Supernatural: Daughter Of Mine

Chapter 4: A Case

I woke to the sound of muffled voices and footsteps downstairs. I brushed my hair and tied it up into a high pony tail.

It wasn't until I properly looked in the mirror that I noticed how tired I looked.

My deep green eyes looked through my brown hair with ginger speckles throughout the locks. My worryingly pale skin contrasted with my black jeans, red tartan shirt, and dark brown lace ups.

I sighed and put on some face cream before tidying up the bedsheets and putting my Mum's journal back in my backpack.

Trudging down the stairs, I refused to look on the eyes of my Dad and Uncle. I hesitated awkwardly before perching on an armchair and getting out my phone.

"Sleep well? My Dad asked.
I nodded nervously before adding a quiet "Yeah thanks."
No.

After an hour of comfortable silence my Dad spoke up.
"Hey, get this," he began, turning to face me and me and Dean "a local pizza delivery man was found dead yesterday after a heated argument with his wife...according to his neighbour anyway."

"So what, some guy got his ass kicked by his wife, what's so supernatural about that?" Dean frowned.

I listened, locking my phone.

"Well that's just it, the wife supposedly died over a year ago, but as many as seven neighbours have reported seeing her."

I had put away my phone completely by now- intrigued.

"Well, I guess we'd better check it out." Dean nodded and they got up.
I followed their lead but not for long as they turned around and stared at me as though I was insane.

"Woah, not you." Dean laughed slightly. You death-stared him and he gulped back his laughter.
"Uh, sorry sweetie but I think you're better off at home." He lifted his hands up slightly as he spoke.

"I'm going, I need something to take my mind off...off everything." I declared, folding my arms over my chest.

"Alice, you're sixteen year's old and in a bad way, take the day off yeah?" My Dad smiled reassuringly but I wasn't buying it.

"No. I've hunted with my Mum since I was eleven years old. You leave me here and I'll do absolutely bugger all. I can help." I insisted and Dean put his hand up to silence my Dad before he could answer.

"I know," Dean began "if you can hit the target, you're in." He reached into his jacket pocket to get his gun but I pulled my own out first and loaded it.
"Where I am I aiming?" I roll my eyes.

Dean looked a little taken back but gestured for me to follow him none the less.
My Dad followed on behind.

We ended up in a sort of shooting room lined with firearms and targets. Dean pointed to a particular one and spoke:

"Shoot that accurately and-"

Before he could finished I'd shot the target three times near enough to bulls eye. I put the safety on and the gun back into the inside pocket of my jacket.

"Are we done?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Woah," Dean smirked "She's got my vote. Sammy?"

My Dad smiled slightly, I might even say he was proud, and then sighed. "Fine."

I smirked victoriously.

**** **** **** ****

"Well, I don't think many people will buy you being an FBI agent so you can go snooping around and researching." Dean piped up after a mostly silent car journey, he glanced at me through the rear view mirror.

"Cool." I smiled, nodding in agreement.

"Be careful." My Dad warned with a glance.
"I don't do careful." I explained.

"Well try to. Meet you at the Impala in one hour. Call if you need any help." My Dad spoke as we got out the car.

"Sure, one hour. Got it."

**** **** **** ****
I pulled my hair band out and tried to soften my look before knocking on a random door along the road of where it happened. It finally opened after quite a long time.
"Can I help you?" An old and frail man looked down at me, his hand shaking at his walking stick.
"Good morning sir, I'm writing an article for my school newspaper on the recent death of Mr Roe, would I be able to ask some questions?" I asked, smiling as sweetly as possible.

"Yes, that's fine." He nodded.

Bingo

"Did you notice anything different about Mr Roe any time near his death?"

"No, but then I suppose he was never one hundred percent."

"What do you mean by that?" I pushed, leaning in.

"Well, his wife and him always used to have disputes on who took care of the children, they had divorced. But, she died last year some time, bless her soul." He shook his head sadly.

"I see, and where do the children live now?"

"The local orphanage I think. They used to see their dad but didn't live with him."

"A lot of neighbours have said they saw the wife, back from the dead. Did you see her?"

"I don't I know what I saw, she was too far away and my eyes aren't the best nowadays."

"Well thank you Sir you've been very helpful." I smiled again and took a step back to leave.

"Good luck with the article."

"Thank you!"

After an hour of questioning the neighbours as I was leant up against the Impala searching for the local orphanage address on my phone.
"Typical teenager." Dean tutted followed by my Dad chuckling.
"Research actually, but thanks for the stereotypes." I smirked and he squinted, almost taken back by my commentary.

"Find anything?" I ask, putting my phone away.

"Nothing helpful, no sulfer, no wierd sightings. Only what we already knew." Sam and Dean looked stumped.

"You?" My Dad asked.

"Quite a lot actually. Most of the neighbours spoke about seeing the wife, and one mentioned kids. Apparently they weren't Husband and Wife, they were divorced. The would argue over who looked after the kids and she stormed off in a rage. Half an hour later she dies in a car accident," I pause for breath and reach for my phone "The kids? At Wittard's Orphanage." I show them the website and they stare at it for a moment, taking in everything I'd said.

Dean settled with a "Wow," before adding "She's good, definitely yours Sammy."

"How did you get all this?" My Dad asked, not hiding the fact he was impressed in the slightest.

"I said I was writing for a school newspaper and put on some puppy dog eyes." I shrugged.

"Brilliant." He grinned.