Chapter Text
Beep beep beep
As the obnoxious tone drags you from your sleep you become increasingly aware of your surroundings. Not your bed. Not your room. Not even your house.
Trying not to panic you manage to pry your heavy eyelids open. Only to be greeted by a hospital room, but not your local hospital. Then the pain hits you. All encompassing, I've been hit by a Mac truck type pain. Not one part of you is left without a bone deep ache.
You're still trying to remain calm as you try to remember what happened. Last thing you remember was watching some TV before going to bed. Something about the memory seems fuzzy. Almost dream like or maybe you're just forgetting something.
No shit, Hannah! Going to bed didn't land you in the hospital! you scold yourself. Wait... Who's Hannah? My name is Y/N. Fuck.
Before your inner dialogue can continue a nurse comes in.
"Oh good! You're awake! You gave us all quite a scare, young lady!" the overly chipper petite blonde exclaimed. "I'll just take your vitals and go get the doctor."
"Where am I? How did I get here? What day is it?" the questions start coming out rapid fire before you can fully process what you're even asking.
"Calm down, darlin." the nurse says attempting to soothe you.
Abby, her name tag says Abby. I can read, that's a plus.
"You're in Sioux Falls General Hospital." she states rather matter of fact.
Sioux Falls... South Dakota?
"It's Monday, the 7th." she continues.
No. It's Thursday the 19th.
"Of December?" you cut in.
"No darlin, November." she corrects as she finishes taking your vital signs. "Everything looks good, I'll get the doctor so he can talk with you."
"November 7th?" you say aloud to yourself trying to work that one out.
You try to remember more about yourself.
Part of you says your name is Hannah Rene Mason. Another part says that's crap, your name is Y/F/N.
Part of you says you're 23 and your birthday is August 14th 1982. The other part says that's also crap, your (age) and you're birthday is (your bithday).
Wait, 1982? That would make me 33, not 23. That first part of my brain is clearly crap.
Just as you're ready to scream in frustration the doctor walks in.
"Hello, Miss Mason. I'm Dr. Hanson, I've been over seeing your care since you arrived. What do you remember?" he says in that comforting, but authoritative way doctors tend to do.
You recount what you know. That you went to bed in your home in (city, state) on Wednesday, November 18th and then woke up here.
The doctor's face scrunches in concern as he carefully considers his response.
"Hannah," he finally starts and you cringe at the name, "You've been here in a comatose state for 3 weeks. You were found in an alley here in Sioux Falls, unconscious with no sign of injury. Your condition has been stable, but until today we were unsure you would wake up. Do you have any friends or family in Sioux Falls? Or anywhere in South Dakota?" you're shaking your head "Do you know anyone in the area we could contact?"
With a scoff and heavy sarcasm you reply "Yeah, let's call good old Bobby Singer." you laugh lightly at your own joke to call a fictional character from your favorite show, the very show you watched before climbing into bed last night. A very dead, fictional character at that.
"Abby, could you contact Mr. Singer after you notify Sheriff Mills that Miss Mason is awake." Dr. Hanson called to the nurse just outside the door.
You simply sat there on the hospital bed, completely dumb struck. There's an actual Bobby Singer in Sioux Falls? Sheriff Mills? Really? Weird and kinda creepy. What the hell is going on? What the actual hell is going on?
After only a few moments alone trying to collect your thoughts the sheriff walks in.
You try not to stare, but it's fucking Sheriff Jody Mills and she indeed looks exactly like Kim Rhodes. Freaking out is starting to seem like a reasonable response.
After a few basic questions aimed at finding your attacker, which you clearly couldn't help with, she handed you a bag that contained the clothing you hand been found in, a wallet and a few pieces of simple jewelry. You don't remember owning any of these items, yet some how each one seems oddly familiar.
The necklace, with its simple black cord suspending a gold pendant with an intricate tree imprinted on it and the simple silver ring that was nothing more than a wide band made your heart catch. But you couldn't be sure why. Inspecting both closer you notice engraving inside the silver band.
Forever and Always
Just more confusion and questions. Where there any answers on the agenda today?
After you changed into the clothes from the bag, that someone thankfully washed, you looked at yourself in the mirror.
The dark blue jeans hugged your curves well and were clearly well loved, all kinds of broken in and frayed. The hem landed neatly across the top of the dark brown cowboy boots that had clearly seen a lot of wear as well. A black Led Zepplin t-shirt that was several sizes too big and a mahogany leather jacket completed the outfit.
With one last look in the mirror and discharge papers in hand you walked out of the hospital. Sitting in front of the doors was a sight shocking enough to nearly drop you to the ground.
A beat up, rusty 1971 Chevell that you would know anywhere sat in front of you. Your eyes snapped up to the man making his way around the front of the car.
"Hannah, you have no idea how worried you've had all of us! What did you get yourself into kid?" came the gruff, but loving voice of Bobby Singer.