Wizard Lost

A/n I have a beta now but since she is busy with college and I am working two part time jobs, updats will be slower than I had hoped. I will let you know who my beta is as soon as she gets back to me with what name she wants to be credited under. She has done her job so all remaining mistakes in this Chapter are mine.


America, four years later.

Crawling out of the hideaway he had created for himself behind the dumpster belonging to O’Malley’s Bar and Grill, the teen who called himself Lij looked around before replacing the boards that hid his ‘home’ from sight. It was early morning, the sun just high enough on the horizon to paint the sky with vivid pinks, oranges, and purples. The sleepy chirping of birds just awakening could be heard as he set off for a nearby gas station whose bathrooms were always unlocked. Emptying his bladder with a pleased sigh, he then washed up as best he could, considering the fact there was no soap.

Looking into the grimy, cracked mirror, he saw a youth that looked younger than the seventeen he was. Big green eyes stared back at him, lined with sooty lashes that made them seem even brighter. His hair was the black of a raven’s wing, blue highlights gleaming softly in the dim lighting; falling just past his shoulders in gentle waves. It was surprisingly clean for a homeless boy who rarely got to take an actual bath.

Two small horns that were barely more then blunt nubs poked through the fringe that fell into his eyes, covering a lightening bolt scar that sat above his right brow. If he were to turn his head to the side he knew he would see just the tip of a pointed ear peeking through his hair.

Smiling at the horns, which he rather liked; his teeth were white against plumb rosy lips, his canines longer than a humans but too short to truly be called fangs. He was short, barely five foot six and quite thin from getting too little to eat; the reeking rags of his clothing hung from a slender frame covered in the muscles of someone who led an active life.

Frowning as he caught a whiff of his shirt, he pulled the offending garment off, wetting it and wringing it out before repeating actions twice more. It was by no means clean but smelled less strongly of rubbish. Laying it over the trash can he had pulled over, he hit the button that turned on the hand dryer and then washed under his arms. That done, he pulled a worn tooth brush and a nearly empty tube of toothpaste from the small bag fastened about his waist, and brushed his teeth, grateful for being able to get at least that much of himself clean; two small bat like wings fluttered gently as he worked.

His shirt was still damp when he pulled it back on but that couldn’t be helped. The owner of the gas station would be making an appearance soon and he wanted to avoid the cranky man who was far too fond of throwing wrenches at ‘worthless waste of spaces intend on milking the life blood from decent folk!’

Waving a hand in front of his body, he strengthened the glamour that hid his true appearance. He had learned not to be seen as anything other than human. That lesson had been very painful and learned years ago when he had gotten beat up for forgetting to place his glamour.

Slipping out the door and cutting across the back lot, he headed to the diner that would be opening soon and crawled up on the roof to wait. The cook, a kind hearted old man, would purposely mess up orders which he would leave out for the homeless. Elijah had taken to awaking early so he got first pick of the offerings; he just hoped it wasn’t the old man’s day off as he was quite hungry.

As he waited, he dozed, his mind wandering over his life or at least the last four years, which was all he could remember of it. His first memory was of waking up to see a man and a woman smiling down at him. They told him his name was Elijah and that they were his guardians. That year he spent with them had been wonderful.

They were both Wildkin and in hiding from the British branch of the Ministry of Magic. Of course Harry didn’t know that, at least the part about the Ministry of Magic and they didn’t tell him. What they did tell him was what he was. Harry had taken the news calmly as he didn’t know that by most standards he was a freak. He learned that he had two types of magic; human and Elvin and that he had abilities given to him by demonic blood.

The next year and a half was a whirlwind of lessons. Some things he remembered like reading and writing while others he had to be taught, like not crossing in front of a moving car. Most importantly, he was given lessons on using his magic and a few of his abilities. During this time he never asked why he didn’t know things they did as he just assumed it was because they were adults and he wasn’t. For that same reason he never thought to question why he had been told to choose his own last name or why he couldn’t remember anything before meeting them.

In between the lessons there were fun times; trips to the zoo where he learned he had an affinity for animals and that he could talk to snakes. Ben showed him ‘manly’ things like teaching him to drive, playing football or catch and corny pick up lines. Sara showed him how to cook, clean and how to dress appropriately for the season although Harry never could understand all the fall, winter, spring, and summer stuff she talked about. He enjoyed his lessons but he enjoyed spending time with them more; his happiest moments had been spent curled up on the couch between them watching a movie.

