Fading, falling, lost in forever
Will I find a way to keep it together?
Am I strong enough to last through the weather in the hurricane of my life?
Can it be a conscious decision?
That I look for ways to alter my vision?
Am I speeding towards another collision in the alleyways of my life?

Abigail's Point of View

Hospital—Early Morning

I couldn't believe it. John was really gone. The last thing he ever said to me replayed over in my mind; I'll be right here waiting until you and the baby get out of the hospital. I promise. Yeah, well, a lot of good it did. After about the thirtieth time of crying and sobbing, it still infuriated me. I hadn't been aloud out of my room, I hadn't been able to see my own daughter due to protocol standards, and I endured several long psych exams to ensure that I wasn't going crazy. Believe me, I was just about there from just staying in here longer than what I had to.

Sam and Dean had made the trek with John's body to somewhere secluded for a traditional hunter's funeral—an age old funeral pyre like back in the day. Many frowned upon it, thought it was effective so that whomever died couldn't have something attached and become an aggressive spirit.

Christ. I swiped my hand under my swollen eyes to rid myself of another round of tears. I wanted out of this place. I wanted my daughter with me, I wanted Sam and Dean with me, and most of all, I wanted John back. In all my years, I had never felt so alone, granted, Bobby had stayed with me while the boys were gone. At the moment, he had run into town for something—I couldn't really remember what it was he was after—but he said it wouldn't be long.

"Miss Winchester?" a kind, soft voice said, snapping me out of my thoughts. I lifted my head off of my pillow to see a nurse that worked up in the NICU. I think her name was Ashley, "How are you doing today?"

I slowly sat up, feeling the pull of my staples, "I can't complain, I guess." I said hoarsely, "How's Megan doing?"

She stepped into my room, "She's doing just fine, but there is a little implication." Fear flared up within me, then saw her smile to me reassuringly, "Nothing to be worried about though, her stats are seeming a little low—babies often go through things like that. Especially in micro-preemies, like your daughter." I felt the reassurance from her, which seemingly calmed me down. With a simple nod, Ashley smiled, "After a week and a half, I think it's time for you to come meet your daughter."

My eyes widened, "What, now?" I asked.

She nodded, "Yeah, of course!" I shifted in my bed. Was this really happening?

"I was cleared?"

Ashley nodded, "Yes, ma'am. Your psych evaluations and everything's come back good. Your doctor cleared you to come up and see her." Despite the lump that formed in my throat, I felt an overwhelming sense of excitement and nervousness, glancing behind her to the door expecting Sam and Dean to come in or Bobby, but neither of them did. I blew out a long and slow breath. This was surreal.

"When can I go?" I asked.

"I sent for a wheelchair just before I came down here," Ashley replied checking her watch, "Should be here any minute." I nodded, running a quick hand through my hair and pulled the hair tie that was around my wrist off, pulling my scraggly mop of hair into a bun so that I looked half-way decent for my daughter. "You really do have a little miracle baby, Abigail."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"When you guys arrived, we weren't sure either of you were going to make it. You were in bad shape, and little Megan was bad off. You two really do have an angel looking over you."

I forced myself to smile despite the pit that had formed in my stomach solidified itself again, "Yeah…I guess we do."

After making it into the NICU, there were several rooms with incubators and the tiniest babies I ever saw. I couldn't believe my eyes, and from each one, I felt their pain, their loneliness, and their longing to be held. Each one was as scared as the other, which absolutely broke my heart. Ashley wheeled me to the last room. There sat an incubator, the heart monitors above it beeping rhythmically. When we stopped, I leaned forward seeing a tiny baby lying on top a bright pink blanket, and swaddled up in another one.

I suddenly found it hard to breathe seeing the tiny form that was my daughter. "Is that-?"

"Yup, that's Miss Megan." She answered for me, watching as I covered my mouth. Tears blurred my sight instantly when my daughter's tiny form twitched her arms, "Your boyfriend, Dean? He's been up here every day with her—she definitely knows him as her dad."

I swallowed, "I heard."

"He and his brother actually brought in those blankets the other day, right before you woke up." Ashley recollected. I looked up at her with a tiny smile, "You're very lucky to have a family like you do."

"Thanks." I murmured, shifting forward to look into the incubator. All was quiet for a moment until I took a deep breath to ask a question that I didn't really want to hear the answer to, "Do you know when she'll be able to come home?"

"It won't be for a while." She said, "I've seen some stay for a few days, to a few months. With Megan, she'll most likely stay until her supposed due date."

"So, November?" I asked as I kept my eyes on my daughter, watching her chest rise up and down, "Three months."

"Perhaps earlier if she's doing a lot better by that time, but I can't make you any promises." Ashley said.

"It's fine," I told her quietly, "I just want her to be healthy."

"The neonatologist wants to ensure that Megan's going to gain weight and eat properly, breathe without the help of oxygen—which, she's doing great by the way," She added with a smile, "and can meet all of the milestones with little to no problems." Ashley explained, "You'll see her doctor from time to time, so if you or Dean has any questions, don't hesitate to ask."

I nodded, "I'm sure I will, thanks."

"No problem," She replied, "If you want to, you can hold her."

I gaped, glancing back to my tiny child and back to her, "I-I, uh, I might break her."

Ashley laughed in amusement at my concerns as she walked over to the windows, closing the blinds, "No, you won't, Abigail. She's quite tough."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Positive." She replied with a nod, "We're gonna try a little something called Kangaroo care."

"Not to sound stupid, but what's that?" I asked.

"It's where you hold your baby skin-to-skin. It has really good results and benefits." Ashley said before she glanced to her watch, "Actually, it's almost time for her to be fed…do you plan on breastfeeding?"

"Yeah, my mom did it…figured I'd give it a shot." I replied with a small shrug, glancing to the recliner-type chair that sat beside the incubator, then saw Ashley unlatch the lid and lifted it up. After she had it secured, she turned to me.

"How you're going to want to hold her is to take these cords and drape them over your arm, like so," she instructed. I glanced to at least four or five different things coming from Megan, and watched Ashley drape them over her forearm, "Since this is your first time breastfeeding, you'll see her try to move about and inch her way to your breast. Try not to stop her cause looks are deceiving. She'll take a moment to rest, and she'll latch herself, should she not have any problems."

"Has she?" I asked, looking to Ashley.

She smiled, "No, she's been eating great. She takes her bottles like a pro."

I snorted a little, "She's like her dad then. Constantly eats."

