Hey, Half-Pint

Morning Sunshine

Sun streamed down onto the seats of a candy red cadillac. A few moments pass and now the sun shone down on the face of an young woman, aged about 27 sprawled out on the driver's and passenger seats.

A small snore passed her lips turning into a snort as she stirred, throwing her arm sleepily over her closed eyes before she yawned widely. Moaning, she stretched out her body and with her free hand she scratched at the tattoo on her thigh.

She softly swung her legs off the leather seats feeling her skin slightly peel away from the thick, thick fabric caused by the heat. She let out of soft disgusted groan and rubbed at her eyes trying to rid herself of sleep.

Resting her head on the steering wheel of her car, she grabbed onto the curves on either side and pushed herself up, her eyes falling shut, hair falling in front of her face.

She blew the stray hairs away from her face and turned the keys in the ignition and started playing with the dials on the radio before heavy rock and roll blasted through her speakers.

Suddenly bolted awake by the insistent loudness, she turned it down and laid her hand on the gear shift and pulled it into drive before heading onto the main road.

Turning into a fast food drive through, she pulled out her phone and turned down her radio, dialing a number and putting it to her ear.

The woman's voice came over loud and crackled over the intercom asking her what her order would be.

She put her fingers over the speaker and gave the woman her order before returning to her phone, "yeah, listen, I'm not gonna be able to make it, Rob," she spoke into the phone with nothing but boredom in her features as she tried to make her excuse sound real, "I'm in my Hotel right now and I got this emergency meeting it's gonna last like all day." She grabbed the paper bag through the window mouthing a thank you as she handed over the cash and gently drove out as to not get the sound of the engine in the call, "I'll call you when I get a free second alright? Later bro." Sliding the red line over, she threw her phone on the seat next to her and dove her hand inside the bag pulling out a small wrapped sandwich.

Listening intently to the now news station on the radio, she chewed on the sandwich slowly and popping small hash browns into her mouth.

"Good morning San Francisco, this is Michael Kent and we are with you LIVE from the station right now. We will have sports, weather reports, and all the other news you fancy coming up shortly, but we do have a serious matter at hand here in our city. This report is coming to you from the mouths of the SFPD and straight into your ears. Every other night for the past two weeks another person has been found dead. Yes, dead. Not really the thing you want to hear on a nice Monday morning on your morning commute, but bare with me here. The SFPD want you to contact them if you have any information about these killings, any at all. All the bodies have been found hung from their arms, beaten, and then drained of blood. The victims so far are named Molly Fitz, Melanie Grose-"

She turned down the radio and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, looking at the middle of it. 'Is this a case? Or is this just the run of the mill serial killer?' she thought as her fingers gripped the wheel tighter, now staring out at the parking space in front of her.

'I don't know,' her mind continued, 'if I don't go, then I'll never know.' She let her head rest on the steering wheel and sighed. Reaching over she slipped a pair of aviators from the overhead visor and placed them on her face, starting her car once again. 'You know what, if it's nothing, I'll just stop somewhere and head on. No big deal.'

Pulling out onto the street, she started driving to the scene where the latest woman was found.

As her car pulled to a stop, she smoothed her gray flowing tank top and fixed the fly-away strands of hair on her head as she spotted two men dressed in suits. Trying to act as normal as possible, she sauntered up and gave a smile to the shorter man, "so, this is where the police found the last girl."

He looked over the woman and narrowed his eyes before turning to his head to the taller man. He looked back at the woman was staring inquisitively at him. "Uhm, yes it is ma'am. And for you own safety, I have to tell you that you shouldn't be here. This place is still being... Combed for forensic evidence."

She licked her bottom lip slowly and held her arms tighter around her body listening to the tone in his voice and taking in the exact way he spoke. Dark tone, but not threatening. The stops in his sentences made it sound like he was hiding something, and his eyes basically screamed 'I'm lying'. "Of course sir. I understand, I was just wondering if I could be filled in, you know? I mean, I am a woman who lives in the city and I feel like you could help give me some advice to stay safe?"

He licked his own lips before looking back to the taller man who now started talking.

"Honestly ma'am, there's nothing that we could tell you to stay safe except to stay safe."

'Now this guy,' she thought, 'this guy has his act together.'

"He has no set pattern, and until we catch him anybody is at risk."

She smiled and nodded, "well thank you, sir. Now is it true that whoever the man was didn't beat the last victim? She got off easy... Well, not including the death and all."

"I... Uh... Agent Richards, why don't you take this one while I go look around and try and find something to give to the police to further the investigation," the shorter man said, clapping his hand on the tallers arm a few times before taking a few steps away from the other two now.

'Trying to remove himself from the situation, not answering questions directly. That's it.' "Cool your jets big boy, I know you aren't FBI."

He turned, a slight confused expression on his slightly freckled face, "w-what do you mean? Of course we're FBI. Do you want us to show you our badges?"

She smiled, looking into his green eyes, "nah. Not necessary. You're not the best actor. Now," she said, waggling her finger at the taller man, "he could pass for a real FBI agent."

"Okay, okay, keep your voice down," he said, his voice gruff in a whisper, "what do you want?"

She shrugged, "nothing. Just trying to find out what's really happening to these women. Just call me... A Guardian Angel."

"You're not doing such a good job so far," the shorter one replied back with a smirk.

"And what are you doing, Cowboy? You're standing here pretending to be FBI to do what exactly?" she asked, taking one of her hands and pushing her glasses onto the top of her head revealing one deep hazel eye and one light, sky blue eye.

His eyes couldn't leave hers after seeing her real full face. Suddenly all he saw was her.

Dark straight satin brown hair rested on her shoulders leading up to a neck covered with small tattoos. She had a beautiful angular face, but at the same time, it looked so soft and rounded. Her lips were dark red, plump and gorgeous. Her nose was slender and rigid, covered with heavy brown freckles leading up to those stunning eyes.

"Are we going to talk about why you two are here? Or should I explain why I'm here first?" she asked with a sarcastic tone in her voice and a playful smile on her lips.

"Listen, we'd really appreciate it if you don't tell anyone that we've been here," the taller one said, softer this time, "we're just trying to help."

"So am I, Daddy Long Legs and so far I've got nothing," she said with a shrug and a sneer towards the taller.

"Maybe we got off on the wrong foot here," he said, holding his hands up in surrender, "my name is Sam and this is my brother Dean," he said, motioning to the shorter one, still staring at her.

She looked from the shorter, Dean, to the taller one, Sam, and leaned in whispering, "is he okay?" she asked, pointing her thumb towards Dean.

"It's been a long day," Sam replied softly.

She nodded and took a few steps closer to Dean, "well I guess you guys don't sound too terrible. Cassandra Lewis," she said, extending her hand.

He grabbed it, feeling her soft skin against his own rough grasp, "Dean. Dean Winchester."