Melody sat in the back of the impala, quietly staring out the window. Sam sat next to her, sparing a glance at her every few seconds, Dean doing the same from the passenger seat. Neither of the brothers wanted this, but their father was firm, and wouldn't budge in the decision. Dean had accepted it, though, understanding that it was best for her, Sam, not so much. Melody was the most sheltered of the three Winchester kids. She was young and naive, even with knowing about the things that go bump in the night. She, unlike the others, felt safe, protected, with her brothers. She wasn't. She was constantly in danger, she was vulnerable and a weak spot for the family, getting to her would be gold for any of their enemies, she was the perfect ransom.
The most recent attack, two weeks prior, had been the worst. She barely came out of it alive and now had scars that would never fade, scars that went deeper than the skin. She had always been a perky one, always happy and energetic, her fears only showing themselves at night when she crawled into one of her brothers beds, but after that night... She was different, quiet, scared all the time, burst into tears at random moments with no trigger. Her nightmares were the worst, none of them could bare the sound of her screams in the middle of the night, they were heart shattering, blood curling screams, that were obviously the result of a horrible, horrible, situation.
Still though, was an orphanage much safer than the motel rooms? She would be further away from the monsters and hunters and such, but that didn't mean someone couldn't snatched her. She was a sensitive little girl and couldn't stand to be away from her family for too long. How could they do this too her?
John shut off the music and sighed as he continued to drive. Knowing what was about to happen was exrusiating and the music was only adding to it. Dean looked from his father to his little sister, who was crying in the back seat. He frowned.
"What's the matter, Mel?" he asked softly. John glanced in the rear view mirror and sighed again, at the sight of his child crying. She sniffed and her glossy green eyes met his.
"Monster," she whispered quietly.
"Did you fall asleep?" Sam asked her. She nodded as the tears began to slide down faster.
"It huwts, Sammy," she sobbed, rubbing at her upper arm where bandages covered a knife wound. Sam's eyes found his older brothers, they were full of sadness and pain.
"I know, baby, it'll get better," Dean promised. The seven year old nodded and began shaking, silent sobs taking control of her body.
"How can we leave her like this?" Dean muttered to his father. John's knuckles gripped the steering wheel tighter, they began to turn white.
"By knowing that this will pass and never happen again,"
Dean wanted to press, but he knew better. He shifted in his seat and stared ahead, it was going to happen, and he was never going to forgive himself.