Frankly

OH MAH GAWD. Two updates back to back? Yes. You can thank my on-coming cold for depriving me of any sleep.

**Didn't I just tell you guys I don't own Supernatural? Honestly, if you haven't gotten it by now, you might want to just give up.**

Frankie opened her eyes once more in annoyance.

The moment she was found by members of the search party, an ambulance was called and she was rushed to the hospital at the insistence of every human being in the immediate area.

The only thing Frankie was rushed to was a triage line. She was sitting back on the stretcher the Paramedics wouldn't let her off of, enjoying her view of the walls surrounding her. They had to push the mobile bed out of the way of the other waiting ambulance crews with more seriously injured patients, and she would've been fine with that had the man on the stretcher beside her stopped screaming. Or vomiting.

Frankie held her arm awkwardly and tried to ignore the obviously drunk concussion victim beside her. The cops and her brothers would make their appearance soon, she knew, but the dread she felt did nothing to comfort her into sleep.

"How you doing, Sweetie?" The lady Paramedic asked, her expression showed the sympathy her partner obviously lacked. Frankie respected the woman already, having been the one to actually establish her IV when her partner failed miserably. The partner whom was currently paying more attention to his iPhone then his surroundings.

A deep breath was shakily inhaled, "Have you ever been too tired to sleep? I'm okay, though, I think. Hey, thanks for letting me borrow your phone, I appreciate it." Frankie was hardly ever anything more than just civil with anymore save for family (to whom she was normally sarcastic and ill mannered), but this woman was an exception to that rule.

Frankie regarded her openly once she accepted her wave of dismissal. She was pretty in the way that didn't immediately hit you. The woman wore the typical uniform, the blue military pants and a blue collared shirt that typically hid any and all curves of the feminine nature with the tick material and pants that came up to just under the belly button. Even with the attempt at disguising her figure to seem professional, the woman was noticeably quite tall, about six feet if she had to guess, and had the curves that came from having a little extra weight on her frame.

Her blonde hair was pulled up into a French braid that, caught under the Florescent light, was quite bright. She had long since removed her blue gloves, revealing nails that obviously involved themselves in some heavy nail-biting.

The line to the triage desk had moved up three spaces yet, the partner of the pretty Paramedic had not noticed, still typing on his smart phone. He was so preoccupied that he failed to notice that when he shifted his weight to his other hip in a quick, jerking movement he launched the stretcher forward into the plaster column at the front of my uncomfortable bed.

Frankie later found out that the floor where she had just rolled into was uneven, sloped so that water or blood might go down a near by drain when spilled, which caused the wheels of her chariot to gain speed as it sailed over towards a Crash Cart. The foot portion of her stretcher hit the cart hard enough to cause the stretcher to fall over to the right when Frankie's startled body flung to that side, jarred by the hit of the cart.

Frankie remembered moving her arms to cover her head and nothing else for a while afterwards.

Being drug towards consciousness was the last thing the injured girl wanted at that moment, thoroughly disturbed that she found her neck immobilized and her back on a hard, terribly straight surface. Her eyes twitched in her exhaustion for a few seconds, moving her neck but an incredibly small fracture of a centimeter within its confines before she managed to squint open her eyes for a few heart beats at a time.

Somewhere in her spectrum of awareness, she could hear a beeping very close to her head that was entirely too loud and quick for her liking. At that time, she realized she could still mover her arms, though the right one was sore above the elbow and probably bruised, quickly utilizing them to swing at any immediate surfaces in hopes of shutting the offending object off.

A groan finally escaped her lips in frustration. Her head was pounding in a way that her injured brain quickly assumed came from some form of alcoholic beverage from the deepest circles of hell.

Giving up, the girl settled her hands on her to the surface of her soft stomach, giving up the quest for destroying the object in favor of asking for help. "Hello? Anyone?"

