Paging Dr. Singer- The Winchester Need You

Chapter 2

Sitting in the back seat of the Winchester car wasn't exactly pleasing, considering they had just told each other what they really thought of the other. One could cut the tension with a knife.

Tristan tried her hardest not to be a disturbance as the boys trade slight conversation. She was trying to figure out what she was going to say to her dad. She hadn't seen him in years. 

She opted to going, mostly because Sam begged her to come and reconcile with her father. Her job interview had been moved to next week, so there was no reason not to. 

They pulled onto the driveway, passing all the junkers Bobby had. Some of them she was surprise to recognize. She used to climb around the yard, trying to get to the highest point that she could. She knew the map of the land like the back of her hand. 

Sam and Dean got out of the car first. Tristan didn't want to, but when Sam opened the door that she was propped against,  she fell out. He caught her though and set her on her feet. "It'll be fine, Tristan. Don't worry about it." He gave her a small smile and the old puppy dog eyes he knew she loved.

"Fine," she said. Her and Sam walked side by side to the old screen door. Dean was waiting for her and pushed the door open, letting her walk through first. 

Bobby came in from the kitchen. "Haven't you boys heard of knocking?" He handed the boys a beer and awkwardly offered Tristan one, but she declined. "So, uh, Tristan... You graduated?"

Blood rose to Tristan's face. Anger, confusion, and embarrassment swirled around in a chaotic storm. She didn't even know what she was mad at, but she was. "Cut it with the small talk." She rolled her eyes.

She knew what it was. She felt like a teenager again, the last few years she was here. Constant fighting, nonstop yelling, and cold shoulders all around. That's the feelings this house brings to Tristan. It made her unusually hostile; the one thing a home shouldn't. 

"Tristan, c'mon," Bobby pleaded. "That's all water under the bridge now, Tris. Can we just start over?" 

Tristan just stared at her dad. She tried to calm herself down, searching for good memories that she had with her father, but she couldn't think of any. Maybe it would be best to start over. 

She wanted to say something but she couldn't do anything except purse her lips and try to not to cry. She was overly emotional, which she hated, but she didn't know how to handle it. "I need to used the bathroom," she choked out and ran up the stairs.

The bathroom was gross and sleazy but nothing that she hadn't dealt with before. She splashed water on her face, being careful around her eyes. They're not red or puffy, but stinging. 

Tristan sniffled and wiped her nose. She could hear the boys talking through the open door, but she couldn't make out their words. She took that time to wonder around the upper floor of the house.

Most of the rooms were mostly the same as she remembered; dirty, dusty, and full of old books. That was one of her favorite things about the house; the old book store smell. 

She didn't go into Bobby's room. When she was little, it was off limits, for whatever reason, so she decided to keep that out of tradition.

Her room was the last one on the left, right next to the window that let in the most natural light. She opened the moldy curtain and felt the warmth on her face. Looking out the window brought memories of Dean throwing rocks at that window to get her to play football with them or hide and seek. 

She let go of the curtain, which fell back into it's spot. It probably hadn't been moved in years. 

The only room left was the her's. The signs and posters that were on her door weren't there anymore. She had taken them down before she left. She put her hand on the cool brass handle and pushed the door open. 

It has exactly how she left. The pastel orange looked freshly painted. The iron framed bed was made with fresh sheets and pillows piled high. The lamps on the bed side tables were dusted and, when Tristan flipped the switch, lit up brightly with ease. The dresser and closet were empty aside from Tristan's favorite pair of old, ratty converse that she worn hole in to. 

It was exactly how she left it. To a tee. Bobby was waiting for her to come back to hunting. He knew she would. 

There were too many emotions swirling in her brain. She was touched, angry, sentimental, and betrayal. She was happy that her dad was ready for her to come back, but angry that he expected her to come back. 

She walked down the stairs calmly, tears finally spilling over. She walks towards the kitchen, ready to leave. She stopped dead when she heard them talking. 

"I knew she'd be back," Bobby said, like any proud dad would.

"Once a hunter always a hunter," Dean agreed. Tristan heard a clank of glass, which she assumed was the duo toasting their beers.

Tristan walked around the corner, tears proudly falling down her face. Her head was held high, her shoulders were pulled back. "I would like to go home. I have an interview to prepare for. A real job." Her voice was cracking, but she pushed through her words. "Sam, would you please drive me to a bus station?"

Without an answer, she walked out the door, pushing past Dean, who big goofing grin faded into a shameful frown. Bobby looked like he wanted to say something, but he was too busy putting his foot into his mouth.

She continued walking without turning around. She heard Sam following her, keys changling in his hand. She got into the front seat of the Impala and buckled up.

Sam got into his seat and started the car. They drove silently for a few minutes, but Sam eventually broke the silence. "You don't have to come back, Trissy."

Tristan wiped her tears that were starting to dry on her face. "You seem to be the only one who thinks so."

Sam rested his hand on her knee. "Don't be so hard on your dad. He really cares about you, deep down. He's just not good at showing it. It's Bobby."

Tristan shrugged. "I believe it. He trained me and trained me and trained me but I just burnt out. After I left he never reached out. I sent him invitations to my graduations, but he never responded. But as soon as his boys are in trouble, I get to pull on my big girl pants and save their asses."

Sam sighed. "Thanks for that, by the way. You've got a great shot." He chuckled slightly. "Like riding a bike, eh?"

Tristan looked at him. "What do you mean?"

He grinned, kind of sadly. "Remember, I got out, too, but I was drug back in my brother. I was off to be a lawyer." He shrugged. "I don't really mind."

Tristan looked at him with wide eyes. "You said that in our last phone call. But don't you every think about what you left everything behind. No connections, no relationship, no nothing. Didn't you have a girlfriend or something that you left behind?"

Sam's face got stoney, and Tristan could tell she hit a rough spot. "Oh, I-I'm sorry-"

"A demon killed her. The same one that killed my mom. All you can trust is family, which the only people I have is Dean and Bobby." He was monotone, which was slightly frightening to Tristan. "But I'm helping people, saving lives." He glanced at her as he pulled into the bus station. "Isn't that what you want to do, Dr. Singer?"

He parked the car and switched it off. Tristan sat there, contemplating over what he said. "Thanks, Sam-" She opened the door and stepped out. "-for the ride." 

He reached over and grabbed her wrist before she shut the door. "By the way, I don't know if you noticed, but all three of your invitations are on his fridge."

Tristan didn't respond, but she squeezed Sam's hand in a good bye fashion and shut the door. She got her bag out of the back seat and waved at him once as he drove off.