Backlash {Fourth book in the "Born to Be a Hunter" Series}

Memory Lane

I agreed to Dean's plan for me to go with him. We climbed into the Camaro he had, me in the passenger and him in the driver seat. We sat in silence until he spoke.

"This was your car." He said, eyes not leaving the road. "You built it from scratch. You built the engine, the frame, all of it. You started when you were eight."

I admired the car, the seats were well-kept as was the whole interior.

"The jacket you're wearing was the one I gave you when you were twenty. It was mine and my father's. That pistol you're holding," I looked down, the pearl handle sitting comfortably in my palm. "I had it made to replicate mine because you said you loved it so much. I gave it to you for your twenty-fourth birthday. It was hard to tell the two guns apart so I had your initials carved into the trigger-guard."

The letters JW were imprinted into the piece of metal around the trigger.

"And every time you hunted, you'd tie your hair into a ponytail right in the middle of the back of your head. Never higher, never lower. If it wasn't right, you'd do it again until it was. You always said it threw off your focus."

"How do you know so much about me, Dean?" I asked, looking at him finally.

He wiped a tear from his check, "I don't know how to say it other than just to say it. My name is Dean."

I shook my head, "The Brits told me you were—"

"The Brits lied. I'm not who they said I am." He interrupted, staring straight. "I'm a hunter, not a monster."

I sighed, "Then who exactly are you?"

He looked me in the eye, driving straight, "I'm Dean Winchester. I'm your dad."

I sat there, silent and wide-eyed, and I thought that he might not be telling the truth. I questioned, "How do I know if you're lying or not?"

My words hurt him more than he wanted to show, but he glanced at the road then looked back at me, "I know you have this sixth-sense type thing. You can tell when someone is lying to you. So, I want you to look at my face and tell me if I'm lying."

I studied every inch of his face, from his scarred chin to his freckled checks. He had hope in his eyes but also guilt and regret. He made me wish I remembered even more than I already did. But he wasn't lying, not even a little.

"Then what else am I missing, Dad?" I asked, the last word coming out like it was scripted.

"Okay. One, you never called me 'Dad' unless it might've been the last time you'd have the chance. And B, we'll explain it all in time." He said, and I laughed at his inconsistency.

We pulled up to the bunker and I sat for a moment, a memory of the bunker appearing in my vision.

I sat with Dean, Sam, and Matt at the dining room table eating some pie. A little blonde girl sat on my lap, her long curls falling everywhere.

Dean's words broke me out, "Jackie?"

I replied after a second, "I'm good."

We walked into the bunker, me following Dean. He looked back at me as I looked around while followed him down the turning staircase.

"Dean, where have you been?" Sam called, looking at his phone. "I've been calling you for . . . hours." He spotted me and froze.

"Sorry, I was kind of busy." Dean answered, looking at me. "Get Matt and Mary. They'll want to see her." Sam ran out of the room and Dean pointed to his left, "You want a beer, whiskey, scotch?"

I scoffed, "You read my mind. A beer would be fantastic."

"Okay, gotcha." He said, turning to the library then turning back. "Take a seat. I'll be back in less than five."

I sat at the dining table, same one in my memory. Dean walked back in with two beers and I smiled.

"My favorite." I laughed, taking a quick sip. "Never thought I'd see this brand again. I thought they stopped making it."

"We have a friend in the beer business and he's got his own site where he makes the brand for us." He laughed taking his own swig.

I heard footsteps enter the room and I turned and stood. Matt stood and stared at me. I tried to swallow that lump in my throat, but it just got bigger and bigger.

"Hi, Matt." I said, nervous and anxious.

"Hi." He replied, his eyes filled with joy.

Dean put a hand on my shoulder, "Jack, this is Mathias Winchester, the Angel of the Lord. He's your husband." Sam and the little girl walked in as she clung to his side. "And that's Sam Winchester, your uncle." Sam smiled. "And finally, Mary Winchester."

The girl ran past Matt and hugged me around the waist as tightly as she could. She was shaking and crying, and I was late to respond, slowly placing my hands on her back.

"She's our kid." Matt said, slowly stepping closer.

I squatted down, becoming shorter than Mary, and looked at Dean's shoes. "How could I forget this?"