Disclaimer: Supernatural does not belong to me. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

Chapter One: The Time Between

Skye would like to say that she managed well. She would like to say that the pain of losing her brother subsided a little each day. She would like to say that she could sleep through the night without visions of his torso ripped to shreds, and the blood that coated her hands as she tried desperately to put him back together.

Please, just let him live! We can fix this! "J-just hold on a little longer, OK? You're gonna be OK! I promise just a little longer..."

As it is, the things we want to say about ourselves are rarely true. Skye couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the truth. She had failed. It had been her job to protect her brothers, and she had failed not just the once, but twice now. Sammy should never have died, and Dean had to go and fix her mistake. After he was gone, she couldn't even find it in herself to go after Sam. Look where that had gotten her. He was missing. Dean was dead, and she was a complete and utter failure.

Bobby had housed her for a while. He never said it, but she knew he could see the pain she was in. He would bring her food, and try to keep her busy. "Hey kid, I've got some hunters looking for some information on shades. Wanna git down here and help?" Or: "You know a thing or two about cars, right? Got one coming in today I want you to take a look at." For a while, it helped. He would give her small chores to complete and when she finished that he would pull another one out of the air. She even adopted his busybody mentality. It was much harder to dwell when she was engaged in a task. So, she cleaned his house, organized his books, did research, and even tried her hand at cooking. Though, she was not sure how well she faired at that. She didn't taste the food when she ate it. Yes, it was much easier to accomplish everything when sleep wasn't an issue. Working until she dropped from utter exhaustion, Skye would then catch a few hours of restless sleep until she woke with a start and started all over.

After about two months, she had enough. Her anxiety, guilt and sleep deprivation made her quite volatile to talk to, truthfully. She needed to fight something- let out her aggression. Yelling at other hunters on the phone for being dumbasses just wasn't cutting it anymore. She hit the road. Early in the morning, she walked out of the house, a duffel bag slung over each shoulder. Bobby was waiting for her. He would have made a good father. He had the intuition of a dad. Always there when she needed him, it was as if he knew her mind better than she did herself. She gave him a quick hug and a small smile. All he said was, "Stay safe, idjit, and check in once in a while."

"Of course, Bobby. Thank you," She headed out into the misty morning, and that was that. Her rearview mirror showed him on the porch until she turned out of sight.

Luckily, Sam had left the Impala. He probably thought it was too easy to track. A nice car like that can draw attention, but Skye didn't know any other car. That was her home, and being in it was the most comfort she had received in a long while. The smell of leather and gunpowder reminded her of Dean and her dad. She didn't know if that made her want to cry or smile. So, she put on Zeplin IV and pressed the gas a little harder. It felt good to be home.

The cases Skye worked were duller than she recollected. Mostly, she found ghost cases. Interviewing the witnesses was more difficult than she remembered it being. Her whole life she had been desensitized to the grieving widow, or the heartbroken children. Guess she was getting soft in her old age. That wasn't the worst part, though. The hours of sitting in an empty motel room to research, with nothing but her laptop and a hard mattress for comfort, was driving her up the wall. At least at Bobby's, while she was researching, there was still the sound of the phones ringing and cars being towed. From time to time an acquaintance of Bobby's would even stop in to visit. Here, alone in the motel room, the sound of silence only reminded her of all the things she was missing.

A couple months had passed, she guessed. There really was no reason for her to keep track of the ticking of the clock. It didn't change anything. Bobby checked in once a week or so to see if she was alright. She always assured him she was. He always pretended to believe her. It was no surprise when her phone rang out, Black Sabbath's Paranoid playing from where it was laid on the nightstand. "Hey, Bobby," she answered after looking at the caller ID. She had been getting a lot of calls from weird numbers today. Sometimes, Skye just wasn't in the mood to deal with other people's problems.

"Hey, kid. I've got a bit of a problem. You near Sioux Falls?" Skye perked up at this. Bobby hardly asked for help.

"I'm just outside of Cheyenne. I can be there eight in hours. Probably less. What's wrong?" Skye was already packing her things. She only had one duffel bag full of clothes, but somehow they always ended up scattered all across the motel room. Sam had always said it was a gift. Her father had said it would get her killed one day. Skye had always rolled her eyes at that. Somehow she doubted that, of all the ways she could die, laundry would be her undoing.

"It's- uh- a bit difficult to explain. Just git here." Bobby grunted.

"Ok. See you in a couple hours." Skye hung up. She never was one for goodbyes and she needed both hands to pack. One quick trip to the front desk later and Skye was on the open road. Sioux Falls, here I come...

A/N Hope you enjoyed! Leave me a review, please :)