Thanks for your reviews so far! *dances to Eye of the Tiger whilst throwing confetti and wearing a tan trenchcoat*
Give a wave and a cheer for brittpage21 (co-writer of this chapter along with part 2)
Just a word of warning, this chapter contains heavy angst and hurt and mentioning of attempted abuse/assualt
Sam smiled as he and his father entered his sister's room at the hospital.
"It's like a mouse next to a lion," he whispered.
"Yeah, totally," replied John, sitting back down in his chair next to his daughter's allocated bed. "It seems so sweet and harmless. It would just seem wrong to disturb them."
They were referring to Chrissie and Dean cuddled up next to each other, sound asleep, their chests' rising and falling in perfect unison. Sam sat down on the other side of the bed.
"I never realized before," began the thirteen year old. "But their almost identical."
"Now that you mention it, yeah, they do look the same," returned John, gazing at his sleeping children. "I can see Dean at that age sometimes when I look at Chrissie."
"It's the eyes," remarked the younger teenager. "And that smile."
It was true, the eldest and the youngest shared similar characteristics. Striking green eyes combined with a stubborn yet mischievous attitude, even down to the details of the freckles on their faces. Only thing that was different was hair color.
"Yeah, I'd have to totally agree with you there" said John.
After several minutes, the older teenager began to stir. Once opening his eyes and blinking in order to regain his focus.
"How long was I out for?," asked the seventeen year old with a grunt. He blinked again, glancing at his father and brother. "When did you two get here?"
He paused, noticing the smirk spreading on Sam's face: he pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand.
"You were watching me sleep, weren't you?" sighed Dean, to which his brother nodded and laughed slightly. Embarrassed, the older teen tried to explain himself. "What's so funny? Why were you watching me sleep? I was just laying down with the kid to make her less scared. I must have just fallen asleep myself."
A snigger spluttered from Sam's lips. It was so typical for his brother to defend his tough as old boots, bad boy reputation.
"It was adorable," the thirteen year old teased. "Goober would have completed the look."
"Haha, very funny" retorted Dean, shooting him a glower. Carefully he slid himself off the bed, he then indicated to the still slumbering child. "Just let her sleep some more. I'm gonna go hit the head. I'll be back in a few minutes."
The seventeen year old departed from the room quietly, in his search for another rest room. John observed his peaceful daughter.
"Dad, when we get her out of here, are we gonna get another motel?," inquired Sam. "I'm afraid she's gonna be scared out of her wits to go back to the one we are in now."
John sighed wearily.
"It didn't harm her. Did it? The spirit?," he asked. His younger son's confused expression brought him to add further details. "I knew the presence of a child would attract it to the room, I needed to distract it in order to find and burn it's bones."
"So, you did use Chrissie as bait to get to the spirit!," said Sam, in sheer outrage and disbelief. "I can't believe you! What would Mom think of this? I can't even look at you right now!"
The thirteen year old then got up from his chair and moved it from the end of the bed to the side of the bed. John rose and tried to walk over to the young boy.
"Don't even think about it Dad!," hissed Sam. "Keep your distance!"
John held back, an expression of guilt on his face.
"Son, please, you'll wake your sister" said John, nodding towards the little girl.
Sam tried to calm down while he sat beside his sister, taking a deep breath, fighting the urge not to scream.
"Please, Dad, just stay over there," he said. "At least until Dean gets back."
As if on cue at that moment, Dean walked in.
"Am I interrupting?" the older teenager queried, with a raised eyebrow, noticing the expression his brother's face.
"Not here, we don't want to wake up Chrissie," replied the thirteen year old, getting up and joining his brother at the door. "Let's talk out in the hallway."
The eldest nodded, his mind foggy with concern and confusion. The brothers then walked out of the room. Once the door was closed behind them, the older teenager looked for answers.
"So what's up?," he asked, folding his arms. "Did you and Dad have another fight?"
"Well, sort of," admitted Sam. "I asked him that after we get Chrissie out of the hospital, if we were gonna get another hotel, because Chrissie will probably be too scared to go back to the one we are at now."