"Is that so?" Ashley laughed, taking a step to the side, "Then she should gain weight in no time."

Standing up, I slowly approached the incubator, gathering all the cords and draped them across my arm, "Like this?" I asked, seeing her nod approvingly.

"Yes, perfect." I let out breath to calm me down, cause Lord knows I was shaking like a leaf. I slid my hands under her head and body, which literally fit in my hands, and I carefully took her out, bringing her to my chest. It was definitely hard seeing her hooked up to them, but they were on her for a good reason, and that was something I needed to always remember. It amazed me at how light she was. My daughter was almost as light as a feather, and that revelation brought another round of tears to my eyes.

After I sat down with Megan in my arms, Ashley helped me undo my gown in order to tuck Megan within it, feeling her tiny body against my bare chest. It was the most spectacular feeling I had ever felt. One of the best highs I've ever been on, and it was one that I didn't want to come down from. It had taken Megan a total of five minutes to inch her way down to one of my breasts, another couple of minutes to rest, and finally latched on.

It was definitely an awkward feeling, but it felt right—like how God intended it. Just in that time, I had fallen completely head over heels for my daughter. She made tiny whimpers and sucking noises that made my heart feel like a whirlwind, and the amount of love I felt from her made me want to cry. This was totally new to me. New to Dean and Sam, but this also brought me a light at the end of a rough tunnel.

I gently pulled my gown up over my free shoulder, tucking it under my arm with the cords. I took this moment to take in her features. She was beautiful. Whenever she would peek at me through her long lashes that she got from Dean, a pair of dazzling blue eyes would look back at me. She had the tiniest feet and hands that would occasionally extend from me touching her toes and palm, and my God, her hair! I was surprised she had as much hair, but then again, I wasn't surprised due to the extensive amount of heartburn I had.

"Do you know who I am?" I asked her gently, "I'm your momma. I've been asleep for a while." Megan continued to suckle away, making her tiny noises, and I let out a soft chuckle, "You've been the one that's given me heartburn, and a horrible obsession with peanut butter." I looked to her feet again and smile, "and I know those feet of yours do some damage."

There was a knock on the door, causing me to look up warily. It was Dean and Sam. Dean stopped in his tracks, breathless at the sight of me holding and breastfeeding our daughter. "Hey, you." I said gently.

Sam bumped into Dean seeing that I was exposed, then looked away abashed, "Oh, God. Sorry!"

Dean blinked remembering that Sam was there, "Dude."

"Ya'll are actin' like it's the first pair of boobs you've seen." I said jokingly. They smiled weakly at me, and stepped into the room after I gestured them in, "Hell, babies gotta eat, too. Especially since this'n is of Dean Winchester."

Dean chuckled, "I told you she had a ton of hair."

I nodded, running my fingertips over her forehead gently, "That you did." I heard footsteps coming from behind me. I felt familiar fingertips touching the skin on my neck, and smelling the familiar scent of Dean's aftershave as well as an earthy fragrance. Dean placed a kiss on my temple as tears were forming. We were all silent for a moment. I had felt their sorrow and emptiness when they stepped to the door, but after coming into the room, it had all changed to excitement. We all took a moment to not think of the current events and the heartache, and just focused on what we had. Family, birth, life. It's all we had.

One Week Later

Singer Auto Salvage

Since I had gotten out of the hospital, no one has really called me other than Charlie and Kara to express their worry about Megan, myself, and their condolences about John's death. They offered to come down and stay with me for a week or two, but I simply refused stating the same old thing I usually say. I'm the queen of okay, here. The master of I'm fine. Everything was all honky dory, except…it wasn't. It was far from it, and we were far from being okay or fine. Dean was dealing with John's death in his own way by being quiet or pretending everything was fine while Sam was the exact opposite.

"Abigail, what are you doing?" Sam's voice cut through the house, startling me. I fumbled around with the heavy chair that I was moving until it landed on my foot with a painful thud and I yelped out, lifting it up quickly to release my foot. I spun around to see him leaning on the doorframe to the kitchen with his arms folded across his chest and a bitchface in full effect. Instantly, I could feel how aggravated he was, therefore, I was aggravated.

"I was movin' this chair until you scared the piss outta me," I muttered rubbing the top of my foot, "that's what I was doin'."

He rolled his eyes, "Yeah, and the doctor said to not lift anything over ten pounds."

I rolled mine to match his, "Doctors says a lot of things, Sammy, like don't drink too much beer or it'll give you liver disease, or don't eat too much or you'll get fat—stupid shit like that." I waved a hand at him dismissively, "You can't fart sideways without them tellin' ya a bunch of crock." I gripped my hands on either side of the chair and grunted, then let go again quickly when a sharp pain shot across my abdomen and I leaned forward.

"Abs?" Sam asked, concerned.

"I'm fine." I breathed out, hearing another bang outside, "How long has Dean been out there?"

I looked over my shoulder to Sam, seeing him peer out of a window, "Uh, I think since seven."

I shook my head at him, "You talk to him?"

"Not really, why?" I shrugged, shaking my head dismissively, "Abigail, you wouldn't have asked if you didn't want to know something."

I straightened up, holding my side gingerly, and I turned to look him with an indifferent expression on my face, "He's not really spoke to me today except to ask me something about Megan…that's all."

Sam looked back at me with a soft look and offered me a smile, "That's just Dean being Dean. He's not hardly breathed a word since…you know."

I scoffed, the corner of my mouth tipping up into a smirk, "How could I forget?" I muttered sarcastically, "The day I wake up from some messed up coma and Dad falls over deader'n twelve o'clock." Sam's face twisted into another bitchface and I shrugged, "Well, it's the truth."

"Abigail, neither of you has talked about him." He said stiffly.

I rolled my eyes turning away from him, "Sammy," I groaned out, "C'mon."

"No, Abigail," my little brother said firmly, "You and Dean act like nothing's wrong!"

"Yeah, you're right." I stated peering over my shoulder at him, "Everything is wrong." I lifted my hand a little, only allowing it to hit the back of the chair as Sam blinked at me, astonished, "Hell, before you know it, the stock market's gonna crash and we'll all have to save up on toilet paper and use it as currency!"

Sam's hands flew up in the air, "You know what? I'm sick of your sarcasm, Abigail."

I arched my brow at him, "Yeah, well, I'm gettin' pretty tired of your shaggy hair, but that doesn't mean you're gonna get rid of it." His lips pursed as he ran a hand through his hair at my comment with narrowed eyes. I ignored his pissy look and nodded to the chair, "You gonna help me with this chair or is this gonna become an episode of Dr. Phil?"

