"It's Team Free Will 2.0. With two salty hunters, one half-angel kid, a dude that just came back from the dead again and the special addition; a tinker-"
"What? No buzzer this time?"
"Uhu, buzzer sounds unmelodious. You don't."
"So you've finally...
"I should know enough about loss to realize that you never really stop missing someone. You just learn to live around the huge gaping hole of their absence."
― Alyson Noel
✭•.✭•.✭
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The winter wind was damp and cold making its presence known and leaving like a traveler hurrying to its next destination. It lifted Dean's messy strands, glowing its brightest as the fluorescent light kept hitting them from above. Leaning against the lamppost, the hunter took a long drag from his cigarette and breathed out– the thin wisps of air from his mouth vanished into the darkness right before curling into the air. With a clouded mind, the hunter looked at his surroundings. The snow started to melt, so the whole town looked much cleaner without those greyish white patches on the ground. Dewdrops were nicely gathered on the grass and kept falling like the droplets of the rain from the tree beside him.
Feeling a buzz in his pocket, Dean pulled out his phone and lowered his head scrolling through the screen of his cell– thirteen missed calls from Sam and two from Castiel. A bitter chill formed in his chest, seemingly trapped and refusing to go away. He knew his daughter was awake and asking for him but the hunter refused to meet her eyes, not after her fragile skin still bore a hand-shaped bruise from him. His heart squeezed tightly thinking about those marks he left on her; Michael left on her and thus the elder Winchester flee away from the bunker as soon as possible and now was standing in the night air under the light of a street lamp.
But apart from his daughter, there were tons of problems hanging around his head. Firstly, Dean didn't know why the Archangel left him alone, secondly, he still believed he wasn't fully out of his grip yet, thirdly and most importantly, the mother of his daughter was back.
Yes, for some unknown reason she was back and currently staying in the bunker. Dean didn't know what to say to her or how to face her and she had yet to have a proper conversation with all of them. But Dean was buying time, he was afraid of what was about to come. With a long sigh, he stomped on his cigarette, and shrugging his jacket off, he strolled toward the bunker, his heavy boots thudding loudly with each step he took. Soon he crossed the small distance and stopped in front of the front door. Just when he was about to open the door, it flung open itself revealing Fayre with a worried look stitched on her small face. Her long sweater was hanging off her one shoulder, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, and twin spots of pink prominent on her cheeks because of the sudden flash of cold air hitting her face. And just as Dean thought, the Nephilim wasn't far from her.
"I told you to wait for me. It's cold outside, wear a jacket", Jack grumbled from behind her, tugging one of the sleeves of her oversized sweater. But the girl didn't pay any attention to him, her ocean eyes shoot to Dean's green ones and it alone made Dean's shoulder drawn so tight that he thought the bones would break under the pressure.
