ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ'ꜱ||ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟ

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏʙᴏᴅʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴄʟᴏᴡɴ (ᴘᴛ 1)

The only light comes from the wrapped, burning body of John Winchester. Standing behind, hands in their pockets, are Sam, Dean, and Y/N. Sam is near tears and fidgeting, Dean staring into the flames silently, Y/N looking emotionless and holding the picture John had given her.

"Before he...before, did he say anything to you? About anything?"

"No. Nothing," Dean says, without looking at him. Y/N glances at him with a sad expression.

==

A week later, the three are at Bobby's junkyard. Dean is underneath his car working on it, only his legs sticking out. Y/N is squatting beside him, occasionally passing him tools. The car is little more than a rusted frame, but it looks considerably less crunched than last time. Sam approaches.

"How's the car coming along?" he asks.

"Slow," Y/N replies.

"Yeah? Need any help?" Dean drops something heavy.

"What, you under a hood? I'll pass."

"I can pass you tools."

"I've got Y/N for that."

"Need anything else, then?" Dean pushes himself out from under the car and stands, Y/N following.

"Stop it, Sam," Dean says.

"Stop what?" Sam asks.

"Stop asking if we need anything, stop asking if we're okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise." Y/N nods in response, not making eye contact with Sam.

"All right, Dean, it's just... We've been at Bobby's for over a week and you haven't brought up Dad once. Neither of you have."

"You know what? 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," Y/N says, giving Dean a glare.

"Don't patronize me, Dean. Dad is dead. The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you two are acting like nothing happened."

"What do you want us to say?"

"Say something, all right? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car." Sam looks to his sister. "Y/N, you barely even talk anymore." She looks up at him.

"Revenge, huh?" Dean says.

"Yeah."

"Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't. But you know, if we do finally find it—oh. No, wait, like you said. The Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? So, you know the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car." Dean crouches by the car again, getting back to work while Y/N doesn't move.

"Well, we've got something, all right?" Sam pulls out a cell phone. "It's what I came by here to tell you two. This is one of Dad's old phones. Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this."

"John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me."

"That message is four months old."

"Dad saves that chick's message for four months?" Y/N asks.

"Yeah."

"Well, who's Ellen? Any mention of her in Dad's journal?" she continues.

"No. But I ran a trace on her phone number and I got an address."

"Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars," Dean says.