[RE-WRITING] The Righteous Man's Daughter {Dean Winchester's Daughter}

c h a p t e r | t h i r t e e n

Everything is bright and white when I open my eyes. My arm aches terribly and my head feels like Death himself. I look around me to see walls flying passed me. My eyebrows furrow together as I look above me to find Bobby. Without his ball cap, I almost didn't recognize him. I smile lazily at him, probably drugged up on painkillers for my arm and head. He stared straight ahead, looking determined to get where he was going.

"You'll be okay, kid," he says to me. I lift my head in hopes of seeing where we're going. With other plans, my head falls back and I pass out.

-----

I open my eyes again to find myself not in the hospital anymore, but rather a house. It looks nice and smells well enough to know I'm not surrounded by every gross thing on God's green Earth. I lift my head up and roll it around on my neck to check out my surroundings.

I'm in a bedroom. Forest green walls and a bed with scratchy plaid blankets covering me. A lamp is sitting on an end table beside the bed. The door is furthest from me. I squint at it while my vision goes all wonky, blurring and twisting from side to side ever so slightly. It makes me dizzy, although I'm not moving.

I move my arms to grip the bed sheets beneath me when the material is noticed. I move the blanket down to my waist and sit up. The blood rushes from my head and I have to use a lot of strength to keep myself up right. Once my vision goes back to normal, I look down to find a cast on my left arm. Furrowing my eyebrows, I think back, trying to remember why I would have a cast.

All I remember is black. I remember Bobby taking me somewhere in a hospital. Before that I remember taking a nap at Bobby's. I look around me. This wasn't Bobby's house, so what happened to it? Where was I right now?

I throw the warm blanket even farther off of me and move slowly to stand up. Not becoming light headed again, thankfully, I walk towards the door. I reach my good arm out and turn the door knob. I pull it back to find a living room slash kitchen. A couch, dining table, and kitchen appliances were set up in a rather large room, compared to the room I had just been in. On the couch sits Dean who is watching television, his casted leg propped up on the couch. At the dining table, Sam sat in a chair, reading something.

"Erm, hi?" I mumble awkwardly to announce my presence. Sam and Dean both turn to face me quickly.

"Ava," Dean says. "I'm glad you're finally awake. We were starting to worry about you." I give him a questioning look.

"You've been in and out of consciousness for about three weeks now." Sam explains. "Last time you were up and moving was three days ago." He adds.

"What do you mean?" I ask, confused.

"You got another concussion. You're probably going to have a hard time remember stuff for a while." Sam says.

"A while? The last thing I remember is Bobby taking me somewhere in some hospital."

"Don't worry about it," Sam tells me with a dismissing wave of his hand. "You hungry?" Hearing the question, my stomach makes a sound that resembles a lion's roar. Sam and Dean laugh, looking at me with similar expressions.

"I take that as a yes," Dean jokes, going back to the show he's watching. As Sam makes me a sandwich, he explains to me what happened. "If you wanna know about the last couple days, check that diary of yours." Dean speaks from the couch.

"You looked in my journal?" I ask defensively.

"No, but it's obvious you have it. You kept writing stuff down every time you woke up." Before Dean turns back to his show, I childishly stick my tongue out at him. He does the same back and stays attentive to his show. Sam reads his book and I eat the sandwich he made me. Did I mention it's harder to eat a sandwich with only one hand rather than two?

When I finally accomplished eating, Sam grabs my backpack for me and I look through my journal, some things fluttering back into my memory. Some of it seems like a far away fantasy, but since it's in my journal I have to keep convincing myself it was real. After finishing renewing some of my memory, I look up at Sam. "So is he dead?" I ask.

"Who?" Sam asks, looking up at me curiously.

"That guy that was trying to kill us all."

Sam swallowed nervously. "Well-"

"He isn't, is he?" I ask, my eyes widening.

"No, erm, well," Sam looks around trying to come up with an answer. "It's not positive, but not negative either." He says finally.

"That's why we're gonna be laying low for a while." Dean speaks up from the couch. "Especially you," he says, pointing back in my direction. I huff a sigh, upset that I'm basically under house arrest. I'd find a way to sneak out with them if I thought it important enough to need my assistance.

When I suggested I go back to sleep, still being tired somehow, Dean and Sam both declined me of my need and Dean had me sit on the couch and watch his show with him. It was a Hispanic soap opera that I couldn't understand very well-I never really paid much attention in my Spanish classes. Everytime I'd get close to sleep, Dean would wake me back up.

After a while, I was starting to finally get into this show Dean has been enjoying. The door opens and Bobby walks in. "Hey kiddo," Bobby says.

"Dude, Ricardo," Dean mentions to Bobby.

"What happened?"

"Suicidio," Dean replies to Bobby's genuinely curious question. I guess they're both interested in the show.

"Adiós, ese," Bobby says, seemingly emotionally attached to Ricardo. "Well," Bobby throws jingling keys into Dean's lap. "This outta cheer you up."

"My Baby!" Dean says happily. His smile turns to an angry frown as he looks down at his cast. "Now I just gotta get this stupid thing off, then I can drive again."

"So how is it out there?" Sam asks Bobby.

"Weird with a side order of bloody," Bobby answers. "Talked to a few hunters. They're running into the same kind of thing that set up shop at that hospital."

"Yeah, and don't forget tried to kill us at your place." Dean adds.

"Well, the consensus is they're, erm, they're like shape shifters only a lot more into eating folk." I grimace at Bobby's words. Shape shifters that eat people, doesn't that sound pleasant? "And nothing can kill them." Just icing on the cake.

Sam clears his throat, looking in my direction, causing Bobby and Dean to look at me as well. "You should go to your room, Ava." Dean tells me. "I don't think you should be hearing this."

"But-"

"Ah, no buts, go to your room." Dean shakes his head, not giving me a chance to explain why I should get to stay and listen. Not wanting to argue with him on this again, I get off the couch and sluggishly walk to the room I woke up in, taking my backpack of things with me. I sit on the bed and take out the picture of my parents. I sit there on the bed with plaid blankets, wondering what it would've been like if I'd grown up with both of them, or at least with one of them. It hurts that I never got to know my mom. It makes me wonder if she knew about what Dean and Sam do. I shake my head, not wanting to drown myself in desirable what-if's. All I knew is I wanted to make sure my dad knew I was capable of doing what he does. It might take some practice, but I could do it. I got a feeling I'd get to prove that to him soon.

I know this was pretty short but I needed to end it. So the next chapter there's gonna be a case, but it won't be one from the show so expect the unexpected! See you next chapter! Love you! Also it might be a while before another one of Ava's journal entries...