First chapter

Rosalia POV

My brother and I needed to get as far away as possible from the hell we used to call home. We were tired, but we couldn't stop. Only after three days, when I was sure that none of my father's bastard friends were on our heels, I allowed myself and my brother a restful night in a crappy motel in the middle of nowhere. My little brother was weary even though he had spent the last few days asleep in my arms. But sleeping in my arms while I ran and hid myself among the vegetation wouldn't have been very comfortable for him; sleep in a real bed for a whole night would have been a blessing for both of us. To be two years old, my little angel's behavior had been flawless…until that moment. As soon as we crossed the door of that shitty motel's room, he began to throw out all the whims and whining that he had held back for the past three days.

" Ale, fai il bravo, su, lo so che sei stanco e affamato ma adesso la Lola ti farà un bel latte caldo, poi ci faremo un bel bagnetto e poi dritti a nanna che domani ci dobbiamo svegliare presto per rimetterci in cammino."

Alessandro calmed himself down immediately once he heard the word milk. He stared at me as if I were the most important person on Earth, as if my presence alone could protect him from all evil. It was the look of a son to his mother. But I wasn't his mother. I was his sister and he was supposed to see me as his playmate. But fate has never been in our favor. Normality was never planned for our lives. Before his birth, things were easier for me. I was the only child of an enslaved mother and an abusive and alcoholic father, and my only concern was not to get noticed by him or his fellows. Our culture did not allow my mother to divorce, and even attempting to move away from her husband would have been seen as a shameful act. So she was forced to endure that man for 19 years and 3 months.

The day when she told me she was pregnant is still engraved in my memory. She was happy and scared at the same time. My mom adored children, and she wanted a big family full of children and love, but, as I said, what we wanted was not what we got. She wasn't stupid; she knew that giving birth to another life would have meant destroying it. Until that moment, she had managed to avoid further pregnancies. But when she discovered she was pregnant, she didn't want to abort, although I thought that that would have been the best choice.

I tried to convince her for three months. At the first ultrasound, I had become resigned to the idea of another life wasted in that hell. The thing I did not expect was to hear the baby's heart rate. It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever heard. It was a hymn to life. It was his first contact with us, with me. For the first time in my life I felt the need to protect someone else. My mother looked at me and said,

"Hai visto? Lo hai sentito? Lui esiste. E' qui dentro e aspetta solo di conoscerci."

I had never seen my mother so peaceful. And in that moment, at that precise moment, I decided that I would have protected her and the baby even at the cost of my own life.

So six months later, I found myself with a little creature in my arms and the dead body of my mom in bed. Since she had given birth at home, there were no conditions to save her. I could not save her. The bleeding was too serious. My mom has never been able to hold my little brother. That was my first failure. And my father took care to remind me of that.

A few hours after Alessandro's birth, the bastard came home drunk and I had to give him the news. He did not take it well. He insulted me and beat me, beat me and insulted me. It went on for what seemed like hours. At the end, when I seemed more a bloody heap than a person, he asked to see the baby. I tried to tell him he was asleep. I was terrified. I did not want him to hurt my little brother. But another kick to my legs was all it took for me to give in. My second failure.

I must say that my father didn't hurt him. He just stared at him, but his eyes seemed to promise a lifetime of pain . I remember a shiver ran down my spine. At that moment, I didn't know much about kids or how to raise one, but I knew that I would not let my father hurt my little brother. And so I did . . . until three days ago.

I had gone out to buy food at the small supermarket around the corner, leaving Alessandro in his crib to take a nap. I hadn't been away for even 15 minutes, when I got home, I heard his cries. I ran in his room and saw my father ready to give him a second slap. I stopped his hand and punched him in the face. He turned and started hitting me. I tried to defend myself and the baby. I managed to take a small wooden box and hit him in the temple with all my strength. He fell to the ground, unconscious. I did not lose time and, after taking my Alessandro in my arms and putting the bag with his belongings on my shoulder, I hurried to my room to take all the money I raked together over the years. Then I began to run, trying to get as far away as possible from there.

As always, I was lost in my memories, but a hand pulling my skirt brought me back to reality. Alessandro was trying to get my attention; he wanted his milk and he wanted it right away. So I opened the bag, pulled out the feeding bottle and the milk, and went to the room's kitchenette to warm it up. Strangely, I didn't hear the little steps that always followed me. Concerned, I turned back to the bed. The child had climbed over the mattress and seemed interested in something he was holding in his hand. The thing worried me. In the rush, I hadn't taken any of his toys and didn't know where he could have found that little object.

I walked over to the bed and sat down next to him. I slowly reached out to take away what looked like a small blue ball from him. As soon as I touched it, the ball began to glow. Frightened, I tried to push it away from us, but it seemed glued to our hands. The light became brighter, and a loud and annoying noise joined it. I started bleeding from my nose and ears, and I put Alessandro's head inside my jacket and pressed my free hand on his ear to muffle the awful sound I looked at the ball with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Suddenly, strange symbols appeared on the outside of the sphere. They were a dark blue and seemed to glow. Shortly after, a wave of hot air hit me, and I passed out.