Sam stared at me coolly, before he relented, "Step aside." I folded my arms, watching as he picked up the chair easily, "Where do you want it?"

I gestured my head over to the wall where I had moved the kitchen table and other chairs to, "Over there's fine." Sam nodded and walked over to the table, setting it down.

"Is there anything else you need moved around for the millionth time?" He asked me.

With pursed lips, I shook my head at him, "Nope." I replied, popping the 'p', "You wanna go outside and see what Dean's done to his beloved Baby?" He shrugged, and I pulled two beers from Bobby's fridge, "You wanna beer?"

"Ah, no. It's like, one in the day." He said with a raised brow.

I shrugged at him and twisted the cap off, "It's five o'clock somewhere." Taking a long pull of the beer, I almost groaned at the taste. Seven months of being sober had been too long, but for a good cause. At the dull ache that started in my chest, I winced and nodded to Sam, "C'mon."

Outside was a comfortable eighty degrees. I was rather pleased to be able to run around in a pair of shorts minus the fact that the waist band went directly across my incision. I kept tugging at it until I just tucked the front of my shirt in. I took another sip of my beer as Sam and I walked out to see Dean's legs protruding from underneath frame of the Impala. He had been making considerable time getting it back to tip-top shape, and compared to how it was a week ago, it was considerably less crunched up.

"Hey, you." I said loud enough for him to hear our approach.

Sam didn't wait for him to speak, "How's the car coming along?"

"Slow." Came his reply.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, "Need any help?" I arched my brow at him, wordlessly taking another swig of my beer as he shrugged to me when a loud clatter cause me to jump slightly. A piece of the exhaust fell to the ground, and Dean's body jerked to the side to avoid it.

"What, you under a hood? I'll pass." He said as Sam and I came closer to the car.

Sam threw me a frustrated glance, and I lifted my hands in defense. "Need anything else, then?"

Dean pushed himself out from under the car and stood, looking between us skeptically. When I offered him a beer, he took it with a brief nod and headed for the workbench, "Stop it, Sam."

"Stop what?" Dean threw him an irritated look after popping the cap off his drink.

"Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I'm okay." He took a quick drink and swallowed, "I'm okay. Really. I promise."

"Alright, Dean, it's just... We've been at Bobby's for over a week now and you haven't brought up Dad once." Dean's eyes drifted over to me, "Neither has Abigail."

"You know what? You're right." Sam blinked in astonishment, thinking he had gotten through to him. Not so fast, Dr. Phil. "Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance." I smirked at his cynicism, feeling his irritation bubble around in my stomach. I had to chug half of my bottle of beer down to force down a cynical laugh. Sam shoulda seen that one coming for him, or did he forget the sarcastic being that is Dean Matthew Winchester?

Dean smirked, looking from his brother to me and took a drink of his beer while Sam glowered at him, unimpressed. "Don't patronize me, Dean, Dad is dead. Megan's in the hospital and is gonna be there for a while," Dean and I narrowed our eyes at his words, "The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and the two of you are acting like nothing happened."

Dean shrugged, "What do you want me to say?'

"Say something, alright?" Sam pleaded, "Hell, say anything! You won't talk to me, hell, you won't even talk to Abs except when it's about Megan!" I gave Sam a sharp look at his comment, but pressed my lips together in a line out of guilt. I might've slipped that secret out on accident, seeing Dean turn his head a bit to look at me with a raised brow, and I returned his look with a guilty frown. "Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge?" He asked out of exasperation, "But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car!" I turned slightly, "And you, Abigail, all you do is rearrange Bobby's house from top to bottom and lift things you aren't supposed to!"

I furrowed my brows at him, "I have not."

"Then explain to Dean why I caught you rearranging that heavy table and chair set for the sixth time?" He challenged. I glanced to Dean, who was staring at me expectantly and I brought my bottle of beer to my lips, taking a long drink until it was empty. Sam had been on a roll for the past couple of days. It was easy to overlook him when he got into his little moods, but not when he was bringing Dean into it.

Dean was quiet for a moment, taking in Sam's words as well as sending me a warning look for over working myself once again. After a beat, he nodded slowly, "Revenge, huh?" He asked, taking the heat off of me.

Sam looked to Dean and nodded, "Yeah."

"Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is?" He asked him, and the cocky look in Sam's eyes disappeared, "Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't, and I know Abs hasn't." Sam glanced to me for a second, "But you know, if we do finally find it - oh. No, wait, like you said. The Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay?"

"So you know the only thing I can do?" He asked. Sam never moved to speak, and Dean pointed to the Impala, "Is I can work on the car." Sam lowered his gaze to the ground, chastised, but Dean wasn't finished, "Do you know what Abigail can do? Do everything she can to get her mind off of our daughter that is fighting for her life. The only thing we can do is go to the hospital to see her and then come back here and sit with our thumbs up our asses. That's all there is for us right now." It seemed like Dean was on a roll as well, allowing some of whatever he had bottled up, out.

Finished talking, Dean finished off his beer, set the empty bottle on the workbench before he came over to me and kissed me gently on the lips before he crouched by the car again, getting back to work. He knelt down and began tugging on another section of the frame, then paused, looking directly to me, "If I hear or see you tugging around on something heavy again, we're going to have problems."

I snorted upon feeling his irritation multiplying, "Whatever you say."

He pointed a dirty finger at me, "I meant it, Abs. You've already popped four staples the day you woke up, then popped one the other day from moving Bobby's desk."

I waved him off dismissively, "I'm fine, 'sides, ya'll overreact on what I do anyways."

"It's not overreacting, Abigail." He snapped, "We can't afford you getting hurt because of you being so damn stubborn."

"And that's a bad thing?" I questioned, arching my brow at him.

"It is when you become a liability on a job." Dean said, causing me to frown.

"Pot, this is kettle, you're black." I stated seeing him narrow his eyes at me, "And when the hell have we been on a job, Dean?" I asked, "The last time I checked, we were sittin' here with our thumbs up our asses."

Sam shifted, obviously done with our bickering, and cleared his throat. Dean returned to tugging on the frame, "Well, we've got something, alright?" He pulled out a cellphone that I didn't recognize and I looked at it, curious. "It's one of the reasons why I came by here to tell you. This is one of dad's old phones. Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this." Sam switched the phone to speaker and held it out to Dean. He stood up reluctantly and took the phone, leaning back against the Impala.

