewhere between Indiana and South Dakota. His liquor-polluted mind couldn't remember the name of the town, but then again, he often didn't care what town he was in anyway. They were all nothing more than a means to an end.
The locations he and Sam stopped at, the names of the towns, and the faces living within them didn't matter to him anymore. Deep down, he wondered if they really ever did.
Dean closed his eyes for a moment, tilted his head back, and allowed himself a few self-indulgent moments to listen to the rain falling outside. Off in the distance, thunder rumbled while a bright, white flash of lightening exploded behind his eyelids.
His right hand tightened around the large whiskey bottle he hadn't realized was there and he slowly brought the longneck mouth to his lips.
"Dean Winchester."
His eyes snapped open and he jerked up, but the movements were too fast, and he swayed, his head swimming, atop the hard mattress. His bloodshot eyes caught hold of someone sitting on the end of the bed. Thanks to the liquor, Dean's vision was blurry, but he could almost swear it was a woman.
She was slim, young, looking no older than twenty, and her long sandy, brown hair hung in thick waves down her back. A long dark coat covered the entire length or her body, which left Dean to only wonder what she wore underneath. It was the perfect attire to hide weapons beneath its long folds and Dean immediately reached beneath his pillow and brandished a large knife.
The woman didn't move, didn't even flinch, but her fingers clenched into the comforter. Another flash of lightening blasted into the room and within that split second, Dean's eyes caught with hers, and he saw the corners of her lips curl up in something close to a smile.
"Who are you?" Dean asked, his voice left thick and raw from the whiskey.
He rose to his feet, reaching out to steady himself with a hand on the mattress when he felt his body falter. The woman made no move to help him stand, and Dean was thankful.
One wrong move and he would cut her.
Doesn't even matter how pretty she is…
He shook the thought away, thankful he still had enough presence of mind not to say something so stupid out loud.
"Who are you?" he asked again, and tightened his fist around the knife, bringing the blade up higher.
"Put your knife away," the woman answered. "And I'll tell you."
Dean's head cocked to one side. Her voice was like the melody of a song, and her tone was soothing. If he weren't careful, he'd fall under her spell, and be lost forever. Dean's gaze switched to the knife and he couldn't help but notice his hand was trembling. Without his usual strength, the knife was useless, so he quickly decided to put it away.
Besides, even if the woman did try anything, she was still small enough for him to handle. Whether he was drunk or not.
With the knife back home beneath Dean's pillow, the woman seemed to relax a bit. She moved slightly, with the clear intention of standing up, and his hand immediately shot beneath the pillow again. The woman lifted her hands, palms up in a silent offer of peace and stayed where she was. Dean released the knife and left it where it belonged, but he was officially not happy.
"I'll ask you one more time," he slurred. "Who…are you?"
The corners of her lips curled up again for a split second and she closed her eyes in a warm smile. "My name is Hallie," she whispered, almost as though she knew Dean's ears wouldn't be able to handle anything louder.
"Hallie?" he questioned, making sure he got it right. The woman nodded. Dean blinked and lifted his shoulders in a quick shrug. "Well, Hallie…how do you know who I am and how the hell did you get in here?"
Dean lifted his arm and pointed to the door. Every lock was shut up tight. The woman smirked and looked down at her hands. "We rarely use doors, Dean," she said. "And a friend of yours sent me."
Dean frowned.
We rarely use…?
He swiped a heavy hand down the center of his face and let out a heavy sigh. "Son of a bitch," he groaned, realizing. "You're…you're an angel, aren't you?"
The woman nodded.
"And which one of my many angel friends sent you, huh?" he asked. "'Cause I'll tell you, a lot of 'em don't like me very much."
"Castiel does," she whispered. "And lucky for you, he's the one who sent me."
"He doesn't know where I am," Dean argued.
"Which is exactly why he sent me," Hallie explained. "Castiel and your brother are worried about you. You left them behind in—"
"I had to go see somebody," Dean grunted, effectively interrupting her.
