･ﾟ☆ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨/𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞:
" 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 "

   FRANCESCA CLARKE WAS A force to be reckoned with.

   Even at five years old she was always the last of her siblings to fall asleep, for the sole purpose of checking on her family before bed.

   First she would toddle into the room next to hers, where her two older brothers slept. Manny, the oldest, slept on the left side of the room while Chris, the second oldest slept on the right. You could see a clear divide in the room as Manny had always kept his side tidy and Chris had toys scattered around his bed.

   She shuffled a few feet inside the room, just enough to where she could make sure that the line of salt on their windowsill was intact. Then she quietly left, leaving the door open an inch before moving on.

   Across the hall was her parents room. David and Angela Clarke were peacefully asleep when their daughter peaked her head in the slightly open door, a loaded pistol under each of their pillows and two more under the bed on each side. Their window was also lined with salt.

   Unfortunately for Frankie, as her family affectionately called her, her shoulder accidentally nudged the door and caused it to creak as it opened up slightly. The little girl froze, whispering a quiet, "Oopsie."

   The noise was enough to stir her parents awake, both lifting their heads to see their five year olds silhouette in the door, illuminated by the small night light in the hallway.

   "Frankie?" Angela softly called. "Sweetheart, what are you doing?"

   David chuckled from beside her. "You making your nightly rounds?"

   Frankie's parents had told her numerous times that she didn't need to stay up, that they were all safe. But she insisted, having learned about the kind of things that were out there before she even learned her ABCs.

   "Baby, we talked about this." Angela sighed.

   "Want me to force her into bed?" David asked, his eyelids already drooping as he fought to stay awake.

   Angela smiled softly, running her hand up and down his arm fondly. "No, I got it. Go back to sleep." He mumbled an agreement before easily doing as told.

   The women climbed out of their bed, walking to where Frankie waited in the doorway, looking guilty that she had woken up her parents.

   "Sorry, Mama." The five year old mumbled, her bottom lip jutting out in worry that she was going to be scolded.

   Angela breathed out a chuckle, wordlessly bending down to bring Frankie into her arms and onto her hip. She brushed her little girls dark hair off her shoulders. "It's okay sweetie, I know you're just checking on us. But we've told you before that you're safe. We're all safe. No monster is gonna get into the house."

   Francesca's big brown eyes looked up at her moms, eyebrows tilting with worry. "But what if they do?"

   The mother stopped just outside Frankie's room. "If they do, then your dad and I are gonna do whatever we have to, to protect you and your brothers. We would never let anything happen to you. Okay?"

   Somewhat assured, Frankie nodded. Angela grinned. "Alright, then. Ready to say goodnight and go to bed?" She asked, earning an eager nod.

   With Frankie still on her hip, Angela pushed the door open. Across from Frankie's twin bed was a crib. And inside, slept the youngest of the Clarke's, Lucas.

   David and Angela had told Frankie two years ago, a few weeks before Lucas was born, that she could have her own room and they could make the guest bedroom into a nursery. But again, Frankie insisted that the baby slept in her room, and her parents didn't have the heart to deny her.

   Angela brought the little girl over to the crib, leaning over enough to where she could reach the baby. "Be gentle."

   Frankie grabbed the edge of the crib for support, leaning down to press a soft kiss on her baby brothers forehead, careful not to wake him up. "Goodnight, Lukey." She whispered.

   She slightly pulled away from her mother, signaling she wanted to be put down. Her mother set her back on the ground before repeating her actions and saying goodnight to the baby boy. She then followed Frankie as she trotted over to her bed, jumping up onto the mattress and snuggling under the sheets.

   Angela took hold of the comforter, pulling up to Frankie's shoulders, smiling when the child yawned. "Sleepy?"

   Frankie nodded and hummed sleepily, turning on her side and pulling her blankets closer to her chest. Angela leaned down and kissed Frankie's cheek. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

   "G'night, mama."

   She remembers the day she met the Winchester's.

   It was February of '92 when her Uncle Bobby (he wasn't really her uncle but he was friends with her parents since she was a baby) had come over and introduced their family to a man and his two sons.

   The mans name was John Winchester. He had a boy who was four years older than Frankie, named Dean, and a boy that was her age, named Sam.

   Dean was ecstatic to find out Chris was only a year younger than him. Sam, at first, was a little bummed that the closest to his age was the only girl, but Frankie proved herself to him easily. It helped that Frankie was pretty, not that he would admit it.

   Sam told her about how a monster got his mom when he was just a baby, but he didn't know which monster it was. That's why his dad was a hunter.

   She told him that her grandparents, her moms parents, were killed by a werewolf and that's why her mom was a hunter. Her dad, however, was raised as a hunter just like his dad, and his grandpa before that. That's why they teach her and her brothers how to hunt, to keep them safe.

   They showed up repeatedly for years after their initial meeting. Sam and Dean would stay over, sometimes for days, sometimes weeks while John was hunting. Sometimes one of Frankie's parents would tag along, sometimes both.

   Frankie remembers being jealous when Manny and Chris got to go on hunts. They had all trained since they were little, each taking an hour after school to learn about a monster; it's origins, strengths and weaknesses, how to kill it. Frankie learned how to shoot a gun before she learned how to ride a bike.

   Not that she ever needed to use that skill – Angela and David were exceptional hunters.

   Sam was in the same boat with his family. Him and Frankie would be up in her room for hours ranting about how unfair it was that their brothers got to hunt and they had to stay home.

   "You'll hunt when we know you're ready." Their parents had always said.

