Chapter Two: Bodyguard
"You're still who you are. You don't change when you become immortal, you just live longer.”
~ Duncan, Highlander the Series
Dean’s jaw unhinged as he stared at the small, strange girl. He couldn’t really process what she just told him. It was too hilarious an image. All he could force out between his lips was a single word. “What?”
She crossed her arms over her nearly non-existent chest and raised an irritable eyebrow, the bottom of her blue and white sneaker tapping impatiently against the asphalt. Her small mouth pursed and her eyebrows were creased over her almond shaped eyes. The moonlight was glistening off the top of her head as she watched him, clearly unhappy with his response. “This is what happens when stuff isn’t relayed down the grapevine.” She sighed. She paused, her eyes going glassy again as she stared past him. “No,” she said. Her voice was distant as she spoke. “No, you’re right, I’ll make him understand.”
“What?” Dean repeated. He was pretty damn sure that she wasn’t going to make him do anything. Suddenly, he wished that his gun wasn’t locked safely away in the Impala’s trunk. “Look lady, I don’t know what this is about, but…”
The truth was he knew exactly what it was about. She’d mentioned the Michael Sword, which meant she had been sent by the angels and now it was up to Dean Winchester to put as much distance between herself and him as he possibly could. He wasn’t going to let Cas’s gift go to waste. I thought the protection he carved into my ribs meant that the Angels couldn’t find me!
So how had this kid? He resisted the urge to panic. I am not dealing with Zachariah for a third time today!
None was preferable, but one was already too much. Was today even the same day?
“Okay, stupid.” She said. “Let’s make it clear. I’m your B-O-D-Y-G-U-A-R-D.” The girl named Gail spelled it out, her fingers tracing the letters in the air as she stared at him with wide hazel eyes. “Bodyguard.” She repeated. “Yours,” she pointed a single thin index finger at him. “Is me.” Gail jerked her left thumb back at her chest. “Gail Sparks.” She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m the secret service to your president, the Peter to your Jesus, the kick ass Angela Basset to your Lenny, the Agent Simon Donovan to your C. J. Craig. The bodyguard, the protector, I’m doubly here to make sure nothing untoward happens to you.” Her arms spread wide, imitating a wild fire. “Understand?” Her head tilted sideways and her foot tapped rapidly against the asphalt. “Is it crystal yet? Do you got it?”
“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “I got that one of us is a damn deluded fool.”
“And clearly,” she sighed loudly. “I’m retardation to your idiocy.”
His hands balled into a fist as he took a step towards her. The kid looked so fragile, like a strong breeze would snap her in half. The angels seriously want this to be my bodyguard?
Accepting their help was laughable, and even if he wanted to, which he didn’t, it always came with strings attached. Either way, if they were going to do that, they’d never send this
. Some kid barely out of high school. No, she’s got to be one of Chuck’s fans.
One who’d overdosed on their adventures and now thought… Well, now wanted to get herself killed. He wasn’t going to let her death be yet another strapped on his conscience.
“You can’t possibly have been sent by the angels to be my bodyguard.” He took a step towards her. What would Sam do? Ah, hell.
He didn’t want to think about Sam. Where the hell is Sam?
Why wasn’t he facing this? “So why don’t you just pack up the way you came.” He fished into his pocket, pulling out a few worn and crinkled dollar bills.
“Why not?” She asked. “Is this some comment against my gender?” Gail gasped and covered her heart with two small hands, taking a mocking step backwards. “No, tell me it ain’t so! You scared little ole’ me’s gonna get a bullet to the face? Possessed in the groin? That I’ll fall victim to the clown parade?”
“Here,” he offered them to her. “Get yourself a bus ticket or a cab ride, or whatever and go home to your parents.” Gail stared at his hand like it was trying to bite her. Dean shook the money at her. God, he hated fans. “Come on, I’ll get Chuck Shurley to send you some autographed copies of the books or something.”
“Books?” She asked. Confusion spread across her open face, but whether or not it was feigned, Dean couldn’t tell. “Chuck?” She glanced around the parking lot. “I don’t understand.”
