"I'm gonna get you freak!"
The angry voice chased little Lillian Pultzer down the street as she ran away from the meanest boy at her school, Jake Doyle. He thought that because she looked a little different from everyone else she was a freak, something that didn't deserve the dignity given to the 'normal' people.
She had glasses, and not the slim, thin wired ones. She had big glasses with thick rims and made out of cheap plastic that irritated the bridge of her nose until it was a permanent shade of shiny red. Her clothes were faded and baggy. They were cast-offs from her mother, she took a needle and thread and cinched them so that she was only just barely swimming in them.
She read a lot, and not the thin, little books that other 7 year olds read. They were thick and hard to read. Books like The Picture of Dorian Grey and The Count of Monte Christo.
Her shoes were thin, and she was painfully reminded of this as her feet pounded against the pavement as she ran away from the gang of classmates that had taken to chasing her after school. They'd hold her by her ankles and let her hair brush against the sidewalk as all of the blood rushed to her head until her face was as red as her nose.
Making a snap decision, Lillian bolted towards the nearby woods. It was smack dab in the middle of the town. The town board has been talking about tearing it down for years in favor of a new strip mall, but they didn't have the money or the work ethic to make it happen.
None of that mattered to Lillian though. All that mattered was that Jake and his gang wouldn't follow her in there. He lived in the better part of town. Where the houses weren't falling apart and where the kids got to wear clothes that fit them. Where nobody would lower themselves to chasing a freaky, little girl through the muddy, dense woods.
She made it into the woods, but she didn't stop there. She kept running and running. She couldn't hear the boys chasing her anymore, but that didn't matter to her anymore.
She couldn't feel any pain in her lungs anymore. She wasn't running, she was flying.
A voice in the back of her head told her that this was called 'runner's high'. She probably read it in a book and committed it to memory.
A grin spread across her face and she let out a whoop of joy. This was amazing!
The smile fell off her face when her foot got caught on a tree root and she tripped. She hit the ground hard and began to roll down the hill. She was going to fast to stop herself. She finally stopped when she slammed into something at the bottom of the hill.
Her back throbbed from the impact and she was struggling to pull air back into her lungs from where it was forced out. She fixed her glasses and gingerly stood up to see what she had hit.
It was an old, black car.
Lillian blinked, and then rubbed her eyes when she saw that the car was still there. She was in the middle of the woods. Why would there be a car in the middle of the woods?
It must have been nice at one point. Now it was all rundown. The paint was faded, it had vines growing over it, and the windows were foggy and covered with grime.
She opened the door and slid across the scratched leather seats. She pressed the play button on the radio and she jumped when the opening notes to an old rock song played over the speakers.
Deciding not to question it, the little girl opened the console and pulled out some old tapes. Pausing the music, she looked at all the names that were written on strips of masking tape on the plastic cover. They were bands that she had never even heard of. Blue Oyster Cult, Kansas, Metallica.
Crossing her fingers, she popped one of the tapes into the radio.
The sound of a guitar solo played through the speakers.
Barely holding back a squeal, Lillian started thinking of all the possibilities. She could come here to get away. To get away from the bullies and a mom who barely noticed that she had a kid.
Biting her lip, Lillian got out of the car. Looking at it, she mentally promised to be back tomorrow before turning around and running home.
#$#~Supernatural~#$#
10 years later
Lillian Pultzer nodded her head to Dust In the Wind by Kansas as she read her battered copy of War and Peace. She was sitting in the driver's seat of an old, rundown 1967 Chevy Impala.
She was a far cry from the little seven year old she once was. She had traded in her cheap plastic glasses for eyedrops. She put them in every night and it had been slowly improving her vision. Her mom's clothes fit her better now, she no longer had to sew them so that they wouldn't fall off her.
Jake and his gang still tried to pick on her, but that mostly subsided when, in eighth grade, she decided to kick him where no man wants to be kicked. It cost her her recess for the rest of the year, but it was worth it.
Looking at her watch, she sighed and closed her book. Opening the door, she got up and fell flat on her ass when she rammed into a rock hard chest.
Looking up from her place n the car, the man she ran into was wearing a rumpled suit with a trench coat over it. He had raven hair and piercing blue eyes.
"Lillian." he said.
His voice was rough, but it demanded attention.
"Who the hell are you!" Lilian demanded angrily. She was scared, but she tried to cover it up with copious amounts of anger.
He scanned the ca that she had been using as her sanctuary for the past decade.
"You've been taking care of the Impala."
She looked at him, bewildered. Sure, she had been cleaning up the car. She had cleaned the windows and washed the outside of the car so that it shined in the places where the paint wasn't dulled by time and the elements.
The man backed up and gave Lillian space to stand up so that they were at eye level.
"I repeat." she seethed. "Who the hell are you!"
The dark haired man gave her a funny kind of smile. Nostalgic and sad, but with a tiny bit of snark.
"I'm an angel of the lord."
Lillian blinked, and then she rubbed her eyes when he was still there.
"I'm sorry. You're a what now?"
Lillian was measuring the speed and the distance she needed to run to get away from the crazy person in front of her.
He looked at her and cocked his head to the side, and gave her the same smile. Suddenly, his eyes slowed a bright, silvery blue and a shadow of a pair of wings appeared behind him.
Lillian fell to the ground and tried to crab walk away from him.
"Bu…But you can't be an angel!" she stammered.
"Why not?" he questioned. His eyes were back to normal and his wings were nowhere to be seen.
"Because I'm an atheist!" she said. Lillian seemed to be regaining the ever present snark that she possessed.
The angel looked like he was about to burst out laughing. She didn't get why. Sure it was funny, but it didn't warrant that reaction.
Once he seemed to gain control over himself, he explained why he was there.
"I came to thank you."
Lillian looked at him in shock. Why was he telling her this?
"I knew the man who drove this car." he smiled sadly. "He was my best friend. Even when I mad mistakes he was always there, because he had made mistakes just as bad."
He trailed his hand across he hood of the car.
"This car meant the world to him. It was his father's, and when he was old enough, he gave it to him."
He pulled his hand away from the car.
"He was a good man."
He looked at Lillian one last time then disappeared. The lingering sound of rustling feathers the only indication he was ever there.
If a year later, a girl brought an old car to be fixed up at the local auto shop? And if that same girl drove that same car, shiny black paint job, new rims, and new engine and put that sad, little town in her review mirror? It was nobody's business but an angel, a young girl, and a 1967 Chevy Impala's. And somewhere up in heaven, a man with green eyes, a worn, leather jacket, and an amulet on a leather cord smiled nostalgically at the old car before catching himself and saying:
"I swear to God, screw up my car and I'll kill you."