My Protector

I awoke startled and saw Dean hovering above me.

“Dean?” I asked confused.

“Oh God Cayden.” He said then hugged me tightly before he went on to explain what has happened.

“Oh, well, if it isn't the ghost of Christmas screw you.”

“Enough. Dean, enough. You saw it, right? You saw what happens. You're the only person who can prove the devil wrong. Just say yes.”

“How do I know that this whole thing isn't one of your tricks? Huh? Some angel hocus-pocus?”

“He time for tricks is over. Give yourself to Michael. Say yes and we can strike. Before Lucifer gets to Sam. Before billions die.”

“Nah.”

“'Nah'? You telling me you haven't learned your lesson?”

“Oh, I've learned a lesson, all right. Just not the one you wanted to teach.”

“Well, I'll just have to teach it again! Because I got you now, boy, and I'm never letting you-”

Zach was cut off as we vanished. We turned and saw Cassie.

“That's pretty nice timing, Cas.”

“We had an appointment.”

“Don't ever change.”

“How did Zachariah find you?”

“Long story. Let's just stay away from Jehovah's Witnesses from now on, okay?”

“What are you doing?”

“Something I should have done in the first place.”

“Are we getting back Sammy?”

Dean nodded and I smiled.

We soon found ourselves at a bridge and got out of the impala to wait. A car pulled up and Sam got out. I watched as they approached each other than Dean took out Ruby’s knife and handed it to Sam. They started walking back to the impala. I waved at Sam smiling.

“Hey Cayden. So you’re with us now? Where did Dean find you? You kind of you know went missing.” Sam asked as we got into the impala.

“I found her at a brothel.” Dean said starting the car.

Sam turned in his seat and I blushed and looked out the window before turning to look at him.

“My Archangel has a weird sense of humor.” I shrugged.

“I got a picture.” Dean said smiling.

“What?” I yelled.

Dean pulled out his cell phone and showed Sam a picture of me standing at their table and another wearing Cassie’s trench coat on the street.

“Are those-“

“Angel wings? Yeah, weird sense of humor as I said before.”

A few weeks went by and we were on the road still.

“So what’s with this job?” Sam asked.

“Dude suffers a head-on collision in a parked car? I'd say that's worth checking out.”

“Yeah, definitely, uh, but, uh, we got bigger problems, don't you think?”

“I'm sure the apocalypse will still be there when we get back.” I said from the back as I was sketching.

“Right, yeah, but I mean, if—if the Colt is really out there somewhere-”

“Hey, we've been looking for three weeks, we got bupkis.” Dean said.

“Okay. But Dean...I mean, if we're gonna—ice the Devil-”

“This is what we're doing! Okay? End of discussion. It's just that this is our first real case, back at it together. You know, I, I think we oughta ease into it, put the training wheels back on. Plus I have no idea how much Cayden can do.”

“Oie! I know how to shoot and fight thank you very much, Bobby drilled me in shooting for the two days I was there and once I pick something up I don’t forget it.” I complained from the back seat.

“So you think I need training wheels.”

“No, 'we'. 'We' need training wheels, you, me and Cay. As a team. Okay?”

“Okay.” We both chorused.

The boys went into the sheriff’s department with their badges so I sat in the car still sketching.
I looked at my sketch and was looking at a car, to be more exact James Dean’s car. Little Bastard.
The boys entered the car and I showed them the sketch.

“Come on. We have to stop at this guy’s place.

Soon we were in the garage as Dean walked around the car in awe.

“So, what, this is, like, Christine?” Sam Asked.

“Christine is fiction.” I said.

“This is real.” Dean said.

“Okay, enlighten me.” Sam said.

“Well after James Dean died, his mechanic bought the wreckage, and he fixed it up. And it repaid him by falling on him. And Tony McHenry was killed when it locked up on the racetrack. I mean, death follows this car around like exhaust. Nobody touches it and comes away in one piece. Then, in nineteen-seventy, it vanished off the back of a truck. Nobody's ever seen it since. I'm telling you, man, if this—if this car is Little Bastard, I will bet you dollars to donuts it's what killed the guy.” Dean said.