"John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me." Said a woman's voice. I exchanged a look of confusion with Dean, trying to place that voice with a face; but I had seen so many.

"That message is four months old." Sam told us.

"Dad saved that chick's message for four months?" Dean asked, scoffing.

Sam nodded, "Yeah."

"Well, who's Ellen?" Dean asked, "Any mention of her in Dad's journal?'

I shrugged, toying with the rim of my empty bottle, "No, not that I could recollect."

"I ran a trace on her phone number and I got an address." Sam added, which piqued Dean's interest by the way he tilted his head, thinking. It had to have been the most interested he'd been in other than working on the Impala and seeing Megan.

He nodded, signaling that he was in, "Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars." Sam looked almost relieved that Dean was pulling himself away from the Impala, however after he left Dean and I behind, we sat in silence for a beat. The both of us were uncomfortable, and it wasn't just from feeling what Dean felt.

"I guess I know who's stayin' behind," I said lightly.

"You know you can always go." He said.

My eyes met his with a disquieted look, "Well, if I go, who's gonna keep an eye on Meg?" I pointed out.

"I dunno." He said lightly, forming his lips in a thin line, "Bobby?"

"Dean, I can't ask Bobby to watch our two and a half week old daughter, it wouldn't be right." I told him.

Uncertainty rolled off of him in waves, not really knowing what to say next that wouldn't lead up to another fight. "You know…this past week has been hard on all of us, Abs." He finally said, "I was slowly readying myself for our kid to be here. I was fine that I was easing into this parenthood thing, but there was no way I was ready for this." Dean shook his head slowly, "Why do you think I haven't tried to find us a job? I can't bring myself to be away from Megan." I furrowed my brows at him, sensing fear crawling up his spine, "Truth is, Abs. I'm scared shitless about our daughter, and I know this has gotta be hell on you."

When I had said nothing in return, Dean sighed, picking up a shop towel to wipe the oil and grime off his hands. Once they were partially clean, he took a few steps toward me until we were standing at least a foot apart. He was close enough for me to smell gasoline mixed with the pungent odor of grease and oil, and finally the earthy scent of dirt and sweat. Underneath those troubled eyes of his, Dean cupped my face in his hands like I was made of porcelain, placing his forehead against mine with closed eyes, "You and me both know that the three of us need to stretch our legs or we're all going to tear our heads off."

"I know." I muttered.

"Everything's gonna be alright, Abigail. Megan's being taken care of by a good group of nurses, we can call her anytime we want—"

I frowned, "That's not the same, Dean." I said brokenly, "I want her here with us." I shook my head, "I don't want her hooked up to some machine, or gettin' poked on by needles like some science experiment, or alone and scared." Dean's face drew into a pained expression, pulling me against him in an embrace, despite the fact that he was covered in dirt and grease; I was wearing old clothes anyways. "I don't want her to think that we don't love her…I done everythin' right, Dean." I whispered.

His arms wound around me tightly, "I'm a hundred and fifty percent positive that she knows we love her, Abs, and I know you did. Don't you think for a second that you did something wrong." He murmured, pressing his lips against my temple, "Things just happen." I felt him hug me tighter when my shoulders started to shake from me crying, "Hey." Dean said gently, "Hey, hey, hey. Abs, it's not your fault. You did the best you could."

"No, Dean." I said, "I didn't. If I did, then Megan would still be in me and not in the NICU."

Despite my protesting, I knew he was getting just as aggravated over it as I was. I could see it in his eyes when I had taken a step back. Everything seemed like there was no room to breathe or think straight, let alone find solace within each other's arms. One minute it felt like I needed some form of contact, then the next, it felt like I was smothering. Comfort in others just didn't seem doable to me, and all I wanted to do was fight anyone who got in my path, and unfortunately, it had been both Sam and Dean.

After a moment of silence, all Dean did was nod and gently kissed me on the lips, holding it until we both calmed down. The kiss itself wasn't demanding. It was gentle, reassuring—like he was reminding himself that I was here. He did this often, especially after an argument or after working on the Impala for the better half of the day. "We'll go see her before we head out, okay?' He said, pulling away.

I pulled my bottom lip in, debating whether I should go or not.

NICU—Day

Sam was holding Megan close humming a lullaby as she squirmed letting out tiny cries of protest. She was hungry and I had just got back from pumping milk into a bottle. Sam and Dean looked up when I arrived holding four ounces of milk in a bottle, setting it on the counter for a minute as I located the cap and nipple for her.

"Abs, Megan's about to eat her hand if you don't hurry up," Dean deadpanned, though highly amused as she moved her head from side to side, popping her tiny hand into her mouth every moment or so. I rolled my eyes at him, fixing everything and handed it to Sam. He grinned when Megan took her bottle.

"So, have you two heard anything about when she'll get out?" Sam asked, looking up to Dean and I.

"Supposedly the day she was supposed to be due." I answered, shifting uncomfortably.

Sam blinked, "Three months? Wow…"

Dean looked utterly uncomfortable at that, "This is going to be a long wait, lemme tell ya." I nodded, bringing my thumb up to my mouth to chew on the skin around my nail, and stopped before I touched my lips. I rolled my eyes at myself. Close, dumbass. "Got any ideas how we're supposed to go on jobs while she's still here?"

Sam shrugged, checking the bottle for a second, "I dunno, one of us can stay behind every so often, uh, like, take turns. You and me can go on one or two while Abigail stays behind, then you and Abigail can go on a job or two while I stay behind, and then Abigail and I can go on one while you stay behind."

Dean scrunched his face. Like he'd miss out on a hunt. "That's actually not a bad idea." He mused, looking down at Meg, "Check her bottle again."

Sam furrowed his brows at Dean, "Dude, I just checked it."

"Doesn't matter, check it." He told him. I couldn't help but smile at how bossy Dean was, "I don't want her getting pissed cause you let her eat too much."

"She's not gonna get pissed, Dean." Sam said, taking the bottle away once again to look at it. Instead, Dean snatched it and held it up to his face, inspecting it carefully. Sam's eyes flickered over to me, giving me an amused look with a grin. I nodded a second, then saw Dean set it on a table and gestured for him to hand over Megan, and snickered.

"Alright, princess there needs burped, give her to me." He said impatiently.