The younger teenager was rushing his words as his emotions began flaring.
"Whoa, whoa, settle down," returned Dean, shaking his brother by the shoulders gently. "This is me you're talking to, not Dad. You don't have to be so loud."
"Sorry," apologized Sam. "He looked guilty as hell. Also, the presence of a child would attract the spirit to the room, claiming that he needed to distract it in order to find and burn his bones. So, in other words, he did use Chrissie to get to the spirit."
The brothers' stared at each other, sharing the same look of disgust and horror.
"Oooh!" snarled the eldest, in outrage. "If Chrissie wasn't in the room right now, I'd tear him limb from limb!"
"I then told him how would Mom think about this?" Sam added.
"You brought up Mom?" questioned Dean.
"Yes, Dean, how would Mom think of her daughter being used as bait to capture a spirit?" the thirteen year old pointed out.
"True, touché" returned Dean, with a nod.
"I don't know what I would do if it harmed her," commented Sam, his tone riddled with concern and dread. "It makes me feel sick just thinking about it."
"Oh my God," groaned Dean, pinching the bridge of his nose, his tone of voice was identical to his brother's. "What if it did? Ah Jesus, no, please no."
"For her sake, and our own," added Sam. "I hope she doesn't understand what's happening."
"Yeah, you and I both," sighed Dean, he then nudged his brother. "C'mon, we better head back inside."
The brothers' returned to their baby sister's room and resumed their watchful guard over her fragile, sleeping form.
"Dad, we may have a problem," stated Dean, glancing at his father from across the bed, he swallowed. "If the spirit did get to her, we need to get her to a specialist doctor that knows of hunting. We need to get her out of here as soon as possible and to that specialist, just to make sure."
John nodded in agreement, his eyes returned to his daughter, still sleeping. My Angel, my beautiful baby girl, and I caused her all this trauma. You know something Winchester, you're a dick! You don't deserve her, John harshly told himself.
The bed sheet began to move, and a soft whine came from the slumbering five year old's lips. Sensing she was about to wake up, the brothers' inched closer to her bedside. Sam clasped her hand and squeezed it gently, encouraging her to wake up.
"Shhhhh, baby, your alright," crooned Dean, stroking the side of her pale face. "You wanna wake up now. Open those pretty little eyes for us. Huh?"
Chrissie's face crinkled as she let out a tiny whimper. Two fat tear drops slid down her cheeks from her closed eyes. Her forehead creased into a frown.
"Come on, sweetheart," encouraged the eldest sibling. "The sooner you wake up, the sooner we get outta here."
On the last statement, her eyelids fluttered open. Her family was relieved on seeing her dazzling green eyes once again: it was as if her eyes offered a beacon of hope as they generated a sense of glowing happiness and innocence.
"Hey, how you feeling?," said Dean, compressing a hand to her forehead. "You feel better?"
Chrissie gazed up at him groggily and shrugged, unsure about her physical or mental health. Sam looked over at her, a small smile on his face. John got up from his chair and joined Dean on his side.
"Hey, baby girl," he said, his voice gruff. "Glad to see you finally woke up."
Chrissie flinched as John grazed her face with the back of his hand. She whimpered loudly and huddled under the bed sheet, accidentally yanking the IV drip from the crook of her arm. She squealed with the sudden pain.
"Oh, Chrissie, sweetheart, shhhh, calm down," hushed Dean, stroking the side of her tear streaked face. "It's just Dad."
The trembling little girl just wailed, an expression of pain painted on her face as tears flowed freely. A red stain was now appearing on the mattress, it soon dawned on the eldest what the substance was as he saw his baby sister holding her arm.
"Oh God!," he exclaimed. "Her IV has come out!"
Unable to stand his younger sibling in pain, Sam made a dash for the door but was stopped by his father.
"I'll go," declared John. "You stay here with your brother and help keep Chrissie calm."
The five year old continued to cry as John departed in order to grab a hold of a professional who could handle the situation. She gawped in horror at the bleeding area at the crook of her thin arm.
"Hey, Chrissie, why don't we play a game so you don't think about your arm? Huh?" suggested Sam, using his gift of quick thinking.
