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Dean hated hospitals. He had been in them too many times to count. He hated waiting for the doctor to come out and announce what was wrong. Or to announce how much time was left.

The only good memory that Dean had of hospitals was when Bridget had given birth to Abigail. Even then, it wasn't the best of memories. Bridget's early labor had been the result of a demon attack, after all.

Dean knew it was completely normal to associate hospitals with death. Most people did. Whenever Dean was in a hospital waiting room, he couldn't help but remember his father and Bobby. Both of them had spent their last minutes in a hospital.

Bridget had been wheeled away almost as soon as she was brought into the emergency room. Abigail had tried to follow her mother but had to be held back by Dean. When Abigail had realized that she wouldn't be able to stay with her mother, a temper tantrum had shortly followed. It was the worst one she had ever had.

"I want Mommy!" Abigail screamed. It was roughly twenty minutes after Bridget had been taken away and Abigail showed no signs of stopping her shouting and crying. As soon as it became apparent she was going to throw a tantrum, Cas had disappeared. Sam had yet to arrive. Dean tried to ignore the irritated glares being thrown his way. Yes, he was aware that they were in a hospital, where peace and quiet was highly recommended, but he doubted the doctors or other patients could do better.

"I want Mommy!" Abigail screamed again. Her voice was getting shriller and shriller with each passing scream.

"I know," Dean told her. "I know, Abby. You'll see her in a bit, once the doctors are done making sure she's okay."

"I wanna go see Mommy! I need to go!" Abigail protested loudly.

"Sir, can you please take her outside?" Dean snapped his head up to glare at the receptionist, who had come over to him. Abigail heard her request.

"I don't wanna go outside!" she snapped. "I want Mommy!"

"Bridget Winchester's family?"

Dean scooped Abigail off the floor and turned to the doctor who had just emerged. He ignored Abigail's small fists beating on his shoulder, protesting being picked up.

"That's us," Dean said. "How is she?"

"She has quite a few fractures on top of a broken rib. She also has a broken wrist and ankle. It looked like there was a lot of strain put on her spine. We're going to keep her here until she wakes up and then for a few days afterwards to monitor her."

"But she's alive?" Dean asked. "She'll make a full recovery?"

"A few weeks of bed rest and being careful, and she will be," the doctor said. "She's currently being transferred to room 214. You can go see her in a few minutes."

Dean swore that the entire waiting room sighed in relief. He tried not to glare at the people around him. He wasn't going to apologize for her behavior. The girl was confused about what had happened to her mother and she was dealing with her confusion in the only way she knew how—throwing a fit and acting out. Instead, he turned his attention back on Abigail.

"Let's go see Mommy," he said and set her back on the idea. Abigail looked around and promptly ran out of the hospital. Dean sighed and followed after her, trying to ignore the doctor's amused smile.

"Abby, Mommy is the other way," Dean called as he caught up to her. "I thought you wanted to see Mommy?"

Abigail stopped running. She looked behind her and then ahead again, as if she was torn on which way to go. She wanted to see her mother, but she also felt like she needed to go somewhere else. She always felt like she needed to go somewhere else.

"Let's go see Mommy," Dean said, holding out a hand to her. "I'm sure she misses you."

Reluctantly Abigail turned around and took her grandfather's hand. Her mother was more important right now.

"Mommy is going to be happy when she sees you," Dean said as they walked back into the hospital. "She'll be happy to know that you're safe."

Bridget was still unconscious when Dean and Abigail entered the room. Dean fidgeted awkwardly upon seeing his daughter lying on the hospital bed, looking defenseless and vulnerable. The sight was disturbing to say the least.

Abigail ran over to the bed her mother was lying on.

"Mommy," she said, shaking her mother's arm. "Mommy, wake up."

"Be careful," Dean warned, noting the cast on the arm Abigail was shaking. Abigail was shaking the arm with Bridget's broken wrist. "Mommy's hurt." Abigail didn't seem to hear him.

Bridget didn't stir. Abigail shook her arm harder, a determined look on her face. She wanted her mother to wake up.

"Mommy, wake up," she demanded in a louder voice. Dean decided now would be the best time to step in. Otherwise there would be another tantrum.

"Mommy's sleeping," he told Abigail. "She's very tired and needs her sleep, so we need to be quiet, okay?"

Abigail looked at her grandfather before looking back at her mother. With a pout, she stepped away from the bedside. Dean led her over to a chair and let her climb up on it. Once sitting, Abigail kicked her feet against the chair. She hated sitting still and being quiet.

"Sorry, I'm late," Sam said, walking in. He looked out of breath. "There was an accident on the highway. Is Bridget all right?"

Dean was relieved just to see his brother. Now he had someone else to help with Abigail.

"Multiple fractures, broken rib, broken wrist, and broken ankle," Dean said in a monotone voice. Sam cursed.

"What happened to her?" he asked.

"A demon possessed her," Dean said. "I thought she had the tattoo but apparently not."

"Grandpa, what's a demon?" Abigail asked.

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