Carry On

Chapter 1: Old Times

OK, guys, just a little note before I start. This is my first ever fanfiction, and will probably be a little bad, just to start out. I'm hoping I will improve along the way! But, since I am hoping to improve, constructive criticism is definitely allowed, and encouraged!
Thanks all for reading, and any reviews will make me so very happy! Stay awesome, readers, if any exist!

I leaned back against the cool, painted, inky black surface of the Impala, nervously waiting for Dean to appear from the doorway. I had been waiting for a good fifteen minutes, much longer than it should have taken for Dean to retrieve his brother, and after the sounds of an intense struggle, I simply couldn't stand by anymore.

Quietly as I could, I stalked into the small home. It was incredibly dark, but luckily my eyes had adjusted well enough by the time I entered the tiny hallway. I peeked through doorways and arches until finally I heard familiar voices coming from what I assumed to be the living room.

"Dad hasn't been home in a few days," I heard Dean speak as I entered the parlor. I was surprised to find Sam, Dean's brother, with a beautiful half-dressed girl snuggled into his side. I internally rolled my eyes as I noticed her smurf's crop-top, which Dean had surely made some crude comment about. I truly didn't know why I put up with him. All eyes turned to me as I wandered into the room. A huge smile stretched across Sam's face and he broke away from the attractive blonde for a moment to wrap me in a hug, lightly ruffling my hair as he did so.

"Hey squirt," he smirked, laughing slightly at my less than pleased expression. He gestured to the lovely woman, and introduced her as Jess, whom he had earlier explained to me was his long-term girlfriend.

I waved happily to her before I glared up at him, craning my neck to look him in the eyes. "I'll have you know that I am two years older than you, young mister. Didn't your father ever teach you to treat your elders with respect?"

He opened his mouth, clearly about to retort when Dean cleared his throat, returning the room's atmosphere to its previous serious and grave state. Sam gave him a strange look, not sure what the issue truly was, when Dean widened his eyes for emphasis and elaborated, "Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days."

I lowered my eyes gravely, and Sam's own eyes narrowed in sudden understanding. He asked Jess to excuse us and he began leading Dean and I out the way we came, down the stairs and past the doors. We took care to be silent until we were out of Jess's earshot. Once we were, however, Sam unleashed his rage on Dean, angrily asking why he had to be involved, and also why it was such a big deal. I silently followed, not wanting to interfere too much in family affairs, and surely not wanting to incur the wrath of this strange angry Sam.

Dean explained that he had never been missing for this long of a duration, and that he knew that something serious was truly going on. Sam shot him a skeptical look. I understood where he was coming from; John, their father, had been known to disappear for short periods on time on multiple occasions, hopping through bars or getting overly caught up in cases. But Dean wasn't lying when he said that it had never been for so long, and never with so little contact. Even without that, I had a gut feeling that something was off. John wasn't 'number one dad' or anything, but he definitely cared for his children, and I seriously doubted that he would allow them to fret so much for his safety.

My jaw nearly dropped when Sam flat-out refused to help. I knew that things were different now that he had Jess, but I never pictured Sam as one to abandon his family, or me, in their time of need. I was a little hurt that he really wasn't going to help us. He went on and on about how awful his childhood was, how much he despised hunting, how his father abandoned him. I was there for his childhood; I grew up with him, and I knew we had good times. How dare he discard all of those memories for the worse ones? I grew angrier and angrier, my lips slowly turning down and my brow creasing into a frown until finally I couldn't just stand by silently anymore.

"Are you honestly going to abandon us? Are you honestly going to abandon your father? You're going to make us do this alone?" I growled out, scowling up at him.

He looked sadly down at me, his sweet honey eyes almost melting away my rage. Almost, but not quite.

"I can't, Kat, I just can't. I'm truly sorry, but I have to stay safe, and I have to keep Jess safe," he explained, pushing his eyebrows together in an attempt to gain my sympathy. I simply couldn't believe what I was hearing. And I couldn't deal with it. I turned on my heel, crossing my arms over my chest and pushing my chin up as I walked away, headed straight out of the apartment and straight towards the Impala.

