So, I tried pretty hard to keep Sam and Dean as similar to their persona in the show as possible. I know it's difficult to tell since they don't appear until really late in the chapter, but if you have any suggestions for improvement, please let me know. This is my first attempt at fanfic, so reviews would be greatly appreciated.
"Hi, I'm Ava," my voice falls away. Sucking in a deep breath, I try again. "Hi, I'm Ava." I sigh, leaning against the sink and looking away from the mirror. It's no use. They won't even know I exist for another hour and after that, I'm only going to be a burden to them.
"Ava?" My caseworker calls from outside, knocking softly on the door. "Are you almost ready? They're going to be here soon and you mentioned wanting to bake them something."
"I'm coming," I respond and head for the door, not looking at the mirror. I don't need to see myself right now. When I open the door, I ask, "Do you think this outfit is alright?"
"You look great, sweetheart," Mave, my caseworker, assures me. I glance down at the plain black dress- it's skater style and barely reaches my knees- paired with a long-sleeved purple plaid button down. "Do you know what shoes you're going to wear?" This is what I love about Mave. Even though she entered my life at the worst possible time, she treats me like a friend, not a helpless child.
"My black boots, maybe? The combat ones." She purses her lips, thinking.
"Those would be alright, but maybe the biker ones would be cuter. A little edgier. And you can add that necklace you just got to pull the look together." The necklace in question is a simple, black corded necklace with an odd little charm at the end, kinda like a horned mask. I nod. She's right, that'd rock. It's silly, though, fussing over an outfit when my mom just died. I run my fingers through my hip-length dirty-blonde hair, pulling it from my eyes in a nervous motion.
"You don't need to worry. You're sixteen, almost seventeen. Even if they aren't cleared to take you, someone would certainly be willing to. There are plenty of homes available." Mave sets her hands on my shoulders, looking into my eyes, "just go bake. You'll feel better when you do." I nod silently and dart off to the kitchen, moving quickly to pull out my ingredients. I prepped everything earlier and made the dough, so all that's left is to fill the pan and put it into the oven. I'm making a triple berry pie- blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries. It's my favorite. I settle into the motions of rolling out the dough and cutting it, feeling tension leave my shoulders as I work. Soon, I forget about everything but decorating the pie. When I slide it into the oven, I realize I have nothing else to do. I flop into the couch, keeping the oven in view but pulling out the small file I have on the guys coming to pick me up- possibly. It's minuscule, barely any information at all, but it's something. It has their pictures, too. It also says that they were suspected for a few crimes, but that they were cleared recently.
"Reading it again won't turn up any new or different info, you know," Mave chides from the doorway.
"I know, but it's something to do." I toss it to the side and look at her.
"You could always make me a jumbo batch of cookie dough. I'm going to miss not having you as my in-house baker." I laugh.
"I'll do that, if you'll help me. Jumbo batches are two-person jobs," I hop up and she smiles. "beat you to the pantry," she dares and we take off. Forty-five minutes later, I've pulled the pie from the oven and finished the cookie dough. Only five minutes until they're supposed to be here. I pull on my shocks, shoes, and necklace, then lay on the floor, waiting for the knock on the door that could mean the beginning of my new life.
"Hello?" Mave answers the door. There's a murmur of deep voices, but in my nervous state, I can't make out their words. "Yes, I am. My name is Mave and I have quite a bit to talk to you about. If you'll follow me, right this way." The door clicks shut and I listen to the clomping of three sets of footsteps heading to Mave's office. I stand up and start to pace, agitated that she won't let me meet them yet, but I know that she has to make sure that I'll be going with them first. Well, and she has to tell them about me being alive, too. I make seventy laps around the living room- it takes just over thirty minutes- before the door opens again. I dart to the kitchen and set the pie on the table.
"You said her name was Ava?"
"You've asked her that five times. Chill, dude, you know her name."
"Well, excuse me for being just a little concerned about meeting our sister. Who, I might add, we didn't even know existed until a half hour ago." I wish I could distinguish who is who.
"Thirty six minutes," I say as they walk through the door.
"What?" The shorter one asks. So he was the one who asked my name.
"It was thirty six minutes since you went into the office. I presume she told you about me within the first minute or two, so you've known I exist for around thirty six minutes." I look towards the ground and rub my right toe into the floor, twisting it back and forth.
"Wow. That's exact."
"I was nervous," I shrug.
"You're Ava, then?" The taller one asks with a gentle voice. I nod. "I'm Sam, this is my- our brother, Dean."
"I kind of assumed that," I chuckle.
"Would you three like to sit? I can give you some time to get to know each other before we have to worry about paperwork," Mave interrupts. Dean looks to Sam, eyebrows up, "sounds good to me." Mave looks at me expectantly, but when I only return her stare blankly, she gestures subtly to the pie. Oh, right. I nod and she leaves the room without another word.
"Um," I shuffle my feet, "I made a pie earlier- triple berry- if you'd like some. It should still be warm. We also have ice cream to go with it." Dean's eyes go wide at the word pie.
"Pie!" He exclaims, earning an eye roll from Sam.
"He means 'yes, please,'" Sam informs me, smacking Dean on the arm. "I'd like a slice, too, with ice cream, if it's not too much trouble. I smile at him and quickly serve the snack, leaning over to hand Dean his pie.
"Where did you get that necklace?" He asks, his voice somewhere between shocked and horrified.
"I found it at a garage sale, why?"
"Whose?"
"Some guy named Chuck," I shoot him a weird look, "why?" Dean struggles with his words for a moment and I sit down tensely.
"I used to have one exactly like it. Sam gave it to me," he explains.
"Oh," I look down at it, "would you like it back, then?"
"No, no," he glances at Sam, communicating silently, "I just noticed it and had to ask." While the necklace did create a bit of a tense moment, it was a great conversation opener. When Mave comes back, they agree to take on guardianship of me- Dean, specifically- and the paperwork is doled out. Next thing I know, my suitcases are packed into the back of a '67 Chevy Impala (great car, by the way. Love it.), goodbyes have been said, and we're driving off to my new home: the bunker.