Okay here's comes another Supernatural Fic!! Let me know what you think, it's like most of my other ones...sorta

Out of My Mind

Aimee pulled off the road and drove up the dirt path of Singer's Salvage. She hadn't been back in years, but now seemed like as good a time as any. In what seemed like the final days of Earth itself, she thought it was time to head home. A year ago she had the same thoughts, but never made it out of North Carolina. The Apocalypse sacred the shit out of her and anything that was associated with it was best kept at a distance. She never realized that keeping to that plan meant she would probably never have a chance to see her family again. It took a visit from a guardian angel to put a stop to all thoughts of her former life.

In North Carolina, Aimee had normal. She rented a little house only twenty minutes from the coast. There was a man that loved her and all the kinks in her armor. There was a diploma hanging on her wall and a paycheck deposited in her humble bank account every two weeks. She had a life that was full of stability. But there was always something in the back of her mind, nagging for her to give it a second thought. That little voice, along with millions more had been the needle that broke her strength and sent her crawling back home.

Aimee pulled her beat up truck, the one her dad had given her when she turned eighteen, to a stop in front of the porch. It was easy to see him sitting with his nose in a book from the front window. Her heart swelled as if it would burst just at the sight of him. Taking in his battered and beaten image, she knew there was no way she could turn around now. It was selfishness that got the best of her before, and now the only thing keeping her from her loving dad were two doors; one of metal one of wood.

"Daddy," Aimee called like a little lost girl. She weaved through the cluttered halls until she found him coming out of his library. "You've really let this place go."

"Aimee, is that you?" Bobby asked, taking in the sight of the woman in front of him. "Where the hell have you been, girl?"

"North Carolina. I had a house, job, a dog." She shrugged, leaning down to hug the man confined to the wheelchair. Tears stung her eyes, but she kept them locked inside.

"It's good to see you, baby girl." He said in the same raspy voice she'd always associated with her dad. "I've really missed you around here."

"Heard you've had one hell of a year, not to mention the past four, I guess the Winchester's really know how to start a party." She laughed with little humor.

"You know those boys never had an easy day in their lives." Bobby said, backing into the library once again. Aimee took a few steps stopping in the door frame.

"I'm sorry I didn't come when you got hurt. I should have been there." She let a few droplets of salty water fall over her lashes. On the drive over she'd promised herself not to let this happen. She couldn't have done anything even if she was with them.

"There was nothing you could have done, Aim. To be honest I'm glad you haven't been in the middle of this mess. It was easier for me image you safe when you were away."

Aimee felt her throat close up, there was so much she wanted to say to the aged man in front of her, but her tongue refused to move and form the words. She was frozen in place, almost awe at the man that had given so much and received nothing in return. Something in the back of her mind clicked, making her venture here change from one in search of information to one seeking only comfort. Every selfish thing she'd done since she was a child suddenly felt like the cause of his injury.

"Have you eaten?" She managed to ask, turning in the direction of the kitchen and taking the time to wipe her leaking blue orbs.

"There's not much there, but I could eat."

"I'll go to the store later, buy some more food and anything else we might need."

"You plan on staying long?" Aimee stopped moving, staring into the cold fridge. She had the answer on the tip of her tongue, but she wasn't sure if it was still valid.

"If that's okay with you," she turned with worried eyes to face her father.

"I guess that wouldn't be so bad." He joked. Leave it to Bobby Singer to hide his elation at seeing his daughter for the first time in well over five years.

Aimee spent the rest of the night cooking and cleaning. Using her newly acquired domestic abilities to put the home she once saw with no more than a fleck of dust, to it's original splendor. She watched her dad out of the corner of her eye, flipping though book after book. After the hours spent cleaning, there was nowhere left to go but in the library. In there he kept his most prized possessions: pictures of her, her mother, the family. She was amazed at how even in this room it looked at though nothing had been touched but the books.

Her fingers came to rest on a small tarnished silver frame. It was like looking through a magic mirror, transporting her back to the second grade. Her light brunette hair pulled into two floppy pigtails, trying her best to curtsy in an Easter dress her mother had made for her. In the back ground she could just barely make out the old tire swing he'd put up for her. A smile graced her lips as she thought about how she immediately ran to the swing after this snapshot and subsequently went on to ruin her dress and knees in a matter of seconds.

"That's my favorite." His voice pulled her back to the present.

"I nearly killed myself on that tire every time I got on it. God, I loved you so much for that."

"You look like her there."

"Don't say that," Aimee shook her head replacing the picture on the mantle. "I'm going to get my stuff out of the truck, and bring Mattie in, if that's okay?"

"Sure, I miss having a dog around here."

"Do I even want to know what happened to Rumsfeld?"

"It's probably better if you don't."

It was nearly two in the morning when Aimee forced herself to venture up the stairs and into her old room. Her little matted mutt, hot on her heels. The room was stuffy, probably not being opened since she was last in it. She was thankful for the breeze that was able to flow through the window, airing out the room quickly. The curtains were still a dusty pink and lace, along with the wall paper that would be any ten year old girl's dream room.

Aimee supposed it would have been difficult for him to change her room. She had said she'd visit, but that had only happened once or twice. She was getting close to twenty-seven years old and she'd left when she was eighteen. She blamed the life he'd chosen to live after what happened to her mother, but she couldn't put all of it on him alone.

"I could really use your help," she whispered into her hands as she sat on the unmade bed. "Please, I can't do this alone."

At the sound of Mattie scurrying under the bed, Aimee lifted her head out of her hands and searched for the only person she'd spoken to in months. Her puffy, red eyes fell on his stiff frame in the corner of her room. "I shouldn't be here."

"You promised to help me. It is your fault that I'm here, in every literal sense of that statement." She choked on sobs, letting tears fall freely creating black paths down her cheeks. "What am I supposed to do, Castiel?"

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