Angel Eyes

3

"Hello, we're Special Agents Jones and Darren," Dean spoke firmly.

"I didn't know the FBI was interested in this kind of thing."

"Well, we're here," Dean said curtly.

The officer nodded and motioned toward the body being put into a body bag.

"In my twenty years as Sheriff, I have never seen anything like this before," he gestured behind him. "Insides liquified, no DNA  left, no fingerprints, no witnesses. Oh, but there was a blue handprint on him forearm. It was not a tattoo and there was no dye found on her skin.

Sam nods, "What about the security cameras?"

He shook his head, "Fake."

Dean sighed.

"Ok, thank you."

Sam and Dean walked away towards the Impala.

"So we thinkin' Djinn?"

"Yeah, but this Djinn seems a lot like the last ones we hunted. The vic did have a serious anxiety disorder."

"Them again? More?" Damn it, Dean thought. He slammed his car door and turned the ignition.

Dean and Sam talked about the case more as Dean drove them back to their motel to do more research.

"Damn, I need a beer," Dean said as he unlocked the door to the room.

He heard a gun click and swiftly pulled his .45 out from his hiding place. He pointed it at the stranger who was currently standing in him and his brother's room.

The intruder was facing away from the bothers, gun loaded at their side.

"Who the hell are you?!"

The Winchesters waited for the person to time around.

They spun on their heel facing the boys. Dean lowered his gun slightly, surprised.

It was a girl. She had her gun pointed at Dean's head with a hard look.

She spoke in a strong voice, "Nicole Brenden."

"What?" Sam said.

"1999, Nicole Brenden. Tree Hill, Indiana."

What? Dean thought.

"Summer of 1999, she was 20 years old when two FBI agents came into town on a murder case. She was a waitress at the local diner. They talked and... When he solved the case he gave her his number and told her if anything else happens, anything bad, to call him. That he would protect her. Then he left."

The girl breathed heavily, getting everything out on minimal breathe.

I racked my brain for a Nicole. Oh yeah, the waitress with the homemade apple pie and the big...

"What's it to you?"

"I'm her daughter."

My mind shut down, then whirred back to life at 100 mph.

"Y-you're her daughter?"

She roller her eyes, lowering her gun and back up again.

"That's what I said, right?"

I pulled my gun back, hands in the air. "Okay, well, we can talk without these things can't we?" I shook my gun a bit. "So can you put yours down?"

She looked me over before, slowly, lowering her gun, laying it on the single bed beside her.

Sam holstered his gun as I did, in the waistband of my pants on the small of my back.

She sighed.