Sam rolled his eyes, "I know how to burp a baby, Dean. Relax." With Megan still bundled up, he sat her forward, carefully placing his thumb and index finger on her chin so that she didn't come forward too much and started to pat her back as well as rubbing it to try and coax her to burp. Dean shifted in his seat, watching Sam like a hawk with impatience written all over his face. His brows were furrowed, eyes narrowed, and mouth pursed into a pout. Sam and I both knew it irritated Dean when he didn't get to burp her. Judging from his hands clenching and unclenching, he was about to blow a gasket.

"Okay, you did it long enough." Dean said quickly, "Give."

"Dude, will you hang on? I almost got her." Sam protested in a hushed voice.

Those two are seriously acting like a bunch of kids. I mused with a smug grin. Dean sat back, crossing his arms like a mad five year old, and let his legs slide forward until they were straight. Sam just grinned, chuckling as Megan let out a series of whines, making Dean squirm.

"Your dad's about to throw a fit," Sam told her, earning a withering look from Dean. Thankfully, I managed to get a picture on my cellphone of this moment or Dean would've really fell out.

"I am not." He grumped, "Just give me my kid."

Sam shook his head as he continued to pat her back until the teeniest of burps sounded and he smiled victoriously, "See?"

"Well good for you," Dean muttered, before he gaped when Sam leaned forward to get the bottle and popped it in her mouth, "Sam! I'm not playing—" He looked at me, "Abs, tell him to give me my kid!"

"Hey," I raised my hands in my defense, "This is between you two. I'm just enjoyin' the show." Dean's hands threw up, hitting his legs with a loud blow of air passing his lips out of protest. He was literally about to have a conniption fit. After a minute, Sam laughed, taking the bottle away from Megan. It didn't take a second that she started crying out for it.

"Here," Sam told him. Dean leaned forward and took her in his arms, minding the group of cords, and very carefully, cradled her in his arms. Sam handed him the bottle, watching as Dean popped it back into her mouth and smiled at her. If there was one thing that he loved more than anything, it was his daughter, Sam, and me. And the scene before me was evidence of just that.

Roadhouse Saloon

Central Nebraska

After a long and bitter drive to the address that Sam had traced, we made it to a place called the Roadhouse Saloon in the beat up minivan that Bobby had lent us. It was basically a piece of junk, and I seriously doubted that the thing could make it back to South Dakota without Dean having to fiddle with it. A loud, high-pitched squeal caused me to grimace after Dean threw it up in park and killed the engine with a similar grimace.

"This is humiliating." Dean claimed getting out of the van and eyed it with a sour look. I jerked back and forth on the sliding door, failing miserably by the way, and I tapped on the glass with an agitated growl. He furrowed his brows jerking on the handle a few times before it finally relented, letting me out. "I feel like a friggin' soccer mom!"

"You heard Bobby, it was the only one he had runnin'." Sam said.

I choked out an amused laugh, "Oh, don't let him get to you, Sammy," I said, "he's just poutin' cause it ain't his car." Sam smiled at me as I lifted my shirt up over my incision spot to see it an angry red in some places, and good lord it itched! I made a mental note to clean around it when I had the chance. Dean had been looking at it as well with assessing eyes, before they trailed up to me. "I know, I know. It's gonna get it cleaned."

"I didn't say anything." He quipped.

"Yeah, well, you were thinking it." Dean tilted his head in agreement as I let my shirt down and stood up on my tip toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He closed his eyes after I pulled back away from him, turning to look around the property with Sam. Even by Sam, I felt something was bothering him; scaring him all over again.

"Hello?" Sam called out, "Anybody here?"

I glanced back at him briefly before I could assess the Roadhouse. It appeared to be abandoned, but looks were deceiving at times. I took off my sunglasses, tucking them to the front of my shirt before I pulled my hair up into a bun that left a few strands free, and looked around us. The property was situated on graveled patch of land with old petrol bowsers left unattended and dusty from being outside. The architecture itself looked worn by the arid elements of Nebraska seeing that it was old weatherboard. It had a tin roof over the front porch that brought a small smile.

I bet it sounded great during a rainstorm. I thought, glancing from the tin roof to the dusty windows, peering in. It was dark inside, plus the glare from the sun didn't quite help my visibility.

"Hey." I looked over quickly, seeing Dean standing by the door, "You bring the, uh…"

I nodded, "Of course." I pulled out my lock pick kit, tossing it to him. Dean threw me a thankful smile, in return, I smiled back to him. It didn't take Dean long to pick the locks, and pushed the door open, nodding to Sam and I to follow him inside. I went in after Dean with Sam close behind, closing the door on our way in.

Maybe getting away from everything was what we needed after all, I mused, taking in the dark interior of the saloon. It was fairly quiet except for a fly buzzing somewhere, and I could smell stale beer and nicotine from the cigarettes. Judging from the light filtering in from the closed shades, the interior of the Roadhouse was far more comfortable than the outside. Paneling line the walls accompanied by hardwood floors and finished off with a wood topped bar. Classic design, but preferred in my opinion. A jukebox stood in the corner with tables and chairs scattered about.

I like this place already. I thought of the possibility—if we didn't get shot for B and E of course—that I could jam out to a song or two before heading back to Bobby's. Then I heard a light bulb go out, and that made me jump. Dean's arm wrapped around my middle in reassurance, despite the guarded look he gave me as we both pressed further to the back of the establishment. We spotted a man soundly passed out on a pool table. He was tall and lanky, decked out in the same attire that we wore—jeans, jackets, and plaid. A mullet was just the cherry on top, causing me to raise a brow to the poor soul unaware of our presence.

"Hey, buddy?" I said. No answer, except for a loud snore. "I'm guessin' that isn't Ellen." I commented, throwing a look over to Dean.

"Yeah," he agreed with a nod. Sam moved to the back of the room while Dean wandered down the steps towards the bar. We all let our guards down until I had heard a breath intake and spun around, seeing a pretty blonde holding a rifle to the back of Dean's head.

"Oh god, please let that be a rifle." Dean said.

"No, I'm just real happy to see you." She quipped, cocking the gun. "Don't move."

He raised his hands in the air, "Not moving, copy that."

I slowly approached her, pressing my weapon to the back of her head, "You should know somethin', sweetheart." She stiffened, "When you put a rifle on someone, you don't want to put it right against their back. Because it makes it real easy..."

Dean turned fluidly, grabbing the rifle from her and cocked it, "To do that." He finished with a cocky smirk, "and always stay aware of your surroundings." Without even hesitating, the girl punched him in the face, taking back the rifle with a smirk. I grimaced at the hit, watching Dean double over, clutching his nose. Then felt pain exploding in my stomach when the girl lashed out with the butt of the rifle, hitting me near my incision.

I fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, instantly curling my lower half into me while I gripped my gun in my hand.

"Drop the gun." She snapped.

I shook my head, "You first, Cheap Shot." I wheezed out, lying my forehead against my forearm for a minute until she kicked it out of my hands. I didn't budge from my spot, "You okay, Dean?" I called out from the floor, curling my hand into a fist.

"I can't see. I can't even see." He muttered, "I think she broke my nose."

"You poor thing." The girl deadpanned, "You had it coming." Dean scrunched his face into a glare when he saw me on the ground. He made a move forward, only for the girl to shoulder her rifle at him, "You don't listen very well, do you?"

"Sam!" shouted Dean, "Need some help in here!"

The back door slammed open to reveal Sam, both hands on his head, entering the room slowly, "Sorry, Dean," he replied. "I can't right now. I'm a... little tied up." Sam nodded his head, indicating another woman who was behind him with a handgun pointed at his hand. I saw the hardened expression on the woman's face soften to a puzzled expression.

"Sam?" she asked, "Dean? Winchester?"

Sam and Dean glanced to each other, confused. "Yeah."

"Son of a bitch." She muttered, sounding miffed.

"Mom, you know these guys?" The younger woman asked.

"Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys." She replied, looking back over to me, "Which would make you Steven and Avery's girl, Abigail." She then lowered her gun, laughing. She let out a small, homey laugh—similar to what my mom used to have. Setting down her pistol, she introduced herself, "Hey, I'm Ellen. This is my daughter, Jo."

I lowered my head again as Jo lowered her rifle and Dean smiled tentatively at her.

"Hey." She said shortly. Dean took his hand off his nose to regard her.

"You're not gonna hit me again, are you?" He questioned, only half-joking.

"Don't take her gun." I replied in a huff of air. Dean frowned, realizing that I was still in the floor. He kneeled down, placing his hand on my shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Peachy…" I grimaced as I lifted my hand from over my stomach, seeing blood speckling my palm and shirt, "She got a cheap shot…" I muttered with a wry smile, nodding over to Jo. She shrugged, offering an apologetic smile. Dean didn't crack a smile, though he motioned her to help him get me to my feet. Grasping their arms, they pulled me up, only for me to lean against Dean, holding my stomach still with a pained wince.

"Next time, don't you let her hit me." He muttered in my ear, glancing to the blonde cautiously. I huffed out a laugh as he kept me close to him.

"Don't let her hit me in the gut." I countered, seeing his apologetic look. It was better than his usual strong, silent, and observational looks.

"Ya'll take a seat," Ellen offered, gesturing to the bar, and looked over to Dean and me sympathetically, "I'll get you some ice to put on your nose, and I'll get something to patch you up, baby girl."

Dean casted a glance to me, bringing his hand up to his nose once more, before muttering, "Girl hits like Tyson." We climbed onto a set of stools—Sam on my left and Dean on my right—as I placed my hand on his shoulder. It was amusing how childlike he was being.

"Poor baby." I teased, trying to stave off the waves of pain and nausea. "Anything I can do to make it better?" I whispered in his ear. Dean's lips tipped into an amorous half-smile.

"What'd you have in mind?" he prompted.

I shrugged, "Your pick." Dean hummed in consideration.

"I'll get back to you on that one." He replied, kissing my temple lightly and scrunched his face to see if his nose was really broke. Dean still griped about his nose under his breath while Sam and I snickered. I had told him the play by play of our encounter with Jo, who was listening to us with a smug grin from the other side of the counter as she took out five empty glasses. Emerging from the back, Ellen approached Dean with a towel bunched up in her hand, while carrying a first aid kit.

She handed him the small towel filled with ice, "Here you go."

He tentatively placed the towel over his nose, wincing, "Thanks." He said, holding it to his nose while Ellen handed me the first aid kit. I peeled my shirt up to show my bleeding incision, earning grimaces from both Sam and Dean, as well as Ellen and Jo.

I ripped open an alcohol wipe, wincing when I gingerly started wiping away some of the dried blood away from my stomach. Dean picked up another packet, tearing it open as well. I hissed out a breath between my teeth when one of us went over an area that was bleeding.

"You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?" Dean asked as he dabbed away some blood.

"Well, the demon, of course." My eyes flitted up to her, "I heard he was closing in on it." She replied, looking to each of us.

Dean paused, straightening up to look at her. "What, was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?" Dean quipped out of annoyance, "I mean, who-who are you? How do you know about all this?" I placed my hand on his knee from under the bar trying to calm him down. It worked for the most part because he clenched his jaw and bowed his head a little, sending me a quiet look. I opened another packet while he sifted through the kit until he pulled out an iodine wipe.

I hated the smell of iodine, but it kept stuff clean. So when I placed the spent alcohol pad with the pile of others, Dean leaned forward and pulled the hem of my jeans down so that he didn't get anything on my clothes.

Ellen held up her hands, defensively. "Hey, I just run a saloon. But hunters have been known to pass through now and again." Ellen said, "Including your dad and parents a long time ago. "John, Steven, and Avery were like family once."

"How come I never heard them mention you before?" I asked jumping from the cold wipe touching my skin.

Ellen stepped back from the bar looking to me with a familiar apologetic look in her eyes, much like the one she had given Sam and Dean, "You'd have to ask John that." From beside me, I felt Dean's body stiffen at his father's name.

"So why exactly do we need your help?" Dean spoke gruffly, quickly changing the touchy subject of John back to questioning about the demon. His eyes were focused on my incision in a scowl as he cleaned it with a gentle touch, lips forming a tight, thin line. Dean reached up to grab some bandages and some surgical tape. He opened the pack with his teeth, pulling them out and situated them before he placed four strips of the tape to hold it in place. His lips curved into a half-smile, glancing up to me, and patted the side of my leg tenderly, "Good as new." I smiled softly at him in thanks despite the dull ache I felt from Dean.

"Don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if..." Ellen stopped short, eyes widening upon realization, "He didn't send you." She breathed out. I felt Dean's hand grip mine as tightly while my other hand reached for Sam's, taking his in mine as well. Neither of us spoke.

Sorrow and guilt crushed me like a heavy weight as Dean looked down at the bar. I fidgeted in my spot at the amount of pain I was feeling, while Sam and Dean's hands remained in mine. It felt multiplied while actually touching them. I felt their sad eyes on me, "He's alright…isn't he?" Ellen asked.

