Heading Back to Normal

-3 weeks later-

A person who's broken is said to be irreparable, but their fragments may be able to find comfort in others who've shattered from the identical pain. After Bobby's passing, the group found themselves displaying this very idea, their pieces clumsily fitting together to create one messy heart for all of them to share. Ragged thumping able to finally drown out the painful numbness that seemed to never go away. (y/n), a monster who's never been able to experience such agony before, finds herself clinging onto the Winchester boys. They were her everything now just as she was theirs. Sitting cross-legged on the lumpy canvas cushions of their couch, (y/n) watches Dean carefully as he paces across the living room, yellow notepad opened up to the same set of messily scribbled numbers he had written across it's pages the day after Bobby's passing. Pen cap held between his lips, he clumsily jots down a few notes next to the thousands of torn newspapers and maps taped up across the rotted wooden wall of the cabin. (y/n) couldn't help but feel a tad overwhelmed upon taking in Dean's restless form as he continued his frantic marking. To be completely honest, she was worried about the older brother, but it would be a cold day in hell before she'd try to confront him about it. Instead, (y/n) opted to just silently take care of him from a distance. She stands from her spot on the couch

"Heading to the kitchen-" she gently announces, (e/c) eyes watching his back as he continues to stare at the almost psychotic note-taking, "-want me to grab you anything? Maybe some water since, you know, I haven't seen you drink any in days?"

"Just a beer, princess" He tosses a tired looking smile over his shoulder, one that never reaches his green apple eyes as they meet her gaze for a moment before he's turning back towards the cluttered wooden wall before him. She sighs lightly, trying her hardest to keep her concern for the man hidden. Striding into the kitchen area, throwing open the fridge to grab a beer, she notices Sam makes his way into the room.

"Hey, Sam" She greets him softly, grabbing onto another bottle from the fridge before closing it with her knee. Easily ripping off the metal cap with her fingers, she slides the cold bottle across the kitchen island, the hunter catching it easily in his palms when he takes a seat

"Thanks-" He chuckles lightly, taking a quick sip of the strong smelling beverage before he's leaning closer to her, voice barely above a whisper, "-has he been there all morning?"

"He's been there since yesterday morning-" She explains quietly, eyeing the older brother as she continues, "-closed his eyes for maybe ten minutes before he was up and pacing again."

"Yeah, that sounds about right..." Sam sighs tiredly, running his calloused fingers through his smooth brown locks. (y/n) furrows her eyebrows in response, her concern for the man only growing

"Do you think he'll be okay?"

"He'll be fine-" He reassures quietly, "-just...needs more time, you know?"

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you okay?" She asks gently, eyes almost like a mothers as they offer comfort to the hurting man before her. It takes a moment for him to respond, fingers softly tapping at the amber glass of his beer as he contemplates the question

"No-" He finally answers, meeting her kind gaze with a small smile, "-but, like Dean, I just need some time to get there...What about you?"

Before she's able to respond, the room is suddenly filled with the faint ring of a phone. Everybody's eyes seem to snap towards the blood stained duffel bags messily strewn across the dining table, dull green fabric glowing from the small cellular device vibrating in its pocket. Hearts seemed to skip a beat upon the realization that that specific pack was Bobby's. The group all turn to each other, glances anxiously as the phone continues to ring. Nobody moved a muscle, as if ignoring the incessant ringing would just make it go away. Dean is the first to break the silence

"I'm not answering that." He states it plainly, a hint of vulnerability hidden behind his frustration as he stares down at the vibrating pack. Sam rolls his eyes

"I don't want to answer it either, Dean, but what if it's important-?"

(y/n), sensing the tension building between the brothers, is quick to yank the device from it's pocket. Opening it up and hitting the answer button, she holds the phone up to her ear, watching the Winchester brothers as they stare almost expectantly at her.

"Hello?"

"Is Bobby Singer there?" The question hurts to hear, the reality of having to answer it feeling like a punch to the stomach. Clearing her throat lightly, trying her hardest to swallow back the lump in her heart, (y/n) is finally able to speak again

"Uh, no-" She's hesitant to tell the truth, opting to just completely avoid the heart-wrenching answer, "-he's not here, but I-I'm a friend of his."

"My dad asked me to call Bobby Singer specifically"

"I'm sorry, but he's not here-" (y/n) tries to make her understand, voice gentle as she continues upon realizing she's talking to a kid who could possibly be in trouble, "-If you need any help, I can-"

The call suddenly ends, (y/n) furrowing her eyebrows when the rhythmic beeping of the dead end fills the silence. Slowly pulling back the device from her ear, she turns to the brothers.

"Who was it?" Sam asks, sipping on his drink

"A kid-" She explains slowly, voice hinting at her worry, "-just some girl asking for Bobby."

"Probably girl scout cookies or something" Dean replies tiredly, turning to head back to his Dick Roman wall. (y/n) shakes her head

"She must be the kid of some hunter, why else would her dad tell her to call Bobby?"

"Do you think something might have happened?" Sam asks

"Maybe...She sounded pretty scared"

Sam walks over to her, gently grabbing the phone from her hands and flipping open the device to look for the number that just called them.

"We have a caller I.D., we should go try to find her. Make sure she's okay"

"What about Frank?" Dean argues, furrowing his eyebrows at the brother trying desperately to get him to focus on anything else.

"Dean, maybe Frank needs some more time..." (y/n) tries, motion lightly to the phone in Sam's hands, "This girl could be in trouble now, shouldn't we help her?"