Chrissie shook her head.
"Oooowwww" she whined tearfully.
"Shhh, Shhh, calm down," the eldest assured. "It's gonna be okay. Daddy's gone to get the doctor, and the doctor will make it all better."
Chrissie's tears continued to pour down in a salty torrent, her lips quivering alongside her shoulders as her breathe was becoming hitched as she vainly tried to control her emotions.
"I no like doctors. They touch me!" wept the little girl.
The eldest of the trio climbed up onto the bed and embraced his upset little sister, pulling her onto his lap as he sat cross legged on the bed, his arms around her torso as she leaned back into him.
"Shhh, sweetheart," he soothed, smoothing her fluffy brown hair. "We won't let them hurt you. They just want to make you all better. We won't let them touch you for long, I promise."
Just then John came back into the room with the doctor. Doctor walked over toward Chrissie on Sam's side of the bed.
"Well, well, well," the dark haired doctor started. "Your daddy here tells me you accidentally pulled out your IV. Let's see that arm of yours, huh?"
Chrissie flinched as the doctor moved closer, reaching for her bleeding arm.
"No! No!" barked Chrissie, cowering away. "You no touch!"
Chrissie whipped her head up towards her big brother, hugging him for reassure, to which he held her chin up to meet his eyes with his fingers.
"Chrissie, don't worry," he said gently. "The doctor is going to make it all better so it won't hurt. Okay."
Chrissie stared at him, not knowing what to think. The seventeen year old smiled down at the worried child.
"I won't let him hurt you," he told her. "Didn't I already tell you, I promised I wouldn't let him hurt you."
Chrissie glanced at the doctor and as she screwed her eyes, she offered her arm. The doctor replaced the IV drip with a fresh, sterile one, and taped it back into place.
"Now, see, did that really hurt?" said the eldest, nudging the child in his arms.
Scowling, Chrissie nodded, her gaze the doctor, who was busy talking to her father.
"Chrissie, come on, it didn't hurt that bad," remarked Dean with a slight chuckle. "Now, how about we play a game like Sam said earlier. Would you like that? Huh?"
The child shook her head, and curled into him, aware of her IV drip.
"Then what do you wanna do?," questioned Dean. "We'll do anything you wanna do. You name it."
Chrissie looked up at him and then looked at Sam who nodded in agreement. Frustrated, Chrissie shook her head again.
"No," she grumped moodily. "I no wanna play games."
"What do you wanna do then?" asked Dean, nudging her again.
Chrissie didn't respond, and she shoved her thumb in her mouth. Her eyes glazed with sorrow.
"Okay, sweetie, don't worry," returned the seventeen year old, hugging the little girl tightly. "We should get ya outta here soon anyways. Then we can do lots of things together."
He was aware of the doctor talking to his father at the corner of the room, the doctor scribbling the occasional notes as he shot the odd glance at Chrissie.
"I'm afraid I have to ask you some questions, Mr. Winchester" announced the doctor, looking at John directly.
"What's that?" asked John, with a raised eyebrow, his chest tightening.
"This may be personal but I have to ask," started the doctor, his voice hushed and low. "How would you describe your relationship with your daughter?"
"I love my daughter," stated John, trying not to sound too offended. "We get along very good."
The doctor nodded his head.
"Are you involved with her daily routines and activities?," continued the doctor. "How much time do you spend with her?"
John knew he would have to lie through his teeth in order to avoid being lectured by some medical professional. He wishes he didn't have to lie.
"Yes all the time" replied John.
The doctor nodded and looked up from his notes that he had jotted down on his clipboard.
"You're a single parent, yes?" questioned the doctor.
"Yes," John replied, his heart racing. "Her mother died when she was just a baby. We don't like to talk of her very much, especially around Chrissie since she is still very young."
The doctor took more notes, he cleared his throat.
"It's come to my attention that your daughter is underweight. Does she eat a balanced diet?" interrogated the doctor.
John looked surprised and glanced at his children.
"I try my best to give my children all the food and nourishment they need," commented John, returning his attention back to the doctor. "I have no clue why she's underweight."
