𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐱 𝐎𝐂
❝ Good is not a thing you are... it's a thing you do ❞
Ramona Bradbury was forever living on borrowed time. After finding herself on Bobby Singer's doorstep, a girl plagued by a darkness that festered inside her strives t...
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Pʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ: Tʜᴇ Gɪʀʟ Wʜᴏ Cʜᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ Dᴇᴀᴛʜ
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Ramona would always remember the day it all started. The day that the sleek black impala rolled into the streets of the small town. The town was identical to the setting of virtually all of Sam and Dean Winchester's typical hunts: plain, unsuspecting and filled with innocent people living their normal, apple-pie lives.
"I'm telling you, man, this was a waste of time," Dean complained, furiously loosening his tie as he and Sam exited the local police station.
Sam sighed as they climbed back into the car.
"Totally," he agreed, "But we've gotta be missing something. Crowley wouldn't have sent us for nothing."
Dean rolled his eyes, slamming the driver's side door.
"Yeah, I'm not so sure," he grumbled before taking a deep breath and gathering his bearings, "Alright, so what do we know?"
Sam pulled out the files they'd gotten from the station and flipped through them.
"Two of Crowley's henchmen were possessing a married couple that were found dead in their home about two days ago. Their bodies were, quote, reduced to nothing but charred skeletons and ash," Sam recounted.
Dean whistled lowly, peering at the photos of the crime scene in the file.
"Got it," he remembered, "Does it say anything else?"
Sam hummed as he swiftly skimmed through the files, eyes stopping on a particular page. He let out a short, breathy laugh, wondering how they'd missed this.
"Get this: the couple were foster parents. Their foster kid, a... 13-year old Ramona Bradbury, has been missing since they found the bodies," Sam informed.
"So what're you thinking? Kid saw what happened, got scared and ran...?" Dean suggested.
Sam nodded, mulling it over.
"Could be. Or she could've been killed too? Or kidnapped?" Sam added, "Either way, we should probably look into it."
"Lunch first," Dean stated, "Man, I'm starving."
They had lunch at a quaint local diner where the food tasted just the same as it did in almost every other small town they'd visited and, like every other small town they'd visited, the diner — although slightly empty — was filled with people that knew everything about the business of everyone else in the town.
"Why? What trouble has that little delinquent gone and gotten herself into, now?" The frail old lady that owned the place demanded, approaching the brothers' table when they'd asked their waitress about the missing girl.
