OMG I'm in Supernatural?

#20 where is she?

Not going to say I am sorry. I am going to say I am really, really so very sorry. Please forgive me. :) Enjoy. I wrote this on my phone. Any spelling and grammer I will say I am sorry now. They were never my strong pursuit.

Mackinley blinked, flinching at the harsh light. Where was she? Her head ached, the blinding type of headache. The one where all she wanted to do was lay in bed. Lay in bed forever.

She looked down, she wore nothing but a vest and knickers, her lean legs entwined in white sheets. How on earth had she gotten here? Where was Dean?

As if on cue Dean entered, he wore worn jeans that fit him in all the right places and a plain t-shirt that showed his long tanned arms. In those arms he held Molly, her blond hair in ringlets. The child was giggling. The most beautiful sound. What happened? She couldn't remember anything but a bathtub...her hand went up to her head. A long stitched cut on her forehead. That explained the pain.

"I fell," she murmured looking up at Dean. His emerald eyes were concerned. He nodded, his dark blond hair longer than she seemed to remember. Something felt off. She couldn't quite figure it out but her stomach was in knots.

"Mama," Molly leant forward, and Dean gently sat her on Mackinley's lap. She instantly started pulling on Mac's vest.

"Hey Molls," she felt at home with her daughter in her arms. The small child tugging at her hair now. Dean sat down by her feet, his handsome face creased with worry.

"How you feeling darlin'?" he was goregous. It never seized to amaze her every time she lay eyes on him.

She shook her head. She had the feeling of being in a daydream. Dean waved his hand in front of her face, trying to get Mac's attention.

"I'm fine Dean," she blinked again. The mixture of Molly climbing on her and pulling her hair, along with the stitches in her head was going to drive her insane. She shifted Molly so she was facing her father. Much better.

"Mac you fell down a flight of stairs,"

"What? I did?" she didn't remember a thing.

"What do you remember?" Dean took her hand and kissed it gently. It was comforting but strange. Dean had never done that before.

Mackinley blinked again. Something of a habit that morning.

"A bathtub. I was bathing Molly," she shrugged. Oh, that was a mistake. She cringed at the pain.

"It's a blank after that," she gasped, "oh god. Your parents. They were supposed to be here at five. And Sammy and his girlfriend. I've ruined it. Dammit, I made tomateo rice soup. Your ma showed me how to make it like she does."

"As sad as it is that your tomateo soup is slightly overcooked," Dean's face turned cautious, "you could have died. You were lying at the bottom of the stairs.Thank god Molly was in her crib."

Mackinley cringed at the tone. It was his worried/cold/I-want-to-clutch-you-close-and-never-let-go tone.

"I'm sorry," she looked down, her eyes resting on her blond baby. She was looking up at her daddy, her eyes bright green.

"Mac. If you had died...I would...I love you. I always have. You've been my sweetheart since I first saw you, standing in striped pink and white shorts. My god, you've only gotten hotter with age,"

"Twenty five Dean," she growled pouting. She was, of course, happy. She had Dean that was all that mattered. Dean and Molly.

The real Dean looked at the mess of the hallway and instantly ran ahead to the loud familiar sound of Molly crying. Her sobs heartbreaking. Sammy stayed in the hallway, his dark eyes assessing everything.

Molly that was all Dean could think of. Dean picked up his daughter, her cries never ceasing. She clutched to him. Her beautiful blond hair a mess and her face crumpled in what seemed to be almost pain.

"Molly. Molly. Molly," he chanted, holding his daughter as he rocked her back and forth. He tried, he really tried but he couldn't ignore the blood. The red blood that he'd ran over to get to Molly. The red blood that seeped into the living room. The familiar smell of brass and something else. Something darker. Magic. He realized.

"Molly, daddy is here," he whispered in his daughters ear, trying to figure out what to do next. What on earth was he to do? Where was Mackinley? What happened? The djinn probably.

"Dean!" Sammy called from the hallway.

Dean dreaded to see what came next. The blood was enough to make his stomach churn. Not because of the sight of blood made him sick. No, because there was more chance that it was Mackinkey's than the attackers.

Where is she? he thought.