"No." I answered, "No, he isn't." I worked my jaw oddly, "It was the demon, we think."

"It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess." Sam added with an attempt of a smile. It looked more like a grimace than anything.

Ellen regarded us sadly, "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. We're alright." Dean said, answering for all of us.

Ellen stared at Dean disbelievingly, "Really? I know how close you and your dad were."

"Really, lady, I'm fine." He told her brusquely.

I looked over at him calmly, too tired to really be curt with him, but alert enough to gently reinforce that he was being awfully rash, "Dean…" Frustrated hazel eyes stared back at me, then I heard him let out a breath of air.

"If you can help, we could use all the help we can get." Sam stepped in, giving Dean a warning glare.

"Well, we can't." Ellen said, exchanging a glance with Jo. I broke eye contact with Dean to look at Ellen with raised brows. Well, that's a load of crap. "But Ash will."

"Who's Ash?" Sam asked.

"Ash!" She called out and we all turned to see the man that had been passed out on the pool table jerking awake and sat up, flailing around.

"What? It closin' time?" He asked.

I raised my brows at the dork, looking back to Ellen, "That's Ash?"

Jo smiled, "He's a genius."

A brown folder is slapped down on the bar while Sam and Ash sat. Dean and I were standing; Dean was standing directly behind him while I was squirming around from my incision itching me. Jo stood on the other side of the bar pouring glasses of water.

"You've gotta be kidding me, this guy's no genius." Dean scoffed out. Always the skeptic. "He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie." Coming up behind Dean, I smacked him upside the head and he flinched, turning to look at me with an innocent, wide-eyed look. Jo pursed her lips at our interaction, and I sat down, leaving a stool open between Sam and I. "What was that for?"

"Guess." I deadpanned.

Ash laughed, sitting back on his stool, "I like you." He said, nodding appreciatively to Dean.

"Thanks." He muttered, rubbing the back of his head gingerly.

"Just give him a chance." Jo said, setting a glass of water in front of me. I smiled in thanks, taking a sip as Dean finally settled down between us with a shrug, opening the folder.

"Alright. This stuff's about a year's worth of our dad's work, so uh, let's see what you make of it." Dean challenged, sliding the folder over to Ash, "Abigail's got a pretty good understanding of things like this since her parents were demon hunters and all, but she's been stumped."

Ash pulled out a few papers and started rifling through them, and shook his head, "Come on." He scoffed out, "This crap ain't real. There ain't nobody can track a demon like this." Dean, Sam, and I held smug looks regarding pride towards John's work.

"Our dad could." I said, defending John's method, "And I could, up to a point."

"There are nonparametric statistical overviews, prospects and correlations, I mean…damn! They're signs, omens." That part I understood fairly easily, "Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms..." His voice trailed off, then leaned forward on the bar, staring me in the eyes with a serious expression, "You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun."

"Can you track it or not?" I asked him quietly, seeing a grin spread across his face.

Ash nodded, "Yeah, with this, I think so. But it's gonna take time, uh, give me..." Ash did the calculations in his head, bobbing it side to side a moment or two with closed eyes in a mental calculation, "Fifty one hours." He got up to leave, gathering everything, and walked toward the back room.

"Hey, man?" Dean said.

Ash stopped, looking to Dean with a grin, "Yeah."

"I, uh, I dig the haircut." He told him with a wink.

Ash's grin widened, "All business up front, party in the back." He said running his hand through his hair and flipped his mullet. I pursed my lips in amusement, then raised my brows in question when Jo passed by, sending Dean a flirty smile. Dean shrugged at me, brows raised as well.

He got up, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it before heading to one of the empty tables. Just like that, he had gone back into the recesses of lone wolf hood. I frowned at that, feeling the gaping hole in my chest open back up. I just rolled my eyes and shook my head at him.

"Hey, Ellen, what is that?" Sam asked suddenly, spotting something from behind the bar.

Ellen turned, "It's a police scanner. We keep tabs on things, we..."

Sam shook his head, "No, no, no, no. The, um, the folder."

"Uh, I was gonna give this to a friend of mine. But take a look, if you want." Ellen said, picking up the folder and placed it in front of Sam. Curious, I got up from my stool and wandered over to him, seeing an array of newspaper clippings attached to the front with something written in red marker saying; Couple Murdered. Child Left Alive. Medford, Wisconsin.

From beside the window, I saw Dean sit down near Jo as she wiped down tables and swept, "How did your mom get into this stuff, anyway?" I heard him ask.

Jo shrugged, "From my dad. He was a hunter." She replied, "He passed away."

"I'm sorry." Dean sympathized.

"It was a long time ago. I was just a kid. Sorry to hear about your dad." She said.

Dean nodded, glancing across the room to where I sat, "Yeah. So. I guess we've got fifty one hours to waste…you guys wouldn't happen to have rooms here, would you?" I arched a brow at him.

"What?" She asked.

"Just wondering if there was a place for us to crash," Dean said with a small shrug.

Jo smirked, "You know, I thought you were gonna toss me some cheap pickup line." Dean chuckled, clearly embarrassed and glanced over to meet my inquiring gaze. Usually, he'd be up and rearing to go for something like that, but today—all week—he'd been unusually reserved. Jo smirked at him, causing me to watch her closely. "Most hunters come through that door think they can get in my pants with some... pizza, a six pack, and side one of Zeppelin IV."

Dean smiled, "Well... what a bunch of scumbags."

Jo blinked, a little surprised at his response, "Not you?"

Dean shook his head with a little smirk, "I guess not."

I smiled knowingly to myself. He wasn't stupid. He knew what she was doing. I glanced down at my watch and frowned, "Hey, Sammy." Sam looked up from the papers, "I'm gonna call the hospital and check up on Meg."

"Okay." He replied, then looked over his shoulder to Dean, "Hey, Dean. Come here, check this out."

Dean looked over to the bar, "Yeah." I stood up, heading towards the door, meeting his curious gaze, "Where you going?"

I held up my phone, shaking it and saw him nod.

Dean's Point of View

Roadhouse Saloon

I watched Abigail walk out of the bar pressing her phone up to her ear. She had to be going out of her mind by being away from Megan.

"Dean." Sam called out again, causing me to look at him.

"Dude, keep your panties on." I said getting up from the table to go look at what Sam had, "What you got?" I asked, coming up behind Sam and leaned over to look at the new set of documents that he and Abigail had been looking at.

