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She tried to shake off his hand, but that only made her brother clamp down on her arm tighter. Fine. Milly went on, pulling the older boy along in the process. Branches and dried out leafs scratched her arms and face as she searched through the bushes. It’s got to be somewhere around here. Dean threw a nervous glance over his shoulder. “Dad’s going to be back soon, Red.” She shrugged. “Hey, it’s my butt on the line too!” Once again, she simply ignored him and went on searching, now on her hands and knees. A faint smell rose from the mulch, reminding her of dead things. Her stomach turned a little.
“Red!”
Milly turned around to glare, brushing off her hands on her jeans. No one asked you to come. Her brother scoffed. “Yeah, like I’d be in less trouble for letting you go alone.” That was probably true… their dad didn’t exactly show much faith in Milly’s ability to handle herself. Still, it wasn’t her fault that he was so unreasonable, and this was more important anyway.
Then, she heard it.
Shush.
Her finger raised to her mouth and glaring at her brother to keep his yap shut, Milly listened. Between the fall leaves whispering on the ground and the rustling from the squirrels hopping around in the treetops, there was something else. This way! Creeping on her tiptoes, quiet as she could now, the younger child approached a different bush. The sound got louder. She pushed aside another branch, there it was!
A pair of shiny black birds eyes blinked up at the little girl, the quiet caws she had been hearing growing louder and more distressed. Holding as still as she could to avoid startling it any further, Milly observed the crow trying to hobble away from her, dragging one of his wings across the forest dirt. Dean’s arrival didn’t help calm the poor thing down. Milly looked at her brother. He’s hurt. A thoughtful frown graced the older boy’s features. It’s my fault Dean, we gotta help him, please! The skittish bird had found cover underneath the next bush, but since she could still see him, Milly made no effort to get closer this time. Instead, she turned all her attention to her big brother, paired with the most pathetic begging expression in her arsenal. Please.
The silence seemed to last forever. Then, finally, Dean opened his mouth. “You don’t know that it’s your fault, Red.” His little sister threw him a sceptical look. “It doesn’t look shot.”
Milly bit her lip. She had to give him that. The crow didn’t look shot. If anything, its wing looked broken or something. But after her last shooting turn, there had been the sound of something crashing through the branches and landing somewhere around here. Dad had even said he thought she’d hit a bird, so surely this couldn’t be a coincidence? Perhaps I startled it and it flew into a tree or something.
Her brother sighed, and Milly could see she was winning ground. “So what do you want us to do? Catch it? Heal it? We don’t know the first thing about taking care of a bird, Red.” Uncle Bobby might have books. We can figure it out. Dean ran a hand through his hair and looked nervously over his shoulder. “And what about Dad?” She shrugged. “He’ll never let us keep it.” The younger Winchester huffed at that. Dad obviously wasn't going to be okay with it, she knew that! Did Dean truly think her that naive? We’ll just have to keep it a secret. “How?” Frustration was starting to seep into his voice, and Milly knew she had to work quickly now, or Dean might just turn around on her. An idea sprang to mind.
We’ll come back for it later. I’ll find an excuse to get us out, and if he’s not here anymore, I’ll let it go. She could see her brother considering that. But, Milly continued, rushing her hands through the words now. We’ll prepare a box. Just in case. I saw some near the bin. And if he is still here, we can make him a nest and, and, we’ll hide him near… She racked her brain trying to think of a good spot. She supposed it should probably be warm, and quiet, and easy to reach of course, but not anywhere where Dad or Uncle Bobby would hear the bird's cawing and might get suspicious.
“Dean! Mildred!” A loud yell interrupted her thinking. The siblings looked at each other. Dad didn’t sound happy. “We’ll figure it out later.” Dean grabbed her by the arm and pulled his little sister out of the bushes. “Let’s go.”
A moment later, John Winchester could be found lecturing his two bedraggled eldest kids on responsible behaviour and staying put, but his daughter's mind was still with the bird. He had been so shiny and beautiful, even as he was scared and hurt. What would it be like if they could help him get better? Maybe he'd come to like them, stay with them, flying behind the impala and following them wherever they went. She could fix her mistake, and maybe even make a friend! The little girl was so lost in her thoughts that it took a sharp pinch from her brother to remind Milly to at least pretend to pay attention. Quickly, she nodded along with Dean while he assured their father that it wouldn’t happen again. That seemed to do the trick. Before long, their dad directed the children to get inside. Once his back was turned, Milly flashed her brother a grateful smile. An eye roll was his only response.
~
The whole evening, Milly was bouncing off the walls, eagerly awaiting the right moment to go back. When finally their Uncle Bobby gave them permission to play outside for a bit (he was grumbling something about hyper kids driving him mad), she was out the door in a blink, dragging her brother along. The whole way, her hands were babbling about what they were going to name the bird, and what they should feed him, and whether Dean thought it would maybe stay with them... Her brother was quiet, not near as eager to bear responsibility for another thing. His siblings were enough trouble as it was. Yet, his little sister was so cheerful, smiling so bright…
Then they arrived back at the spot. The children searched everywhere, but apart from a few dropped feathers, there wasn't a trace of the crow to be found. For a brief moment, Dean’s shoulders sagged in relief, until he saw his sister's face. Milly looked so worried, sweaty and dirty from tracking through the mud and searching under the bushes... “He’s probably got a crow family taking care of him,” the older boy tried to reassure her. “I’m sure he’s fine.” His sister shook her head and drew a sad face in the mulch. Dean wasn't sure what to do. He shivered. The bottom halves of his jeans were soaked and dirty already, and the evening air was turning chilly. Milly looked even worse, wet and covered in dirt as she was, and a glance at the sky told the boy that they’d be in serious trouble if they didn’t get home soon. After all, Dad had just chewed them out for running off once today already. If the adults came looking for them and he found out that the kids had gone outside Bobby’s place without permission, well… He didn’t think it’d be good. “C’mon Red.” He offered his hand.
It took some nudging but eventually, his little sister gave in and reluctantly got back on her feet. Her face was closed off, and her still hands stood in stark contrast with their earlier babbling. Dean helped her brush off the worst of the leaves and mud. “It’s getting late.” No response. “Come on, Reddy.” He could feel frustration starting to bubble up from his gut, but Dean pushed it aside. Anger rarely helped with Milly. After a deep breath, he tried again. “Let’s run home, yeah?” Without waiting for a response this time, he grabbed her hand and started pulling. Much to his relief, his sister moved.
Before too long, the two kids arrived back at their honorary uncle’s porch, out of breath and with red, sweaty faces. Eager to get back inside and warm up, Dean kicked off his shoes and started to reach for the door. There was a tug on his shirt. Dean? The shakey sign was all it took for him to forget all about his annoyance. He grinned and hopped right back down beside her. “Yeah, Red?” Milly offered him a careful smile. Do you think we can tell Sammy a story about Jeffrey The Crow and his family tonight? Her big brother squeezed her shoulder and pulled her up. “Only if his name isn’t Jeffrey.” He gladly received the punch that followed, considering the grin it accompanied.