Bobby Singer's Daughter - A Supernatural Fan Fiction

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Three - The Scribe of God

The first thing my body registers is that it's wet the next thing it registers is that I'm freezing cold and I gasp in pain sitting bolt upright sending water flying everywhere; I get to my feet slipping a few times before I'm fully upright, a pair of arms grab mine to help stabilize me, but I push them away, "get off!"

"Take it easy, Lennie," Dean soothes, "hey, whoa, whoa, whoa," I'm trying to get out of the iced down water, "take it easy take it...." He produces a towel wrapping it around me, "we found you on the floor, passed out your temp was 107. Had to force it down or you were toast."

"Dean he's.... he's here," my teeth are chattering now, "Metatron is here, I can hear him."

"What're you talking about?" He asks.

"All I know is that I'm connected to it somehow."

"What like you got a link, like a prophet?" I throw my hands up, "I don't know! I just know he's here...he's here."

"Okay, 'here' where?"

"I can show you," I say but Sam comes in, "I think I found the room you were talking about, there were boxes there when we found you, but they're gone now."

"Books?" Dean asks and I nod, "books, hardcovers, paperbacks, novels – books."

"Stories," Sam clarifies and Dean finally gets it too I can see it in his eyes. All three of us are walking towards the door, I'm leaning on them both to stay upright.

"I should take you to the ER," Dean murmurs to me but Sam shakes his head, "there's nothing they can do for her Dean."

"The closer we get to the end of this," I say quietly, "the more details I can remember."

"Like what?" Sam asks.

"The way my mother sang to me when I was frightened, the baking we did together," tears prick my eyes, "dad being an actual dad instead of a hunter dad; he took me out for ice cream, showed me how to change the oil and tires on my car."

"Your dad loved you Mel," Sam says and I nod, "but maybe this, the trials is my penance for leaving him behind after mom died; for everything bad I've done since."

"You were never bad," Dean states, "your dad loved you, forgave you for leaving he understood."

"That may be so," I murmur, "but I never forgave myself for what I'd done, and now he's dead."

We reach the end of the hall where I know the box was but like Sam said it's gone; however, Dean reaches for the doorknob and pushes it open he has one of my arms over his shoulder as we trudge inside. There are thousands and thousands of books piled high almost to the ceiling and now I know we're in the right place because the ringing in my head intensifies tenfold. We round the corner of a large stack when the barrel of a rifle points in our direction, the man on the other end is squat with short graying hair and a scruffy looking beard.

"Who're you?" he asks.

"Metatron?" Dean asks, "This is Metatron?" he turns to Sam asking the question again, "this is Metatron?"

Then he's gone and reappears behind us, "sit down," he commands and we do me on Dean's lap as I clutch at my head.

"Who sent you?" he asks harshly and the guys looked puzzled.

"We came on our own," Sam states which seems to confuse Metatron, "we're the Winchesters."

"I'm Dean," the older Winchester says, "that's Sam and this is Melanie, my wife."