Dawson's Daughter | {BOOK 1}

30|Okay

The weeks following John's death were hard for everyone. We took some time off, staying at Bobby's house while Dean rebuilt the Impala basically from scratch. I felt awful because while the brothers were mourning the death of their father, I was sitting on this giant bombshell. I spent a lot of time outside keeping Dean company while he worked.

"You know something."

I looked over, but couldn't see Dean's face since he was working underneath the car. After spending so long in silence, it was kind of surprising to hear his voice.

"What are you talking about?"

"You were with him. You know something."

This was what I was afraid of. One of the boys confronting me about what happened. It made it worse for it to be Dean who did it, and he hadn't even asked me about it, just stated a fact. He was right. I did know something that I had promised not to talk about. Thankfully, I didn't have to worry about the conversation going any further because Sam came out.

"How's the car coming along?"

"Slow," Dean replied.

"Yeah? Need any help?"

There was a noise like Dean dropped something heavily under the car.

"What, you under a hood? I'll pass."

"Need anything else then?"

I grimaced as Dean pushed himself out from under the Impala, standing up and glaring at his brother.

"Stop it, Sam," he snapped.

"Stop what?"

"Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise."

It was such a lie, but one Dean desperately needed to believe. I understood the feeling completely. After my dad died, I insisted I was fine for weeks, continuing to work in the shop and everything before one of the regulars took me aside. He told me it was okay to break down, to admit that I was hurting. And that's when I finally cried.

"All right, Dean," Sam sighed, "it's just... We've been at Bobby's for over a week now and you haven't brought up Dad once."

I looked down at my feet guiltily. It was true, Dean hadn't so much as acknowledged John's death since we burned him. Other than mentioning that I was hiding something, but Sam hadn't been outside for that.

"You know what? You're right," Dean spoke sarcastically. "Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance."

"Don't patronize me, Dean," Sam raised his voice, "Dad is dead. The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Say something, all right? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car."

"Revenge, huh?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"Sounds good," Dean smirked. "You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't. But you know, if we do finally find it- oh. No, wait, like you said. The Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've found another way to kill it. We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? Unless Ellie wants to tell us what happened while she was with him, which she clearly doesn't. So you know the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car."