If the Impala was the most important object in the universe then that red headed girl in the backseat was the most important woman. That woman was Robin Browning.
The boys had known Robin since Sam could count. She was a foster child who moved in with their neighbors when she was four. Sam was also four and Dean was eight. At the time they were still living in the house in Lawrence though it was tough for their dad to be there. Instead he was usually gone leaving the boys with a baby sitter or sending them next door where they would play with Robin.
During the summer the boys would leave with their dad for long road trips where they spent most of their time in cheap motels. When school started back they would return home to an excited Robin happy to see her two best friends.
At four years old Sam had difficulty with the name Robin. He either couldn't pronounce it or forgot it completely. It was from his four year old mind that the moniker "Red" was coined. And it's stuck ever since.
The boys remained next door neighbors to Red all the way through Sam and Red's middle school years before their dad finally sold the empty house. That's when Sam and Dean started changing school's frequently. They still kept in touch with Robin, however.
Robin knew all about the hunting and the story about their mother. Sam couldn't keep these secrets from his best friend and Dean had a soft spot for the little girl with bouncy red curls. Red never cared about any of this though. She was just always excited to hear the new stories the boys had to tell when they returned home from a hunt.
When Red was fifteen they finally allowed her to join them on a hunt. They assured her foster parents that it was a skiing vacation and she hoped in the back of the Impala next to Sam and they took off with John behind the wheel.
They made a stop by a man's house named Bobby to teach her a few things and after gun training and getting caught up to speed on the lore they were off to the house where she would help hunt her first ghost.
Over the next few years she continued to help them on the local hunts and became a pretty good hunter. She considered John a father figure and referred to Bobby as her uncle. The first real family she had ever had.
It wasn't until Red was seventeen that this family became more permanent. And not in the way she had hoped.
Sitting in my room studying for finals wasn't my favorite way to spend a Saturday but what else could I do? My list of friends wasn't overly abundant and Sam and Dean were on a hunt in Nevada. No where near Lawrence, Kansas.
My little brother was in the next room over with his friends playing video games and making entirely too much noise. My parents were out for the night like they always were on the weekends.
Of course these people weren't technically family. I was a foster kid and so was the boy in the room next to me. We had both been taken in by Mister and Mrs. Walker. I know nothing about my real family except my birth certificate says "Browning" right after "Robin Ariel."
My eyes drifted from the American Literature book up to the cork board above my desk. I smiled at the picture of us sitting on the front porch steps of Bobby's house. It was taken after I'd gotten a Polaroid camera for Christmas and Bobby was nice enough to snap the picture. I sat between Sam and Dean. Sam's smile stretched across his face and his arm wrapped around my shoulders pulling me into his side. My eyes were closed laughing at something Dean had said seconds before the shot was taken. Dean sat serious next to us, deadpanned after his joke.
It had only been taken a year before and yet those boys were so different the last time I saw them. Sam had grown even taller and Dean was even better looking. I would get a phone call or an email from them whenever they'd go on a new hunt. If they were working something close they would come pick me up or ask me to meet them at Bobby's. I would bring a stack of movies and we'd stay up late watching Godzilla or Star Wars before the hunt began.
My mind was snapped back to the present when I heard the front door slam open. My mom was screaming for me to get some towels and I jumped up and ran down stairs leaving my homework behind.
At the bottom of the stairs in the living room my mom helped my dad onto the couch. His pants leg had been torn and blood was flowing from a cut on his thigh.
"Towel's Robin! Now!" she snapped.
I turned to the bathroom and grabbed up the first aid and some towels. I brought them to my parents to find my mom begging my dad to let her take him to the hospital.
"I'm fine. It won't need stitches. There isn't a point in going."
"He could have some kind of disease."
"Who?" I asked. "What happened?"
"Some crazy man came up to us in an ally. He was growling and he bit your dad on the leg. I called the police but he ran off and Frank insisted we come home instead of waiting for the cops."
"Someone bit you?" I asked watching mom clean the wound. It didn't look deep but it was definitely a bite.
"I'm fine. Just wrap it up. I'll call into work Monday and stay off it for a while."
I stood staring at the bite and knew my parents knew nothing about the dangers this could hold. That could've been any kind of monster that bit him. But dad was right. A hospital couldn't do anything for him. But I couldn't either. Instead all I could do was watch and hope I was wrong.
The next morning I woke up and went down for some breakfast and found my dad sitting at the table with what looked like the contents of the refrigerator in front of him.
"Dad? Are you okay?" I asked looking at the empty containers.
"Yeah. I've just been so hungry."
"Have you slept at all."
