Daughter

Missing

"Hey, Mom! I'm home!" I called out. I dropped my bag on an empty chair and walked into the kitchen. "Mom? Where are you?" I yelled into the house. As I walked around, i noticed that it smelled a bit like rotten eggs. Maybe even sulfur? Wait... SULFUR??? Holy shit. It smelled like sulfur and my mother isn't here. In a complete panic, I frantically searched the house before I called 911. I checked in her room, in the bathroom. Outside in the garden. I looked in the driveway. The car is still there. Shoot.

I dialed 911.

"Hello, 911. What is your emergency?" The lady greeted.

"My mother is missing and it smells like sulfur," I yelled frantically.

"Alright, calm down miss. Give us a name and address and I will send people over to you. Okay?"

"170 Hamilton Road, Harville, new York. Hurry! My name is Marley by the way," I added.

"Okay, we are on our way."

I hung up and panicked. I went to the fridge and grabbed myself some pie. It calms me down. When I closed the fridge, I realized my dad's number was there. Mom told me to only call if something really bad happened. I guess this counts right?

Okay. I dialed the number. (365)-555-4868.

The phone rang twice when I heard a deep voice on the other end.

"Hello?" It said. So that's what dad sounded like.

"Is this Dean Winchester?" I asked.

There was a long pause, "Who is this?"

"My name is Marley Downwing. I'm 16 years old tomorrow and-" the voice cut me off.

"Are you, Tricia Downwing's girl?" He asked, voice cracking slightly.

"Yes. I am," I swallowed, "I'm also yours."

There was a longer pause, "Where's your mom?" He asked.

"That's the problem. She told me to call you if anything really bad happens. I thought her going missing counted. Also, I don't know if this is relevant, but it smells like sulfur but we don't have any in the house-"

"Wait you smell sulfur? GET OUT AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!! Is there a place we can meet?" He sounded really concerned about the sulfur.

"Yeah. We can meet at Carver Diner in Harville, New York."

"Perfect. We are just outside Poughkeepsie. Should take us about an hour."

"'We'?" I asked curiously.

"Later," Then, he hung up. I grabbed my backpack and put my phone, headphones, my book, money, and my sketchbook with a pencil. I planned to go to the park and draw before meeting my dad.

The police came and I told them everything. The smell, when I found out, when I last saw her. They thanked me and I left.

The walk was about ten minutes to the to the park. I decided to draw what I thought Dad would look like. I drew him with bright green eyes and dirty blond hair. Those were qualities Mom didn't have but I did. I decided he sounded like a buff, short-haired man. I gave him a slightly crooked nose and thick eyebrows. We'll see how accurate I was in an hour. I drew trees and flowers and bees while listening to, you guessed it, classic rock. This time, I went with Beatles songs.

After 45 minutes, I made my way to the diner. I waited for anyone to walk in. As soon as I heard the bell ring, I would look up and see if he looked like he could be my dad. After 15 minutes, I got myself a pie and water. Two tall men sat at the table next to me.

"Hey," The shorter one said. He sounded awfully familiar, "what kind of pie is that?" he asked me.

"Apple. It's amazing," I told him. I threw my head back for more effect.

"Thanks," He gave me a thumbs up and ordered an apple pie.

"So, get this, two other women besides Tricia have gone missing this week. All the crime scenes smelled like sulfur," the taller man said. I dropped my fork in shock. That was my dad. The pie man. The two men were deep in conversation and I cleared my throat.

"A-are you-. W-wait. Is one of you, um, Dean Winchester?" I asked.

The shorter man opened his eyes wide, "I am," He claimed, "Are you, my daughter?" He asked hesitantly.

"Yes," I stated confidently.

"I should have known. Only my daughter would be that passionate about a pie," Dean, or Dad laughed, "This is your uncle, Sam.

"Hi, how are you?" I held out my hand for him to shake it.

He hesitantly took it, "Are you sure she's yours, Dean? She's too polite?" Dean rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I'm too polite? Sorry for not kicking your ass or something instead of shaking your hand," I snapped. Sam sat back in shock and then laughed.

"That's my girl!" Dean exclaimed loudly. He ruffled my hair and I laughed.

This. Is gonna be fun.