Dean POV

The motel room was quiet; the only noise you could hear was Sam showering. Strangely, the job this time was quite simple. A ghost haunted people who wanted to demolish its old house for a new condo. At the end, we only needed to salt and burn the body of this young woman who committed suicide in 1913. No injuries and no deaths. However, I was dead tired. I really wanted to sleep, but I still had to take a shower. So I lay down on the bed and began to stared at the ceiling, thinking about all the crap between Sammy and me.

I didn't understand why he was still so angry with me. I was only trying to save his life. That has always been my duty since I could remember. But maybe he was right, and maybe I had gone too far. Maybe I really was a lonely and selfish man who couldn't stand the thought of living without his brother. Maybe it was true, but he was my only family.

" Fuck that," I said with a weary voice. I didn't like the self-pity. I got up from bed and went to the bathroom door. The water was still running in the shower.

"Sammy, are you done in there? I'd like to take a shower, maybe even with warm water, if His Majesty has had the decency to leave me some."

"Yeah, Dean, I'm done. Two minutes and I'm coming out"

"Almost time, I thought I would have to wait forever before your coming-out."

"Dean, stop it. I'm tired. Go taking your shower and shut up, please," he said, leaving the bathroom.

Without another word, I walked in. I hated this situation. I really hated it. I missed my brother, my Sammy. The water was cold, but it didn't matter. The soap was almost finished, but it didn't matter either. When you feel like shit, nothing no longer matters. You just want to feel good again, to feel free from the pain and the guilt, to feel wanted and loved and cared for. No one in my life had really taken care of me since the death of my mother. I didn't let anyone take care of me, because I did not deserve it. But I was fine. It was easy to get used to being self-sufficient. With these beautiful thoughts in my mind I came out of the shower and went straight to bed. Sammy was already asleep. Sleep greeted me in its arms shortly after.

A loud noise woke us up. It sounded like an angel's true voice, and I immediately thought that it was Cas. Maybe he was in trouble and was trying to contact us. Sammy must have thought the same thing because he began to call Cas.

"Cas, Cas. Hey, are you okay? Answer us. You know we can't understand you in your true form.. "

With a rustle of wings, Cas appeared in front of our beds.

"Sam, Dean, it's a pleasure to see you again. Why have you requested my presence? Whence does this noise come?"

"WE DON'T KNOW," I screamed. "WE THOUGHT IT WAS YOU IN YOUR TRUE FORM. APPARENTLY, WE WERE WRONG."

"HAVE YOU EVER HEARD ANYTHING LIKE THAT?" Sam added.

Cas seemed as confused as we were.

"I have never heard such a thing ... It's not a language that I recognize ... Seems Enochian, ancient Enochian ... but I really cannot understand what is happening."

In that moment, a bluish light added to the noise. The light and the noise continued to grow in intensity and a blue ball and a wave of hot air hit us from the center of the room. Then everything returned ball rolled to Castiel's feet, who collected it from the ground and watched it curiously. I really didn't care about the ball. (period or semicolon) I was more interested in the two bodies that appeared from nowhere and who lay between the hotel beds.

The two newcomers were a young girl, unconscious at the moment , and a toddler who was crying his heart out. The child seemed fine, but the girl looked like she was just came from an interrogation of the Spanish Inquisition. She had cuts and bruises over most of her body, and her face was covered in blood as well as her long, brown hair. Her knuckles were peeled and she seemed to have some broken fingers. The red dress that she wore was dirty and torn in several places. Her torn feet made it seem like she had run over rough terrain for a long time. It was a sickening sight. Sammy looked as shocked as I was. What put us in motion was the child who freed himself from the grip of the girl and began hitting her in an attempt to wake her up. In one motion I took the child in my arms and laid it on the bed by Sam. The little boy wanted to go back to the girl, but Sammy quickly held him close to his chest. The little child kicked and screamed .

At that point, Cas put away the magic ball, approached the boy, and touched him on the forehead to put him to sleep. It must have been rude, but it allowed us to focus entirely on the girl. Trying to be careful, I picked her up and I laid her gently on my bed. With one hand, I pulled back the hair from her face.

She was really young. Must've been 15, 16 at the most. Her face was not beautiful, but interesting. She had the look of someone who lived through hell and came out. And I knew hell. I knew it just fine. She seemed like a strong girl, but at the same time terribly fragile. I felt like holding her in my arms and reassuring her that everything would be fine. But was not the right moment. I gently took her sandals off, then her parka, and finally the little red dress. What I found before my eyes shocked me, and I am one that is not easily disturbed.

Her entire chest was strewn with multi-colored bruises. It looked like the canvas of a painter. A sadistic and bastard painter. I had to get away from her, because I felt like throwing up. Sammy didn't react much better than me, and even Castiel, the angel of the lord who had lived countless battles, seemed shocked. Unlike us, Cas walked over to her and sat down on the bed. He passed his hand over the girl's body. But nothing happened. If his intent was to heal her, then he failed.