A nurse finally appeared in her line of sight, her long red hair falling off her shoulders as she leaned over to speak to the patient currently secured to the long spine board. "Hello, my name is Natalie. Do you know your name?"

The brown haired woman in the C-Collar looked up at the nurse like she'd just asked her the number for 911. "Of course, I do. My name is..." Her heart beat faster and the beeping increased as well, another noise accompanying it as if to alert a person of something dangerous. "Frankie. Yeah, that's right. Winchester."

Trying to wiggle out of her confines as best as possible, Frankie's ever increasing heart rate climbed higher as panic shot through her system. "Wha-what happened? Why am..." The darkness claimed Frankie's consciousness again, allowing the girl to ignore the raising voice of the nurse or even that she was there at all.

Being drug towards consciousness was the last thing the injured girl wanted at that moment, thoroughly disturbed that she found her neck immobilized and her back on a hard, terribly straight surface. Her eyes twitched in her exhaustion for a few seconds, moving her neck but an incredibly small fracture of a centimeter within its confines before she managed to squint open her eyes for a few heart beats at a time.

Somewhere in her spectrum of awareness, she could hear a beeping very close to her head that was entirely too loud and quick for her liking. At that time, she realized she could still mover her arms, though the right one was sore above the elbow and probably bruised, quickly utilizing them to swing at any immediate surfaces in hopes of shutting the offending object off.

"Frankie? Ms. Winchester?" A voice called from the left of her form. A red haired nurse hovered over her, a look of concern furrowing her carefully shaped eye brows as she walked beside the bed that held Frankie and rolled quickly down a long hallway. "Ms. Winchester, my name is Natalie. You're suffering from a build up of fluid on your brain and will most likely lose consciousness here again soon but please know that you're going to be in surgery soon and the Neurosurgeon here at St. Dominic's will be taking very good care of you, okay?"

Panic shot through the girl's veins as she struggled to free herself from the straps holding her down to the uncomfortable board. "No. I-what? No, no! Get me out of-you have to let me go. I can't..."

The blackness edged at Frankie's unwilling mind, even though she struggle to stray in the light of the present. "Please, I want to stay..." The wheels of the bed she lay on roughly passed over the lip of the elevator door and pain shot through her cranium, seizing momentary power over the teenage girl's mind.

"Awake." The white dots that exploded in her vision from the pain of the bump were soon swallowed by the darkness that quickly closed everything else out.

Dean could only describe the expression on his sister's strong facial features as that of the utter displeasure one mastered when their last name was Winchester. He knew his sister had a resting "bitch face", but this one was angrier than usual.

If she wasn't in so much pain, he might have laughed at the fact that she was making it, even in her sleep. The hysterical laughter bubbled almost to the surface, forcing past the defenses that his exhaustion struck down. The blue under his eyes was deepening in color by the hour.

The ache in his chest tightened with each breath, the pain out weighing the hysterics that quickly dispersed as his frown pulled his lips further down. His sister was hurt.

Hurt because of their last name and the connection she shared to her hunter brothers. How did the creature find her? He was sure the answer would be one he didn't like. The fact that their shared blood pumped just as equally through her blood was his only hesitation in leaving for her safety.

Frankie was his little sister, innocent despite her chronic Bitch Face. The girl was just as snarky as he at times, but more than quick to help anything she deemed in need. She was impatient, it was true, but she never seemed to show that quality when she would bring home an injured animal. No matter how ugly or mean it was.

Why was it at times like this that he focused on the good of a person? His eyes closed and his face crumbled in distress before his hands came up to cover his features, sweeping downward, seemingly erasing the expression from the canvas that was his face.

Sam stepped into the room timidly, his fist still resting on the wood of the door from his quiet knocking. He appeared to be more comfortable around his sister when she was unconscious but not by much. The tall man was covered in sweat, his eyes heavily dropping downward. Eyes that quickly scanned Frankie's mother, slumped in her seated position which couldn't have been comfortable to sleep in.

