Bobby Singer's Daughter - A Supernatural Fan Fiction

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty - Trial Sickness and a Surprise Guest

I sit up in the dark gasping for breath and wipe the hair out of my face, God I feel like I got hit by a monster truck; I'm rubbing my forehead as I leave the bedroom and run right into Sam.

"Sorry, sorry," we mumble then I get a look at his hair, "nice look Sam."

"Well yours ain't any better shorty," he ruffles my already messed up hair with a hand.

My ribs have practically healed now, just some minor bruising and soreness but nothing to really keep me down, except I feel like utter trash as we walk, I ask Sam how long I slept for.

"About a day."

"A day?!" I shriek, "why'd you two let me sleep for so long?"

"You needed it," he says, "these trials, we can tell it's taking a toll on you, Lennie."

We walk together down the hall just as Dean comes into the 'war room,' his eyes catch mine then Sam's which makes him grin, "man, I'm telling you, give me five minutes with some clippers and," he gestures to his head in a cutting motion, "shut up," Sam snaps as he takes a seat.

"How you feeling sweetheart?" Dean asks and I shrug, "I feel like I got hit by a monster truck but I'm good."

He hands a beer off to his brother, pulls one for himself then turns to me with another in hand; without thinking he lightly tosses the bottle in my direction, but it seems like everything is moving in slow motion except for the bottle and by the time my hand comes up to catch the beer it's already passed me crashing to the floor in the doorway to the hall. The loud sound of breaking glass hurts my ears and I jump apologizing for the mess, I turn to start picking it up when Dean says, "that's why we can't have nice things, Lennie."

I know he meant it as a half-hearted joke but the fact that I didn't catch it bothers me more than it should. Turning to go clean up the bottle I stumble a little and slam into the wall right at the steps to the 'war room' scaring the crap out of Dean; he grabs a hold of me as I put a hand to my face to keep from fainting or throwing up or maybe both.

"Dean I'm... I'm fine," I mutter then my thoughts move on from there, "we uh, we need to find Kevin, don't we?"

He scoops me up into his arms, but I struggle even if it's a weak attempt at getting away from him.

'Easy there sleeping beauty," he says, "look Sam and I have hacked into every security camera around Garth's houseboat; Kevin's hometown, where Mrs. Tran lived."

"And?"

"Well," he shrugs still holding me, "nothing so far."

"Dean we have to find him," Sam says from behind us, and he sighs, "I know. I know but Garth is out looking for him, we got a hunter APB out on Kevin, we will do what we can from here while Lennie gets better."

"I'm fine Dean," I argue struggling again, "I can still go out there, I can still hunt."

He puts me down then, "really?" his hand grasps mine pulling me towards the shooting range here in the bunker; Sam follows close behind. We stop at one of the stalls, Dean loads a gun, I know what he wants but this is so stupid I'm fine; he then steps up fires twice hitting the target in the chest both times. He tells his brother to do the same before setting the gun reloaded down on the ledge in front of me.

"Alright, you hit that," he gestures with a hand to the newly hung target, "we'll talk about getting you back out there."

"No problem," I shrug picking up the weapon however when I do it feels heavier than it should; taking a deep breath I raise the weapon which wavers left and right a little and I take both shots just like the other two had done and yet neither of my shots make the target just clang against the stone wall on either side. I lean against the small counter ledge gun in one hand, Dean puts a hand on my shoulder squeezing gently.