Disclaimer: I own nothing, seriously broke as a joke in a mausoleum.
Bobby grunted in pain, and struggled to hold onto the birdlike creature in his grasp. He was surprised at the strength in the tiny body, who knew that such a small girl could be so strong.
His eyes narrowed when it came to him that the strength was almost supernatural in nature.
“Who are you?” He demanded.
Big brown eyes glared at him, shooting flames at him. Not literally of course, but figuratively. Long chestnut hair mostly blocked a elfin face from his sight, but the long and lean figure he currently was latched onto was only hard to see because she was moving so fast she was almost blurring.
“What are you?” He was losing what little patience he had had to begin with. “Christo.”
The girl he was holding onto, the girl who’d dropped out of a green portal onto the car he’d been working on, just snorted and continued to uselessly try to squirm away. So obviously, not a demon, but every one of his instincts screamed that she wasn’t quite human either.
“Can you at least tell me your name?” He figured that he’d try a different tact, appeal to her as he would with any other scared kid.
She finally stopped fighting, slumping tiredly against the car she’d crashed into. A huge sigh escaped her, “Amanda. My name’s Amanda.”
“I’m Bobby Singer, I own this junkyard.”