Getting Home, a Supernatural Fanfiction

Chapter 3

It only takes a few minutes of riding in Sam and Dean's black car that he seems to adore until we get where we're going. The door had a weird symbol on it, though I don't know what it means; a strange feeling for someone who can speak and read any language. Maybe it isn't a language at all. Maybe it's a symbol for some secret organization. Are these guys spies?
"We're back!" Dean calls out when we're inside.
Not long after, a man in a trench coat appears in the doorway to the hallway. He gives me a curious look when he sees me.
"Who-What are you?" he asks me.
I shrug. "I don't know."
The trench coated man looks at Dean as he asks, "Why is she here?"
"Um, this is-supposedly-Lucifer's daughter," Dean explains.
Mr. Trench Coat's eyes go wide. "That's not possible," he says, though he doesn't sound sure of it.
"Then what is she?" Dean asks.
Trenchy McTrenchFace just looks at me for a moment. Finally, he says, "I don't know. I've never seen anything like it before."
"Do you think she's telling the truth?" Dean asks.
Trenchy Dude hesitates. "She can't be. But I can't see any other possible solution."
"I'm not lying," I tell them. "Lucifer's my dad. Do you know where he is?"
"When was the last time you saw Lucifer?" Dean asks me.
I shrug. "Earlier today, why?"
"And you don't know where he is now?" Dean asks in disbelief. "You lost him in in the duration of a day?"
I nod. "Yeah."
"How?"
"I don't remember," I admit. "Something happened, then I was alone."
"How do you not remember?" Dean asks angrily.
I take a nervous step back. He's mad at me. I don't want him to be mad at me. Why's he mad at me? What do I do?
"It's okay," Sam assures me. "We're not going to hurt you."
"But-" Feathery Wingface begins, but Sam cuts him off.
"We aren't going to hurt you," he repeats. "Just tell us what you know, okay?"
"How are you Lucifer's daughter?" Coated Trenchy Guy asks. "You don't look like a Nephilim."
"What's that?" I ask.
"The child of an angel and a human," Sam clarifies.
"Oh, my mom isn't human," I tell them.
"What is she?" Sam asks.
"I don't know," I reply.
"How do you not know what your mom is?" Dean asks, still clearly upset.
"It never came up," I reply.
"Are you f-" Dean begins angrily, but Sam interrupts in a much calmer manner.
"Dean, lay off the kid. She's only, what, seven? He asks the last part, which I confirm. "She's only seven years old, Dean."
"Not years, days," I correct him.
"You're not seven days old," Dean replies.
"Yes, I am!" I insist. "We celebrated my one week birthday today!"
Dean just looks at me, clearly unsure how to respond. Finally, he says, "You're not a week old," in a tone that implies that I better drop it.
"But I am!" I insist.
"No, you're not," Dean says. "You're clearly way older than seven days old."
"Her age doesn't matter," Wingy Dude says. "Lucifer was here seven years ago, and he was back here seven days ago. Either way, she may be his child, and we need to destroy her."
"What? No!" Sam says as if it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. "We're not killing her!"
"Sam, she's Lucifer's kid!" Dean reminds him.
"Yeah, key word, 'kid!' We can't just kill a kid!" Sam says.
"And we can't let the spawn of Satan live," Feathery Trench Coat Person adds. "Sam, we must kill her."
Well, this is not what I was expecting. I don't think I like this. I'm just gonna... Go now... I take off running before anyone can stop me. I run through the door and outside. I don't know where I'm going, but I have to get away now, before anything happens to me. I'm only a week old. I'm too young to die!
I hear footsteps approaching quickly, and I know that I won't make it. I try to run faster, but a hand on my arm stops me, nearly taking my arm out of its socket as it does. I reluctantly turn around to see Sam staging with me. Well, at least it's Sam, not Dean or Trench Coat Meanie. I stop running, though if Sam hadn't keep my arm in his grasp, I wouldn't have.
"Hold up," Sam says. "Don't leave."
"Don't hurt me," I whimper.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Sam assures me.
"B-But Dean and-and Trench Coat Angel," I stammer.
"Castiel?" Sam says, looking slightly amused at the nickname. "They're not going to hurt you. I won't let them, okay? Just come back with me, okay? We'll keep you safe."
"Safe from who?" I ask.
"Everyone," Sam replies. "Angels, demons, Lucifer-"
"Lucifer is an angel," I remind him. "And why would I need to be kept safe from him? He's my dad. He's the one I'm trying to get back to."
"You can't go back to Lucifer," Sam says.
"Why not?"
