We didn't stop until we got to an old salvage yard in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, late the next day.
The engine rumbled under me as I sat up and stared at the huge gated archway that led into the property, the words AUTO filling it, rusted out and nearly falling apart.
We drove down a dusty path, lined with old cars. It must have been familiar to Dean, as he hardly bothered to look at the road, jamming out to a rock song that was playing.
After a minute, we pulled up to a house on the edge of the junkyard. There was a guy standing out on the porch, leaning against the side of the house, a beer in one hand and a shotgun in the other.
"Bobby!" Dean called, grinning. He was in a really good mood today for some reason.
"Hey boys," Bobby called back. He was dressed in (you guessed it) a flannel over a t-shirt advertising a local bar.
I followed them up onto the porch, my Chucks kicking up dirt, to where Dean shook Bobby's hand and they clapped each other on the back in a manly way. They filed in, which left me and Bobby alone on the porch.
"You must be Lilyanna," he said, offering a hand.
"You can call me Lily," I replied, taking it and shaking firmly, just like my dad had taught me. Dad...
"I hear that Crowley's been giving you a piece of trouble," Bobby said.
"Yes sir," it seemed like the right response. Bobby talked like a dad, somebody who you could lean on, but didn't mess with.
"Well, any one who's been hassled by him is welcome here. You can stay long as you like," he said, turning to open the door.
"Thanks Bobby," I said.
"Get inside. We're gonna try to figure out what happened to you," he replied, holding the door for me, and then leading me towards the living room, where Sam was already waiting. Dean walked in behind us from the kitchen, carrying beers for him and Sam.
"Start at the beginning. I wanna hear everything," Bobby prompted, sitting down comfortably in a chair.
So I did. I had to backtrack a whole lot. Bobby wanted to know my whole family history. That I had no living grandparents, even though my mom's mom had only died two years ago. That I didn't have any aunts, or uncles, or great aunts or uncles. That I didn't have any siblings. That I had lots of friends. No boyfriend. A few almost enemies, but no one specifically who would have wanted my life thrown apart. How mine and my parent's phone numbers had been disconnected. That anything sent to their e-mails got rejected. It made me panic even more to be confirming these details. I felt like I was trying to give up hope of finding out what happened to them. But I continued to answer as best as I could.
When we got to the part about where I wanted to go to Prague for the summer, I had to explain why.
"I got invited to a dig to look for the lost tomb of Šemík," I explained. It's a famous Czech myth. Google it.
"You study lore?" He asked, surprised.
"If they gave out college degrees to fifteen year olds, I would already have my PhD," I responded. I knew almost everything there was to know about mythology and folklore from at least fifty different countries. As a kid, this had amused my parents, and my room was full of books, relics, and talismans (that I had always assumed were anything but real). As it came to choosing a real career path though, my parents had fought tooth and nail for something more practical.
By the time I finished with the story, Bobby had a few other random questions, ones even stranger than anything about supernatural phenomenon that might have occurred when I vanished, which was nothing, apart from the dream.
Weirder questions like:
"What's your earliest memory?"
"Going to the mall with my parents to get a family photo. We had to sneak my dog up the maintenance elevator."
"Do you have any pets?"
"My dog died when I was six."
"Can you play any instruments?"
"Just about anything that I can pick up."
"When's your birthday?"
"October 2nd,"
"Did you ever have braces?"
"Never needed them,"
"Allergies?"
"Shellfish,"
"When was the last time you got sick?"
I had to think about that one.
"I...I don't know." I replied hesitantly.
"Don't know, or don't remember?" He pressed.
"No, I can't remember ever being sick. Never that badly anyway," I said, surprising myself.
Dean raised his eyebrows.
"Never? Not even the flu?"
"Well, I faked it a bunch of times, to get out of school or practice or whatever, but I've never actually been sick," I confirmed.
"What about broken bones?"
"I almost shattered my ankle playing soccer. In fact, my foot was totally pointing the wrong way," I frowned, recalling the memory. "But by the time I got to the hospital, it hurt a lot less, and the x-ray showed that nothing was broken. We assumed it had just been a sprain or something," I said. I remembered that hospital visit. My mom had held my hand the whole time, given me an anchor to help me get through the pain. Now there was no one to help me get through the pain of missing her. I had to find them, fast. There was a bit of awkward silence where all three of them were staring at me, even squinting, although they were trying to hide it.
"Bobby. You wanna show me where you put that new relic you found?" Dean asked, obviously trying to get Bobby by himself far away enough from me that they could talk.
"Sure," he replied, standing.
The pair walked into the kitchen and started talking in a low tone that I couldn't make out.
"Are they always that sneaky?" I asked Sam, who had remained with me.
"Nah. Usually much worse. I can't tell you the number of times they've argued about me while I was in the room. It's just because they care," he remarked.
Huh. So they cared about me?
They came back in, having completely forgotten about their excuse of finding some artifact.
"Lil, there's someone who we want you to meet." Dean said. "He's gonna be able to find your parents."
Wow guys, this is pretty fun to write. I plan on keeping it up while I can, but with homework and all, I might not be able to post so much in coming times. Thanks for reading and for all of the positive reviews!
