Author's Note: Hey there! It's been a good long while since I've posted anything. So for those of you who read my stories... I'm back! If you haven't read anything of mine before... Hi! I'm Writing Rebel and thank you for clicking on this story. I hope you like it :)

I started writing this after the last episode, The Executioner's Song, aired. That last scene was just so perfect. It got me right in the feels! You could see how affected by Cain's words Dean was. You could see that Sam already knew that his brother was afraid and broken, and you could see Sam's fear and worry.

It absolutely broke my heart :(

And so I wrote this!

Now I don't want to give out any spoilers about the story, so I won't be telling you why Sam does what he does in this part. You'll just have to wait until he reveals his reasons. In his time :P

I also want to let you know this story does have an OC. I hope you'll read it anyway and enjoy the story, but I understand some people don't like OC's. I'm sorry that turned you off of this story.

Author's Note Two: I notcied that I didn't catch some errors in my editing before. The biggest was the document manager erasing my scene breaks. I have fixed it though, so hopefully everything makes a little more sense now that the scenes are seperated. I'm sorry I didn't catch that before.

I also wanted to say that I have changed my mind about how this is going to be written. I was originally going to write the whole thing in my OC's POV. I'm not doing that anymore. The parts will switch between her, Sam, and Dean's POVs. I just decided I wanted to write about and allow you to see what everyone is thinking during this.

That's really all I have to say for now... So Happy Reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its plots and characters. All I own is this story and Harper.

The drive had been long and she had wanted to stop driving hours ago. Coming from just outside Seattle, her trip had taken her a little over thirty hours. She would have made it to the little building on the outskirts of town sooner, but her stop in Utah had halted her progress.

She sat in her car, engine still running, and looked at what the brick structure before her. It was just a couple of years back that Sam had told her that he and Dean had found the bunker, a place previously owned by a group called The Men of Letters, and had declared it home.

Their lost lineage had come as a surprise to the youngest Winchester she remembered. It had been a shock to her too. She'd heard of the group of supernatural researchers in passing a couple of times in her life, but she had never expected those rumors to be true. She'd never expected her friend to be one of the mythical men.

Sam had revealed to her early on that, while he was thankful for the extra resources, he didn't want to make this place home. He wanted to keep hunting. She knew that he had changed over the years, but this revelation had still surprised her. Of all the hunters she knew, he was the only one she'd known that truly wanted to settle into a normal life. He was the only that had ever thought about a home.

She liked to think that hadn't changed, and his reason for not wanting to settle into the bunker was because it simply wasn't the home he wanted. The thought comforted her, allowing her to think that her friend hadn't changed that much.

But in all honesty, she barely knew Sam Winchester anymore. He wasn't the same boy she knew all those years ago.

They had met when she was a young teenager when she had been taken in by Pastor Jim. Her parents had been members of his flock and she had grown up in the gentle man's presence. Having been hunters themselves, her parents allowed her to learn from the pastor and she loved the time she spent with him. It wasn't until her parents died in a car accident, and she was left in her mentor's care, that she met the Winchesters.

Her and Sam's friendship had been fast and unbreakable. When they were young, and the Winchesters were on the road, Sam would write her letters. It was hard sending her letters to him, but it didn't take her long to figure out that Bobby would make sure Sam got all the letters she sent to the salvage yard. The internet had made things much easier for them and when they got older they starting sending emails instead of letters.

She'd always known that she could tell Sam anything, and she always had. There was a time when they'd both shared that luxury - telling each other everything. In recent years, though, she had a feeling she was the only one sharing everything. And as his emails became fewer and farther between, she knew she'd been right. She was the only one sharing everything.

It had been months, in fact, since she'd heard from Sam when she had gotten the call. It was strange talking to him on the phone, and at first she hadn't recognized the voice of the man on the other end of the line. She was so used to their emails.

But his reason for calling was important and he couldn't wait for her to reply to an email. That's what he'd said when she questioned him.

