Never Piss Off an Angel
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that even remotely resembles Supernatural.
A/N – This story takes place while Sam is away at school so it is just Dean and John. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!
THIS IS A MARY SUE STORY... IF YOU DON'T LIKE MARY SUE's DON'T READ IT.
My name is Mags. I'm a were-cat. Not an evil were-cat like the rest of my brethren, in fact anything evil had pretty much better stay out of my way. I hunt them wherever I find them and I am very good at finding them.
Now you might ask how I became a were-cat in the first place. Well, let me tell you this. It is never a good idea to piss off an angel, especially an Archangel. If you do you'd better be prepared because for creatures of good, they can get pretty nasty when you rile them up.
I'm sure you've heard of Michael. He's a warrior angel. He and I got into a disagreement once. Okay, it was a bit more then a disagreement but really, how was I supposed to know that it takes decades for an angels wing's to grow back. Besides, I only removed one wing! But hey, who am I to disagree with an angel right. So, he decides I need to be punished in a big way and he turns me into the very thing I abhorred the most at the time.
That sneaky bastard didn't even tell me he'd done it either. It scared the hell out of the first time I changed. Then I heard him laughing… that's right, laughing at my horror. He came to me and told me what he had done and I was so pissed off I ripped his other wing right off his back.
I thought sure enough I was going to go to hell now because I knew the lust for human flesh would be coming. I locked myself in a cage and sat there and waited for it to come. It never did. Can you imagine my surprise when I figured out that I could change at will no matter what the stage of the moon?
You know what bugs me the most though? It's that the next time I see Michael I'm going to have to apologize and I'm going to have to thank him. Being a were-cat has saved my life more times then I care to count. It can get confusing sometimes though. Not all the other hunters out there understand about me.
It's understandable though so I don't blame them. Hell, I used to be just like them. I had the same mentality. The only good were-cat was a dead one. But wait, I still have that same mentality. I do however feel free to exclude myself from the mix. After all I was created from a being of good, not evil.
I must say that it has been extremely helpful to be able to turn into a black panther whenever I need to or for that matter whenever I want. Panthers are cunning hunters and Michael, bless his devious heart, made sure that I was given all of the panther's abilities. I do, however, have an issue with the actual change. He could have allowed me to change with my clothes still intact, but no, my clothes stay where they fall when I change. It's made for some very embarrassing moments when I have to change back without them. I think its Michaels way of delivering a little payback.
Well, anyway I wanted tell you how I met John Winchester, yep that's right. I met the legendary John Winchester and his son Dean. Both of whom I can now count him among my very short list of people that I call friends. It was a few years ago when I was up in Iowa hunting a wendigo. The damn thing was killing hikers and campers and the local cougar population was taking the blame.
When I got there I knew it was going to be a tough hunt. There were all kinds of fanatics up in the woods trying to kill off everything but the damn wendigo. Well, not that anyone but a true hunter would have been able to kill it… but still. It was a damn massacre for the wild creatures up there.
So here I am in leopard form following the week old trail of the wendigo. Now, I have to admit I was not paying enough attention to my surroundings but have you ever tried to sniff out a week old trail after a heavy rain? It took most of my concentration just keep from loosing the scent.
In all honesty I think I surprised John just as much as he surprised me and that's really the only reason I'm still alive… that and because he son Dean was a few dozen yards out of sight instead of at his fathers side. I've hunted with John since then and I gotta tell ya, I've never seen the man miss when he shoots at something. So when I say he missed me you know how unusual that is… of course it helped a lot that I'm pretty quick on my feet too.
So anyway, I'm trailing along, nose to the ground concentrating on not loosing the scent when I suddenly I hear a very familiar, very ominous click. I jumped sideways even as I heard the booming of the weapon and felt the burning of the shot as it scraped along my right flank. Okay, so he didn't exactly miss me, but he didn't kill me either. I landed on my feet but as soon as I realized I was on fire because the fool had shot me with a flare gun I began rolling to put out the flame.
I got the flames out just in time to see him pull a glock from the shoulder holster under his jacket. I remember thinking that with my luck the damn thing was fully loaded with silver bullets too! I was so hot (no pun intended) and so pissed off that I launched myself at the man without thinking. (Hey, I was nice! I had my claws retracted!) I hit him pretty hard before he could get the gun lined up and it was knocked out of his hand but not before a shot rang out and went whizzing by my left ear loud enough to temporarily deafen it.
He tumbled backwards and landed heavily on his back with me on top. In my leopard form I am no light weight so it's not surprising that his breath was knocked from him when the ground suddenly stopped his fall. Like I said earlier I was angry… okay maybe I was a bit beyond angry and I was hurt too! My side was burned something fierce.
I'm not sure if I mentioned this earlier or not but, one of the good things about being a were-cat is that most wounds will heal when I change from one form to the other. I'm not sure if that happens with all were-cats or if it's something that Michael added when he fixed me up with this gig.
Anyway, back to my story. So here I am sitting on top of this guy furious and in pain and I suddenly started thinking what the hell am I doing? I don't have to hurt! So I changed right there while I was sitting on his chest. This guy's eyes widened to the size of saucers as I started to yell at him. "What the hell do you think you're doing," I screamed as I punched him in the chest with my fist. "You just shot me with a freaking flare gun!"
Could this man sit still and let me talk to him about this? No! He had to get all macho on me. Once he got his breath back he sat up and grabbed my wrists. Now try and picture this. John is sitting on the ground he's got both my wrists in his hand. I'm sitting on his lap stark naked wearing nothing by my necklace. That's when his son Dean came running up out of the woods.
I'm not sure if I told you yet, but I've been told I'm kind of pleasing on the eyes but hey I'm not a good judge of women so I wouldn't know anything about that. Men, now that's a whole other story. I happen to think I'm a very good judge of what is good looking when it comes to men. John Winchester I'd rate a very high nine and once I got a look at his son he too would rate up there on the too hot to touch list.
But I digress… In my human form I appear to be in my mid thirties and I stand about five and a half feet tall and I'm well built without being to skinny. I have straight jet black hair that hangs down to the top of my shoulder blades. My eyes are sky blue but sometimes appear to turn grey depending on my mood. I have been told I have ample breasts, but since I don't know exactly what men mean when they say that I'm going to have to take them at their word.
So you get it now, I'm not a beauty queen, but I'm not ugly either and here I am sitting on this guys lap naked when his son runs up expecting his father to be in deadly peril. The boy stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of me sitting on his fathers lap. He raised one eyebrow up higher then the other and said, "Um, Dad? Do you need a little help?"