Not to say that he thought Frankie looked comfortable in any way. In fact, she looked downright surly. It was one he often saw on Dean's face, making their features look even more alike. His siblings shared the same defined jaw-line and hard features, though Frankie's face was clearly heart shaped. If you looked close, you'd see that their lips were even the same pink and eyes the same striking green.

He hoped she would open those eyes soon, so that he could see the smart-ass shine in her eyes that very much matched his older brother's, as well. The cut above her right eye just under the brow had ceased to swell, choosing instead look red and jagged. It was offset only by the sweat her face had been covered in all morning, making her normally tan face seem unnaturally pale.

To say the Winchesters in general were in good shape would be an outright lie.

Frankie twitched her nose once more, her neck finally free to move from side to side. A groan escaped her chapped lips, burning her dry throat with an intensity of the hottest fire. "Son of bitch," the words were accented by the feet that came up to kick off the heavy sheets from her form.

"Frankie?" The voice of her mother appeared, causing the girl to finally open her eyes in concern and equal irritation. "Frankie, what's wrong? What do you need?"

The girl jerked the stickers on her chest off, her legs moving so that her knees were in the air and her feet rested close to her butt. "I feel like I got hit by a fucking truck!" Frankie continued to yank away anything that dared touch her. "A truck that was on fire, God it's hot in here."

She normally would've registered the fact that she was getting nearly naked in front of anyone that looked but she couldn't find it in herself to care about trivial matters at that moment. The pounding in her head drowned out any noise that might have come from the other inhabitants of the room.

Her hands came up to the top of her head to gently feel the hair that she thanked her God was still there, confusion only solved by the fact that there was a bandage resting just under the crown of her skull, tightly secured amidst all her hair.

"Aye, Princess," Dean's voice finally broke through her fog of thoughts. "Stop your tantrum, your hair's all there." Frankie's eyes opened as she sat up, her face turning towards her eldest brother so that she could assess his tired features.

She noticed first that the smirk on his lips was forced and that the deep blue bruising under her eyes made him look like a raccoon. Even still, he was there and by her side. She felt like a small child as the single tear ran down her face but let it none-the-less.

Her brother was with her and she finally felt safe in the way that only Dean made her feel. He was her favorite person in the world, though she would never let him know that. The message that the Creature had left with her suddenly came to the forefront of her mind.

Never before had she felt conviction like what she felt at that moment. Her chest filled with stubborn pride that caused her ribs to scream obscenities at her, but she didn't care. That thing, that man...he was wrong. If anyone could fight this so called "fate" it was her oldest brother. He was her Superman, her invincible hunter brother.

The tears flowed more freely as she reached her arms out towards him, needing to feel his protection close to her. He promptly answered, his embrace honestly tighter than it need to be as he rested his head on hers, knowing that she could probably hear his pounding heart and her eyes stained his shirt with tears.

"Dean," Francesca whispered hoarsely. "The thing that took me...it said to tell you and Sam to play your roles but you can't. You just can't. You've got to fight. If you let those Son's of Bitches win, I'll...I don't know what I'll do because there will be nothing left. Of this planet or of any good left in the world."

His heart pounded faster than ever before, his emotions something of a wreck. "You have to fight."

Erherm, well. That was emotional.

Enough of that heavy stuff, let's get on to thanking my awesome reviewer's!

Suz Singer: My sister, I'm glad to be back. Thank you for your review. I sometimes feel like I only put this much effort into writing because I seek your approval. As odd as that sounds. Have a great day and I hoped you enjoyed this new piece.

Eva Sirico: YAY! And, you're right, it has been a long time. Thank you for your review and I hope this new chapter was up fast enough for your liking. Have a wonderful day and don't forget to continue being awesome, since it obviously comes so easy to you!

Everyone have a great weekend and try to remember to take a deep breath during the week. Don't let anything stress you out, because it's not worth it.

MUCH LOVE,

Emme.