CHAPTER 1

October 2006

The drops of water that had formed on John Winchester's third glass of bourbon soaked through his notes dissolving the hours of research, but he didn't seem to care. He stared hypnotized by the dancing flame of the pink birthday candle as the cheap wax coated the hostess cupcake. After a few moments of silence, he sighed and the flame was snuffed out. He never touched the desert.

Sam watched from out of the corner of his eye, sitting on the motel bed half watching an old spaghetti western on the only channel the flea infested crap hole got. He wanted to ask him what he was doing, but decided against it. Sam and his brother, Dean, spent the better part of a year of searching for their father when he went missing. They had just reconciled after years of not speaking. Now wasn't the time to poke the drunken bear. Within a few minutes curiosity boredom had gotten the best of him, however.

Dean Winchester sat at the small table in the tiny motel kitchen diligently field stripping his sidearm. It was something he could do blindfolded, in his sleep, but all of his focus was lasered on this mundane task.

"So whatdya think is up with dad?" Sam whispered, taking a seat next to his brother.

"It's October 5th," Dean answered without looking up.

Sam looked at the clock, 12:15 AM. "It's been like what, three years?"

"Four," snapped Dean just as he clicked the magazine back into place. "What of it?"

"I thought you said he gave up. You said he stopped looking."

"That's not the same as giving up." Dean gazed over at his father, who was hunched over a stack of old photos. "I'm the one who said he should give it up. He needs to face the truth."

"The truth?" Sam scoffed.

"She's dead Sam, no other explanation."

"You have no way of knowing that. She just ran away, Dean. She wanted away from dad and she got away. She was always tough. I bet you she is just living her life…the way she wants to."

"No Sam, she wasn't like you. She wouldn't have just abandoned the family to become a lawyer." Dean's sharp words were delivered to Sam extra cold. "You didn't know her the way I did. She was a hunter, loved it…probably more than me. I knew she was dead within the first month. She didn't call or leave one of her little notes in her stash places. I checked them all Sam."

"But dad still believes she is alive?"Sam raised an eyebrow amused at something Dean disagreed with their father on.

" I tried to convince dad, but he still had us on the road for a year looking. Hell, he even asked me to call you. That's how desperate he was." His voice cracked. He took a swig of beer to drown the bit of pain that tried to get through.

The brothers lingered in the unpleasantness for a few agonizing moments before Sam turned to grab his coat.

"I'm gonna go grab some dinner." He said half out the door.

"It's past midnight!" Dean called back.

"Breakfast then!" Sam called back letting the door slam behind him.

John looked up from the desk, "what is his problem?"

Dean shrugged, "on his period or something."

John chuckled and went back to looking at the next photograph in the stack. Sam looked about seventeen or so, Dean didn't look too much different, save for looking like the poster boy for Abercrombie & Fitch 2002. In between them a girl of about fourteen with violet eyes that pierced through raven bangs. All of them looked absolutely miserable.

"I remember that day," Dean poked at the picture, "we were working that job where all those church ladies bit it." He laughed, "we got ourselves invited to the pastor's Thanksgiving and we had to pretend to be all Stepford family."

John chuckled, "that was probably the closest thing to a normal Thanksgiving we ever had."

"Yeah, until we found out the pastor was demon and we had to exorcise him in the middle of desert while grandma beat me over the head with her purse." Dean added.

"Believe it or not, that's not too far off from a normal Thanksgiving." John's smile faded. "I think this was the last picture of all you guys together."

"No way. What about the one we took in New Orleans a few months later? Remember that job with the voodoo queen and the gators." Dean flipped through the stack of discarded photos searching for the picture.

"I remember taking the picture, I just can't find it anywhere." John shuffled through the shoebox on the desk. "Is it sad that this is all the memories I have of you guys?"

"Well, it's not like we had albums of Kodak moments dad. I think Sam has some photos he keeps." Dean pulled out a small shoebox, decorated with magazine clippings and "SAM's STAY OUT" written in big black letters. He had had it since he was a kid.

"Do you really think we should be going through his stuff Dean?" John said in a fatherly tone.

"Years ago I was lookin for skin mags, and I thought he might have kept some in here, but when I looked it was just a bunch of family photos, post cards, movie ticket stubs and crap. Leave it to Sam."

Dean rifled through Sam's most personal items. Love notes from Jessica, a naughty Polaroid of Jessica, "jackpot!" He called out when he came across an envelope with family pictures.

