++++++ Just a little something I typed out because I was bored whilst in the hospital as my baby slept. Enjoy. It may be a one shot or a two shot-not sure yet ++++++

Chicago, the Windy City, one of many cities on my track across the country.

I wish I could say that I was one of many young adults travelling across the country to see the sites and gain a touch more independence before heading off the university but I wasn't. I was too busy running away from my past and my future all at once.

When the bus came to a jarring stop, launching all the passengers forward, I almost hit my head on the seat on front of me. The elderly woman sitting next to me grabbed my arm to stop me from causing any major damage.

"Thank you," I mumbled under my breath, fixing the blonde curls that fell out from underneath the blood red hoodie I wore. I didn't really mean it of course, the woman had spent the whole nineteen hour trip from New York showing me pictures of her grandchildren and bragging about her son and his beautiful wife and their beautiful home. She owed it all to God apparently for allowing her to raise such beautiful children. She had spent a few hours reading passages from the bible to me and lectured me on how I was leading my life into ruin each time we stopped and I had a cigarette or a swig of whisky from my flask.

"God bless you child," she replied. "Where will you stay whilst you're in Chicago? Young woman like yourself shouldn't be alone. I know of some churches that will take you in."

I cringed internally. Did I really give off that much of an air for being homeless? Did my outward appearance really tell people I had no friends and family to speak off? I stood up and grabbed my shoulder bag off the floor. "I'll figure something out," I spoke, telling myself more than I told her.

The woman clad in a hideous shade of blue stood up, reaching for the tan coat that fell over the back of her seat. "Let me give you the name of my church," she insisted as I started heading away from her. "Young lady!" she shouted after me.

I ignored her as I fell in line with the passengers disembarking off the bus. The outside air was cold and stunk of gas and burnt rubber. Pulling my leather jacket closer to my body, I pushed through the line of people waiting for their bags. When I saw my duffle, I grabbed it pushing into a random guy in front of me.

"Hey!" a guy shouted behind me. "I was here first, bitch."

"Fuck you!" I spat as I stuck my finger up at him and dug my cigarettes out of my bag before heading out of the depot. Pulling my hand out of my pocket, I produced an expensive looking leather wallet belonging to the guy I'd knocked into. With a smirk, I searched his wallet, finding a couple hundred in cash. I pocketed the cash and tossed the wallet before looking at the time. My watch read 9:45 in the morning, too early to frequent a bar but early enough to grab a shitty ass breakfast at a piece of shit diner.

I did a quick scan of the crowd, checking for any black eyed bastards that would have been sent my way. A couple years ago my life had been sunshine and daisies but now it was all a fucking mess. No home, no friends, no family, just a great big cloud of death hanging over my head and a father I wanted nothing to do with. Somewhat satisfied with my initial scan, I left via the back alley with a smaller crow of people, hitting the slick, wet streets whilst trying not to get hit by a car. Not that it mattered, the gift of blood from my father meant that I couldn't die. And believe you me, I'd searched and searched for a way to end this piece of shit life.

So far, no dice.

Two blocks away from the bus depot, it started to rain. Not wanting to spend the day soaked to the bone whilst searching for a shitty motel, I ducked inside the nearest diner specifically decorated in a theme dedicated to the early forties. Every seat at the grey and white fake marble counter was full so I slid into the last dark red leather booth tucked far into the corner.

A waitress wearing a hideous orange dress with white sneakers on and a badge that read 'Cassie' came over. "What can I get you doll?" she asked me.

"Coffee to start with," I told her, pulling my hood back. "Than the full breakfast, no tomatoes. I hate them cooked."

She scribbled down my order. "No worries, hun. Coming right up." She turned around, her sneakers squeaking against the linoleum floor. Moments later she came back with my coffee and I just sat there staring out the window, the hairs sticking up on the back of my neck.

I wondered how long I could actually stay here before he found me again. Crowley, daddy dearest. I'd grown up in the foster system, rumours followed me wherever I went, rumours of a mother who died but had also tried to cut me out of her own stomach, ranting and raving about demons and me being an abomination.

Before I turned fourteen I leant the truth about my father and who he was. Originally just a piss poor crossroads demon, he was now King of Hell and had armies of demons at his command. I'd been running since I was fourteen and at twenty-one, I was getting bloody tired of this life. I just wanted to die.

"Now that's a terrible thought to have," a deep voice smirked, cutting into my thoughts.

I jumped and looked up, a man wearing a sharp black suit holding a dark blue trench coat in his hands was standing there staring at me. Everything about him was pristine. His dark hair was perfectly combed over and his face, although young, held brown eyes that alone told the story of his years. "Excuse me?" I frowned.

He smirked and sat down. "Welcome to Chicago, Melinda. It's been awhile but we knew you were coming."

I blinked. "Excuse me?" I repeated, now confused and pissed.

He chuckled. "I'm not a demon, if that's what you're thinking. My name is Elijah Wentworth, but you may call me Eli. Everyone does."

"Congratulations," I snorted. "You want a medal to pin to that chest of yours?"

He smirked again. "Manners, Melinda."

I growled. "Don't call me that!" I snapped, hating the sound of my own name.

He-Eli-chuckled. "My, my, my. I shall call you Melinda because that is your name. I will not, under any circumstances, call you Hale. Melinda is of Greek origins. It means gentle one. But you have not had a very gentle life, have you, my dear?"

The arrogant smirk he had on his face made me want to clock him one in the jaw. "What the fuck would you know?" I snapped. "Get out of here before I kill you!"

He laughed. "Oh dear. For someone who has been on the run from the supernatural world and her father, you don't know much of this world, do you? My name is Elijah Wentworth, I am the current ruling Warlock of the Chicago Witch Coven and an enemy of your father's. Crowley and I do not see eye to eye and in the hundreds of years we've known each other, we've always been rivals."

I slumped back into the seat as Cassie brought me my breakfast.

"Anything to eat?" she asked the Warlock.

Eli waved his hand at her, dismissing her like she was street trash. "I have come here to offer you some assistance."

I grinned and sat up. "What? Really? You'll help me?"

He smirked. "Of course, Melinda. I'm not one to turn away someone in need. Of course, I will require something in return…"