"Yes, I know," she whispered. "Lisa Braedon."
Dean's eyebrows shot up and he rolled his eyes, disgusted at the fact that she knew exactly where he'd gone. "Well, I feel slightly violated," he groaned.
"Why did you go see her?" Hallie questioned. "You don't love her."
Dean frowned and shot the angel a hot glare. He wasn't insulted because she was wrong. He was insulted because she was right.
He didn't love Lisa. He…loved the idea of her.
She was the picture of his perfect dream woman, the one who he would come home to after a long day at a nine to five job. One that didn't involve exorcising demons or decapitating vampires. He would walk in the front door and she would have dinner waiting on the table, whether he asked her for it or not.
And Ben was the picture of the kid he always wanted. A son, just like him, who would look up to him and love him, no matter what.
The angel was dead on. He loved them.
But he didn't love them.
He went to see her to say goodbye to the life he'd never have. That was all. And somehow, this angel knew that.
"There are three men searching for you," Hallie said, cocking her head to the side as though she were listening for something. Then her brow furrowed in confusion. "Castiel, your brother, Sam…and a man who considers himself your father."
Dean chuckled. "Bobby."
"Yes," Hallie agreed. "I was told to deliver you to his home in South Dakota when I found you."
Dean shook his head. "I'm not goin' to Bobby's," he argued. "But since you're here, you can do me a favor."
Hallie frowned. "What?"
"Call your other angel buddies," Dean said. "I need to talk to them…pronto."
"No," Hallie stated. "I have nothing to do with them. I don't answer to them and I certainly don't answer to you."
Dean felt a familiar stinging sensation of anger bubbling up in his gut. He reached beneath his pillow again and brought out his knife. This time, Hallie flinched and rose to her feet. She backed away, her eyes large with panic, until her back collided with the wall.
It was a reaction Dean wasn't expecting. It was a regular knife. One that wouldn't do a thing to her.
"You're an angel," he stated.
Hallie nodded.
Dean lifted the blade and watched her fear filled eyes follow it. "Then why are you so afraid of this?"
Hallie shook her head and gulped. She pressed her spine against the wall and stood on her toes in an effort to make herself appear taller and more in control.
But Dean wasn't fazed.
"I think there are more important questions you should be asking, Dean," she said, softly.
"Like what?"
"Like how I found you?"
Dean paused, blade hovering in mid air, and watched as her gaze shifted lower, to just below his chest. He lowered the knife with one hand and reached up to stroke his sternum with the other.
The Enochian sigils on his ribs.
Because of them, she shouldn't have been able to locate him, much less actually get to him in the first place.
"How did you find me?" Dean whispered, echoing the very question he should have asked in the beginning.
Hallie didn't answer. Her eyes were still large with worry and glued to Dean's lowered blade. He finally caught on and tossed it on the mattress. The angel let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and carefully came out of the corner she'd unwittingly backed herself into.
It didn't take long for Dean to put a few of the pieces together.
The girl was an angel, but didn't answer to her higher-ups, if she had any higher-ups at all. Maybe she was some rogue, badass angel.
Like Anna…
But on second though, that was wrong, too. Clearly, Castiel trusted her. He'd somehow sought her out and asked her to find him. And instead of turning Castiel in or killing him like the hunted angel he was, she had let him be, proving she was worthy of his trust.
But there was still that one question, hovering in the air between them, ready to drop like a lead balloon.
"How did you find me?" Dean asked again.
Sobriety was beginning to set in and things were starting to come together too much, too fast. It was more than his tipsy brain could handle.
"Castiel called for me because I'm the only angel that could find you, Dean," Hallie whispered. "Because I'm the only one of my kind."
Dean's dry lips parted. "And what kind is that?"
The angel closed her eyes and averted her gaze away from his. She stared at the floor and bit her lip before forcing herself to look at him again. When she finally spoke, it was softer than a whisper, but Dean heard her, clear as day.
