As it says in the summary, this story will be written by myself and sweetkiwi604. Please leave a review. It'd mean a lot to the both of us :)


"Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go according to any rules. They're not like aches or wounds, they're more splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material" - F. Scott Fitzgerald.

I sighed, sitting on a bar stool behind the counter with an exhausted huff. The small bar was unusually busy for a Monday night. Then again, once you go alcoholic, there's no going back. I had planned at least starting the paper I had due on Friday but we since we were so busy and I felt like absolute crap, I hid in the corner to get a few minutes of silence. I felt my warm, fever induced cheeks with my calloused hands, taking a minute to relax. Spending all my time between the bar and school was wearing me thin but tuition needed to be paid and books bought.

"Sleeping on the job, Winchester? Rookie move."

"No on likes a creeper, Xander," I replied, looking up to see the bar manager leaning against the shelves beside me.

He just grinned; his dimples making him look more like a teenager than a guy who ran one of the best bars in town. Then again, it was the only bar in this small town.

"Put your game face on, Meg. There's a high roller at the end of the bar with your name all over him," he started knowing how much I needed the tips.

"Describe the situation," I sat up fixing my hair and wrapping an apron around my waist.

"He looks the whiskey type," Xander continued.

"Oh, I know a lot of those," I muttered under my breath, smiling to myself when I found myself thinking about my family.

"What can I do you for?" I asked not really paying attention to the guy as I casually tossed a coaster onto the bar.

"Double shot of whiskey on the rocks," he answered.

"Should have known," I mumbled to myself turning around to grab a glass and fill it with ice.

"Yeah, you should have Meggie."

Hearing my old nickname I whipped my head around and was met by Dean's green eyes staring back at me. I barely felt the glass slip out of my hands as it fell to the floor and shatter into pieces.

"It's only been about three years," Dean continued as I stood there like a deer in headlights.

"Everything ok over here, Meg?" Xander questioned coming over to make sure I was alright.

"Yeah," I nodded not taking my eyes off of Dean, "I'm going to take my break, I'll be back," I said untying my apron and tossing it to Xander before walking out the front door.

"And here I thought you left to go to college but you're just some bar wench," Dean remarked as he followed me outside.

"I am in college asshole and you would know that if you ever picked up the God damn phone and called me," I sneered not being able to control my anger.

It had been three years since Dad and me gotten into the argument about wanting to go to college and leave hunting behind. It had been three years since I stormed out of that roach motel. It had been three long years since I heard from my older brother. There was a time when we used to tell each other everything, we were each other's best friends, we would pick on Sammy and sit up and watch Novellas making up our own conversations since we could never understand what they were saying but that was three years ago.

"It's nice to see you too, little sister. You know," he smirked in the distance above my head and shoved his hands into his worn jacket pocket, "you look more and more like me everyday."

"I'm nothing like you, Dean."

"That's right," he nodded as he rubbed the back of his neck before taking a step closer to me, "I didn't walk out on my family."

I gritted my teeth, glancing over to the bar and saw Xander quickly move away from the window. The wind was warm and I could see the Impala shining in her glory on the other end of the parking lot.

"I see dad gave you the Impala," I commented calmly, trying to hide my jealousy, "What'd you do to get on his good side?"

"I stayed," my brother stated evenly which made my blood boil. Did he really think he could show up here after three years with not even one word spoken and start a fight?

"Well maybe you should just haul ass and go back to where you came from and leave me the hell alone, Dean."

"College girls," Dean muttered and rolled his eyes.

"So, why are you here? You gonna help pay off my student loan or what?"

"Close," he put a finger up to prove a point.

"Well, whatever crap you want to get me into," I said as I started walking back to the bar, "You're doing by yourself. I'll tell Sam you came by though."

Dean grabbed my hand and pulled me back to face him, holding tight to look me in the eyes and ask, "You talk to Sam?"

"Yeah," I shrugged like it was no big deal.

I always felt guilty for leaving Sam behind when I left. It wasn't a surprise when the kid called me saying he was in California living with a girl that was way out of his league. I went to visit him in California once during my spring break. He was happy. And when all you've seen in your life was dirty motels, guns and nightmares in your closet it was a pleasant necessity to see a smile on my little brother's face. Maybe I had done something right in leaving; I taught him how to do it too.

"Meg," Dean snapped his fingers in front of my face, "You still with me?"

"What?" I said irritated pulling my arm out of his grasp, "What do you want?"

"I just drove twenty-two straight hours to see if you were ok. By the looks of things you need to eat a few more burgers and you do realize you have a fever, right?" he questioned looking me up and down like he was taking in every inch of me and how much I have changed.

"I can take care of myself, Dean," I stated but my words came out inaudible and cracked, even as the words left my mouth I knew he didn't believe me but I couldn't expect him to take care of my life we used to, we were adults now and I was doing my best, "I have to get back to work."

"I get it," he said rather disappointedly, fishing out his keys, and trying to pull a puppy-eyed guilt trip on me. Who did he think he was, Sam?

I groaned, "Dean, uh, my shifts almost over, why don't you stick around for a drink? It's on me."

"I can't keep up with your mood swings, Meggie," he grinned, "Give me a warning or something next time you're going to give me whiplash."

"On one condition," I stopped before we reentered the bar, "You don't all me 'Meggie'. I'm not a little girl anymore, Dean."

"Ok," he agreed readily, opening the door for me and as I walked in he felt the need to add, "Meggie."

Even after three years, one-thousand and ninety-five days, one-million five-hundred and seventy-six thousand eight-hundred minutes, it only took one second for my older brother to come back into my life. Maybe it was for the better this time.