He didn't even try to stop me, though I could hear he and Dean conversing quietly behind my back as I continued my retreat back to the car. Dean was obviously pleaded, trying to guilt trip him into helping us, and I truly hoped it was working.

After awhile of just leaning on the Impala again, counting the stars, I heard footsteps approaching. I sighed; my fears were affirmed that we were about to leave without Sam, our trip here meaningless. But then I looked up and saw a larger shadow behind Dean's, following him over to me. I squealed slightly and nearly ran up to hug him before I remembered that I was meant to be angry at him still.

I crossed my arms once again, and stuck my nose up at him. He sighed, knowing what was about to happen, as it occurred every single time he upset me in any way. I snottily told him, "I hope you're ready to apologize."

Another mildly annoyed sigh escaped his lips, but when I looked at him I saw that he truly was apologetic. "I'm sincerely sorry, Katherine."

I cringed slightly at the use of my full name, but a smile stretched across my lips nonetheless as I happily replied, "you're forgiven," before following Dean to the Impala's trunk: the weapons stash. Dean began explaining everything to his brother: from the mysterious disappearances to their dad's involvement in the case.

Once he had briefed Sam, he took out his phone and played the voice-mail that I had heard seemingly hundreds of times. John's voice sounded gravelly through the EVP's interference, but you could still catch the words he was hurriedly speaking. Something was going on, and we had to be seriously careful. Good old Sam pointed out the EVP, doubting our abilities, and Dean played it for him, the EVP sounding incredibly clear this time, however.

Though I had heard the tape this way as many times as I had heard John's original message, the chillingly whispered voice still sent shivers down my spine. A creepy female voice sounded through the phone, the words slow and stuttered: "I can never go home." Sam's eyebrows rose, his expression clearly surprised as he repeated what the ghostly woman had spoken.

Sam looked at us, obviously debating after Dean had reminded him of how little we'd bothered him since he decided to abandon us two long years ago.

Finally, he spoke. "Alright, I'll go. I'll help you find him. But I have to get back first thing Monday. Wait here." Dean inquired as to what was occurring on Monday, and Sam explained that he had a law school interview that day, which he dubbed as his "whole future on a plate".

Dean and I glanced at each other as Sam's retreating figure entered the apartment building. My expression suddenly darkened as I went over the previous conversation. "I can't believe Sam nearly abandoned us," I huffed.

Dean shot me a pointed look and stated, "He didn't, so it's alright. Just let it go, Kat."

I opened my mouth, preparing to continue my rant with how awful of a person Sam is, how he was going to have to pay for large amounts of my breakfast bacon to pay up for it, and many other insulting remarks, before Dean shut me up with another pointed glance. I sighed, giving up. It was family matters anyway, and I definitely didn't want Dean mad at me. We'd been alone on the road for quite a while now, three weeks without John, and I knew what an angry Dean was like. I did not like angry Dean, or even mildly annoyed Dean. Sometimes not even happy Dean.

We locked up the weapons again, and prepared for the open road. Dean got in the driver's seat and leaned out to ask me what I was doing just standing there.

"Well," I replied, "I'm waiting for Sam to get in the back so I can get my proper shotgun seat."

He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head at me, and I shook my head as well as I knew what was coming. "Sorry shorty, smallest in the back. I don't know if Sam can even squeeze his Sasquatch-like figure back there."

"I heard that," came Sam's teasing voice, much happier and lighter now that everything was sorted out and he was able to give Jessica a proper goodbye. "And I'm offended. But seriously, shotgun."

I glared at him, but stalked to the back anyway. I couldn't argue with a called shotgun, no matter how much I wanted to. And trust me, I wanted to. I settled into the back as the harsh tones of Dean's oldies music filled my ears. I was happy to be on the road again. We were so close to that full family that we were before Sam left for Stanford, and it filled me with such joy I couldn't put it into words. If only we could find John, as we were on our way to do, this would be perfect, just like old times.

I fell asleep to the low sounds of the boys' teasing banter. Just like old times.