“Okay, seriously,” Dean began. “Are you LARPing?”
He could practically feel his cool points draining away as he said the words. It sent buckets of ice water down his already chilled spine. The truth was he’d only learned about the existence of Live Action Roleplaying a few weeks ago, when a highly amused owner of a comic book shop accused both him and Sam of doing the same. That was how he’d met the Prophet of the Lord, Chuck Shurley and discovered the existence of books who were lumped together under the title: Supernatural. It was a series that chronicled all the adventures he and Sam had together since they’d hit the road chasing after their father in the mid 2000s.
Her eyebrows rose but the confused expression remained fixed on her features. Clearly, she wasn’t a very good actress. “Wow.” She said. “And you’re saying I’m nuts. That’s kinda like the pot calling the kettle black.” Gail paused. “Actually it is the pot calling the kettle…” She shook her head. “Never mind, I’m not here to teach you pot history.” She looked up at him. “Potty mouth.”
“Which I’m sure Dean appreciates.”
Dean nearly turned around at the sound of Sam’s voice. “What happened to you?” He demanded in a low voice. “Why’d you leave me alone with the crazy?”
“You told me you needed space.” Sam said. “I was giving it to you.” The moody tone of Sam’s voice told Dean that his brother had taken his words to heart. “I went back inside to talk to Bobby. He wanted me to make a few calls, so I came out here.” He looked up at the girl. He could see the creased irritation around her eyes and the way she was trying to hide it by keeping her face smooth. She was incredibly tiny, he was guessing only around five foot three and was probably easily mistaken for a little kid. “And I saw you.”
“And me.” Gail said. “I’m Gail Sparks.” The words were flying out of her mouth and Sam was fighting to keep a straight face. “The upper brass in the Hierarchy assigned me to look after your brother.”
“Hierarchy?” Sam asked. He hadn’t heard that terminology before. He glanced at his brother and fought to hide a smile. As painful as Dean’s words had been, he couldn’t help but be amused by the grimace overriding his brother’s expression.
“I guess,” she sighed. “I guess you could say the ‘Angels’.” She attached air quotes to angels, her fingers twitching in the air. “Anyway, they showed up in my bedroom a week ago.” She stared at them both for a moment. “Three of them and told me that my current job was canceled.” She shrugged, but she couldn’t quell her rapidly beating heart as the memory surged through her mind. “Cause you know, Angels and their prime numbers.” She snorted. “Guess they wanted me to know it was important or something.” She tossed her head. When she saw the confusion blossoming over the men’s expressions, she added quickly. “They only come in multiples when they want you to know it’s important.” She lifted up her fingers. “One is easy to ignore, but three are tough to toss out. Three means they’re serious, by the way. After that they come in groups of ten to twenty. At that point, you’re fucked.” She laughed. “I tell you, it pissed her
off to no end. Couple century long deep cover intelligence mission blown all because some human needs his diaper changed. Yeah, she was real pleased.” Gail shrugged. “But here I am anyway. Guess it sucks to be you. Eh, Dean Winchester?”
“I think that’s the understatement of the year.” Sam said. “Which angels appeared to you?”
“Oh come on, Sammy!” Dean snapped. “You’re not seriously buying into this garbage? She’s just some lost and lonely fan!”
“Is he mentally balanced?” Gail asked. “And are you his brother?”
“Yeah.” Sam said.
“Oh,” she nodded. “Huh, I thought you two were gay.”
“Christ!” Dean yelled. “I’m not gay!”
“Well, you sure act like it.”
Dean snorted. He hated being made fun of and he wasn’t gonna let this wannabe get the better of him. Dean was going to get her home. Even if she kicks and screams the whole way.
He wasn’t going to play along with her delusions. But even he was forced to admit that they weren’t getting anywhere. It’s worse standing next to Sammy.
He really didn’t want his brother involved. I’m not giving him the chance to betray me again.
That was that.
“Who did you see?” Sam asked. “Was it Zachariah?”
“Who?” She blinked. Clearly that name hadn’t rung any bells inside her empty skull. “Zachariah? No.” Gail shook her head and brushed a few loose strands off her face. “No.”