"I do not seem to perceive any internal bleeding. There are at least three cracked ribs and one broken. She has a sprained ankle and five broken toes. Nearly all the fingers are seriously injured. Some cuts are infected. Unfortunately, it appears that my powers do not work on her. So it's up to you to fix her. I will try to get what you need for her and the baby and figure out what this strange ball is. Try to make her take a shower and have her explain how she arrived here. The baby will sleep for five or six hours, don't worry. "

Having said that, Cas disappeared from the room.

"I hate when he does that. Really Sam, I hate it…What happened to this poor girl? Who could have done this? I lived through fucking hell, Sam. Damn, I tortured souls for years and I'm sickened by what she endured"

"I know, Dean, I lived Hell too. I Know. And I'm sickened too. I can't imagine what she had endured during her life. I really can't. But she's here now, and we have to take care of her and the baby."

We didn't know when she would wake up, so we pulled out the first aid kit while waiting. About ten minutes after Castiel left, the girl began to show signs of life. With a quick movement, she sat up on the bed. But perhaps she had moved too fast, in fact she fell back like a dead weight . Sam and I were at her side in two steps. She looked at us with wide scared eyes and tried to stand up to defend herself. At that point, she noticed the absence of the child and screamed and kicked rid herself of us.

"Chi siete? Dove mi trovo? Dov'è mio fratello? ALE, ALE, A L E. ALESSANDRO. Dove avete portato il mio piccolo? Dove si trova? ALE. Siete amici di mio padre vero? Non ho paura di voi. Se avete fatto male al mio angelo giuro che vi uccido tutti e due. Lasciatemi andare bastardi figli di puttana. Lasciatemi." She began to sob. " Dov'è mio fratello? Non fategli del male è solo un bambino. Vi prego faro tutto quello che volete. Ridatemi il mio Alessandro."

Her crying was uncontrollable. Her body trembled. She hyperventilated, sweated profusely, and it was obvious that she was having a panic attack. Instinctively, I took her in my arms and started to rock her, trying to calm her down.

"Hey, Hey, sweetheart. Calm down, breathe with me. In, out, in, out. There it is. Good girl. Shh, shh. It's okay, it's okay. No one will hurt you. Your brother is sleeping in the bed next to us. See? Don't you worry, he's fine. "

I didn't know the language she was speaking: it seemed Spanish, but I wasn't sure. Even though she probably didn't understand a word of what I said, my voice seemed to calm her down. Her breathing became more regular and the tremors seemed gone. Nevertheless, she still cried silently. Sniffing, she pulled up her head and looked straight at me with teary eyes. She still looked scared but not terrified as before.

"Are you English? Can I go to my brother, please? You are not a friend of my father, right? Who are you? Who is he? Where am I? I want to see my brother. Take me to him. Is he well? Is he hurt? Take me to my Alessandro. He does not sleep if you do not wish him good night and if I do not sing him his lullaby."

I understood her need to console her little brother. After all, I was an older brother too. But I couldn't allow her to move around too much in her condition.

"Okay, Listen to me. You are too battered to walk . Your brother is doing fine, he's just sleeping. He looked really tired when you got here. You do not want to wake him, do you?"

I just hoped that her protective instinct toward her brother would have been smothered by the logic of my speech. Thank God the talk seemed to convince her.

"Yeah, I do not have to wake Alessandro. He has to sleep. I have to protect him and make him feel good. He sleeps and he is safe. I have done my duty. I'm a good sister. I'm a good sister."

"Yes, you're a very good sister. Now why do not you tell me what happened to you? If you want, you can take a shower. Are you able to keep your balance ? Tell you what, I'll take you to the shower and give you a hand washing yourself. Sound good to you?"

"I can wash myself without help. I can do it, really."

I looked skeptically at her hands. They were too shabby to just soap her hair. And her legs were too weak to hold her weight for even half a minute.

"No, you can't. Sam, could you start the shower and get me a towel? And see if there's a t-shirt she can wear?...I'm Dean and he's Sam, my baby brother. Nice to meet you, little girl."

"Dean, I'm not a Baby."

"Yes, you are. You're my little baby brother."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

For the first time in weeks, things seemed to be back to normal. I'd missed those jokes. With a grin, I looked at my brother, and he was smiling too. A laugh made me look away . The girl was laughing in my arms;she had tears in her eyes, and she held her belly with both hands. There was a grimace of pain on her face, but it seemed she couldn't stop .

"Oh God, I never thought to hear such a discussion from two adults. Alessandro always tells me that he's not my baby. I thought that once you become an adult you would accept being the younger brother. I guess I was wrong."

After that, she rested her head on my shoulder, trying to catch her breath. She was far more relaxed and at ease. I get out of bed and walked her to the bathroom.