Fatal (Winchester Sister 2)

Roadhouse

We stood in a lone field, the nearest town probably an hour in any one direction. The only light coming from the burning pyre in front of us. The burning fire that held the body of our father. Sam fidgeted around while I wiped my face, partly because it was itchy and partly because I had tears rushing down it. What did he do? What in the hell did he do? It's not like he could've done anything bad. But then again, this is my father we're talking about so who knows what happened. Dean remained silent, staring into the heat. But slowly snapping for sure.

"Hey, Dean?" I asked him, finding shelter under his arm. "Before he- did he say anything to you?"

"No. Nothin'." His voice cracked a little. For the first time in an extremely long time, I didn't believe him and that made me cry even more.

-------------------

"Hey, where's that wrench, man?"

"Should be on the table!"

"It ain't here!"

"Where else- Found it!" The wrench I've been looking for was thrown out from underneath the car. In the process of bending down to grab it, I laid on my stomach in a push up position. Being careful of my cast. Uncle Bobby wrapped a piece of fabric around it before we came out here so it wouldn't get dirty. But my hands were greasy as hell.

"How's it coming along?" I smirked. I already knew the answer.

"Slow," Dean yelled. Since apparently I can, he asked me to help put the Impala back together.

I laughed at that, standing back up and going back to the engine. "Time. Time and patience is all it takes," I leaned over the radiator to the carburetor.

"Time and patience? Really?! Time is too friggin' short and my patience is wearin' thin!"

I leaned back up and wiped my greasy hands on a near by rag. Sam approached. Man, I was kinda hoping he would have a drink or something. But no. "How's the car coming along?"

"Hang on. Just let me get a wrench and I'll show you!"

"In other words, slow. Ok. Need help?"

"You under a hood? Think I'll pass." Dean said getting out from under the car.

"How come she gets to?"

"Maybe because I've actually done it once or twice," I threw back, leaning back over the engine with a socket wrench.

"Need anything else then?"

"Stop it, Sam." Dean said with the WARNING! WARNING! ABORT MISSION! ABORT MISSION! look about him.

"Stop what?"

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

"It's just... We've been at Bobby's for over a week now and you haven't bought up Dad once," Sam shrugged, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets. Neither have I! It's just the way I'm dealing with it.

"Fine... You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance." Dean and his sense of humor. Cracks me up every time.

"Don't patronize me, Dean. Dad's dead, the Colt's gone and you two are acting like nothing happened."

"Well, what do you want me to say?"

"Say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here with Emz buried under this damn car!"

"Revenge, huh?" I asked, switching a tool head over at the metal table. "Sounds good. You got any leads? Heads or tails on where the demon is from Dad's journal? 'Cause last time we checked, there wasn't any way to find the yellow-eyed bastard. And we do finally find it- oh, wait. Like you said, the Colt's gone. We've got nothing, Sam! Absolutely nothing! So the least we can do is fix the car. That came out a lot more harsher than intended. Sorry."