“Michael?” Dean asked. His irritation was creeping into his tone and he ignored the blatantly pointed glare that Sam gave him. “Were you approached by the almighty general himself?”
“Michael?” Gail laughed. “God no!” She glanced at Dean. “I never see Michael unless…” She blinked, her eyes going glassy again, her head tilted to the side like she was listening to something. Someone. It made chills quiver up Dean’s spine. “Anyway, it was just a random set of three: Larry, Curly, and Mo.”
“The angels named themselves after the Three Stooges?” Dean asked. Incredulity flooded his voice and Gail glanced at him, pity clear in her grayish, hazel eyes.
“Yeah.” She said. Sarcasm dripped off her words like venom as she lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “Cause they are the Three Stooges.” She shook her head. “No!” Gail snapped. “I named them that, obviously. Do I look like a complete idiot?” She glanced from Dean to Sam. “Don’t answer that. Back to the angels, okay? They didn’t tell me their names. In fact I wasn’t let in on most of the conversation. They just appeared in my room and started speaking some weird language into my head in these deep grating voices. I mean for what little I heard, I got what they were saying, but it was still pretty freaky.”
“Grating voices?” Dean asked.
“Weird language?” Sam’s question followed on Dean’s heels. They glanced at each other. The angels she was describing didn’t sound like the angels they knew. “You mean they didn’t come to you in human bodies?”
“No.” She said. Gail looked at them blankly, her head tilted, her mouth a hardening line. “They came in their usual forms, three pillars of light with crazy pentagon facemasks with sideways painted eyes, and four wings for each. You know, the usual concrete like pressure put down all over your body so they can get your attention and the usual mindfuck. You know, angels, unseeable to mortal…” She trailed off. “Oh. Duh. You two, you’re not psychically sensitive are you?” She smacked the side of her head. “God! I knew it! I knew it! She’d explain this so much better than me! Damn.” She looked at them. “The Hierarchy hasn’t told you anything
have they? This Zachariah dude?” She blinked. “You didn’t even know the Hierarchy existed did you?”
“Not until recently, no.” Dean snapped. “But I don’t get what this has to do with…”
“God! I should just plug you into my brain! She’d tell you everything you need to know! But then she’d scar you! Just seeing it all would drive you bonkers! And she’d probably eat you! If she didn’t kill you… oh, she’d totally kill you… So, I can’t! Ugh! This is so frustrating!”
“Okay,” Sam began. “Slow down, who’s this she?”
“She?” Gail glanced up at him. “Oh, no. Did I mention her out loud?” When both men nodded in confusion she smacked her forehead. “Jeez! Us! Christ! I’m the biggest loser ever! I’m totally doing this all wrong!”
“I’ll drink to that.” Dean said.
“Shut up, Dean.” Sam growled. He smacked his brother, forgetting for a moment the troubles that lay between them. Sam was finding this girl mildly amusing and though she seemed crazy, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was some truth to what she was saying.
“The angels come to you as humans?” She asked. “Seriously?” She watched them nod and could practically feel the belief that she was some fan rolling over her. That was troubling, they had fans. Fans? Fans of what? She had no idea what they did. Well, Gail wished that was true, seriously, she did. After all, anything was better than this had been an order. It was one she couldn’t ignore, stupid as it was. “Lucky!” She exclaimed. “You two are so fucking lucky!” It would make her life so much simpler if the angels came to her as people. “You can understand what they’re saying!”
“Yeah.” Sam said. “I thought you could too?”
“Well, she does.” Gail admitted. “I mean, half of me does. I mean…” She let out a long sigh, her shoulders shaking. “It’s complicated.”
“I bet.” Dean agreed. Because you are totally some psycho.
“Anyway, I’masting time with explanations.” She said. Her eyes focused somewhere far off and went smooth again for a second. “And I’ve been told to tell you that, if you don’t accept this right now, I’ll beat the living shit out of you.” She blinked. “Really?”
“I second that.” Dean smirked. “You seriously think you can beat us up?” He motioned towards his brother without looking at him.
