Chapter 3

AN: I'm so glad that people are liking this! Reviews make me happy! :) Anyway, onto the story!

Then:

Leah Bateman spent five wonderful years with a loving father, Thomas. He taught her to swim and how to ride a bike. Life was good, even though there was an obvious missing puzzle piece to their family—Leah's mother, Melanie. Leah's father never let a day go by that she didn't know how much Melanie had loved her. Leah never really knew her, only knowing what her father told her. Melanie had died giving birth to Leah and even at 5, Leah felt guilt. It was her fault her mother was gone. Her father never said it, but Leah knew the truth.

One day after coming in from Kindergarten, Leah was excited to show her father what she had drawn that day. She waved goodbye to her carpool driver from the porch and closed the front door behind her. Her father taught at the local high school and wasn't able to pick her up from kindergarten, but thankfully they had great neighbors who had children the same age as Leah. Thomas was always able to be at home a little before his daughter. She excitedly made her way into the kitchen, but coming up short when she saw her father in the arms of a strange man. The man had her father in a chokehold. The man tightened his hold and her father struggled to remain conscious. Leah cried out, drawing falling to the floor, and the man paused briefly, flashing her his black eyes before giving her a smirk and releasing her father. The attacker had disappeared as Leah's father fell to the ground on his hands and knees, panting.

"Everything's okay now, LeLe," Her father panted, raising his head and giving her a slight smile despite being in pain.

Leah kept eye contact with her father as she began walking towards him when the stranger suddenly appeared. He flashed her a grin and brought a machete down on her father. She screamed out in warning, but it was no use. She saw her father beheaded right in front of her eyes. Even now, when she closes her eyes at night, she can still hear herself screaming for him, him looking at her with love and fear right before his head rolled across the floor as the murderer vanished out of thin air once again. Leah can still feel his blood painted on her five year old body. She would never feel clean again.

After that, her life was never the same. She spent the next few years going in and out of foster care. When she was eight years old, she was small for her age and barely talked. She hadn't talked since the day her father was killed, actually. The night of her father's murder, she tried desperately to tell the police about the man with black eyes and could vanish out of thin air, but they just looked at her with sympathetic eyes and sent her with a lady from child services. She screamed and kicked, but it was no use. They thought she was just a child who had been traumatized. While that was true, she knew what she saw.

Leah learned to keep her mouth shut after that. She was sent to several therapists, but none of them could get her to talk. Finally, they gave up on trying to fix her. She was just a foster kid. No one cared that much and after a while, it got expensive. She was grateful they stopped. Leah kept to herself, unable to speak of the horrors she had witnessed to anyone for fear of rejection and ridicule. No one would believe her so what was the point? Turns out, even not speaking lead to ridicule. She was doomed from the start. Leah was an easy target for other foster kids living in the system. They called her a freak. A mutant who couldn't—wouldn't, in her case—talk to anybody about anything. They picked, teased, and tortured but her mouth remained closed.

It was easier, she told herself, to not get attached to anyone, but as the years drug on she found herself wishing for normalcy. For parents, alive and healthy. For friends. For anything but the life she had.

At 10 years old, Leah had grown sick and tired of being somebody's punching bag. So when a bully came at her one fateful day in the Spring of 1995, she fought back. When the bastard came at her as they always did, intending on torturing the small girl, she pushed him back. All the way across the yard and through the fence that surrounded her current foster home. Everyone's eyes turned to look at her in shock and… fear. They were afraid of her. Leah knew right then that she was never going to have normal because she wasn't normal.

So, she took off without a destination in mind. It wasn't actually that hard to hide from the law, because nobody really cared that she was missing. The adults in her former foster care never believed the children when they claimed she was a superhuman, choosing instead to believe that the fence got destroyed in some other way. Leah couldn't care less. Adults were idiots. Leah hid for years and rejoiced when she turned 18 and was able to legally take care of herself.

Now:

"I'm sorry, a what?"

Sam briefly glanced toward the kitchen where he knew Leah would be. He could already smell dinner cooking. He finally looked back at his brother with a sigh.

