This shall be a short AU fic consisting of maybe five or six short chapters. I'm not planning to do much with it. This AU is set in the future where the world consists of multiple planets and future-like things (think of Riddick or Star Trek). Alex Winchester is an OC created by the lovely River Winters and Sam's twin sister.

Full Summary: Wanted on eighteen different planets for multiple counts of grand theft, robbery, burglaries, home invasions, trespassing, fraud, arson, aggravated assault, felony warrant evasions, and most infamously, the mass murder of all twenty of his siblings, Castiel Novak is number one on the Federation's Most Wanted list. And who better than the Winchesters, the best of the best, to take down the worst of the worst? But what was supposed to be a relatively routine manhunt becomes much more complicated when their criminal isn't really who they think he is.

Notes: Inspired by Chronicles of Riddick and "Song Remains the Same" by River Winters.

Please R&R! Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot.

The youngest Winchester brushed the hair back from her sweat-covered forehead. She knew, without looking, that she'd left a trail of grease and grime behind. Her hands, arms, and generally her whole body were covered with it. Showers were only a luxury that could be afforded once they'd completed a decent job or when Dean decided to actually dock on a nice, clean planet with a society that cared for hygiene. She sat at the head of their beloved ship, The Impala, monitoring the many screens that displayed and analyzed the functions of their spacecraft. Her father had bought it many years ago and it had been with the family for as long as she could remember. She had grown up in this ship, playing with Sam among its deck, eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner just behind the pilot's seat, and she knew every metallic nook and cranny. The Impala was sleek, black, old, and her home.

The Impala was also built for bounty hunters and her father had bought it as such; small and light enough to make a fast getaway, but strong and armed to the teeth for a chase or a fight if needed. It was also fitted with all the best tools for a job: weapons, seat-barracks, and of course, the criminal lockdown chair built into the very back of the ship. The Winchesters were – and had always been – in the family business of bounty hunting. They'd taken down some of the worst criminals in recorded history, and if memory served her correctly, the most. Along with her brothers, Dean and Sam, she had been born to bounty hunt. Her great-grandparents, her grandparents, dozens of cousins, and her parents had all died doing this job. She would be no different.

"Get out of my chair, Al."

She rolled her eyes and pressed the button to swivel the chair around, facing her oldest (if not, most annoying) brother. He stood tall, broad-shouldered, arms crossed over his chest and an almost amused look on his face. She surrendered the seat to him, reluctant to leave behind her few moments of imagined captainship. Dean Winchester, captain of The Impala, sat down in the pilot's seat and ran his gloved hand over the console lovingly. They all wore fingerless gloves; it was part of the uniform. As was the high-top, double-lace, waterproof tactical boots with nifty hiding places for dozens of knives. Dean had used his own money to buy two thigh holsters, two hip holsters, a chest sling with too many pockets for ammo, and an unnecessarily expensive pair of captain's goggles – and a bunch of guns. He was big on guns. Their entire armory was almost all composed of guns (assault rifles, shotguns, long guns, miniguns, handguns, pistols, machine guns, you get the picture), always the best and newest the black market had to offer, plus the knives, swords, ulaks, knuckle dusters, shivs, razors, daggers, and other long, pointy objects that they picked up along the way. It really was quite impressive. She herself was more preferential to guns over knives because she was small and close-quarter combat wasn't her best skill. And her aim was perfect, even Dean said so.

"We're almost there, ten klicks out from the atmosphere," She said helpfully, leaning over the back of the chair to see the command console for herself.

Dean nodded, flicking a few switches. "Get Sammy and start preparing."

She sighed, and turned away from Dean to run the few steps it took to get to Sammy's seat (configured into barrack-mode) and jumped on top of her twin brother.

"Up and at 'em, Sammy boy!"

"Ungfh! Gerrofme!" Sam Winchester groaned, rubbing a hand over his face as he used the other hand to push his sister off him. He undid the straps that held him securely in his seat-bed, yawning widely. Alex ruffled his hair.

"Don't want to miss all the action, Sam," She said cheerfully.

He opened one eye to glare at her resentfully.

She slapped a hand, hard, against his bare chest. "We're almost there. Better get ready."

He mumbled a few not-so-nice things, but ignored him in favor of unlocking the armory that covered the panels and filled the trunks lined up against the wall across from their seats. She would never get tired of arming up. The ship itself seemed to hum in contentment as the Winchester twins began their muscle-memory routine of loading themselves with armaments and weapons. She slid four handguns home to their respective thigh and hip holsters (just like Dean's), filling the pouches on her duty belt with magazines; six knives, four shivs, and two razors disappeared into sheaths on the same belt, secret places under her clothing, and those hidey places in her boots. Another two miniguns disappeared into her boots. A girl's gotta have her surprises. Usually she didn't carry heavy guns, but she slung an assault rifle onto her back anyway because this hunt wasn't a normal, easy operation.

This time, they were going after the notorious, high-profile criminal known as Castiel Novak.

Wanted on eighteen different planets for multiple counts of grand theft, robbery, burglaries, home invasions, trespassing, fraud, arson, aggravated assault, felony warrant evasions, and most infamously, the mass murder of all twenty of his siblings, Castiel Novak was number one on the Federation's (the government system that ruled the five-hundred seventy-four different planets in eleven different galaxies) Most Wanted list; and unfortunately, that was a very long list. The Federation's armada had spent the last fourteen years chasing this man across the universe – to no avail. As far as she knew, nobody even knew what Castiel looked like. So of course, driven to desperate circumstances, the Federation had contracted the Winchesters (because bounty hunters weren't confined by legal matters) to hunt this man down for a very generous bounty of $1.5 million. Alex had never taken such a high-risk, high-paying job before and she knew her brothers were excited about it.

After all, how hard could it be?