Demons, Roses, and Winchesters

Chapter 1

We do not own the Supernatural franchise. (Sadly) all credit for characters Dean, Sam and Castiel, as well as some concepts, are the creators'. We take no credit for them. However the OCs introduced and the plot are ours.

Angel's POV

"JADE!"

I sat up too fast, banging my head on the ceiling.

"Ow," I muttered turning to the com system. "Jade's not in right now. This is Angel. What do you want Silena." I grumbled, recognizing the voice.

"Oh sorry, Angel. I just wanted to tell you we're close to L.A and we are going to stop to talk about the case details."

"Great. L.A., land of the stars." I noted sarcastically before turning back to the spellbook I had zoned out on. "Evita must be sooo exited. What are we hunting again?" I asked, flipping through the pages absently.

"...demon...we think."

I paused, my hand halfway through flipping a page. I wavered, then continued like nothing had happened.

"What does 'we think' mean. How sure are you?"

"Pretty sure."

"I need better than 'pretty sure'."

"Really pretty fuckin' sure then. Look Angel if you don't want to do this..."

"No, I'll be fine...has Maureen found a pattern yet."

"No, but there is evidence of other hunters in the area."

"Great, just what we need. Hunters breathing down our backs. I swear if it's the Winchester boys-"

"Angel, you'll be fine. I'm sure we won't even run into them."

"Famous last words." I mutter under my breath. But Selina had already left the conversation.

Closing the book with a satisfying THWAP, I levered open my door and slid out, landing nimbly on the dusty ground behind the van.

Selina was already there, sitting cross-legged in the dust, carefully tipping holy water into plastic water pistols.

Selina wore her signature ragged blue bandana to hold back her wild brown hair (it also accented her eyes, which were forest green) and was wearing her two-times-too-big, men's gray biker jacket around her waist and ripped, faded jeans.

As always, she had a neon orange lollipop stuck in her mouth. She pulls those things out of nowhere, it's a miracle she hasn't got diabetes.

She is covered in freckles and so skinny, the bangle I sometimes wore on my wrist fits around her bicep, and she is often mistaken for a young teen or preteen (she's five foot eight), but she is a scrappy fighter, though she preferrs to pick off enemies with her hunting rifle.

She looked up sharply, when she felt me staring, then pulled the jugs of water scattered around her closer. Popping the lollipop out of her mouth she said, "Be careful, Angel. I'm loading." Before popping it back in and continued to fill the squirt guns.

I stepped away from the water and watched her.

Selina's water pistols were calked so they wouldn't leak and were painted tar black. The plugs were rubber, and they shot relatively far—perfect for dealing with demons and other supernatural creatures affected by holy water.

And not killing the vessel the demon was in was also a plus.

Getting a little bored, I fiddled with the bangle on my wrist. I myself was blonde-of Irish descent-with blue eyes and fair skin. I was twenty-though often mistaken for much older, for some reason.