“So how do we find out?” Sam asked,

“Cal matched the VIN number, but the only real way to know is the engine number.” I spoke before Dean could answer.

They looked at me in shock.

“What? I know stuff about cars, my dad was a car fanatic.” I said slowly.

“So the number is-”

“On the engine. Yeah.” Dean replied.

They removed their jackets and were staring at the car with unease.

“So…Cay, any falling cars in my future?”

“Um…no, but on the bright side if it does fall, you’ll be brought back to life anyway.” I shrugged.

“Oh thanks that’s encouraging.”

“I am here to help.” I commented smirking at my drawing.

“You want me to do it?” Sam asked.

“No. ...No, no, I've—I've got it.” Dean said before looking at the car. “Okay, baby. I'm not gonna hurt you, so...don't hurt me.”

Dean lies down on a roller board with a pencil in his mouth, then rolls himself under the car. The car shudders a bit. Sam got on the ground next to car and was looking at Dean.

“Need a flashlight?” Sam asked.

“No. Don’t…do anything, just go away.”

“You-uh, okay?”

“Don't speak. All right? In fact, don't even look at her, she might not like it.”

I snorted and went back to my drawing.

Sam stood back up. After a minute Dean slide out from under the car and stood up. He handed Sam the number after composing himself.

“Find out who owned it. Not just the last owner, you gotta take it all the way back to nineteen-fifty-five.”

“That's a lot of research.”

“Well, I guess I just made your afternoon.”

I continued the sketch not really noticing where we were going till we were in a tavern.

“Dean go get me a beer.” I said not looking up from my sketch.

“Kid, you’re under age.”

I slapped an id on the table saying I was 23.

“Courtesy of Bobby, because I drink too much.” I said not looking up. He scoffed and went up to the bar.

My beer was handed to me as Dean answered his phone.

“Yo.”

“Any of 'em die bloody?”

“No, I—I'm—I'm in a restaurant.”

“Thanks”

“That happens to have a bar.”

“Hey, world's smallest violin, pal, I spent the afternoon up Christine's skirt. I needed a drink.”

“Meaning?”

“So you're saying?”

“Well then what was it that killed the guy?”

“Whatca got Cay?”

I looked up and showed him a picture of Gandhi.

“Who the hell is that?”

“Gandhi…why the hell would I draw Gandhi?”

He shrugged and we went back to the hotel.

“Okay so I went to the post office and Bobby sent up these, so you come with us on investigations.” Dean said walking into the hotel room the next morning before throwing a box at me.

“Agent Plakas?” I asked.

“Yup, and we’re Agents Bonham and Copeland. Now go make yourself look professional.” He said shoving a bag at me and pointed to the bathroom.

I sighed and went into the bathroom to change.

I threw on the stockings and a pencil skirt that went a bit above the knee, with a white blouse and jacket.

I came out wearing the four inch heels.

“I look ridiculous.” I muttered sweeping my hair into a bun, making myself look older than I was.

“Nah, you look cute.” Sam said smiling as we got into the car.

“I still don’t think anything could beat that angel number you had on, I’m pretty sure Cas would agree with me on it.” Dean chuckled as we drove down to the office of the latest murder.

“Cay, go talk to the witness.”

I nodded and went to talk to the Hispanic maid.

“No puedo vivir aquí. Necesito mi familia. Me voy ahora. Me voy a la casa. No—me voy a la casa en El Salvador ahora.”

“Consuela Alvarez?” I asked.

“Yes?” she answered.

“FBI, Now, uh, you said you saw something in the professor's house. Right? Something in the window?”

“Estaba sacando la basura. Imiré por la ventana y vi al hombre que mató al Señor Hill!”

“Cálmese, por favor. Díganos lo que vio.”

“Era alto. Muy alto. Y llevaba el abrigo negro largo y tenía bigotes”

“A beard?” I asked gestering to my chin.

She nodded “Y un sombrero.”

“Un sombrero alto.”

“A tall hat?”

“Muy alto!”

“Like a stovepipe hat?” I asked gesturing.

