Yours Truly, Zombies. (Supernatural)

Chapter 1: Home

I arose sleepily, rubbing my crusted eyes with the back of my left hand.

"About time you woke up, sleeping beauty." I squinted at the bright sunlight, attempting to glare towards the arrogant voice and failed. Dean just never shuts up..

"What?" I snapped, standing up and yawning. I stretched my arms, cracking my back. Oh dear Lord, I thought as the flexibility ran throughout my body.

"Gather up your stuff. It's about time we got going." I grimaced, realizing that it was morning. "Why didn't you wake me up for my watch shift?" I turned to him, and he shrugged nonchalantly. "You need sleep." He said, walking away to get something from the other room.

"We haven't got long though. This is a populated area. They'll be tons of the suckers." I groaned, closing my eyes for a second. He was right, unfortunantly. We didn't have much chance, the two of us. Not in a place crawling with the undead.

I tried to think of a grown up answer, to prove my maturity to my big brother. "Whatevs." Close enough.

"Where we headed to?" I asked as I shoved my sleeping bag back into its case. I listened to the sound of Dean's feet shuffling in the other room for a minute.

"Home," he at last replied. "Home is where the heart is." I laughed at this, knowing that the last place Dean would want to go was home. He's taken me away when I was 13, he 'didn't want me to keep going from place to place.'

Ever since I was a baby, we've been moving around the country, at least 3 times a year. I guess mom was looking for dad. Didn't want him to be dead, wouldn't believe.

Yeah, I know, she sounds like a physco.

So we've been living in a nice little studio just outside of Los Angelos. But, I suppose, Dean was referring to our first home.

The home that dad was at. I don't know why Dean wanted to go there. Connecting with memories I never had? Remembering a time when mom was happy? I don't know for sure.

All I knew is that we were heading back there.

"So, how far?" I slund my full duffel bag on my shoulder and greeted Dean. He looked up, a bit surprised. "Oh," He said. "A little less than an hour." My jaw dropped. We were in Los Angelos!

"Wait, so we've been 30 minutes from our first house this entire time? All four years we've lived here?" I shouted. A bit bratty, I admit. But still!

"An hour," Dean corrected, without answering my question. "And if we start driving before traffic settles in," he smirked at his own joke, "we might get there sooner. So shut up and get in the car, blondie."

I scowled, opening the door of Dean's red pickup truck. "Are you blind? How many times do I have to tell you, I'm NOT blonde! I have brown hair!" I crossed my arms and Dean started up the truck.

"Whatevs," he chuckled, using my word. "Just try and be quiet for the next hour, dummy."

~45 minutes later~

"We're here," Dean chirped, pulling into the driveway of a small cabin like thing that shouldn't qualify as a house at all. It had two floors, no windows on the first floor, and a nasty paintjob. The entire thing must of been made only out of cement.

"Zombie proof," I nodded in approval. It might be sore to the eyes, but Croats weren't gonna get in to easily. "We should check anyways," Dean pointed out. "Thank you, Captain Obvious."

The entire house was free of undead party people. We settled in quickly, locking the doors and boarded up windows (although they were on the second floor). I took a minute to explore.

On the first floor, there was a kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom. Whcih, miraculously, had running water. Hallelujah!

The second floor had a master bedroom, a second bedroom, and a third bedroom. The master bedroom had a cradle in it, so I suppose that's where I used to sleep.

It wasn't long before Igot bored, adn started sorting through stuff. I found an old video camera, a photo album, and a locked jewelry box. I put aside the box and looked through the album.

Pictures of a family. A happy family.

I looked through for what seemed like hours, taking it all in. We were a happy family.

A smiling face with grey eyes and long brown hair. Sam. A beautiful brown haired woman. Mom. A young, freckled face that always seemd to be smirking mischeiviously. Dean. A baby, bright and bubbly with warm brown eyes. Me.

But the few pictures that caught my eye were the ones of my father. Most of them he looked surprised, as if he hadn't known his picture was being taken. A few were with Dean, mom, and me. Not to metion the ones of him laughing with Sam.

I put down the album. I had a happy family, here.

At home.