   Sure enough can, as they got older, Sam and Frankie did start going on hunts with their families. They would hunt together sometimes as well, it all just depended on how bad the monster was.

   It always confused Frankie whenever Sam complained about their lives. He never was as passionate about hunting as Dean was. It wasn't they fact that he didn't want to stay a hunter that confused her, it was the fact that it was a problem at all.

   Although Angela and David raised their kids as hunters, it was always more of a precaution than it was a requirement. Manny had been on board from the get go. He picked everything up quickly, wanting to grow up to be just like his dad. Chris, however, was never a huge fan of hunting. It was fun sometimes and definitely necessary, but with his parents and big brother doing the work, he didn't feel like he was needed. Instead he worked harder in school, taking extra science and math classes in hopes of one day going to med school.

   Frankie would have been the same as Chris, she just doesn't know what she would do without hunting. She had no other interests and she didn't learn as fast as the other kids. Hunting was all she was good at. She tried her best, but even with Sam helping her she didn't get nearly as good grades as he did.

   Frankie's parents never agreed with John when he pushed the life onto his boys, believing he should give them the freedom to grow up how they want. But too often John's fatherly side was overpowered by his need for revenge. Angela was the only one who knew what he was feeling. And then they all learned.

   When Frankie was ten, they got a call from Sioux Falls General. After hours spent in the hospital waiting room, the doctor walked in with a somber expression.

   That night David lost the love of his life. John lost a dear friend. Sam and Dean lost the only mother figure they had. Frankie and her brothers lost their mom.

   It was the biggest slap in the face, the way she died. Because it wasn't by any of the creatures they had learned about, it was a drunk driver. Some college kid who thought it was a good idea to drive himself home from a party than to get a cab. Of course he walked away with only a few broken bones. If it had been a monster, at least they could hunt it down, get justice. The only justice they received was knowing the guy was getting fifteen years in prison. He killed himself after three years in prison. They all thought he got off easy.

   The Winchester's were there for the Clarke's, knowing exactly how they were feeling.

   For weeks, the only person Frankie would talk to was Sam. He knew didn't understand, not fully anyway. He never got the chance to meet his mom. But as hard as his dad was on him and Dean, Sam couldn't imagine losing him.

   As hunters, you're told to expect it when you lose someone. No matter how they die, it's a part of the life. Losing people is a part of life in general.

   You grieve, you mourn, you move on.

   Frankie still visits the cemetery any chance she gets, to talk to her mom about  what's going on in their lives. She told her about her first solo hunt–a vengeful spirit, a simple salt and burn, but she pulled it off with zero setbacks. She told her about the day she got her first kiss from Sam. And she told her about Sam leaving for Stanford.

   Sam had told her when he applied and when he got his acceptance letters, but she still wasn't prepared for the day he left. He showed up on her doorstep, cheeks stained with dried tears and a duffle on his arm.

   "Sam?" She asked confusedly. The last time she talked to him he was a state over, hours away from Sioux Falls. "What are you doing here? What's wrong?" The thunder booming outside alerted her that it was raining, and only then did she notice that her best friend was soaked. "Oh–jeez, you must be freezing! Come inside." She rushed, pulling the boy who had yet to say a word inside.

   Her dad and Manny were out on a hunt and Chris was at his girlfriends house. The only one home besides Frankie was Luke, who was too busy being an angsty fifteen year old to care about what was happening downstairs.

   Frankie had grabbed a hold of Sam's hands, dragging him to the couch. "What happened?" She asked him, her grip still tight on his hands.

   Sam released a shaky breath, his eyes focused on Frankie's red nail polish as they welled with tears again. "Sammy." Frankie repeated, becoming increasingly concerned.

   "I told my dad about Stanford." It was all he needed to say. She knew exactly how John was and how adamant he was on his boys being hunters.

   "Oh, Sammy." Frankie sighed, wordlessly pulling him into her arms. Sam immediately welcomed the affection, releasing more tears as he recalled what had gone on between him and his father just hours before.

   "He told me if I left then I couldn't come back." She felt his arms tighten around her and gently ran her hands through his damp hair.

   "You know you're always welcome here." She mumbled.

   Sam pulled away and smiled softly, a look in his eyes so warm that it brought a tint to her cheeks.

   The moment didn't last for long. "I know I am. But I got it with a full ride, there's no way I can pass this opportunity up."

   She tried her best to maintain a supportive smile, but she could tell by the guilt in his eyes that she probably didn't look so thrilled at his words.

   "I'll call you all the time, come visit on holidays." He tried to reassure her, but he could tell the smile on her face was forced. "Hey, come on, don't look at me like that. You know I never break my promises, especially not the ones I make to my favorite girl."

   Sam spent the next week at the Clarke residence. David had no problem with him spending time there, especially not after he learned of the reason Sam had shown up. 

   Frankie and Sam were hardly apart the entire week. They did everything they could think of, not knowing for sure when they next time they would see each other would be. They visited every childhood spot, from the old diner to Bobby's house. Frankie tried to not think of the days passing, dreading the moment Sam would drive off to California.

   And she believed him, she really did. After all he'd never given her a reason not to. Sam Winchester never broke his promises, not to Frankie.

   Until he did.

   Francesca Clarke would not see Sam for a while after that day. Not for almost four years.

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a/n: just a little introduction to my first supernatural fic. I'm giving everyone a warning beforehand, this will be the slowest burn but I promise it'll be worth it. don't hate sam too much for the dumb shit he's gonna do in this story.