He knew why. It was because he had a tendency to leave his small daughter home alone whilst training his sons'. Usually there was very little or no food to feed herself, so she would normally go hungry.
The doctor took more notes then paused: he sighed and leaned into John. "The medical staff have found numerous large bruises on your daughter's body, particularly around the groin and pelvic area," said the doctor, he raised an eyebrow. "Do you have any idea how these injuries could have happened?"
John's chest tightened even further, his heart rate increasing by the second.
"No, I have no idea," he insisted, mortified, to which he added with a snarl. "Just because I don't know doesn't give you the right to judge and accuse. Don't go blaming me or my boys! We all love Chrissie very much. We would never harm her! Ever!"
Chrissie whimpered at the sound of her father's raised voice. The doctor glanced at her with concern, before returning his gaze back at John.
"Well, we never would think that Mr. Winchester," assured the doctor. "Now, does your daughter get a lot of interaction with children her own age?"
"We move around a lot," admitted John. "Most times she doesn't like socializing with other children."
The doctor nodded curtly and smiled slightly John, glancing over his notes and Chrissie. He cleared his throat again.
"Thank you, well now I think that about sums it up," stated the doctor, tucking the clipboard under his arm. "I will be back later to check on her."
The doctor was about to move before John stopped him at the doorway.
"Hey doc, how soon will we be able to get her outta here?" asked John.
The doctor glanced at the haggard father.
"It's best if she stayed here," explained the doctor. "We just need to observe her some more. I will be back later."
"No doctor," John pressed, desperate to leave the enclosed environment. "We really need to get her out now. We really need to be moving on."
The doctor narrowed his eyes, his suspicions about the small family growing ever more. Without replying to the father's request, the doctor left the room without a word.
John walked over to his children, his voice now riddled with urgency and panic.
"We have to get out of here, now," he announced. His sons' glanced at him and each other in surprise. Come on, unhook your sister. We'll find a band aid for her arm. Let's go!"
Sam raised a quizzical eyebrow. His shaggy hair sticking up, due to him constantly running his hands through it.
"What's going on?" he asked, rising from his chair.
"The doctor is suspecting something and I think he has gone to call Social Services on me," replied John, yanking his arms through his jacket sleeves. "They could try to take you away from me and we can have that. Now, come on, let's go! Dean, grab your sister. Sammy, grab her bag."
Sam and Dean were stunned and gazed at each other for a second or two.
"Now!" barked John, and with that the boys' moved from their current positions.
Chrissie became stiff and cowered at her father's tone. Her eyes wide with fear, as she lay huddled in the centre of the bed on her own since her brother moved. John noticed that his behaviour was frightening his daughter.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," apologized John, his voice now gentle yet still troubled. "I didn't mean to scare you. Daddy's very, very sorry."
The five year old was confused as her brothers' began bustling around the room. She whimpered as the IV was pulled out from the crook of her arm by Dean, causing blood to swell up from the puncture in the skin. Hurt by this action, she gazed at her brother for an explanation.
"Shhh, Shhh, It's okay, baby," consoled the seventeen year old, rubbing her back in comfort. "We will get ya a band aid for your arm when we get to a motel. Don't worry."
"We gotta go, kiddo," commented Sam as he grabbed her pajamas from her duffle bag that he had dumped at the bedside. "You don't worry about anything. You just listen to us and do whatever we think is best, okay?"
Chrissie was then taken from the warmth of the bed and placed onto the floor: she shivered as her bare feet touched the cold floor.
"C'mon, honey, we gotta get you changed," said Dean, taking the child's pajamas from the middle sibling. He crouched down to her level on his haunches. "Lift your arms for me."
Eyes still wide with confusion on what was the sudden commotion was, Chrissie obeyed her brother and lifted her arms. The older teenager eased the light blue hospital gown over his sister's head. An expression of horror and concern was painted on his face as his eyes traveled over his baby sister's naked form. Purple bruises decorated her body, from her arms to her legs but most worryingly were the bruises that spread across her groin. Jesus Christ! What the hell is this! the older teenager cursed mentally. A faded yellow nightgown was then slipped over the child's form, covering her bruises.