"Not much some old photos of you and mom," he shuffled through the memories, singular moments of happiness captured in dark times. " Some stuff when we were little…look at that haircut!" He held up a picture of Sam with what was probably the worst bowl cut in history, he pocketed that one so he could ridicule Sam later. "Here's a postcard?"

Dean flipped the "Greetings from New York" postcard over.

Dear Samalam,

New York is amazing. I love it here! You'd love the library at this place, it's HUGE! You and Jessica should come down when we get our next break, should be after the holidays.

Love,

Jillybean

Dean read it over a second and third time as his stomach crawled into his throat. It dropped when he read the postmark , October 1st 2005

"Dean, what is it?" John asked.

With the words stolen from his mouth, all Dean could do handed his father the postcard. Stiff with rage Dean only flinched when his father punched the desk.

"I am gonna give that boy such a beating..." John trailed through clenched teeth.

Dean took a deep breath, he would need to be the cooler head. Someone needed to be or Sam was in for a world of hurt. He swallowed his outrage for the sake of his father.

"Wait, Dad. There's gotta be an explanation for this." He went through the rest of the envelope hoping to find some evidence that would make this all make sense. Each photo just became more damning, however. A photo of Sam & Jill in front of a rather sad Christmas tree with "Sam & Jill X-Mas 2004", photos of Jill & Jessica, Jill in a makeshift cap & gown standing next to Sam"Jill GED 2004".

John reached for the photos wanting to see what could possibly be so upsetting. Dean tried to keep them away, but his father was still stronger. He stood still as stone while John took his time to study each photograph, waiting for another chair, table or worse to be smashed into pieces. He felt like a child again, helpless in the wake of his father's rage. Sam, if you know what's good for you, please don't walk through that door in the next few minutes. He silently prayed.

John didn't utter a word, not an obscenity nor did he throw, hit or punch anything. He picked up his keys, and his coat and left. Dean was able to breathe once he heard the truck pull away.

The motel room was dark, but it was almost 3:00AM so there wasn't any reason to be alarmed. Sam still entered with caution. The room was empty. He pulled back the curtain on the window, the truck was gone. He hit the light and relaxed. It was nice to have some alone time for a bit, maybe he would be able to get some sleep.

He stashed the leftovers from the diner in the small refrigerator, it was pulled pork, but he labeled it salad, hoping it would deter Dean from stealing it.

"Late night?" Dean spoke from the shadows, causing Sam to jump. He was sitting at the table, the contents of the envelope in Sam's box sprawled out.

"So now you know," Sam shrugged, too tired to argue.

"So?" Dean stood up sharply, "So? Do you know how sick dad was looking for her? And you knew where she was. You could have brought her home, or at the very least called and said she was safe!"

"Dean, do you know what she looked like when she came to me? It looked like she just lost three rounds to a heavyweight champion and she was scared to death, saying dad went crazy, that he was gonna kill her! She begged me not to tell you guys where she was." The words he'd been wanting to say for years poured out of Sam.

"Bull shit, Sam. You never cared that much about her, you did that to get back at dad. Plus you knew dad could get a little rough now and then. She took licks from him before just fine. So you brainwash her into your little, 'not the life I wanted' bull crap. She was a hunter, she lived for the hunt. Don't tell me that's not true."

Sam smiled, for years he was always conflicted about not telling his family about Jill, not anymore. "Because you two were so close. She idolized you right? She was your shadow, mini-Dean killing machine." Sam cast a shadow of self-righteousness over Dean. "Did you know that she never wanted Dad to pull her out of school? All the trouble making, acting out stopped when she came here. She went to school was a normal kid for a year and a half, she got her GED and went to college. She had an afterschool job and sung at open mic night at the coffee house on Tuesdays. She didn't have to worry about her abilities because as a regular kid she never had to use them. I know you can't fathom this, but we had gotten out of this life and we were happy and I know I'm back in, but I'm glad she has a real shot at normal."

Dean struggled to keep his shaking, balled fist at his side, but he managed it. "You have no idea about her, do you? Of course not, because you wanted nothing to do with this family. She was never gonna be normal. She could never be normal!"

"Dean if-" Sam was interrupted by John's right fist. The shock sent him to the ground. Leather boot met ribs, back and stomach in swift hard blows, followed by a few more slaps and punches. Obscenities were shouted, some Sam was sure he never heard before, but in the pain and chaos his brain couldn't comprehend what was being said. Dean pulled his father off before John took it too far.

"Enough! Enough, Dad. Let's go walk it off." Dean lead John out of the Motel room, leaving Sam breathless and bleeding on the floor.