𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 is the daughter of John Winchester, half-sister of Sam and Dean Winchester. Her mother remains unknown, mainly because John can't seem to recall her - all he can remember is the colour of her hair, which also repres...
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𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟏𝐬𝐭, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟓 ―୨୧⋆ ˚ MARLEY'S POV
𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐎yet we haven't moved from the car as we aren't ready to face our brother. While I'm excited to see him after all this time, part of me is afraid that he won't want to see us. I'm afraid he'll send us away, tell us to leave because he has a life of his own now. I'm fearing the worst, but we'll never know unless we get out this car.
Over the past three years, I've tried to call Sam, tried to initiate a conversation. At the beginning, we spoke most nights when things were bad at home, but after a few weeks, those calls started to get shorter and shorter until... they stopped. And the moment they stopped, that's when things got worse for me. Without Sam in my corner, I felt alone, and even though I have Dean, he can't always keep me protected from what occurs.
I tell myself every night that he got busy over the years with school and life, and he wasn't able to call me. That's what I say to make myself feel better, but I fear he stopped talking to me because he didn't want to remember this life — the one he has with me and Dean.
I miss Sam, of course I do, and I should be jumping out of this car to see him but I can't move, and neither can Dean. I know Dean is thinking what I'm thinking. I know he's afraid of what Sam will say or do, afraid that he'll make us go away, and afraid that coming here will be all for nothing. He's afraid. So am I.
Ironically, "Going to California" by Led Zeppelin is playing, and I've been thumping my foot against the floor to the beat quietly. I've been nervous all day since Dean decided to make this impromptu drive to visit Sam, and the nerves haven't settled, probably because we haven't got out of the car yet.
"We should get out the car," I say, my eyes staring straight ahead as a bunch of college kids across the road who are dressed head-to-toe in Halloween costumes. Girls wear short skirts, boys wear ripped shirts, and everybody looks... fake.
I've never liked Halloween, especially because of the horror stories I've heard which I've then associated with nights like Halloween, so I don't get the appeal of dressing in short dresses and giant heels and drinking all night.