John was at the doorway, keeping a watchful eye out for any medical staff that might pose as a threat to their escape. Dean scooped the little girl up into his arms whilst Sam slung the duffle bag onto his shoulder, and the trio followed their Dad along the empty corridor.
"Just lay your head down on my shoulder," the eldest instructed Chrissie, who was puzzled as they rushed along the Pediatric Ward, he pulled her head into his shoulder. He added with a comforting whisper. "I know you don't feel good, sweetheart, but we'll make it all better soon. Just not here."
Chrissie inhaled her brother's familiar scent and squashed her cheek against his shoulder.
"Doctor say I not to go." mumbled the little girl.
"Well, we gotta go," replied the seventeen year old as they ventured around the corner. "Don't worry; we will get you a better doctor to see you, somewhere else. You trust me, Sammy, and Daddy right?"
"Uh huh" said Chrissie, her voice muffled by her thumb that she was sucking.
As the family dashed down the corridor, a yell caused them to spin around briefly. It was the doctor.
"Stop! Security!" he shouted.
The following moments were like the scenes of an action movie as they ran for the elevator. Two large security guards charged after them, they then had to resort to race down the stairs to catch up with the family, who had now disappeared into the elevator. Chrissie's stomach flipped somersaults as her eldest brother ran along the corridors with her in his arms.
Thankfully the family made it out and dashed towards the car in the parking lot, security hot on their heels. John hopped in the driver's seat as Sam opened the back door allowing Dean to climb in the back with Chrissie still firmly in his arms. Sam then hopped into the backseat himself with her bag. They slammed all the doors shut. The security guards appeared in the parking lot as John put the key in the ignition. With a purr of the engine, the car became animated as it reversed, before speeding away out the parking lot.
Quivering with shock, Chrissie gripped onto her brother with all her strength.
"Don't worry, baby," soothed Dean as he rocked her back and forth. "We're getting out of here and we'll get you some place safe and warm soon."
"Why did we run away?" the little girl asked with a hurt and confused expression. "Was I bad?"
"No, no, of course not, sweetheart," replied the seventeen year old, cupping her chin with his fingers. "You are the best, most well behaved girl I've ever known. You don't worry about it. You let Daddy, me, and Sammy, but mostly Daddy, worry about it, okay."
He pressed a kiss on her forehead and hugged her warmly, as Sam raided her duffle bag.
"Hey, Chrissie, guess who I got for you?" the thirteen year old said, his hands behind his back.
"Who?" questioned Chrissie, intrigued.
Sam then produced Goober from behind his back, making the patchwork teddy bear wave at the little girl, making her smile. Chrissie took her stuffed companion into her grasp and hugged the stuffed toy with all her might whilst leaning back into Dean.
As the car sped along the highway, Chrissie hugged Goober to her chest, nose pressed into the patchwork material. As she wriggled in her brother's arms, her nightgown snagged slightly, exposing her thigh. On the skin was a huge bruise.
"What on earth!," exclaimed Dean, inspecting the bruise, her gazed at his sister and pointed at the mark on her leg. "Chrissie, what happened? Where did that come from?"
The little girl glanced down at it, she remained silent as she squeezed her teddy.
"Chrissie, please, honey, you gotta answer me?," the eldest probed, eager to find out the cause of the bruise. "We gotta know what's wrong so we can help you, and know what to tell the better doctor."
The five year old's bottom lip quivered, unable to face her brother she buried her face into Goober, chocking on a small sob.
"Oh, sweetheart, please don't cry," begged the older teenager. "Please, baby, we don't want you upset. We just need to know how you got hurt."
The Impala pulled into the family's current motel, and John and Sam leapt out in order to gather the remaining belongings they owned, leaving Dean and Chrissie alone in the backseat.
"I can't tell you," Chrissie whispered, tears dripping down her face. "The man says I get in trouble if I tell."