“Si.”

“Like President Lincoln?”

“Sí. El Presidente Lincoln.”

I looked perplexed.

“Abraham Lincoln kill Mister Hill!” she said sobbing.

“Huh.”

“S-so I go home now?”

“Uh, Sí. Gracias.”

I walked towards Sam and Dean.

“Whatca get?”

“President Lincoln killed Mr. Hill it seems.”

We sat in the motel and I was sketching still.

“Whatca got?” Sam asked after they discussed famous ghosts.

I furrowed my eyebrows. I held up a picture of the Joker wielding his knife.

“What?” Dean asked.

“It’s just weird now, you know. First the picture of Gandhi and now this. I don’t understand, where the hell is Chuck’s understanding when you need it.” I sighed throwing the sketchbook down and laid back in bed to sleep.

We stood in a wax museum looking at Gandhi.

“Dude, he’s short.”

“Hey, Gandhi was a great man.”

“Yeah, for a Smurf.”

We turned and saw the museum owner coming down the stairs and looking at us.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, this is our busiest time of the year.”

I glanced at the empty rooms.

“This is busy?” I asked.

“Well, not right now, but it's early.” The owner answered.

“It’s four-thirty.” Dean pointed out.

“So, what can I do for you?”

“Uh, well, we are writing a piece for Travel Magazine.” I said whipping out my sketch book to use as a fake note pad.

“Yeah, on how, uh, totally non-sucky wax museums are.” Dean said.

I almost rolled my eyes at him.

“That's fantastic. A little press, just what we need.”

“Great. Well we're interested in a few of your exhibits, specifically Abraham Lincoln and, uh, James Dean.” Sam said as I started writing useless scribbles.

“Two of our most popular displays.”

“Oh yeah? So they bring in a lot of visitors?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, we have our regulars.”

“I don't suppose that, uh, William Hill and Cal Hawkins were regulars, were they?” Dean asked.

The owner nodded before adding, “As a matter of fact, they were. Yeah, I heard what happened to them. It's tragic, just tragic. Oh—you—that's not gonna be in the article, is it?”

“No of course not.” I said reassuringly.

“You know, I gotta tell you, that—that Lincoln is so lifelike, I mean, you—I mean, you can just imagine him moving around. You ever see anything like that?”

“Uh…no.” the owner frowned.

“No?”

“Well, um, is there anything you could think of that would make your museum...unusual? You know, for the article?” Sam asked.
“Well, I'll say. There isn't another place like us, not anywhere.”

“How so?” I asked looking up.

“Well, for one, that's Honest Abe's real hat.” The owner said pointing to Lincoln.

“It is?” Sam asked.

“Almost like his remains.” Dean muttered looking at Sam.

“Uh…I guess?”

Dean grinned.

“You wouldn't happen to have any of James Dean's personal effects, would you?” Sam asked.

“Ooh, yeah. Got his keychain. We got a bunch of stuff, uh, Gandhi's bifocals, FDR's iron lung. The late Heath Ledger’s Joker trench and one of his knives. This-“ the owner indicated to his leather jacket.

“And who did that belong to?” Sam asked.

“The Fonz. Seasons two through four.” The owner said before doing the signature Fonz thumbs.

“W-wow. Yeah, that's—that's really cool...ish.” Sam all but said holding in a chuckle.

“This? This is nothing. I've been working on a new collection of figures. Stuff that'll really wow the kids.”

“The kids?” I asked.

“Yeah, Gen Y.”

I nodded.

“Computer games, cell phones, sexting.”

Dean raised an eyebrow.

“They're just fads. I'm gonna make wax museums hip again.”

*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*

I sat in the impala waiting for the guys to get their asses out of the motel room. Soon we were on are way to the museum.

I held my shotgun as we entered the hall.

Dean put on Lincoln’s hat and imitated him. I chuckled then noticed there was a new wax figure out a bit farther down the hall. I walked closer and saw it was a hunched over figure of the Joker, from the Dark Knight.

“Hmmm that’s creepy.” I mumbled looking at him.

“Why hello beautiful.” His voice crackled.

