Sara Jones lived a relatively unassuming life after her father, Gary Jones passed away in a hunting accident. She had been raised into the life, but her father's dying wish was for her to get out. Both Sara and her father did their best to protect her little brother, Joey, from anything regarding the life. He had been six at the time of their father's death, and Sara was left at seventeen to raise him.
She traveled between houses, friends of her fathers, fellow hunters that respected Gary. This is where she met Sam and Dean Winchester, at the young age of seven. She was just a tiny bit younger than Sam, Dean seeming to tower over them in his 'older brother' energy. Many times, John would pick up Sara and Joey and drive the four kids to Bobby's. There, they shared countless happy memories of watching the stars, causing trouble for the older man, playing among the cars.
The night her father died, she called John frantically, him being the first one she thought of.
"Sara?" His voice sent a wave of relief over her, feeling that he would save her and her father.
"John," she wheezed, having run upstairs to hide Joey and fetch weapons from under her bed. "There's something here. I think it's a skinwalker. But it's really, really strong, John."
"Okay, okay, slow down," John said urgently. "Where's your dad?" Her eyes scanned the room, searching for a way to tell him that she left his best friend alone with the skinwalker for a brief moment.
"I just went upstairs to hide Joey, and grab my gun." She expected to hear exasperation on the other end of the phone, but she was sure she heard relief.
"Good. Stay upstairs. Protect Joey, we're not far."
"No, John. I'm going back down to help. You don't understand how strong that thing was, my dad can't handle it on his own."
"I don't care, Sara. That's why I'm coming. You stay upstairs where it's--"
"I'm sorry, John," she said, looking regretfully down at her phone before she hung it up.
John pounded the steering wheel with a soft, 'damn it,' and floored the gas. Sam and Dean looked between each other with concerned eyes, knowing that it was something to do with their best friend but unsure what exactly it was.
Back at her house, Sara walked quietly down the carpeted stairs with her bare feet, having cocked her gun before she left her bedroom.
She had to hold back a scream at what she beheld when she cleared the opening of the stairway. Her father was lying on the ground, the skinwalker backing away with a smile on its face. Sara crept ever so slowly to the thing, reassuring herself quietly that her father would wake up and be just fine. Ignoring the blood that poured from a bite wound on his neck. How his eyes stayed open, glazed over.
Ever so slowly, she lifted the gun to point at the skinwalker's chest. To her dismay, one of her father's rounds was on the floor and she kicked it, having kept her eyes trained on the monster. The thing turned, bearing its teeth and lunging forward. Its long claws tore gashes running from her face, down her neck and onto her chest. She gasped, falling to the floor. She didn't know how she managed it, but she still had a hold of her gun and fired three shots straight into the thing's heart. It flopped over, and she barely had enough time to shove her feet into it and push it to the side.
She barely noticed the blood dripping down her face and neck as she crawled to her father. For whatever reason, tears didn't come to her. However, there was a terrible ache in her heart as she thought of Joey, who already knew no mother but would have to grow up without a father as well. She whispered to her dad, planting a hand on his shoulder as if this would wake him. There was no pulse, no breathing.
Sara sat back on her heels, looking at the ceiling and wondering what she could possibly do next. Just then, her father stirred. Her head jerked to look down at him, hope sparking in her chest. When he opened his eyes, though, they were an unnatural color. He almost seemed to look through her, seeing only the body that contained her.
He was slow, only just having been turned. He stood, towering over his daughter menacingly.
"Dad," she whispered, tears finally stinging her eyes. She was standing now as well, holding the gun slightly aloft. Her father stepped shakily toward Sara, eyes containing nothing but hunger. None of his humanity remained, and she was confused by this for a moment. In her experiences, skinwalkers could still speak and fake being at least some sort of human.
She shook the thought from her head as her dad got closer and closer. She backed up with every step he took, and soon enough hit the wall behind her. Tears streamed down her face now, the ache in her chest almost crippling.
It all happened at once. Her father lunged at her, as if in slow motion. She heard the door open to her left and she squeezed the trigger of her gun. The bullet went right where she intended; into her father's heart. He dropped, the thud sickening to Sara. She looked over to the door where John stood, frozen on the spot. Sara began to shake then, dropping her gun and losing all strength in her legs. John ran to her, but she told him to go get Joey first. He obliged, only after peeking his head out the door and yelling for Dean. The freshly twenty-one year old jogged his way through the door, coming to an abrupt halt when he entered and looked at the scene before him.
His eyes scanned from his father's best friend, a man who was like an uncle to him, to the original skinwalker, to Sara. She was covered in blood, the stuff running into her left eye and dripping down to her chest. She didn't seem to notice, though, simply looking at her dead father with dark eyes. She had stopped crying, and when asked later why she had barely cried, she said it was for Joey's sake.
The adrenaline that was previously pumping through her veins was gone, leaving her body leaden and aching. Dean approached her cautiously, putting a hand on her good shoulder when he reached her. It took her a moment, but she eventually looked up at Dean helplessly. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, but couldn't think of anything he could possibly say. He put his arm around her and she leaned into him, breathing deeply of his smell and closing her eyes.