"You trust me don't you? Huh?" asked the seventeen year old, to which Chrissie nodded. "Then you know I will never ever let anything bad happen to you. So if the man comes he will have to get through me, Daddy, and Sammy first before he gets you. Don't you worry, nothing bad is going to happen to you. So please tell me how you got it. It's really important you tell me."
No matter how many times the teenager swiped away the tears rolling down his beloved sister's face, the tears continued to pour.
"He hurt me," wept the little girl. "You not here when he hurt me."
Goober the teddy bear bore the brunt of the tears, the material on the stomach was becoming soaked.
"Who hurt you, sweetheart?," asked Dean, cupping her face in his hands. "The man you saw that you saw in the bathroom? Or was it the man from the accident at the lake?"
"The man in there" replied the five year old, pointing at their motel room door.
"You don't have to worry about him anymore, baby," soothed Dean, pained at seeing his sister suffer. "Daddy took care of him. He's gone forever. He won't be coming back."
The child continued to cry.
"He hurt me," she repeated, her gaze focused on her brother. "You not there when he hurt me. Where were you?"
Training on how to deal with a nest of vampires stated Dean in his head, cursing himself for not being there to protect his baby sister, but their father had forced him. This event had happened two nights ago, and come to think of it, Chrissie was pretty silent on their return. He became concerned as it might be involving the demon that tried to drown her.
"Chrissie, this wasn't the man that you saw in the bathroom with Sammy, was it?" he questioned her.
"It was man in there!," she stated, growing more and more upset as she pointed once again at the motel room door. "In there! In there!"
The five year old covered her face with Goober as she sobbed, her tiny heart shattering with each tremble the sobs delivered.
"Who was it tell me? Please?," begged her brother, now desperate. "I don't know who the man in there is. Was it Daddy?"
"No," wept Chrissie. "It the man in picture, the one I drew for Sammy."
The eldest cradled the distraught child in his arms and rocked her back and forth.
"That was the man you saw in the bathroom, then I told you, you don't have to worry about him anymore," he reminded her. "Daddy took care of him."
In the motel room, whilst gathering their belongings, John noticed the bizarre crayon drawing. He picked it up and observed it.
"What is this?" he asked Sam.
"Chrissie drew this when she was breaking down," the thirteen year old replied. "She said that it was the man she saw in the bathroom, that I couldn't see, but when we described it to you, you said you got rid of him already."
Back in the car, Chrissie's heart was shattering more and more.
"You, Sammy and Daddy not here other night," she said whilst shaking her head. More tears spurted down her face. "You not here! He was! He hurt me!"
"Oh Chrissie, I am so sorry," the teenager apologized, realizing what the child was referring to. "I promise, we will never leave you alone ever again."
He then planted a kiss on her forehead, an action which cause her to flinch and cower away. Just then John and Sam returned and got into the car and were shocked to see Chrissie moving away from Dean, tears streaming from her eyes.
"What's going on here?," demanded John, peering over his shoulder at the event in the backseat. "What did you say to her? Why is she trying to get away from you?"
The five year old crawled over to the middle sibling, Goober in her clutches.
"Bad man in bathroom hurted me, Sammy, you, Daddy and Deanie not there" she said tearfully, then she suddenly began slapping Sam on the arm, her slaps were weak.
"Chrissie, Chrissie, calm down," said Sam, taking hold of her hands in order to stop her. The younger teenager was stunned, he gazed at his older brother. "What is she meaning? I don't understand?"
Dean sighed.
"She is meaning two days ago when we left her in the motel alone when the three of us were out training" he explained.
The seventeen year old glanced at his father, anger building up inside him.
"Dad, we need to talk. Outside" he said, through gritted teeth.
Father and son exited the car and they walked over to the curb, a little bit away so they couldn't heard by the two remaining siblings. The anger boiled, bubbled then erupted.
"I swear if that son of a bitch harmed her, I'm takin' them to Bobby's," growled the seventeen year old, pointing a finger at his father. He then shoved him. "This is all your fault!"
He had forgotten who he was speaking to.