He didn't say much more after that.

"Dean's in trouble. I need your help."

After that their conversation had been about locations and how soon she could be there. Within five minutes, she'd packed her bags and was on the road.

Dean.

Nothing had been simple with him and yet it had been so easy for her to come running the second Sam said he was in trouble.

That was why she was here. Dean needed help.

Pulling out her phone, she sent a text to Sam, letting him know she was there. She threw the device into the duffel next to her and pulled the keys from the ignition.

Climbing out of the car wasn't easy. Her muscles ached and her joints tried their hardest to stay bent. She managed to straighten herself out and grab her duffel just as the door to the bunker opened.

She'd almost forgotten how tall he was. As he walked out onto the small patch of grass beside the road, she took in her friend's appearance. His shaggy hair had somehow gotten longer and while he was much bigger than the lanky teenager she had last seen, he seemed smaller somehow. Like he was tired, defeated.

It broke her heart to see him like this. For so many years, she thought she'd been there for her friend when he needed her, but seeing him know she knew that wasn't true.

Somehow he had gone from a young man full of hope and dreams to a man that had seen too much to have much of either left. He had grown old, not from age but experience, and she had missed it.

"Hey, Harper." He looked unsure of himself as he spoke. She wanted to take that from him and give him back the surety he once had.

Walking across the street, she dropped her bag beside their feet and wrapped her arms around the friend she hadn't seen in so long. "Hey, Sam."

The bunker was much bigger than she thought it would be. Her and Sam were sitting in the library, bottle of whiskey between them. His glass sat before him empty while she clutched her still full glass in her hands. Not much had been said between the door and here; neither of them knew what to say.

She watched as he filled his glass again and downed it one swig.

"Wanna slow down there, Sam?"

He looked up at her sheepishly and put the glass down. "Sorry."

Silence took hold of them again. She wanted desperately to ask Sam so many questions, but was afraid to voice them.

"I wasn't expecting you here this soon." His voice filled the room. "You said you were stopping for the night in Utah."

She had called him from some dingy little motel in Utah when she had barely been able to keep her eyes open anymore. Already stripped out of her boots and pants, it hadn't occurred to her to let Sam know she would be continuing her trek in the morning until she was settled into the uncomfortable motel bed.

When she had called him, he'd seemed hesitant as if her stop would somehow hurt Dean further. It was then she'd asked what trouble Dean was in.

And Sam had told her.

She hung on every word she heard, and they made her feel sick. Every horrible detail she was told had made her stomach churn.

When the conversation was over, and the phones had been hung up, she laid in her uncomfortable bed. Suddenly, it was easy to keep her eyes open. She was unable to sleep, Sam's words floating around in her head.

Before getting redressed and climbing back into her car, she had decided there was no point staying in a motel room if she wasn't going to sleep.

"I decided getting here was important." Sam's disapproving gaze met her. "I couldn't sleep anyway."

He looked like he could understand that, and she assumed he could. Knowing that someone you loved was going to become one of the things you'd spent your life hunting or die fighting it was sure to keep someone up at night.

She also assumed that would explain Sam's third glass of whiskey.

The room was quiet, and she realized the whole bunker was quiet. She expected a place this big to make some kind of noise, but there was none. Only her breathing and the sloshing of whiskey in its bottle.

"So," she started. She didn't really know what to say, if there was anything to say. But she had gotten her friend's attention, so she needed to say something. "Where is he?"

She saw the twitch in his face, almost a cringe, and almost regretted asking. But the oldest Winchester was the reason she had come here.

"He's, uh, " he cleared his throat before continuing, "He's out."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Like I said. Wasn't expecting you yet."

She nodded. "In that case," she let go of the glass and stretched. "I would kill for a shower."

Sam smiled, but she noticed it didn't reach his eyes. "Sure. I set up one of the rooms for you."