"Because if you do, we will have to kill you," Sam tells me, no trace of joking in his voice. "Lucifer is the enemy. He's the one Dean, Cas and I have been trying to stop."
"Why?" I ask.
"Because he's killing people, and it's our job to stop that," Sam explains.
"He's killing people?" I repeat in shock. My dad doesn't kill people. At least, I didn't think so. Well, this is an interesting twist.
"Yeah. He's the devil. He does that," Sam says as though it's obvious. I don't bother asking what the devil is. I have a feeling I don't want to know. "Come on, let's go back," Sam says, pushing me gently towards the building I ran from.
I walk back, but I don't want to. I want to find my dad, not kill him! I wish I could run, but I can't. Sam would catch up easily. Curse him and his long, moose-like legs.
"Hey, kid," Dean greets me in a seemingly better mood.
I don't respond. I don't want to be here anymore. I just want to go home.
"It's getting late," Sam observes. "Do you want to go to bed?"
I nod silently. I don't sleep, but that's not important right now. Anything to get away from these people. I walk down one of the hallways, finding an empty room seemingly ready for guests. I flop down on my back and stare up at the ceiling. I'm so bored! Oh well. It's better bored alone than with those three.
Lying down like this hurts my back from the slight curve of my spine with my head on the pillow. I roll onto my side, curling into a little ball. After a few minutes, I decide this isn't helping at all. I roll onto my stomach, hoping the slight arch of my back will counteract the pain caused by curling it too much.
Unfortunately, it isn't helping. If anything, my back is hurting more and more. As time goes by, it becomes unbearable. I bite my lip to keep from calling out, but I give up after just a moment. I cry out in pain, tears streaming down my face. Why does this hurt so much? What's happening to me?
Almost immediately, Castiel is at the door, followed quickly by a tired-looking Sam and Dean. Sam comes to my side quickly, kneeling next to my bed with clear worry in his eyes.
"Macie, what's wrong?" Sam asks.
I can't respond through the tears. Sam attempts to rub my back reassuringly, but the touch hurts more, and I scream louder as I hit his hand away.
"What's going on?" Sam asks frantically, his question directed at anyone who's an answer.
"What hurts?" Castiel asks, very little emotion in his voice. "Is it your back?"
I try to nod, but I don't know if it was visible. Castiel seems to see it anyway, and he continues talking.
"Does it feel like something it trying to poke way out of your back?"
Now that he mentions it, I guess I can feel that. I attempt to nod again.
"I believe you're growing wings," Castiel tells me.
"Make it stop!" I cry, though I don't know if it's audible through my sobs.
"I cannot," Castiel replies. "Just suffer through it."
"You want her to just suffer through this?" Sam asks incredulously.
"Yes."
"How long is this going to last?" Dean asks nervously.
"I don't know," Castiel replies. "I've never seen this before."
I tune them out, too involved in trying to deal with the pain to listen to their conversation. This goes on for what seems like years, but was likely less than an hour. Still, it's a long time, and the pain just keeps a getting worse until suddenly, it disappears completely.
I open my eyes, which I had squeezed shut some time ago. I sit up on the bed slowly, waiting for the sharp pain that never comes. I take a deep breath, and only now do I realize how cold I am. When did my shirt disappear? I don't mind, though. It was irritating my back so much; I'm glad it's gone. Now I'm cold, though.
I feel something soft around my body. When I look, I'm surprised to see that it's wings. Now just any wings, but my wings. They're a bright golden color, nothing like the angels' black ones. The surround me gently, keeping me warm in the cold air.
"Are you okay?" Dean asks. I hadn't noticed he was still here. Looking around, I see he's the only one that stayed. "Sam went back to bed," he adds, noticing me looking.
"Oh," is all I say.
"Are you okay?" he asks again.
I nod silently.
"Are you mad at me?" he asks.
I shrug. I don't know if I'm "mad" exactly, but I'm definitely not happy with him. I don't want to die, and it's clear he doesn't share my values.
"I'm sorry I said we should kill you," he adds.
I give him a small smile, but it's forced.
"Are you going to talk to me?"
I shrug again.
"Will you please talk to me?" he asks hopefully.
"Okay," I say quietly.
"Thank you."
I repeat my half smile.
"Are you still tired?"
I shake my head. "I don't sleep."
"I thought you went to bed because you were tired," be reminds me.
"I went to bed to be alone."
"Oh," Dean replies, sounding slightly disappointed. "Do you want me to leave, then?"
I nod.
"Okay," he replies. He walks out of my room, but not before I can see the sadness on his face when I tell him to.
I sigh and lie down on my stomach, burying my head into the pillow. I just want to go home. Is that too much to ask?