Episode: Season 7 - The Girl Next Door Pt. 1

The sudden sound of a massive thud made my eyes snap open and I quickly extracted myself from the uncomfortable, white, plastic chair the nurses had given me while I waited on Dean to wake up. Dean! My dark eyes flitted to the bed then, widening when I didn't see him lying there. Racing over to the other side, I stopped in my tracks, not being able to stop a snicker from bursting free of my lips. There on the floor in a crumpled heap was a groggy, grumpy, and completely disoriented Dean. He glanced up at the sound, meeting my eyes. I grinned smugly, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Humpty-Dumpty need some help putting himself back together?" I smirked down at him before faking a pout.

He scowled up at me, about to retort something when the door to the hospital room flew open and we were met by a very alive-looking Bobby. Our eyes widened in shock. But he seemed not to notice as he stepped inside, letting the door fall shut behind him.

"You okay?" he asked Dean quickly.

"Bobby, you're alive," Dean breathed out in surprise.

"'Course I am. Why are you on the floor?" he shrugged, glancing down at Dean in confusion.

"They gave me morphine...a lot," Dean explained as Bobby and I helped him to sit up on the bed once more, "Hey, look, the monster broke my leg,"

I rolled my eyes at the comment, turning back to Bobby as relief washed over me.

"Wait...the house-" I started before Dean finished my thoughts.

"We thought you were dead," he said finally.

"Well, I ain't," Bobby dismissed the both of us, making us share a glance before I briefly threw my hands up in the air in defeat, "Not yet. But we gotta run. This place ain't safe. Where's Sam?"

"Head scan," I answered for Dean.

"You meet me at the ambulance dock, stat. I'll find Sam. Parker, you help him." he ordered the two of us in a commanding tone.

"Wait, where?" Dean frowned in confusion, "Bobby, I'm a gimp,"

Bobby grabbed a pair of crutches leaning against the wall then before handing them over to Dean.

"Hey." he said softly then, grabbing my attention as he patted my cheek, smiling warmly.

I placed my hand over his, squeezing gently as I returned the smile before he let go, slipping out the door once more.

Needless to say, it didn't take us long to high-tail it out of that place. So that's how three weeks later, I landed at Bobby's hunting lodge in Whitefish, Montana, translating telenovelas for Dean, while Sam just rolled his eyes at how we'd gotten so invested in it. Honestly, I was worried about him, though. Not only for the whole "seeing Lucifer" thing but ever since we'd gotten back from the store, one of the headlines in the paper had caught his eye. So after Dean had fallen asleep on the couch after eating his cake, I'd made Sam spill the beans. I frowned, drumming my fingers on the table quietly as I sat across from Sam.

"Are you sure it's the same one?" I asked, chewing the inside of my cheek.

Sighing, he nodded before handing me the crinkled newspaper we'd bought earlier today. Sure enough, right on the front page in bold letters read "Victim's fatal wounds 'signature' of killer". My frown deepened as I nodded, my eyebrows arching only slightly.

"Yep, same exact one," I sighed, glancing up to meet Sam's eyes, "How is this even possible? She said she'd stop,"

"Well, apparently she didn't." Sam said, shaking his head.

And as I pinched the bridge of my nose in exasperation, my mind went back to that case from so long ago.

~ Flashback ~

Lincoln, Nebraska - 1998

"Yeah, so from what I can tell, it's something called a Kitsune," Sam said over the phone, strands of dark hair falling in his face as he spoke, "Not much. They look human,"

"-till they sprout out claws and stab you behind your ear to get to your brain," I piped up, earning a look from Sam as he begrudgingly relayed that tidbit of information as well.

Sam shrugged then, "I-I don't know yet,"

Silence then a roll of his eyes.

"Yes, Dean, I realize killing them is important. Maybe if Uncle Bobby sent a book in English-"

More silence. I ran the toe of my scuffed-up purple Converse shoe across a puddle.

"I am. No, no. Don't put him on the phone!"

A sigh.

"Hi, dad... Yes, sir. I realize people are dying... Yeah, I'm on my way to the library right now." Sam said in exasperated but clipped tones.

Suddenly, he pulled the phone away from his ear, making a face at before chucking it into his backpack.

"Come on, Parks, we gotta go." he grumbled and I briefly arched my eyebrows before trudging along after him in the rain.

Why in the world John had expected to leave this particular case to two teens was beyond me. At least Aunt Grace was away at a retreat this week, though, so I didn't have her breathing down my neck. I rolled my eyes at the thought. How I ended up being related to that, I'll never know.

~ End of Flashback ~