(A/N) Hi! Thanks to those of you who reviewed: It means so much! I'm glad you like it so far :) If anyone would be willing to give me some critiques on style, etc, then please don't hesitate, either! Otherwise, I'm hoping to update this story about once a week. I think that'll give me enough time to write and edit each new chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Two weeks later, the boys got a call.

"Yeah," Dean said, a little short.

"Hay… Um, it's Lea, from a week ago? Werewolf?" A voice began shyly.

"... Yeah." Dean said, when the other end of the line went quiet.

"Oh, um - I was wondering if your offer for a place to stay was still on the table?"

He quickly shut out an image of Kevin walking through the bunker's door. "... Kid, it wasn't… exactly an invitation, more like a 'come here if something's after you.' Speaking of which, hellhound situation?"

"Oh… Oh, yeah, he's fine, it's fine. I just…"

"Something wrong, kid?" Dean asked, this time a little more quietly.

"Not exactly, I mean. Yeah, not… not really."

"Listen, kid -"

"No, it's okay, thanks for talking. Bye."

Dean pulled the phone away and looked at the screen in surprise, Sam watching him expectantly.

"Everything ok?" Sam asked.

"Yeah… Yeah, it was that kid Lea from two weeks back, the werewolf thing. She was… well, I don't really know."

Sam looked curious, but shrugged. "Let's give her some time, call back tomorrow and check in or something, I don't know."

"Yeah, sounds like a plan."

The next morning, early - Sam had already showered from his run, but Dean hadn't gotten up yet - there was a tentative knock on the door. Sam grabbed his handgun from a lamp table, just to be safe, and ascended the staircase. When he opened the door, however, he almost dropped the gun in his haste to turn the safety on and shove it down the back on his jeans.

"Lea?" He asked, opening the door fully this time. The girl standing in front of him (above average in height, now that she was standing, he thought) looked tired. Her broad shoulders were slumped, her t-shirt was wrinkled and her jacket still had the hood tucked inside. Her hair was only a little wild, held out of her face with a bandana. She had one hand resting on a suitcase.

"Yeah… Sam?" She responded, her voice rasping a little.

"Yeah, yeah, that's me. What's wrong?"

"I… Need a place to crash." She admitted.

"What… happened to your family?"

"They agree." She answered haltingly.

Sam gnawed on his lip slightly before shaking himself awake. "Yeah, sure - come on in. You need me to get you something?"

"No thank you." She answered, following him inside.

Sam took her suitcase for her as she walked carefully forward. "Are there… devil's traps?" She asked, standing on the threshold.

"Oh, um, not here." Sam answered. "Do you have… it… with you?"

"My hellhound? Yes. His name is Oscar." She answered, smiling. When she walked forward, he suddenly, hesitantly, wondered if he should help. He reached out his hands, hunching his shoulders self consciously.

"Do you need… help? With the stairs?" He asked.

"That's ok," She answered, patting the empty space which held a quiet hellhound beside her. "Oscar's smarter than most help dogs. I'm safe."

Uneasy but accepting, Sam backed away.

"Could you lead the way, maybe? Oscar'll follow you."

"Yeah, sure," Sam said, quickly grabbing her bag and carrying it downstairs. "Do you need something? Coffee? Breakfast? I got yogurt from a place in town this morning, and Dean made me pick up eggs, bacon and hashbrowns last week. We've still got some left." He almost realized that he was rambling while he put her bag down and guided her to a seat.

"Coffee'd be great. Milk and sugar?" She answered.

"Yeah, sure. Be right back." He ran to the kitchen and poured her a cup, fixed it accordingly and brought it back. "Here you go." He told her, setting it a little more loudly on the table than he normally did, hoping she could tell how close it was to her by the noise. He then settled next to her.

"So what's wrong?" He asked, grabbing his own half empty cup of coffee.