Gail groaned. “I feel sorry for your joints.” And squeezed her eyes shut. “You two should probably run now anyway.”
“Why?” Sam asked.
“Because,” Gail sighed. “Mace is coming.”
Dean glanced at Sam. “Like the pepper spray?”
“I think she means a medieval weapon.” Sam said. “Something akin to a hammer, but why she needs something big and unwieldy to beat us up.” He paused. “I doubt she could even lift a mace, they were supposed to be pretty heavy.”
Sam didn’t get to finish his sentence, because a small fist, far more powerful than it appeared had smashed into his the soft spots of his belly and leaving him breathless. As his body crumpled, a knee had connected with his face. His head snapped back, stunned. The speed surprised him, just like the darkness that engulfed his paralyzed mind. He needed to be fighting back. The kid, Gail Sparks, she had attacked him. It was a cheap shot. He’d get her! Break her!
He heard Dean yell, listened to the sound of his brother flying through the air. The crash of skin on metal as his brother bounced off the hood of the Impala. He straightened up, feeling the cold point of a blade pressed against his throat. Where had that come from? Sam could smell the steel. Blinking, he stared down at Gail Sparks and felt his heart freeze in his chest. He knew, almost immediately, that the eyes he was looking into were not the girl’s. Who the hell is this?
“It would be faster to kill you.” Gail’s voice was low and grating. “And your brother.” In her eyes were indifferent, apathetic. But there was a small smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, a chilling smile. “And it’s certainly more economical, than the time wasted playing this charade.”
“Sammy!” Dean’s voice roared through the parking lot.
“I have better things to do.”
Thoughts raced through Sam’s mind. Wouldn’t the cameras see them? Where was security? The police? Why weren’t they rushing to lock up this sword-carrying maniac? He sucked in a quick breath, feeling the point delicately pricking against his skin. He could feel the blood slipping down the front of his neck. It wouldn’t take much pressure for her to stab him through his throat. He opened his mouth and felt his Adam’s apple sliding up against it. He didn’t quiver.
“Bitch!” Dean’s voice was much closer now. “Put the sword down!”
A click snapped through the parking lot, the sound of a gun being cocked. Sam wondered if that would deter this girl. This Gail. I still don’t know if she works for the angels.
But there certainly wasn’t anything normal about her. He’d been around unnatural creatures all his life, but Sam had never seen any creature pull a sword out of thin air.
The girl’s head rolled around as she glanced back at Dean. A smile touched her lips and she let out a bark of laughter. “You going to shoot me? You gonna shot the kid?” There was no fear as she stared down the barrel. “Or your brother?”
“Put it down you crazy bitch!” Dean snarled. “And step away.”
“No.” The girl said. The sword remained pressed against Sam’s throat and a casual smile was toying with her mouth, it was as if she was daring the younger Winchester to move. To try to escape. What the hell is she trying to prove?
Sam wondered. He didn’t know what to do. Dean’s hand was shaking as he pointed the gun at Gail’s skull, aimed right between her eyes. Was Dean unnerved too? Sam hadn’t expected this. His gut still hurt.
“I really would like to kill you.” She admitted. She glanced back at Sam, a rueful expression in her eyes. “It’d be better for you.”
“But you won’t.” Sam whispered. “Because Dean’s the Sword of Michael.”
“Yes.” She agreed. It was the same dull tone. There was no emotion in it. No feeling. It was as if killing them would be the same as swatting down a fly and just as irritating. “But what guarantee does that give you?”
“So, what will you do? Sammy?” The challenge and derision in her voice was clear as she gazed at him. Sam felt something flare up around her. It was different than what he felt from demons and when the angels used their powers. It was hot. “Do you want to die?”
Lifting her free hand, she snapped her fingers, just as Sam pushed the meat of his hand into the blade and lunged towards her.
Trust me, I know it has a confusing beginning, but the answers are coming in the later chapters. I promise. Like I said, this is a project very near and dear to my heart. I'm experimenting with something new and like all experiments, I'll get somethings right and some wrong. Try and be forgiving.
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