"No not really. I got up at about 3 and went for a jog."
"Are you feeling okay? You think you have a fever from that bite?"
"No. No fever. I'm fine."
I eyed him suspiciously. He was twitching and I could see a thin layer of sweat on his forehead.
"You sure? Let me check just to be sure," I reached my hand out to feel his forehead but he smacked my hand away with such force it sprained my wrist. I yelped and pulled my arm to my chest. My head shot up towards him and he stood causing the chair to fall behind him and started pacing.
"I'm fine, Robin!"
"Yeah. Okay," I said and slowly backed towards the stairs. When I was out of sight I ran to my room. My injured hand fumbled with the phone but dialed the memorized numbers quickly.
"This is John Winchester. If you know about this number you know I'm busy. Leave a message."
"John, please call me back asap. It's Robin. I think Frank's been bit by something. I think it's a werewolf."
"This is Sam. Leave a message."
"Damn it Winchesters! Pick up your damn phones! I'm in deep shit here and need some help!"
"Hello?"
"Dean! Oh thank god. Where are you guys?"
"Red? We're still in Nevada. Why? What's wrong?"
"It's Frank. I think he's been bit by a werewolf."
"Wait what? What makes you say that?"
"He came home last night with a bite on his leg and now he's acting weird. Fever, eating everything, I think he sprained my wrist."
"He hurt you?"
"That's not important right now. What's important is the full moon tonight. I need help."
"I'm getting dad and Sam. I'll call you back in less than an hour, okay? Where are you?"
"My room."
"Stay there. Lock your door. You have your gun?"
"Yeah."
"Good." With that he disconnected.
I locked my door and grabbed my gun and phone and sat facing the door waiting. My mom and little brother had left to return his friends to their homes but they'd be back soon and I didn't know what to do to keep them safe. I couldn't exactly tell them to lock themselves away because my dad was dangerous.
I picked up the phone and dialed my moms number thinking of anything.
"Robin? I'm on my way home now. Is everything okay with Frank?"
"Actually I'm out of shampoo and dad says he needs somethings stronger than ibuprofen. Would you mind running by the store?"
"I guess."
"Thanks. See ya soon."
I hung the phone up so I wouldn't miss Dean's call. I watched the clock and the closer it ticked towards an hour the more nervous I got. Finally the phone rang.
"We're on our way," Dean said and I could hear the engine of the Impala rumbling in the background.
"How long?"
"It's gonna be about eighteen hours."
"Damn it. That'll be too late."
"I know. Robin if he is a werewolf there isn't a way to cure him."
"I know."
"Can you do it?"
"I don't know."
"If you don't he could hurt someone."
"I know, but, Dean, what am I gonna tell Ann?"
"Stall as long as you can. We'll be there soon."
"Tell John to drive faster."
"Load the silver bullets, Red. Keep him away from everyone. And don't get hurt."
"Yessir," I said rolling my eyes. I hung the phone up and heard the front door close. I jumped up and ran out of my room and down the stairs. My mom was in the kitchen speaking to my dad while he paced. Braxton, my foster brother, walked past me towards his room.
"Honey? I brought you some medicine. You should stay off that leg," my mom said reaching for him.
"Mom!" I yelled stopping her. She paused and turned towards me. "How about you, me, and Braxton see a movie tonight. Leave dad alone. I don't think he's feeling well."
"I'm fine," dad mumbled.
"I don't think I should leave him alone. How about you just take Braxton?"
"No. Come with us. It'll be fun. Dad just needs rest."
"Robin, maybe next weekend."
"Mom, please. I need to get out of this house. I've been studying for finals for days and I haven't gotten to spend time with you in a while."
"What are you going on about? Since when do you like bonding time?"
"Better take me up on the offer while I feel like it then."
"Well, alright. Just not a late movie."
"Great. I'll tell Braxton. You better get ready. Leave dad alone to rest."
That night we left for the movie and no one had upset dad enough to get hurt. I had my gun in my purse and my wrist wrapped under my jacket. My mom and Braxton were safe but I didn't know what to do about the rest of the town. I hadn't heard from Dean again but I had to hope they were close.
The movie ended and I kept a close eye on my phone but no call yet. I willed the phone to ring the entire drive home. Praying one of them would call and tell me they were here. But nothing. Instead we reached the house and I could see through the windows it was already bad. The full moon illuminated the front of the house and I could see the curtains pulled and ripped.
"Good heavens! Frank!" mom yelled running towards the house.
"Mom get back," I yelled grabbing the gun from my purse and running ahead of her to the door.
"Robin Ariel! Where did you get that?"