"I used to be human."
Dean's mouth fell open, his eyes grew large, and his head cocked to one side. "That's not possible," he argued. "I thought humans couldn't become—"
"They can't," Hallie grunted, interrupting him. "But I did."
Without another word, she reached up to touch Dean's shoulder, effectively ending their conversation as he fell to the floor in an unconscious heap.
~~~~~*****~~~~~
Dean grimaced against the hard sunlight filtering in through the nearby window. He squinted, opened his eyes, and forced himself to sit up. He was sitting on a familiar couch, one he'd spent many nights on through the years. Mounds of dusty, old books were stacked up on every nearby surface, just waiting to be studied by the old hunter who owned them.
"Bobby?" Dean called out as he rose to his feet. "Sam? Cas?"
Dean slowly made his way across the living room and gazed out the window.
Bobby's van was gone and Sam and Cas were nowhere to be seen. As far as Dean could tell, he was alone and could easily get away again.
If I had my car that is…
For a moment, he wondered how he'd gotten here, but then, everything came screaming back.
Some pretty angel girl, doing a favor for Cas, had zapped him to Bobby's house. But she wasn't a typical angel. She used to be human.
It explained why she'd been afraid of Dean's knife, but left behind countless other unanswered questions.
Dean slowly made his way into the kitchen, hoping to find something to eat in Bobby's refrigerator, or even better, something more to drink. His buzz had officially worn off and the sting of reality was beginning to set in again.
He rounded the corner and nearly collided with Hallie, as she leaned against the counter.
"Oh, crap," Dean groaned, and reached up to hold his aching head. "You're still here."
"Where did you think I'd go?" she asked, almost smiling.
"I don't know." Dean shrugged. "Maybe I was hoping you were just a drunken hallucination."
"Sorry to disappoint you," the angel said, her voice mumbled behind the spoon in her mouth. "But, I'm real."
Dean frowned and jerked his chin at her. "You eat?"
Hallie slipped the spoon from her mouth and pointed to herself with it.
"Half human," she reminded him. "I need sustenance just like you do. And I hope your friend doesn't mind me eating his food."
Dean shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I doubt Bobby even knew he had yogurt in his fridge."
Dean slowly moved to stand at Hallie's side and leaned against the counter next to her. "So," he began, slowly. "You wanna tell me what your deal is? How you're half human?"
Hallie frowned. "Well, technically speaking, that's not true," she said, correcting her own earlier statement. "I'm an angel that used to be human."
"I thought that couldn't happen," Dean said. "I thought angels were created separate from humans. That we were entirely different species."
"We are," Hallie agreed. "But like I said, I'm the only one of my kind."
"How'd that happen?"
The angel smiled softly and placed her now empty yogurt carton on the counter. She slipped her left arm free from her coat and slowly lifted up the sleeve of her shirt, below. Wrapping around the circumference of her bicep, a few inches lower than Dean's, was the faded red scar of a handprint.
Dean's eyes grew wide with wonder and without even thinking, his hand went up to touch it. Before his fingers made contact with her skin, Hallie slipped her sleeve down and pulled her coat back on.
"From what I understand, you have a similar mark," she whispered.
"Yeah," Dean grunted and lifted his own sleeve, allowing her to see his. He didn't have to ask where she'd received her scar, or even how. He already knew.
"Despite what the other angels and demons have told you, Dean," Hallie whispered. "You're not the only human who's gone to hell and walked out alive."
Dean was shocked and for a moment, his dry mouth wouldn't let him utter a sound.
"What happened?" he asked.
Hallie shrugged. "It was so long ago," she whispered. "I don't…"
Dean closed his eyes. She didn't have to continue.
He knew he would never know why she had gone to hell, or how long she'd been there. He would never know why she was pulled out, or how long it'd been since.
And Dean would never, ever know. Simply because she didn't either.