"Don't you use that tone of voice with me, boy," his father snarled back. "And who are you talking about? The spirit? I couldn't help it. The spirit only preyed on children and if I didn't have Chrissie in the room, then we wouldn't have been able to distract him while I burned his bones! So don't you go blaming people, boy! Yes this maybe my fault, but it had to be done."
Dean was furious.
"At the risk of your own daughter!" he shouted in complete outrage.
John was fighting for his respect, but knew he was losing.
"No, of course not, I never meant to hurt Chrissie but people's lives were at stake," explained John. "We had no choice but to use Chrissie as bait, otherwise that spirit would still be out there killing children all around. I am truly sorry, but I have to save lives of people out there from the supernatural. Even if it means putting my children second."
The seventeen year old was struck dumb by his father's last statement. Shaking his head, he couldn't believe his ears.
"I can't believe what you just said," he said furiously. "Putting your children second. You are saying this job of killing things is more important than your own children. I can't believe you Dad!"
The teenager spun on his head and marched back towards the Impala.
"That's it!," he announced. "I'm taking them and we're going to Bobby's. Don't follow us!"
"Dean, please, don't, you're making a huge mistake" John shouted after his son as he raced after him.
"No, Dad, your the one that just made the mistake" hissed Dean.
"Oh and how you gonna get there?," scoffed John, folding his arms. "We only have one car and I don't intend on just handing it over to you."
The teenager turned to face his father.
"Oh, don't worry Dad, I've got money," he stated, his eyes fixed with determination. "We'll take the bus or train, or anything but we'll get there, and when we don't have money, I'll make some, somehow."
Dean then ventured closer to the car and knocked on the window. Sam looked up and Dean motioned for him to get out. Dean then opened the door.
"Hand me Chrissie," he instructed his younger sibling. He added. "Grab her bag."
Sam grabbed Chrissie's bag, still not understanding the current situation. He then climbed out and went to the back of the car. Chrissie was just as bewildered as she was scooped into her eldest brother's arm.
"Deanie, what wrong? Why we get out?" she quizzed, Goober nestled in her grasp.
"We're going on a little trip for a while. Just the three of us. Just me, you, and Sammy," her brother replied. "Daddy needs a little time alone to think about some things."
The seventeen year old shot his father a warning glance. He called to the middle sibling:
"Alright, Sammy, get our bags out of the trunk."
Sam then returned with their three bags and their bathroom bag and Chrissie's bag that had been in the back seat with them.
"Where we going? Isn't Daddy coming with us?" asked the five year old as the trio stared at the lonely road ahead.
"Daddy is having some problems that he needs to work out right now on his own," returned the eldest, holding her with one arm whilst the other carried her bag. "The three of us are going to Uncle Bobby's house for a while. Okay. Well let's get going. We got a lot of walking ahead of us."
Chrissie sniffed as she glanced back at her father over her brother's shoulder.
"Dean, please, let me see her, just for a minute" pleaded John.
The youth was hesitant but handed her over to their father.
"Don't worry, sweetheart, we'll all be back together real soon," the hunter told his small daughter. "Daddy just needs some time to work out a few things. Okay?"
An expression of sadness and confusion was etched onto Chrissie freckled face.
"Okay" she croaked.
"Now, give me a kiss goodbye" said her father.
Chrissie kissed her him on the lips then on the cheek, she then hugged his neck tightly.
"I gonna miss you Daddy" the little girl uttered sadly.
"Aw, I'll miss you too, sweetheart" replied John, kissing her back.
Dean interrupted the father/daughter moment.
"Okay, time to go," he declared, taking the five year old into his arms again only to place her on the ground. "Sweetie, we gotta carry bags. Hop on my back for awhile."
Chrissie clambered onto her eldest brother's back as Sam and their father exchanged a goodbye hug. Dean does the same, yet for the sake of his sister, not his own. The boys' picked the bags up, Sam stuffed Goober in one of the bags. They then began their journey to the bus station. John waved goodbye to them to which they returned the gesture. Then with a roar of the engine, their father was gone.
*Stands at ticket booth, promoting a boxing match between the reader and John* Anybody fancy a go at knocking him five shades of blue? *Holds out boxing gloves*
Stay tuned for part 2!
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