Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.
Chapter four is up, too! A little Dean-esque chapter for ya! Review, please!
You guessed it, The Flaming Lips.
CHAPTER FOUR- OKAY, I'LL ADMIT THAT I REALLY DON'T UNDERSTAND
(Dean PoV)
When I gave Odette the name 'Wonder Girl', I hadn't meant it literally. It was sarcasm, for pete's sake! But the description fit her to a hair. Gotta love the irony.
She'd given us the info about her psycho best friend rather reluctantly, I'd noticed, but hey, who actually liked Feds? I sure didn't. But back to when I first saw her. When we first saw her.
Kid was beautiful. 14 and the most stunning girl I'd ever seen (and probably would ever see) with that long, glossy hair, pouty lips and porcelain skin. She had one of those figures like you see on the front page of SI. Yeah, that good. And to top it all off, she had these big, doe eyes in a pretty shade of sea green. Major overkill.
Sam was gaping like a fish. (Couldn't really blame him. I had a hard time not staring myself). Mr. Holy Tax Accountant (otherwise known as Castiel) was working his usual granite wall impersonation, but I could tell he was shell-shocked. I found myself searching for some kind of flaw (stupid, I know) in her and the only thing I came up with was that she was small. Like 5'4 or something. And it wasn't even much of one, 'cuz Odette? Yeah, she was petite.
And when she spoke, (am I in any trouble) even her friggin' voice was all silvery and bell-like. Holy cow. And she was just so freaking sweet. Shy and timid, and oh to hell with it all. I should've been mad. Should've been an ornery, grouchy prick to this girl, but I wasn't. I couldn't. I'd been dragged all the way to snobby, cold Maine for this girl, and I wasn't even miffed at her.
So we asked her the questions (Sam and I did, Castiel just sat and stared at his coffee cup) and then got the hell outta there. We needed (at least I did) to wrap our heads around 'the miracle'. Back at the motel, things began to get...interesting.
Pretty Boy Angel looked like he'd just seen God, (yeah, like that'll ever happen) and been hit on the head with a crowbar. Repeatedly. You can take your pick. He was babbling like some sort of lovesick fool. Something about warmth and vibrance and sweetness (again with the sweet!). And a lot more about light, hope, innocence, etc. Dude kept on muttering about purity and exquisiteness and beauty and blah blah blah. I think he even mentioned Cupid's bow in there somewhere. Sounded as if he'd been hitting the happy juice. Hard. I probably would have had a good laugh if I hadn't known Mr. Trenchcoat was high on whatever vibes the girl was giving off. He seemed like he'd come straight out of Romeo and Juliet. Yup, that bad.
Sam wasn't much better. He was gibbering, too. About gentleness and compassion and beauty and a whole lot of other twaddle. Part of me was wondering how he knew, but my brother had always been a bit of a Dr. Phil, so I wasn't really surprised.
Being the only person in the room who hadn't lost his marbles, I told Sam we were going to burn Psycho Girl. Pronto.
Then Castiel dropped the bomb on us when I asked him why he was still here. We were his charges. Yup, that's right, Odette included. Apparently the kid was like a magnet for monsters, since she was born, practically. So were we, in a way. He made it clear, though, Odette was his priority. Dick.
I wanted to bash his face in, but all that would've gotten me was a broken hand. Believe me, I'd tried when he hadn't told me why we were his charges. All he'd said was that those were his orders from Heaven and he didn't know anymore than I did.
So now, we were stuck with the angel. So was Odette, even if she didn't know it. Sam was pleased. I knew why, I suppose. He thought the girl would make everything all right and now we had heavenly backup. I was not pleased, I so wasn't.
I would've been a lot happier if that were actually true. An hour later, we were in the cemetery, digging up Psycho's bones. I was the one shoveling up dirt, while Sam stood by like the girl he was. He glared at me, then, guessing my thoughts. The holy tax accountant stood by on one side. Why he'd decided to come with us was a mystery, but I let it slide. Wouldn't want to peeve the nerd angel, oh no.
I could finally see the casket when it happened.
"Jesus Christ."
We were so screwed.