Soon enough, John came down with Joey holding his hand. Hearing the footsteps, Sara got to her feet. Dean looked at her critically, knowing that her world was probably thrown into a spin from the blood loss. Regardless, she walked over to Joey, picking him up on her good side and distracting him as they walked out the door. Joey reached toward her wounds, looking upset. She told him not to worry, that everything was gonna be just fine and that she would make sure of it. He nodded his head and hugged gently around her neck, making sure to avoid the injury. She made eye contact with an almost-eighteen year old Sam, and his eyes widened as he rushed forward to take Joey. The girl was wobbling horribly at this point, but wouldn't admit that herself.
"Hey Joey, you wanna come sit in the front with me and John?" Joey grinned at Sam and nodded his head enthusiastically. The two boys climbed in the front, Joey in the middle and Sam with a protective arm around the back of his seat. Dean stuck closely to Sara as she watched with a vague smile while the boys had their little exchange. She swayed alarmingly after Sam and Joey were out of eyesight, and Dean rushed forward to put an arm around her waist. He led her to the car, walking around to the other side and allowing her to put her head on his lap.
John soon got back to the Impala, shutting it quietly and looking back to Sara with a saddened expression on his face. He ruffled Joey's hair before turning the car on and putting it in gear.
Meanwhile, Dean looked down at Sara, brushing clumps of bloody hair out of her eyes. She smiled weakly up at him, listening to the hum of the engine and Dean's breathing. She could feel herself fading fast, and felt the need to prepare her brother.
"JJ, I think I might need to take a nap, okay? Don't be scared, John and Dean and Sammy are gonna take really good care of you, okay?"
Joey looked back at his sister, obvious fear in his eyes, but he trusted his sister more than anything.
Her eyes found Dean's again, looking brighter with determination. "I'm going, Dean, I can't help it. But I need you to take care of JJ while I'm out. Please," her voice came in a hoarse whisper. Dean's eyes searched hers, again at a loss for what to say to her.
"I will, Sara. You know I will. Just try, please? Try to stay awake." She flashed him another weak smile, opening her eyes a little bit wider. She fought it almost all the way back to the motel, but in the end, passed out. Dean was stroking her hair ever so gently, eyes going from her to the window beside him. His breath caught when he noticed that she had passed out, but tried to steady himself for Joey's sake.
The impala pulled into the parking lot of the motel, and John ran inside to get a second room for Sara and Joey. Joey went in with him, holding the man's big hand. Sam turned in his seat to see Sara out cold, his eyes filling with worry and looking at Dean.
"What the hell happened in there?" Sam's voice was tiny, almost as if he were scared to ask.
"Skinwalker, I think. It bit her dad and turned him," he paused, turning his head away from Sam. "She had to gank him."
If possible, Sam's face grew even whiter and his eyes became even sadder. He looked down at Sara, who's brows were furrowed in what could either be pain, or despair from the last hour.
John and Joey came out of the lobby's door, John giving the boys a thumbs up and pointing to the door right next to theirs. John walked Joey into the door of the new room, giving the boys a signal to hurry it up.
Sam came around to open Dean's door as Dean gathered Sara into his arms. Sam looked around to make sure there were no bystanders, and stepped out of the way when he was sure the coast was clear. Dean clutched Sara close to his chest, and she was tiny in his arms. The girl stopped growing at a meager five feet, one inch, and had the athletic look her whole life.
Sam walked in front of the two, looking back every couple of seconds. He shoved the key into their door, holding it for Dean and Sara to get through. Dean peeled her blood-sodden jacket off, taking the towels that Sam handed him gratefully and placing them on the bed before he laid her down.
The boys went about gathering supplies to clean the wounds, Sam grabbing the first aid kit from the car and Dean grabbing more towels and cups of water from the bathroom. Dean studied the wound, feeling a blush on his face when he saw that one of the gashes sliced down to her chest. Lucky for him, it wasn't all that far down her chest. The deepest one went from the base of her neck, down to her shoulder blade. The one on her face was also on the deep side, going from the very left side of her forehead down past her eye and over her nose; and Dean found himself worried that she would lose vision in her eye. While he waited on the first aid kit, Dean began to dab the towel in warm water and mop up some of the blood.
Sara heard Dean as he talked to himself through the process of cleaning her wounds. After a couple of seconds, she slowly opened her eyes. Dean looked down at her with wide eyes, apparently not expecting her to be awake so soon. She grinned at him cheekily, wincing as the wound on her face started bleeding again.
"Dammit, Sara," he teased, pressing a fresh towel to her face. The grin slowly faded from her face as memories of her night flooded back to her. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, shocking Dean and Sam, who had just walked into the door.
"Where's Joey?" She asked, voice gravelly.