My eyes widened as I backed the fuck up fast. I looked behind me and noticed Gandhi on top san’s back.

“Guys!” my voice came out panicked as I back away from the approaching figure.

I let out a yell as I was tackled to the floor a blade in my mouth.

He let out an insane laughter before I felt him cut up. Oh my god he’s giving me a fucking smile.

I let out a scream.

“Oh Shit Cayden!” I heard the guys yelled as I struggled underneath the Joker.

They ran and ripped off the joker’s jacket and knife from the wax dummy and burned them before I could get the full smile.

“At least Cayden seemed to admire someone cool…a bit insane. But so much better than Gandhi.” Dean said helping me up and looking at my new cut.

“Let’s get her stitched up.” Sam said helping me stop the blood flow on the way to the car.

We sat in the motel room as Sam stitched up my smirk. I winced and gasped at the pain, before I eventually passed out from the pain.

I awoke at night and noticed the guys weren’t there. I turned and saw Gabriel sitting next to me.

“Those muttonheads didn’t look after you properly.” He said, I could sense anger underneath his calm words.

“Can…can you fix it?” I asked facing him.

He touched my face and I felt a pull. In his hands were the stiches. I reached up with my left hand and felt that the cut was gone. I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you Gabe.” I said into his neck.

“Hey, no problem sweet heart.” He smiled and brushed my hair away from my face before giving me a peck on the lips.

I leaned forward and captured his lips. I let my hands roam up to his hair and gave it a gentle tug, making him groan before rolling us over.

I moved my kisses down his neck and let out a nibble here and there. He groaned again and started to unbutton the flannel I was wearing, placing chaste kisses as he went. I let out a breathy moan then heard the door jiggle. He was gone in a blink of the eye and I rolled the fuck over and pretended to sleep.

“Cayden. Hey we need to check your face.” I heard Dean say.

I sat up, thanking god I decided to wear a tank top under my flannel.

“holy…they’re gone.” He said looking at my face closely.

“Um…yeah. My archangel stopped by, gave me a scolding and healed me.” I said fixing my flannel.

“Well awesome. Now move the fuck over daddy wants to get some sleep.”” He grinned shoving me a bit.

I shuffled over and settled back down. I was now wide awake but friggin turned on as all hell.

“You are warmer than normal Cay.” Dean whispered as Sam crawled into is bed.

”So?” I whispered back facing him.

He grinned wickedly and leaned in.

“I think we walked in on your alone time.”

I blushed bright red and looked away from him.

“I could help you know. Just saw the word and I’ll make Sammy leave.” He whispered huskily in my ear.

I blinked smiled leaned in closely to him and whispered seductively “no” in his ear before turning around to go to sleep.

I frowned as I was being left in the motel room the whole time they went and dealt with the antichrist. Then it was to the next place after the kid, Jimmy disappeared.

“Fuck you guys, you are making me sit here again!” I all but yelled at them as they went out to play CDC.

“Oh come on Cayden, it’s not like we left you with nothing to do. You have cash, and a credit card, your ID…go shopping or to a bar or something. Hell go to brothel.” He smirked a bit at the last one.

I flipped him off as we walked out.

“Sorry Cayden, but you know it’s safer and all.”

I groaned.

I dressed in a purple blouse and a short black skirt. The skirt was the one I used for the FBI gig. I slipped on pantyhose and heels. I put half of my hair up and grabbed a purse. I walked down and found myself at a bar sipping on a beer.

“Now what’s a pretty young thing like you doing at a bar like this?” An Irish accent said breaking me out of my thoughts.

I looked over at the man. He had a rough handsome look about him, chocolate brown eyes dark hair.

“Just you know enjoying a beer, after a hard day at work.”

“Are you an artist?”

“What makes you say that?” I smiled softly.

“The way you hold your hands. On your thumb you still have a bit of graphite on them.” He said holding up my hand to show me.

“Yeah, I am. I’m Cayden, by the way.”

“Patrick. I’m running this Poker game if you are interested.”

“Okay, sounds fun.” I said standing up.

I followed him down.