He waited for her to stand and, ever the gentleman, took her bag from the table. They walked down the halls in silence. She didn't know if she could take much more of that. The silence.

She hated silence.

When they came to a stop, she saw they were standing at the first door in a hall with many. Sam opened the door. "This is it."

She walked in, taking the bag from his hands on her way. Laying it on the bed, she turned to face him. "Thanks." She tried to smile at him but found it didn't come easily.

"I know it's not much..." He trailed off, not finishing his sentence.

"It's more than enough, Sam."

And it was. The room was sparse, that much was true. But it had a double bed that looked much more comfortable than the one in Utah, a small dresser, a desk, and a sink and mirror.

She didn't need anything else.

He smiled again that smile that didn't reach his eyes. Pointing down the hall, he said, "The showers are at the end of the hall." He pointed in the other direction. "Mine and Dean's rooms are just around that corner. If you need anything."

She came to stand in the doorway with him and poked her head out the door. She looked the first way he had pointed to see a long hall of doors with one situated at the very end, facing them. Looking back the way they'd come, she saw a hallway off to the right.

She would have to remember where they led.

"I can give you the full tour," he said, scratching nervously at the back of his neck, "when you're done settling in."

"Thanks, Sammy." His nose scrunched at the nickname, just like it always had. "Still don't like it, huh?"

Nose still scrunched, he snorted his distaste and truly smiled.

Nodding, she smiled with him, before asking about Dean. "When will he be back?"

She didn't like that his smile left him as he answered, "In a few hours. He left just before you got here to get some supplies."

Knowing that a supply run, even for a man who distracted as easily as Dean Winchester, didn't take a few hours, she figured Sam thought his brother had stopped at a bar on his way to the store. He had told her that Dean was spending a lot of time in the bottle since his battle with Cain.

She assumed his way of thought was probably correct.

"Okay." She moved back into the room, opening her duffel to grab what she would need for her shower. She knew Sam was leaving by the sound of his clothes rustling in the doorway. "Sam?" The rustling stopped and she turned to look at him. "Does Dean know I'm here?"

He hesitated only a moment. "No."

While that was the answer she'd been expecting, it wasn't the one she'd been hoping for.

Her and Dean's relationship was complicated, and the last time they'd seen each other hadn't been pleasant for either of them. They'd barely spoken to each other since and she doubted he would want her here during the best of times. But now...

He wouldn't want her here, and she knew that. But alone in her car on her way here, she had allowed herself to hope he had known about Sam's call and was okay with her visit.

She knew he would be upset when he came home to find her there. And she knew she needed to be prepared for however he reacted to her presence. "I'll settle in quickly."

The shower room was large, to say the least. When she had seen the long row of shower stalls, she almost hadn't known which one to use. She'd finally decided to use the last one so she could see what, if anything, was coming.

She trusted Sam when he said this was a safe place for all of them, but she had learned that she could never be too safe.

So she showered with her back to the wall and her eyes forward.

Her body ached for the warm water, and she turned the faucet just a little more, reveling in the now scalding water. It helped to work out the kinks from her impromptu road trip, but she found it was doing nothing for her nerves.

If she was honest with herself, she was nervous to see Dean again. The years had not removed the pain from her, and she wasn't sure she was ready to face him. She wasn't sure she ever would be.

As the water fell around her, she let her mind wonder to her youth. She missed those times, when she was nothing more than a girl in her pastor's care. The world had been simple then before she started hunting. Before angels and rampant demon possessions. Before the apocalypse.

Before she'd loved Dean.

The thought of him, their disastrous relationship, made her body ache again. She still couldn't believe that two people could hurt each other so much and still claim to love one another.

But every time her and Dean tried to make it work, that is exactly what they managed to do. And even as long as it had been since their last 'try', it still hurt her to think about.

Her phone rang from the pile of clothes a couple of stalls down. She knew who was calling without having to look. It was her friend, Charlotte. She'd been calling since the Oregon border, and Harper had ignored every call.