"She's half-human and half-angel. She can sense anyone's true form. For example, she'd know if either of you were anything but human. She's also super strong and—"

"Hold the hell up," Dean leaned over, putting his elbows on his knees, "You're telling me that that girl is part angel?" Sam nodded. Dean ran a hand down his face.

"Well, I'd be damned." Bobby spoke up, a small grin on his face, "It's true, afterall."

"What's true?" Dean turned his head to the right to look at Bobby and said sarcastically, "Mind sharing with the class?"

"Watch that tone," Bobby warned before continuing, "Just a week or so ago, I got a call from a hunter friend of mine, Daniel. He was hunting a shape shifter and things went south. He wasn't going to make it out of there alive. That is, until a bright, white light enveloped him. The last thing he saw was a pair of black angel wings spreading across the length of the barn. Next thing he knew, he was waking up in a hospital."

Dean snorted, "He must've hit his head—"

"It's true." Leah spoke up, walking into the living room with a couple of beers, "I've heard about– what is that?"

"What is what?"

She walked closer, motioning to Dean's right arm. She sat the beers on the coffee table before looking back at Dean. He sat up straighter, narrowing his eyes at her. She sighed, putting her hands on her hips.

"Fun fact about me: I can sense Angel mojo. I can't believe I didn't notice it as soon as you walked in. Can you take off your shirt?"

Dean raised his eyebrows, looking at Bobby and Sam. He smirked, "Sorry, sweetheart, you gotta buy me dinner first—"

"I made dinner so that technically counts," She interrupted, smirking back at him, "Now take off your shirt."

"Wait, so you think an angel pulled Dean out of Hell?" Sam questioned, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "What's that gotta do with him taking his shirt off?"

"I think so. I won't be able to tell unless I see it." Leah gave Dean a look. They had met less than half an hour ago and here he was taking off his shirt.

Dean sighed reluctantly, muttering about chicks being demanding and then did as she said. He took off his flannel and lifted up his right sleeve on his green t-shirt, revealing a bright red handprint. She smiled a little, out of satisfaction, "Ah, ha. I knew it. Sometimes angels, powerful angels, leave marks."

"Holy shit." Bobby whistled, watching as Leah inspected it. Sam stared at it, guilt washing over him in waves. The handprint was only a reminder of where his brother had been the past few months. He swallowed to keep the bile at bay.

"Definitely the work of an angel," Leah said softly, biting her lip, "Do you mind if I, uh, touch it? I might be able to tell who exactly pulled you out." She blushed, but looked Dean in the eyes. Dean looked over at Sam to see him narrow his eyes at him. The eldest Winchester smirked, loving how this would annoy Sam, "Go right ahead."

"It won't hurt, I promise." Leah smiled softly, lifting her hand to touch the handprint.

Just as she put her fingers on it, Leah gasped as her vision blurred, twisting and melting into images. Dean in Hell, being tortured and screaming for help. A bright light. Fluttering of wings. A man in a trench coat was saying something. Coming. Soon. That was all she got before her vision swam. She fought the urge to throw up, feeling as if she had been taken on a roller coaster fifteen times. She pulled away, gasping for air as she tripped and fell onto her knees next to Sam. Dean and Bobby stood up, wanting to help her.

"Holy shit," She exclaimed, her eyes clenched shut, "That was like a bad acid trip."

"You okay?" Sam asked worriedly, "Oh shit. You're bleeding."

Leah opened her eyes to see that blood was, in fact, dripping onto her clenched hand. She turned over, landing on her butt as she reached up with a shaking hand to inspect the damage. She touched beneath her nose and pulled away, looking at her fingers. She lifted her eyes up to meet Sam's worried gaze.

"He's coming." Leah said hurriedly, trying to stand up but failing.

"What? Who?" Dean asked worriedly, reaching down to help her off the ground. She stumbled, but he held on tight to keep her standing. Leah swallowed back the rising bile as she locked eyes with Sam.

"The angel who rescued Dean. He's coming here. Like, soon."

AN: Hope you liked it! Review please!