"I haven't been totally honest with you… Or, I just sort of… withheld information. You all assumed and I let you, because I thought, 'what's the harm?' because that's what I've let everybody else think and it's worked so far, right?" She took a deep breath. "Listen," She began much more slowly. "I'm not… really blind."

He was probably looking at her strangely, as she took off her thick, blacked out glasses. Her eyes were still closed at first. She was wearing no makeup, but her lashes were thick, dark smudges. Then she looked up at Sam.

Her eyes were shocking. They were solidly iridescent blue. She had no pupils, no irises. The entirety of her eyes were a brilliant, shining blue, as if they had been replaced by smoothly polished crystal. They seemed to shine, as well, casting an unearthly tint to her face, but perhaps they were catching the light in the bunker.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"A man came to my house one day. I was eleven. He said he was from the school system and needed to speak with me. Instead, he just swooped me up and pop, we were gone. He brought me to this room… It was warm, and rustic looking, with a big fireplace. In front of the fireplace was a bathtub. In the bathtub was a shimmery, thick looking watery substance. The man took off my clothes and put me in the water, all the way under. He bathed me in it.

"After he bathed me, he took me out and put me in my clothes again. Then, he took an eyedropper, and put something on my eyes. Then he took me home. But when I looked at him again, all I saw was a brilliant white light, kind of formed into four heads and six wings. It looked too huge to fit in my house, but it did, somehow. Then, he was gone.

"When my parents found me, they saw that my eyes had changed. My dad comes from a family of hunters, and started doing research. No one found anything. It didn't take away my sight, it gave me more. I could see things. Mostly, they were monsters. Some peoples' faces were decaying. Some people weren't people at all. And then, sometimes, I saw the bright people again. With the faces and the wings. I think they're angels. And I can see Oscar.

"I think that's why Crowley gave him to me. He knew. Somehow. Even though my parents did what they could to hide it, some people - especially from dad's past - found out. I guess I'm considered a grey area." She smiled ruefully.

"Your dad was still connected to the hunter's community?" Sam asked softly.

"Sort of, yeah." She answered. "It got really dark for a while. We got so desperate that dad figured he could use all the extra strength he could find. So, he hunted down the nearest werewolf." She fell quiet, rubbing her forehead tiredly. Her face pinched in places which belied her grief and pain. "We thought he could control it if I fed him silver, keep it weaker." She laughed darkly. "Obviously, that didn't work out.

"Mom isn't from that world. Your world. My world now, I guess. When dad turned, she moved back up with her parents. I can't put her in danger like that again. So… I came to you. You're the only person I know who can help me. Dad heard stories about you guys. Said a lot of hunters weren't happy because you seemed to blur lines..." She hesitated, voice weak. There was a part of her that was resigned, and another that desperately needed the hope she felt. "I know I'm a grey area. But can you help me?"

"Yes." Sam answered, without hesitation. "Yeah, we can help."

When Dean rolled out of bed an hour later, took a shower and went to the kitchen, he walked directly past Sam and Lea the first time through. He was in the middle of fixing his coffee before he realized that Sam was not alone with his books or internet, but that he was laughing. With a girl. Quickly, he took a gulp of half-doctored coffee - no sugar, and he grimaced - before quickly heading into the other room.

Sam and Lea sputtered to a stop when they noticed Dean standing in the doorway, and Lea quickly put her glasses back on, self conscious.

"Excuse me." Dean began, sarcastic. "Can I ask what reunion party I wasn't invited to this time?"

Sam looked up eagerly. "Dean, it's Lea. From a few weeks ago, remember?" Dean glanced over at her quickly.

"Yeah, phone call from yesterday. Why?" She thought he hadn't meant to be mean. Hopefully.

"She needs help, Dean. There was more to her story than a lone wolf." Sam thought about his words and quickly turned to offer an apology. She smiled complacently and accepted it.

"Right. What day is it?" Dean asked, rubbing his brow.

"Thursday," Lea answered quickly.

"Of course," he grumbled, and turned back around to get his coffee.