It didn’t last however, his world came tumbling down one day. He had been invited out to dinner with a friend and his parents on the night Ben and Sara were killed. He returned home to find them lying on the floor, dead, and two men sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee as they waited on his return.

Frozen with fear as he was only thirteen then and no match for two grown men, he had listened as they talked. It was a shock to hear his kind was hated and even more so to hear he was thought of as something so dangerous that it needed to be killed. The hunters, as they called themselves, bragged about how many supernaturals they had killed and compared case histories.

How long he stood there he didn’t know but it was a car back firing outside that snapped him out of his frozen state. He had hidden in a closet until they left, thinking he wouldn’t be returning home that night. They had taken the bodies with them but he had not figured out why until much later. Packing a bag with a few changes of clothing and gathering what little cash he could find; he spent the rest of the night huddled in a tree, scared they would return.

Although scary, not having a home wasn’t too bad until his money ran out two days before his fourteenth birthday. The next few days were a nightmare as he tried finding food before finally resorting to digging through a dumpster for scraps. A week later he met an older teen named Zach who took him under his wing and taught him the ways of the street. He learned where to find hand outs, what dumpsters to avoid and better yet, how to pick pockets.

Life on the streets wasn’t easy even when you had the money to buy food. There was always someone bigger than you who were more than willing to take by force what you worked so hard to get. Trust wasn’t something you could afford to have no matter how much you might like someone. It was survival of the fittest and your ‘friends’ would turn on you in the blink of an eye.

Elijah had been quick to realize he had advantages over humans, powers they didn’t have. Zach just thought he was wicked good at spotting easy marks when in fact he was using his abilities to blind his prey to his presence. It didn’t always work as some were stronger willed but it did often enough that for a while he was able to afford a cheap motel room.

Things changed again when Zach got busted for shoplifting and in an effort not to be sent to jail, he ratted out, not only Harry, but a few others. It had been pure luck that he had caught wind of the fact he was wanted by the police. It took nearly all his money to buy himself a trip out of town with a truck driver. It was then that he learned he could make money putting his mouth to work. The first few times had left him throwing up but once he learned to pick only those whom bathed regularly, it wasn’t so bad but he still preferred picking pockets.

He moved around after that staying in a town only long enough to make enough to buy a ride to the next town, always on the move for fear the police would get him. And then he made the mistake of buying a ride to Still Water Texas.* It didn’t take him long to decide that the town must be pervert capitol of the world.

It had taken him only a week to get the money for a trip out of town but suddenly his money wasn’t good enough. He had been trapped here for the last six months because he wasn’t willing to add his virginity to the three hundred he was offering for a ride. It wasn’t that he was hanging on to it as much as an inner voice told him not yet. He didn’t know when he would give it up but he knew it wasn’t going to be to some sweaty, beer bellied truck driver who was bending him over the sink in a restroom or worse, some aging, peroxide blonde waitress who smelled like onions and liver.

The sound of a door opening caused his eyes to snap open and he cautiously shifted so he could see over the edge of the building. Sure enough the old man was placing a number of paper plates on top of the dumpster and his mouth watered at seeing one held fruit. He ate anything, being picky wasn’t an option on the street, but fruit; he craved it like a junkie craved their next fix; it never ended.

Barely waiting until the door had closed again, Elijah was over the edge and dropping down onto the next dumpster, nimbly jumping the few feet between then and landing safely. “Mine!” he hissed, kicking the hand of another teen that made the mistake of reaching for the plate of fruit. He didn’t feel bad about it as there were other plates, and even if there hadn’t been, he still wouldn’t have felt badly or at least not too much. It was a dog eat dog world and you didn’t survive if you let emotions get in the way.

It took only seconds to gobble the fruit down. He would have like to eat it slowly so he could savor the juicy sweetness but there were others much bigger than him who would have no qualms about taking the food from him. Still hungry as there hadn’t been that much fruit, he grabbed two foil wrapped items and then left in a hurry. Sometimes it wasn’t food the bigger males were after; you only had to see someone being raped once to learn caution.

After scarfing down what he had correctly guessed were burritos, he wandered about, waiting for the small town to wake up. He was in the alley, removing the cash from a lifted wallet when he heard a car pull up, music blaring from the radio. Sneaking a peek around the corner he saw two men get out from a black car. The shorter of the two leaned his hip against the door, looking around while the other who was a couple inches taller, headed for the motel office.

He couldn’t say why but something about the pair intrigued him and he watched with fascination as the taller one came back, jingling a set of keys. Even with his sharp hearing he couldn’t hear everything they talked about but he learned their names were Sam and Dean and that they were hunting something.