𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 ; Dean Winchester.

TWO

     The ride to Bobby's was eerily quiet. It was as if he was trying put together a puzzle in his head and I had no intentions of interrupting his process. Every now and then, I was able to catch quick glimpses of him, and he did likewise.
     For whatever reason, I couldn't bring myself to even tell him that I missed him, or how grieving had changed me—possibly for the worst. Instead I gave him a forewarning: "Bobby's going to be, skeptical, to say the least." I warned, my eyes focused on the road. My words caused him to look over at me now, "Yeah, I know. Already tried to call, he wasn't to fond of the idea of me being back from the dead." He let out a light laugh, I knew he understood why it was so hard to believe that he was actually him, especially in the line of work that they were in.
     "Why didn't you question me? No holy water, silver; nothin'" I looked at him momentarily, just long enough to see his brows furrow in curiosity. "I don't know, just had a feeling I guess." I replied. Suddenly, I felt his mood shift—he was trying to dissect me now. Wondering exactly what I had been like since he'd be gone and why I had changed but truthfully, I wouldn't be able to tell him if he asked.
     Before he was able to conjure another question, I was pulling into the junkyard beside Bobby's home. I was bracing myself, I hadn't seen Bobby in months either, and potentially facing Sam would be difficult alone. The night Dean died, Sam spent the night with me. Lots of crying, story sharing and even the decision to bury instead of ash & burn Dean had commenced; but after we parted ways I never picked up the phone and neither did he.
     This entire situation has left an awkward haunting on everyone involved and now, we'd all have to come to terms and face it. Dean took out in a fast pace the minute the car came to a stop, thus of which I couldn't keep up with. Before I could even get to the porch he was knocking on the door.
     "Bobby!" I shouted, charging up the steps once I began witnessing the two clashing in a tussle. Bobby had drawn a knife out of precaution, logically this is exactly how I was suppose to react when I saw him, but instead I hugged him, and he hugged me.
     Eventually the scuffle ended in the kitchen, in which I finally got the two to separate, once Bobby came to realization, his eyes fell on me like he had seen a ghost—when it was Dean who had died after all this time. "What the hell is this?" He questioned; and before I got the chance to answer, he flung holy water directly into Dean. I side stepped, avoiding getting my coat wet.
      "Maybe if you picked up the phone, you wouldn't have had to put your energy into trying to kill him." I spoke, once again catching my irritation just as it was too late. "Answer the phone? Considering how you uprooted and disappeared on all of us too, you're one to talk about phone answerin'." He shot back. Dean stared between the two of us, and I stepped out the kitchen, flustered and angry.
     My temper had shortened to such a degree after being alone for so long; I had to step outside to gather myself. Even though Bobby was right: I had abandoned him and everyone else when grieving. I sat on the steps of the porch, trying to figure out why I had been so hostile and coming up short after every conclusion. My thought pattern was broken by the eldest Winchester whom resided to my right now. Worry on his face but knowing him, he wouldn't address his concerns with me. "We found Sammy—I'm thinkin' he's made a deal. I take it you didn't keep in contact with him either." He sighed.
     "No, I didn't." I looked at him. "After he left, I was done. I stopped answering phones; I stopped treating hunters—I stopped it all Dean and—." I coldly finished my statement, refusing to open up any further. He could tell I had changed, and it wasn't for the better. "Don't do this, don't just close off on me not now." Dean became agitated, I could hear it in his voice and it forced me to break eye contact with him. "I'm right here, I know—well I'm trying to understand." He pleaded.
     "Just let it go Dean, I'm fine." I stood up from the porch soon as Bobby came out the door with a duffle bag clung to his shoulder. "Are you comin' or ya' rather tuck tail and run along again, Angela." He addressed me directly, and it took me aback. I looked at Dean, and he had been watching me once more: "I'm coming." I rolled my eyes, knowing that not tagging along would be detrimental and only hold more questions. My irritation with Bobby had caused the heat in my face to turn my pigment to become blushed: I turned away and started for my car. He was right, and he had all the right to be upset with me. Out of everyone I had cut off, Bobby's calls didn't stop until maybe two months ago.
     Without much surprise, Dean had tracked behind Bobby on the way to his truck, but made a stop when passing my car. "Talk to me," he went to reach for my hand once more much like earlier: I didn't let him. Instead I retreated into the car's driver seat. "I'm fined Stop worrying, let's go get your brother." I closed the door, moving him out the way. He let out a sigh and I watched him make his way to Bobby's truck in defeat.