The man in the black suit, Sam, he said his name was, led Christie outside and towards the parking lot. She saw a man with short brown hair facing away from her and Sam, leaning against an old Chevy Impala. He turned around after hearing the two walking towards him, looking at Christie with his dark green eyes, and opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again immediately.
“Christie,” Sam said turning to her, “This is Dean,”
“I, um, I,” Dean tried to talk but he couldn't form the words.
“So,” Christie said, turning to Sam, “My father?”
“Um, Dean is your father,” Sam said awkwardly.
Christie’s breath caught and she turned back to Dean.
“Hey, kiddo,” Dean said, managing a smile.
“You’re my dad?”
“Yeah,” he sighed.
“So where've you been?” Christie asked after a moment.
“The past seventeen years,” Christie said, letting her bag drop to her hand, “where've you been?”
“Listen kid, I didn’t even know you existed!” Dean said, crossing his arms, and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“Then why are you here?”
“Because you’re my kid!”
“You had seventeen years to come and find me,”
Christie turned on her heels and started to walk away but Sam grabbed her arm.
“Christie,” he said, turning her around, “you got to give him a chance,”
“You’re just a fed,” she said, shaking off his hand, “what do you care?”
“I’m not a fed,” Sam said, loosening his tie, “I’m your uncle,”
Christie looked from Sam to Dean with a confused look on her face.
“Okay what the hell is going on here? You told me you were with the FBI! You couldn’t have gotten me out of there unless you were a fed or a legal guardian!”
“It’s called a fake badge,” Sam said, pulling something from his jacket.
He showed Christie his badge and Christie looked from it to him and then took it from his hand and looked over it.
“How can anyone buy this? Your badge number is a number short and it literally says, right there, Fried Bacon Inspector!”
Dean chuckled behind Sam and Sam shot him a stern look.
“Most people aren’t that thorough," Dean laughed, "Wait, how do you know its a number short?”
“I’ve seen enough badges to know how it should look,”
“You been arrested, kid?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, Dad, I have, and let me tell you juvie isn't that different than this hell,” Christie said, gesturing to the school behind her.
“What the hell did you do to go to juvie?” Dean questioned Christie, lowering his arms and stepping towards her and Sam.
“I broke into a convenience store, whats the big deal?”
“Why?” Sam asked.
“Because! The home I was at barely fed the kids I was there with!” she said, almost shouting, dropping her bag on the ground, “I wasn’t going to let those bastards starve a couple of kids!”
“Wow,” Sam mumbled.
“You want to go get a burger?” Dean asked Christie after a moment of silence.
“What?” she sighed.
“Let’s go grab some grub,” Dean said, opening the driver seat to the Impala.
“Are you insane?”
“I’ll get one of those little cute place mats, you can color in a horsey, I’ll get you some desert if you color inside the lines,”
“Is he serious?” Christie asked, turning to Sam.
“Look, you can either come with us, your family, or you can go back to your foster home,” Sam offered.
Christie looked to the ground and thought over her options. Go with two guys who she has just met, claiming to be her father and uncle, or she could go back to the hell her evil foster mother rules over.
“You two have some serious explaining to do,” she said, pointing to Sam and Dean.
Christie handed Sam her bag, practically slamming it into his chest, and opened the squeaking back door of the Impala and got in with a deep sigh.
“This,” she said, breathing through her teeth, “is going to be interesting,”