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     Ben Braeden visits his mother's grave every morning, leaving ugly, little bouquets of wildflowers in his wake. He stays there for an hour and always leaves with red eyes and traces of tears along his cheeks.

     She knows this because she's witnessed him do it over and over for two weeks now.

     Right on cue, she watches his weary figure pass her, left hand clutching a handful of daisies. His mother died almost a month ago. Werewolves, she got to the group one day too late.

     She feels bad for him, though. His mother was all he had, and now he has no one. At least she has an almost family, halfway across the country now.

     His sense of hopelessness, though, she understands. She lost her father when she was little, spending most of her teenage years angry and in want of revenge. Her mother went missing and her return was short-lived. Both parents dead, her life hitting rock bottom, she had nothing, was nothing.

     He's like that now.

     She's never met him, hasn't spoken a word to his face. She's just heard of him in between sullen frowns and long sighs, like he was some sort of secret.

     "You're not the only one, you know. Stop acting like you're the only person whose life we've ruined. At least we got to try and help you, others were just left broken."

     They never said much about him. The Winchesters, the ones she knew, never talked about the short-lived moments of happy endings that never lasted. Said it was better off this way, but now they're gone and she's left wondering what the truth was.

     She's decided that this boy will be her truth. All his pain and tears, every broken, shattered piece she'll rebuild. And then, then she'll have him find them. He has nothing and she had everything, but now the tables are turned and she's refusing to admit she's left the same as him.

     But maybe, just maybe, they can both get the happy ending they deserve.

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