It took another two calls for her phone to quiet down. She welcomed this silence.

She knew she would have to answer the phone eventually; she did have to explain herself, after all. She had responsibilities in Washington.

She had responsibilities to Charlotte.

But she couldn't think about that now. Not when her mind raced with the thought of Dean's 'problem' and Sam's confidence that she could help.

That was what she had to focus on.

For now, Charlotte, and her responsibilities, would have to wait.

She paced the small expanse of her new room, towel drying her auburn hair. After her shower, she had turned off her phone, to silence Charlotte's calls, and headed back to her room. Her intention had been simply to put away her things.

But now she found herself hiding. She had no way of knowing if Sam was still alone in the bunker, and she wasn't ready to see Dean yet.

She wanted more time with her friend. She wanted more time to adjust to being with the Winchesters again. She wanted more time to wrap her head around what had happened to her lost love.

Her pacing lulled her into a calm, into her thoughts, thoughts of Dean. Thinking of him in such a way, as her lost love, brought wonderful memories to mind.

Their first kiss when they were teenagers, soft and unsure.

The lunches at the little diner in town that served as dates because it was the only time John would let Dean leave Sam and their research.

When John had told the boys they would be spending a few months on Jim's farm while he helped Bobby Singer train a new hunter, Dean's face had lit up. As soon as his dad had left the room she'd been in his arms.

All the times they would sneak out at night during the Winchester's visits to Pastor Jim's home. They would spend those nights in the barn on the back half of the pastor's property talking and laughing. Occasionally, sharing their fears and the things they wanted but knew they couldn't have.

She even thought of finding him again, years after John had come and taken him and Sam from her.

She'd been so shocked to see him that Sunday afternoon when she and Jim had returned from church. The Impala sat abandoned in the gravel drive, its driver swaying on the porch swing. He looked upset, lost, and it wasn't until dinner, when Jim had asked where John was, that they knew the reason for his visit.

Just four months after Sammy had left for college, John had left Dean to hunt alone.

Even though she hadn't seen him for a few years then, she knew how much that hurt Dean. All he'd ever done was take care of his family and now he was alone.

Harper's heart had broken for him. Later that night, while Dean was in the kitchen helping himself to yet another slice of pie, she'd talked to Jim about it. About how hard it must be for Dean to be without his brother and his father.

When Dean joined them on the porch the next morning, Jim asked him to stay. She had almost laughed, as she watched him try to hide his grin, and mutter, "Yeah, okay. Whatever."

He had come and gone after that, hunting whatever John told him. But she watched the tension leave him every time he returned as if he had finally found a home.

Their relationship had been strained at first, and she had thought it would stay that way. But it hadn't. It did take a while, but they slowly began to feel comfortable with each other again.

And it had felt so nice.

It wasn't until Sam's third year away, Dean's second year with her and the pastor, that their tentative comfortableness gave way to something more.

And it had been sweet.

He still left to hunt, but always came back to her. She had truly thought they would make it work that time around.

The knock on her door startled her from her thoughts, and for that she was thankful.

"Yes?"

The door cracked open, and Sam's head poked into the room. "Just checking on you." He opened the door fully and stepped inside. "I still have to give you the tour."

She could see in his eyes that wasn't his true motive. He wanted to make sure she was ready, settled in, for whenever Dean came home.

Taking a breath, she dropped the towel on the bed and joined him at the door. "Let's go take this tour."

Author's Note: So there's Part One! I hope you enjoyed it and will come back for Part Two. I'm already working on it so it should be up sometime next week.

Author's Note Two: I've decided Part Two will be in Dean's POV. You'll get to see what he's been thinking about what Cain said and how he reacts to seeing Harper again. Maybe even a little more about their past!

Let me know what you think! I would absolutely love for you guys and gals to leave me reviews :)

See you next time!

Writing Rebel