Just a note; I do not own Supernatural or any of it's characters. The only thing I own are my OCs

Two

I brushed my wet hair out of my face, my once soft burgundy colour completely gone, replaced by a vibrant fire engine red. Most gals start to settle down at a quarter of a century.

Not me, I have a need to shake things up a little, as if hunting stuff that goes bump in the night wasn't exciting enough. I stared at myself in the mirror, my dark grey eyes looked almost black in the dim lighting of the motel room bathroom. No wonder most hunters got a little freaked when they first saw me, black eyes usually mean trouble.

I ran my hand through my hair again. 'Maybe I shouldn't have cut it so short' I thought. I shook my head, cutting it was a good idea, after 25 years of letting it grow because Dad said it made me look like my mother, I was sick to death of monsters using it to grab a hold of me. Cutting it short meant less hair to grab, even if the new colour meant they could see me coming a mile off. I shook my head again, wondering why I was fussing over my hair when in two days it was the anniversary of Dads death.

Six years and I wasn't any closer to being good enough to make him proud, six years later and I was still not keeping my promise. I sighed. I was a huge cliché, a female hunter with daddy issues. Suddenly the rhythm of Queen's We Will Rock You blasted through the room. I ran to my bed and answered my phone.

"Hello?"

"Is this Rayne Murphy?" A gruff male voice asked.

"This is she, who wants to know?" I replied trying to place the voice.

"It's Bobby, Bobby Singer," he answered.

"Oh, Bobby, what's up? It's been a while."

"My sources tell me you're in Nilwood Illinois."

"You keeping tabs on me Bobby?"

"Just a little." I could hear a smile in his voice.

"Ok I am, why? What's up?"

"Well you remember when you came here with your daddy when you were younger?" Did I remember? There's no way I could forget. Those were some of the best times in my young life.

Bobby's house was full to the brim with books and not just books on hunting, Bobby had other books I was never allowed to read around Dad, Bobby would hand me a stack of books on hunting to read while he and Dad had a drink and discussed cases. In amongst the books about Wendigos and Enochian curses there was always a new volume of poetry or something by Shakespeare.

Every time he would shoot me a smile and a wink, it always felt like Bobby cared, even when my own father didn't. I was so devastated when he and Dad had a falling out, but thankful that he was willing to help me when I struck out on my own.

"Mm-hmm?" I wondered where he was going.

"Ok so you remember my daughter? Dylan?"

I remembered her all right, she and I were so alike but so different, she was me but with the luxury of confidence brought about by having a father that actually loved her. She got me into so much trouble as a kid, exploring places she knew we weren't meant to go. Not that is took much persuading, I was just as eager to traverse the ins and outs of Bobby's scrap yard and various storage units.

I laughed, "sure do Bobby, why?"

"The got dang idjit has got herself in a little trouble, she's in St Louis, that's only about an hour and a half away from you Rayne. Could you please go and sort her out?"

"Sure thing Bobby, I was finished here anyway, just a simple haunting, I'll head out now."

"Thanks darlin', just one thing, don't tell her I sent you, she'd never forgive me for thinking she couldn't handle things on her own. I don't want to start another argument."

"No worries, I will let you know when I find her."

He breathed an obvious sigh of relief. "Great thanks."

After he hung up I had to laugh. Of course Dylan had herself in trouble; the girl couldn't stay out of it. I guess that's what came of a two hundred and fifty year old angel living in the body of a young woman.

I walked back to the bathroom to dry my hair before I loaded up the car, thinking about the first time I met Dylan Rose Singer. I was nearly seven and she was five, I remembered her flawless skin, her immaculate long black hair, her striking blue eyes and her tinkling giggle. But the thing I remembered most was her wings, they were a bright shade of violet with the occasional patch of electric blue feathers. It had freaked me out, that's for sure but I think it freaked her out more. We both stood behind our fathers and just stared at each other. When we were told to go play, we nervously headed out to the yard.

"What are you?" I whispered the second we were out of ear shot.

"You... You see my wings?" She shuddered, and panic filled her face.

"Of course, they're huge, how could anyone not see them?" I was confused.

"No one can see them without me showing them, you can just see them. You're not supposed to be able to see them!" She was hyperventilating by now.

"Um ok, well what are you? Are you going to hurt me?"

"No, but you can't tell anyone, I'm not supposed to be here!"

I nodded, "ok, I promise." I saw her muscles relax.

"I'm an angel, my real name is Sofiel, I left heaven and have been hanging around for years. When Dylan was three years old, she and her grandmother were in a really bad car accident, Dylan was in a coma and I just happened to be passing through. I jumped in her body just as her spirit left. It's against the rules to take someone so young but she was an empty vessel so I figured no harm no foul." She grinned at me.

I was completely stunned; in front of me was an angel, an angel in the body of a five year old. I exhaled loudly. "Ok, so you're an angel, and I can see your wings, why can't everyone else?"

"I don't know," she frowned, her small brow furrowing, "I really don't." She shrugged.

"Ok." I was still completely bewildered.

She grinned again, "maybe you're just special."

I smiled at her.

"So, want to be friends?"

I nodded. She all of a sudden poked me in the shoulder then took off running.

"Tag, you're it!" She called over her shoulder. I began to laugh

"Hey no fair!" I yelled scampering after her.

We'd been firm friends since then, I had kept her secret and in return she was there for me, she helped me feel not so alone. Something I sorely needed as a child whose father blamed her for the death of her mother.

I snapped back to reality and realised I had been standing in the bathroom holding my towel for almost ten minutes. I laughed again at myself and dumped the towel on the shower rail. I went back into the room and gathered up my things before putting on Dads black leather jacket and slinging my backpack over my shoulder.

Starting up the car ACDC's Highway to Hell blasted from the speakers. 'Well that's ominous' I giggled to myself and turned the volume up, singing along. It would be good to see Dylan again and maybe save her butt for a change.