Sam had dropped the first aid kit on the ground when he ran forward to hug Sara. He had always been the sweetest of the brothers. Sure, Dean was sweet in a lot of ways, but was much less likely to show it. Sam squeezed the small girl, who groaned lightly. He pulled back quickly with a horrified and apologetic look on his face.
"Oh, god, I'm so--"
Sara laughed, for the first time that night. "It's okay, Sammy. Really."
"Joey's in the room next door with Dad, he's okay. I think they're watching a movie." Dean spoke up, answering the question he knew was eating away at Sara. She smiled at him, giving a small nod. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, making a move to stand.
"Woah, woah, woah," Dean began, putting a hand on her right shoulder. "No offense, Sar, but you look like hell. Maybe we should get you cleaned up and in some better clothes before you see your brother again?" He grimaced, expecting Sara to rip him a new one. She didn't, though, only relaxed on the bed looking slightly disappointed.
Sam sat on the bed across from Sara while Dean got to work, soaking the towel in warm water and dabbing away at the blood. It was painful work, and Sara was grateful that Sam was there distracting her. Once all the wounds were done bleeding and had been mopped up, Dean got out an antiseptic spray and eyed Sara apologetically.
"This is gonna sting," he said quietly, waiting for her to nod until he began.
"I can take it," she muttered, eyes fixed on Sam. The first cut that he doused in the spray wasn't so bad, but when he got to the deep one on her shoulder she squeezed her eyes shut. Sam took hold of her hand, and watched as blood began to seep from the wound over her eye again.
"Sorry," Dean murmured, trying to be as quick as he could so he could bandage her up and be done.
"It's okay," her voice was slightly strained, but both boys were impressed with how well she was taking the pain. God only knew how many less severe injuries they'd both had where they'd squirmed away from this same spray.
Dean sighed when he saw that the wound over her eye had opened again, but figured it was inevitable. He sprayed the wound as carefully as he could, instructing Sara not to open her eye. She did as she was told, and next he began bandaging the wounds. He apologized more times than any of them could count when he asked Sara to pull her arm out of the sleeve of her shirt so he could secure a bandage around her chest, but she only chuckled and reassured him that it was okay.
Soon enough, they were finished and Dean was left to rummage around for clothes that would fit her. He ended up deciding on one of his Led Zeppelin t-shirts and a pair of Sam's shorts.
"It's a good thing you're skinny, Sammy," Dean said, tossing the change of clothing on the bed in front of Sara. "Although, I'm pretty sure these are still gonna be too big for you, stringbean."
Sara rolled her eyes, taking the clothes and walking to the bathroom. Both boys were a bit alarmed at how quickly she stood, but she seemed to be fine.
She was in the bathroom for awhile, so long in fact that Dean knocked on the door and asked if she was okay.
"I'm good," she said, wiping tears from her eyes. She didn't want anyone to see her crying, for whatever reason. She ran her hands under cold water and pressed them under her good eye and fanned her face to get rid of the redness. She took a couple of deep breaths before she turned the doorknob with shaking hands and walked to the main room. Dean was standing right outside the door, leaning against the wall behind him.
"You okay?" He looked Sara up and down, frowning at her bare feet and the bruises littering her legs. She nodded, walking back to the bed where she sat, giving Sammy a smile.
"The shorts fit?" Sam asked, shock clear in his voice. Sara sighed, shaking her head and lifting her shirt to show the drawstring of the shorts pulled as tightly as it could go. Both boys held back laughs at this, having made fun of her for her size as long as they'd known each other.
The three shared a few minutes of conversation before Sara finally got up.
"Where are you going," Dean asked, standing with her.
"To go see my brother," she replied, the end coming out like a question. There was no reason not to at this point, and she walked straight out the door. She wouldn't have bothered to knock, but the door was locked. It took a moment for John to open, only opening a crack to see who it was.
"Sara--" He sounded relieved to see her up and around, but she didn't much care.
"Sara!" Her little brother's voice was music to her ears, and she couldn't help but imagine what would've happened if he didn't survive. The boy sprung into her arms, wrapping his around her neck. She did her best not to wince, instead allowing him time to pull back from the hug.
"Hey, buddy. Were you and Uncle John watching a movie?"
"Yeah, we were watching Terminator!" He mimicked gunshots with his voice and laughed evilly, earning a glare to John from Sara.
"He liked it," John said defensively.
"He's six!" She exasperatedly sat down on the bed with her brother sitting on her lap and running her hands through his hair. She subconsciously checked him for any injuries, probing him to see how he was feeling.
A cartoon soon turned on on the television, and Sara laid down with Joey, her arm wrapped around him protectively. They fell asleep like that, earning a smile from John. Ever so quietly, he went to the boys' room and told them that one of them should stay in the room with Sara. Dean obliged, smiling softly when he saw how Sara and her brother were sleeping. He grabbed an extra blanket from his bed and threw it over the two. Sara was still horribly pale, her lips almost as white as her skin. Despite this, she looked content sleeping next to her brother; the one piece left of her broken family.