"Guys-" He scoffs in disbelief at the pair, aggressively pointing at the scribbled numbers on his notepad with an anxious urgency, "-Frank's been working on the numbers that Bobby spent his last breath on...and y'all want to just back-burner that?"

The pair stare at the frustrated man through hurt filled eyes, taken aback by his painful insinuation that they didn't care as much as he did. Dean, upon realizing what he's said and seeing the way the pair resemble wounded animals, let's out a tired sigh

"Fine-" Dean finally speaks up again, voice softer than before, "-go check out girl scout. I'll find Frank"

"Fine. But you know what?" Sam responds, anger seeping through the cracks, "On one condition. If Frank is just spinning his wheels, then you bail out on crazy and come meet me. (y/n), you're going with him"

"What? Why?" Dean asks, almost offended at his brother's authoritative tone. Sam smirks, motioning to the Phoenix beside him who knows exactly what he's doing. This was payback for all the times Dean made her babysit him.

"Because she'll make sure you're not wasting your time, right (y/n)?"

"You got it, boss"

"Good girl"

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Thick black boots kick up the dusty gravel as the pair hop out of the rusted metal car, eyes squinting through the warm rays of sunshine illuminating the abandoned looking home before them. With torn shutters and a rotted wooden door, (y/n) finds herself growing slightly anxious at what she'll find inside. Monsters and the supernatural were one thing, but crazy humans? Something she'd always shiver at the thought of.

"(y/n)-" Dean grabs the girl gently by the elbow, stopping her from walking any further, "-stay behind me, alright? Frank can be a bit..."

"Unpredictable?"

"'Trigger-happy' was the word I was going to use, but that works too" He sighs lightly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"I'm guessing we should let him believe I'm human too, huh?"

"It'd probably be for the best..."

"Then, i'll be the best goddamn human you've ever seen-" She sighs before motioning for him to lead her, "-shall we?"

Nodding in understanding, Dean pulls out his small revolver, hands gripping the handle tightly as he holds the weapon down to his thighs. He makes his way into the home, (y/n) following closely behind him like he asked. Footsteps echoing faintly against the cool concrete of the dimly lit shack, the pair creep their way towards a set of metal cages near the back of the living area. Turning the corner, (y/n) notices to almost impossible amount of colorful wiring winding its way around the entirety of the next room, beer bottles and strange looking devices littering every empty surface

"This can't be good..." (y/n)'s whispered concern is suddenly cut off by the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked behind the pair. Dean, quickly shoving the girl behind his own massive body, twists to face the noise with his own gun ready. There, standing with an automatic weapon, was Frank Devereux. His gaze fixes intensely upon the pair, light eyes filled with an almost crazed paranoia as his finger tickles the trigger of his gun.

"Frank-" Dean speaks carefully, green eyed gaze never leaving the anxious man before them, "-we're amongst friends here...well, acquaintances, really"

"Then-" He motions with the barrel of his gun towards the pair, "-who the hell are you? Better yet, who the hell is she?"

"This is (y/n)-" Dean explains slowly, finger never wavering from the trigger, "-my sister. I'm Dean. You know me, Frank-"

"That's just what a Leviathan would say"

"Frank, we're not Leviathans!" Dean argues back, frustration evident in his rough voice. Frank scoffs in disbelief, pushing up the glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose

"Oh, sure! You're not a Leviathan" He replies sarcastically, body inching towards the pair, "-Dick Roman's not a Leviathan. Gwyneth Paltrow is not a Leviathan."

"Frank, look, I think you've been doing a little too much research-"

"They're anywhere, anyone...who's to say this ain't the day they come for old Frank who knew too much?"

(y/n), without any hesitation, snatches the gun from Dean. The pair stare at her in wide eyed shock when she points the barrel down at her own leg

"You know about these things, yeah?" She asks, finger on the trigger as she moves her gaze onto Frank who nods in response, "Then you know they bleed black goo, right?"

When he nods again, she pulls the trigger. The silver bullet goes right through the flesh of her thigh, a scarlet colored rose blooming across her pant leg as the ear-splitting bang echoes faintly throughout the room. Before anyone can respond, she's suddenly yanking Dean's knife from his back pocket and grabbing a hold of his hand. Using the sharpened blade, she makes a small slice into the skin of his palm. Crimson colored blood runs down his wrist

"Ow, what the hell, (y/n)?" Dean hisses in pain, but she's quick to ignore him, motioning at both of their wounds for Frank to see

"Look-" She watches as Frank's body seems to relax slightly, gun lowering an inch or so as he examines the blood dripping from her leg, "-we're not Leviathans. We bleed red, we're human."

"You're lying"

"What?"

"Dean's human, I'll believe that-" Frank then points his gun directly at (y/n), dangerous smirk pulling at his lips, "-but your bullet hole is already healing, princess."

"Woah, okay!" Dean is quick to pull (y/n) behind himself again, hands up in the air to try and demonstrate that they aren't a danger to anyone here, "We can explain that, Frank, just put the gun down!"

"Not until I know what the hell you brought into my house"

"Frank, just listen-"

"No you listen, pretty boy-"

"For fucks sake, I'm a Phoenix, Frank!" (y/n) shouts out in frustration, (e/c) eyes glowing lightly from the heat in her veins. The crazed looking man suddenly lowers his gun all the way, light eyes staring at her in a strange curiosity. There's an uncomfortable silence that falls upon the room, tension in the air still hanging around them like a fog.

"A Phoenix?"

"...Yeah?"

"Oh, you should've just said so!"

"What?"

"Come on, lots to do, my friends!"