Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any recognizable characters
Panic. Heart pounding, blood rushing terror. Dean gripped the handle of the door with white knuckles and took several deep, slow breaths. Sam was talking to a man in a suit, explaining in a low voice what had happened and the man was nodding, murmuring something about locking doors and making announcements over the intercom. He turned to the counter behind him and picked up a phone and Sam moved to Dean’s side.
“He’s calling a Code Adam, Dean. They’ll lock down all the exits and no one will come in or out of the store until we find her,” Sam told him and Dean nodded, unable to respond, to speak, to think because she was gone he’d lost her
and anything could have happened to her.
One moment she’d been right beside him, tugging on his hand, talking a mile a minute, the way she always did and then she was gone and there was silence and how long did it take him
then he realized his daughter had vanished. He and Sam had searched every aisle, called her name over and over, even grabbed a few little blond girls and spun them around, only to find they weren’t her. Finally, Sam had dragged him to the manager’s office and explained the situation.
Four days. That was all the time it had taken him to royally screw up at being a parent. Dean ran his hands over his face, roughly, unsure what to do with himself.
The sound of her voice the sweetest sound in the world
made him turn and there she was, standing in the doorway with a woman in a store uniform. She stepped toward him and then Dean was on the floor, yanking her close, squeezing her Daddy, I can’t breathe so good
and thanking every pagan deity he could think of that she was okay.
“What the hell, Angel?” he asked, ignoring the thickness of his own voice, the startled look on the store employee’s face. “What happened? Where-“
“I had to go
, Daddy,” she told him, nuzzling her face into his neck. “I told you, again and again, but you didn’t listen.”
“You had to-“ Dean faltered and Sam crouched down in front of him, pulling Angel away and into his own arms.
“She had to go to the bathroom, Dean. That’s all. She’s fine,” Sam told him and the painful thundering of Dean’s heart against his ribcage eased at last. Staring at the back of that blond head her pigtails were crooked, Sam was better at them
Dean could only promise himself silently that he’d never tune out her constant talking again… and that the next time they went to Wal-Mart, he was going to Velcro that girl to his side.