I didn't answer her and instead swung the door open where I could hear the growling and shuffling coming from the back of the house.
"Dad!" I yelled.
"Frank?" mom yelled as her and Braxton entered the house. The shuffling stopped for a moment.
"Mom get Braxton out of here!"
But it was too late. The sound of thumping footfalls sounded towards us and I was knocked into a wall. My gun skidded across the floor and I could hear my mom and Braxton screaming.
My vision stopped swimming and I jumped to my feet in time to see Frank rip out Braxton's throat as he tried to protect our mom who was already bleeding from a gruesome injury to her torso.
"No!" I yelled getting Frank's attention. My eyes flashed to the gun back to the werewolf that separated me from it. My legs jerked into action carrying me towards the bathroom in the back of the house. I slammed the door shut behind me in time for Frank to hurtle his body against it. I jerked forwards and braced my feet against the opposite wall and reached up locking the door. But that wouldn't last long.
I fumbled for the phone in my pocket and looked up at the window above the shower calculating if I could squeeze through it. I'd have to make myself because now there was a hole forming in the door above my head and there would be a werewolf in this bathroom soon whether I was or not. I picked up the medal tooth brush holder and stood in the tub breaking the window out. I looked back at the door and saw the hole was nearly big enough for him to fit through. Ignoring the jagged glass shards left in the window I squeezed through and landed on the ground outside with a thud. I heard the werewolf fall onto the bathroom floor and took off towards the front of the house hoping to make it to my gun before he did.
I ran around the house pressing the speed dial to Sam and held the phone to my ear as I ran through the front door.
"We're nearly there," I heard Sam say calmly but I didn't have a chance to answer because the phone was knocked from my hand and I hit the ground on my back. I reached behind me and grabbed an umbrella from beside the door holding it in front of me with both hands on each end keeping the jaws of the beast from taking a chunk from me. I tried to find the gun around me but it must have been yet again knocked away.
"Damn it," I said through gritted teeth. "I'm not dying like this."
I gave a strong shove with the umbrella knocking him back a few extra inches and shoved the end of the umbrella into his chest. This of course did nothing but earn me a few more seconds and a extremely pissed off werewolf. I made a quick calculation deciding I couldn't make it to the gun but I could reach a knife on the kitchen counter instead. I grabbed it and swung around cutting across his chest but the beast backhanded me sending me into the kitchen table.
I slumped to the ground but held the knife tightly in my already injured hand. I held the knife above me weakly as he pounced towards me but a shot rang out knocking him to the ground before he could reach me.
My arm fell dropping the knife and I looked up at my saviors in the doorway. John and Dean ran towards the werewolf to make sure it was dead while Sam ran towards me.
"Red! We gotta get you to a hospital."
"No hospitals," I said knowing how hard this would be to explain.
"We'll take her to Bobby's," John said walking back over to the bodies of Braxton and Ann to make sure they were dead.
"I told you not to get hurt," Dean said helping me up.
"Shut up," I said avoiding the bodies in the foyer.
I was loaded into the back of the Impala with Sam trying his best to clean my wounds. I fought for consciousness all the way to South Dakota where Bobby lived.
"What about the bodies?" I asked.
"We'll call in anonymously and report the bodies. It'll probably be assumed you were taken by the killers or killed and missing. We'll have to keep an eye out to make sure," John said.
"Right."
"You okay?" Sam asked.
"What about me?" I asked. "I'm a foster kid. I have no family to go live with."
"You've got us," Dean said sternly.
"I'll talk to Bobby. He may have some ideas," John said.
When we got to Bobby's house I was all but carried in by Dean to the couch in the living room where I had sat and watched so many movies with the boys.
"Balls. She's worse than I thought," Bobby said when he saw me.
"Can you patch her up?" Sam asked.
"I'll see what I can do. Were you bit?"
"No. We checked," John said.
"Good. John will you get me a bowl with some water. Dean I'll need some clean towels."
"Yes sir," Dean said running to the linen closet upstairs.
"Damn, Red. Looks like you rolled through a pile of nails."
"Crawled through a broken window. Oh, and I got beat up by a werwolf."
"That'll do it."
That's how Robin came to be adopted by Bobby Singer. Not officially of course. Officially Robin Browning was dead. Or presumed dead after her entire family was found killed by what looked like a mad butcher.
The Winchester's returned to Lawrence to kill the werewolf that had attacked her foster dad and to collect some of Robin's things. Included in these things was the Polaroid camera Sam picked up and the picture from her cork board.
She finished school in South Dakota under the name Robin Singer and as soon as she graduated she was in the backseat of the Impala slaying ghosts with the boys.