Liz has been rescued by the Winchesters after her home use invaded by demons, never wanting to be a burden, she wants to decline their hospitality after she has lost her family. Thing is, Dean won't take no for an answer, and as feelings from both o...
A/N: So this chapter is more about some of Lizzy's past before the whole "Demon Parents" thing happened. This is probably going to have the most ASL out of the past chapters given the whole flash back feature, once again all ASL is underlined. As before, this chapter is from Lizzy's point of view. That is all, read on!
After I unlock the door to the house, Dean and I walk into the foyer. The room a disaster-area. The cute couch that sits a in front of the wall, has tears in the back cushions, and the white throw pillow has been tossed at the door where Dean unintentionally kicks it. The light bulbs on the overhead fan have been smashed, the glass remains scattered on the wooden floors. The doors to Dad's office on my left have been attacked. The stained glass is cracked, and the wooden lining is fractured with splinters sticking out in various places.
"Hey there Liz-wiz! You wanna see something I got for you this week?" My father picks me up. "Whoa, you're getting heavy! Soon I won't be able to keep picking you up, or I'll brake my back." Six-year-old me giggles in my father's arms.
"What do you have in your office Daddy?" I ask.
"It's something real special, only big girls can have it. Are you a big girl?" He purses his lips and makes a cheesy, serious face. I look into his blue eyes that sparkle with trouble.
"Yeah! I'm the biggest girl in the world!" I throw my arms up to make my point made.
"Well then, let's go see what I have in the office, huh?" He puts me down and I run to the office doors. I wait for him to follow me. He twist the fancy knob and pushes out the door open. His desk sits by the bay window that faces the garden in the side yard.
I tap the door and it slowly opens, the hinges squeal from the action. I step into the room, the huge rug that covers the majority of the room is scrunched up to the desk, the bookcase is covered in a red liquid that I hope isn't blood, but what else could it be? The top drawer on Dad's mahogany desk has been ripped out and is resting a few few away from the door, almost like it had been thrown at the door or wall and landed there as a result.
I turn around to look at the wall with all of the family pictures. All of the frames are either broken, missing or have fallen on the floor. I see the picture of my parents wedding, when "I wasn't even a thought" as Mom would say. Her dress is cut off at the knees and waterfalls down around her ankles into a small train, as she clings onto my father with a smile lighting up her face. Her red hair is half up with help from bobby pins with pearl tips, and the rose colored curls tumble to her elbows. Dad is in a tux with a baby blue tie, a color that would become my favorite merely because of where I first saw it. His blonde hair is spiked in the front, while his right arm wraps around my mother's waist. He left hand rests with her right hand.
I step forward to grab the picture off the wall, thinking it would be nice to have as a memory, when I feel my foot crack a piece of glass. I look down at the glass, and see my sixteenth birthday picture. I remember the day it was taken. It was a week after my birthday, my mother dragged me out of the house into the backyard claiming that something was wrong with the lawn mower and she knew I could fix it. When we got outside, my father was waiting with a slip of paper in his hand. Tickets to a Gun'n'Roses concert that was in town the next week. I smile as I pick it up, deciding to take that as with me as well. Turning around I look back at the desk, I walk to the swirly chair and sit down carefully.
"What is it Daddy? What is it?" I jump up and down in front of him. Dad sits in his chair and pulls a small, blue, velvet, box out from the middle drawer of his desk. He faces me again and hands me the box.
"You have to open it." He tells me. I start to open the box. "But first, are you sure you can handle the responsibility of taking care of it?" I pause and look up at him. I nod slowly.
"I can take care of anything, right? Maybe not my first fish, but there's no way a fish got in the box" I laugh at him.
"Then go ahead and open it, Liz-wiz." He nods back. I lift the lid up on it's hinges. A medium necklace is revealed. Two angel wings that cross and make a heart.
"I'll take care of it forever." I hug him. "Thank you Daddy."
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The words echo thru the room as I look out the window.
I'll take care of it forever.
"Liz! What are you doing?" Dean snaps me out of my trance.
"The garden was his favorite." I whisper to myself.
"What?" His eyebrows knead together. I walk up to him and shake my head.
"Nothing, let's just grab stuff and go." I try not to cry. Grasping my angel wing necklace, I walk out of the office and go to the rush to the tan, carpet stairs. Dean follows without a moment of hesitation. I run into my room which is just to the right of the stairs.
"It's mine?" I ask my mom in amazement.
"Yes." She confirms. I run into my new room. No more sleeping the the basement, no matter how nice it was to have the basement to myself, I always wanted my room to be upstairs so I could sleepily walk down like people in movies.
"Does it make my crazy, because I'm so excited?" I ask her. She shakes her head no. Only the thirteen-year-old that I was could be so happy about something like my room changing.
I stand in the middle of my room. The bed is torn open, fluff and springs showing. My dresser has been opened, drawers hang out with clothing hanging half in, half outside of the wood. "Am I crazy?" I sign to stuffed animals. There have always been stuffed animals in my room. Growing up with weird colored things in my ears made it hard to make friends, and even when I made a friend, they wouldn't stay long after they thought I was ignoring them when I couldn't hear them. The stuffed animals were my friends, they never left me, always agreed with me, and they always smiled even on my hardest days. My little pink rabbit, Sling, that usually sat on my bed, is now on the floor a few feet away from my closet. I pick him up and hold him close with the picture frames.
"Are you okay?" Dean startles me. I turn and face him, I feel tears drying on my cheeks.