"I don't remember anything," Hallie whispered. "I don't remember who I was before…or after. All I know is that when I came out…" she paused and shrugged her shoulders, helplessly. "I was an angel."
"No one would tell you anything?" Dean questioned.
"The other angels always considered me a half-breed," she answered. "So they never said much."
Dean's headache only escalated with every word she said. He couldn't understand why on earth a girl so young would be literally put through hell, turned into an angel, and left to wander the earth and wonder why.
"Maybe it was for this," Hallie whispered, answering Dean's unspoken questions. "Maybe it was so I could find you…to stop you from saying yes."
Dean crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his gaze to the floor. He sucked his lips between his teeth and bit down, refusing to answer her.
"That's where you were headed next, wasn't it?" Hallie questioned. "To find Michael and say yes to becoming his vessel?"
Dean glanced at her for a split second and nodded.
"Why?" the angel asked.
"It'd be better for everybody else if I did," he answered.
"But what about you, Dean?" Hallie questioned. "When's the last time you did what was better for you?"
He bit his lip again and tried to stifle a growl. The woman was half human, but she was half angel too. She could hear his thoughts and see his feelings. But unlike the rest of the angels, she didn't seem to play off of them. In fact, she seemed genuinely concerned, almost like she really cared for him. Which meant she was like Cas, going against what the rest of the angels wanted, and as far as Dean was concerned, that made her all right in his book.
"I know you've been bombarded with arguments from both sides lately, but Dean, you have to understand," Hallie whispered, somberly. "Paradise will only be good for the angels. Every human on the face of the earth will be as good as dead. And that's exactly what will happen if you say yes to Michael."
Dean turned to face her and almost smiled at the mix of innocence and wisdom in her sea blue eyes.
"So, you're telling me to change my mind?" he asked.
"No," Hallie answered. "I'm not telling you to do anything. I only came to find you and bring you back to Castiel. And I'm only sticking around to remind you that, despite what you think, you do have a choice."
Dean felt a sudden wave of tears sting his eyes, but he gulped and blinked them back in an effort to keep them where they were.
"And you're wrong, Dean," Hallie added. "Saying yes to Michael wouldn't be better for everyone else. You have people here who love you. And believe me, none of them would be better off if you left them."
Dean closed his eyes and pictured them in his mind.
Sam and Bobby had both nearly drank themselves to death while he'd been in hell. Who knew what they'd do if he said yes to Michael. And Cas had spent the last few days drunk off his ass after finding out that God had chosen to turn His back on the Apocalypse. Dean didn't even want to think of what the angel might do if he'd left him behind.
Maybe Hallie was right. Maybe she was wrong. But she'd proved her point, and Dean wholeheartedly agreed with it.
He still had a choice, and it was his to make.
Outside, the rumble of a car engine roared into the driveway. Bobby was home. And more than likely, Sam and Cas were with him.
Hallie pushed herself up from the counter and turned to face Dean. She offered him a small smile, but he couldn't help but frown at her.
"You're leaving, aren't you?"
She nodded.
"Will I ever see you again?"
Hallie shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know," she answered. "But I'll see you."
If it was anyone else, Dean might've found that cryptic statement rather disturbing, but coming from Hallie, it was oddly comforting.
"The choice is yours, Dean," she whispered again, and reached out to place her hand over the cotton covered handprint on his shoulder. She stood on her toes, leaned forward, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
Dean chuckled, softly. "I thought angels didn't do that."
Hallie smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "This angel's different," she whispered. "Goodbye, Dean."
With a gust of wind and flutter of wings, Hallie was gone.
Outside, Dean could hear his three companions climbing out of Bobby's van. They were going to be happy to see him and for their sake, Dean would play along like everything was okay again.
But everything was far from okay.
Despite the encouragement from a half angel hybrid, a creature possibly made just for him, Dean still had a choice to make.
And he still didn't know what that choice would be.
-Please REVIEW...Thank you. -Leigh