Pieces Of Me {Sam Winchester}

Daddy Issues

"Thanks again, boys," Jerry said, shaking hands with Sam, then Dean. "And Josie," he added. "Thank you."

Josie smiled. "Happy to help."

Jerry smiled at her, then turned to Sam and Dean.

"I wish I could say it was good to see you, but given the circumstances--"

"What matters is that the demon is dead, and no one else is gonna die here today," Dean cut in.

The group all nodded their heads in agreement.

"Looks like this is good bye," Sam mused. He reached out his head, and Jerry shook it gratefully.

"Call us if you need anything else, you hear?" Dean said. "And keep in touch."

"I'll try my damnedest," Jerry promised, going down the line to shake Josie and Dean's hands. The group exchanged more smiles, but they were laced with a sadness—the sadness all fellow hunters feel as they part, knowing this could easily be a final good bye. That was the nature of the job, after all.

"By the way," Jerry added as Josie and the brothers were about to leave, "I thought you'd like to know. I got your number from your father."

Dean's attention was immediately piqued. "You've heard from Dad?"

"Well, sorta. I originally called him, but it went to voicemail. The voicemail message said to call you, Dean, and left your number."

Josie glanced at Sam and Dean. Sam looked dumbfounded, a thousand thoughts filtering through his brain, but there was a glimmer in Dean's eye that Josie hadn't seen there before—a glimmer of hope.

"Do you have his number still?" Dean asked.

Jerry nodded. "For sure, lemme just—"

He struggled for a moment pulling his phone out of his back pocket, then flipped it open and scanned through his recent calls.

"Here it is," he said, showing it to Dean.

Dean copied the number down into his own phone determinedly.

"Thanks so much, Jerry," he said. "You have no idea how much we appreciate it."

Jerry simply nodded, smiled, then turned around and walked away without looking back.

•••

"Hey there, you've reached John Winchester's phone. Sorry I couldn't get to you, if there's an emergency please call my son, Dean, at 555-9730. Thanks."

Beep.

Dean wiped tears from his eyes with the back of one hand, keeping the other on the wheel as he drove the Impala down the dark Pennsylvania road.

"I can't believe it," he murmured. "That's Dad."

Sam pursed his lips beside him.

"Sure is," he muttered.

Josie raised her eyebrows. "That's a good thing, right? You guys are still trying to find him?"

"Yeah, it's a great thing! This means he's out there, alive somewhere!" Dean said excitedly.

Josie turned to Sam, who wasn't saying anything.

"Sam?"

He just turned to look out the window.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Great thing."

•••

Josie couldn't sleep.

When Dean couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, they'd pulled into the first 24-hour motel they could find and passed out. Well, the boys had, at least. Josie had too much on her mind.

She let out a sigh and sat up, officially giving up on a good night's sleep. The little couch she'd been on had been pretty lumpy and uncomfortable anyway.

A walk sounded nice, Josie decided.

As quietly as she could, she dug through her bag and pulled out a windbreaker, a pair of leggings, and a small knife. Couldn't be too careful, of course.

"Couldn't sleep either?"

Josie jumped and dropped everything she'd been holding. She glanced up to see Sam sitting up in his bed and looked at her, his eyes glistening in the darkness. He seemed so tiny, his knees drawn to his chest and his back hunched over.

Josie shook her head. "Too much to think about."

"Me too," Sam agreed. "What are you thinking about?"

Loaded question, Josie thought. She couldn't think of a sufficient answer, so she just shrugged.

"What are you thinking about?" she pressed.

"Take a guess."

"Your dad?"

Sam nodded.

Josie tiptoed over to him then settled onto the edge of his bed.

"You didn't seem excited about a lead on his whereabouts," she commented.

Sam pursed his lips.

"It's complicated," he responded. "Dad and I, we just...we've never gotten along well. Always butting heads. Never seeing eye to eye. The last time I spoke to him was the huge fight we had when I left for college. If—when—we find him, I don't know what I'll say to the guy."

"You could say...sorry to each other?"

Sam smirked. "Ha. Yeah. Sorry doesn't give me my childhood back."

"I'm sure he did his best to raise you and Dean. He must've done a hell of a job anyway, because you turned out great. Dean's a little iffy, I'll admit, but..." she trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

"Just because someone turned out fine doesn't mean they had good parents. You don't know everything," Sam argued.

Josie raised her eyebrows. "Enlighten me, then."

Sam looked away. "I'd really rather not talk about it."

"You know, if you told me some of the details I could probably help you out," Josie said. "At the very least, I'm a decent listener."

Sam shook his head. "No thanks."

Josie gave him her best puppy dog eyes, but he just looked away.

"No dad is perfect, and we don't have to talk about. Your's certainly wasn't."

Josie's nostrils flared, and Sam's face suddenly turned a deep shade of scarlet.

"Josie, I—"

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"It was the wrong thing to say, I didn't think, I'm sorry."

Angry tears were filling Josie's eyes now, but she wipes them away. "Don't insult my dad," she ordered with conviction. "He did his best to raise me. He was a great father! Don't you dare insult my father, you don't know anything about him."

"I know enough," Sam muttered.

Without thinking, guided by an aggressive wave of emotion, Josie threw herself on top of him and punched him across the face.

"Shut up!" she cried. "Shut up!"

"Hey!" Dean yelled sleepily from the other bed. He rolled over and clumsily flipped on a lamp. "What the hell are you two doing?"

Josie glared at Sam, then slid off.

"Just going on a late night walk," she said. "Good night, Dean." She didn't say good night to Sam, but merely gave him a stare of death as she stomped outside for her walk, slamming the room door behind her.