"A few murders, not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of." Sam explained, "Looks to me like there might be a hunt."

"Yeah. So?" I asked vaguely. I wasn't interested in all reality.

"So, I told her we'd check it out." Sam explained.

I stared at him for a beat, "You realize that Abigail is riding along solely because I told her we'd come here and go straight back to Bobby's right?" My brother's face steeled.

"Dean. I get it, Abigail isn't fit to hunt." He said, stuffing papers back into the folder, "I mean considering how she's been running herself ragged, I can understand her not coming along." I joined him on the stool to his left.

"What do you mean?" I inquired him.

Sam scoffed, "Dude, are you seriously that blind? Abigail has been running on fumes. She hasn't been to sleep in I don't know, two or three days?" My brows rose at his observation, "Maybe if you'd stop shoving your head under your car every once in a while, you could see what she's been doing to herself."

I ignored his comment about Baby, "And you got all of this how?"

"Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out," Sam quipped, "I've tried to talk to her, but I get the same response every time—"

"I'm fine." I finished in a high-pitched voice imitating Abs, seeing Sam's lips twitch out of dry humor, "Yeah, you can't tell she's been around us." I said sarcastically.

"This isn't funny, Dean." He chastised.

"I wasn't being funny." I countered.

Sam frowned, "Abigail's gonna end up being in worse shape that what she's already in."

"You don't think I know that?" Sam narrowed his eyes at me for a beat, "Aside from you telling me, that is." I hung my head and shook it, "I don't know whether she'll want to go or want to head back to Bobby's." Sam suddenly cleared his throat. I turned my head to look at him with furrowed brows. He motioned his head behind me.

"Go where?" Abigail's voice asked from behind. I twisted around to see Abigail looking at us with a skeptical expression.

"Oh, uh, how's, uh, how's Megan?" I asked her, immediately changing the subject. Abigail sidled in beside me, lifting her shoulders in a silent shrug. There was something about her posture…it was rigid-like. Abigail rubbed her face roughly with her hands and picked up her glass of water that she'd been nursing, allowing me to get a good look at her, and as much as it pained me, Sam was right.

Abigail looked awful. Black bags hung under her eyes seemingly contrasting against her ashen complexion. The left side of her face was slowly evening out with the rest of her skin due to the bruises healing up. Several places on her face had already healed, leaving light pink scars behind with freshly healed skin, and the only thing that was still truly healing was the gash she had on her forehead. I continued to watch her closely, seeing her eyes stay closed a second longer than usual became fairly evident that she was exhausted.

"She's doing, uh, fine." Abigail finally replied. I pressed my lips together to form a straight line upon hearing her voice slur, "Said that she's gained about two ounces today makin' her about two pounds and three ounces now? And they put her on some, uh…some—" She let out an irritated breath, "If I could think straight, I swear…" She muttered, running her hand through her hair, "twenty-four calorie fortifiers…supposed to help her gain weight fairly quick."

That was good news on my daughter's behalf, however on Abigail's, she couldn't think straight. I glanced to Sam with a tight-lipped expression and saw a mutual look.. Abigail was definitely running on fumes. How could I be so blind? "You look like you need some sleep, Abs."

Turning tired eyes on me, she smiled forcibly, and waved her hand, "I'm fine, Dean. So, where are we goin'?"

"Uh, Sam found a case." Sam knitted his brows together in a withering glare.

Abigail's eyes lit up, "Oh? So, we're goin' to check out that series of murders up in Wisconsin."

I nodded, "Yeah, just to see if it's something worth our time." I said dismissively, "It probably isn't, though." I looked over at Sam, gesturing for him to help me out.

"Oh. Oh, yeah, definitely." Sam added with a short nod of his head, "You probably aren't interested in something like that."

Abigail stared at us for a beat, "We've looked into a lot less, guys."

I nodded, "You're absolutely right. We have—" Sam kicked my shin roughly and I grunted out, shooting my brother a glare. This obviously wasn't working out like I had hoped, "But, uh, maybe you should…" I tilted my head at her, "you know…sit this one out."

Abigail considered it for a moment before she stared at me with surly demeanor, "And people in hell want ice water, Dean."

"What?"

Her eyes bored into mine unwavering, "I thought we were statin' things that were never gonna happen." She deadpanned.

I glanced to Sam, taken aback at how quickly she was able to make a comeback, "Abs—"

"I heard you and Sammy talkin' about me when I walked back in." She accused, "What the hell?" Sam had hung his head, shame-faced like a little kid. I frowned at her guiltily feeling like I had betrayed her somehow.

"Abigail, we can explain." Sam said, giving her the puppy look. It had no effect on her whatsoever.

"No." She said firmly, "I told you two I was fine, and I meant it."

"We know how you are, Abs. You're not fine." I replied, agitated.

Abigail bristled at my words, "Are you callin' me a liar?"

I pursed my lips at her, "I ain't callin' you a truther." My shoulders hefted up in a shrug, "You may as well own up."

As stubborn as Abigail is, she rose to her feet with a glare that held hidden wrathful undertone. "I can't believe you two." Turning on her heels, she walked straight out of the Roadhouse, allowing the door to close loudly. I blew out an irritated sigh. Here we go again. I thought, knowing that she wasn't going to go far. It wasn't like she was just going to hotwire some vehicle and cut out. There wasn't any place to go and no vehicles—other than the junker van Bobby let us borrow—to hotwire.

"Well, that went smoothly." I said to my brother, voice thick with sarcasm.

Sam gave me a pinched look, "I'll go talk to her." He made a move to stand up, only for me to grab his arm. With knit brows, I could see that he was confused and concerned about her. It wasn't every day that she was pissed at him.

Of course she wouldn't stay pissed at him long. They're inseparable. That irritated me. "No, Sam. I will." I stood up, patting him on the shoulder twice in reassurance. Sam nodded, appearing to be a little surprised that I was going out there, sitting back down on his stool, "Just be ready to leave in five minutes." Making my way out of the establishment, I passed Jo—who gave me a curious look.

"Everything okay?" Jo asked.

"Yeah," I stated before I opened the door, and felt the warm evening breeze tickle at my nose. Annoyed with that, I scrubbed at my face with my hand. There was an unsettling feeling that sat in my gut just knowing that there was a fight brewing once I found Abigail. It had always been like that.

I found her sitting at the back of the van with a dark scowl on her face, "You have a lotta nerve comin' out here." She muttered bitterly, acknowledging that I was there.

Remaining standing, my shoulders lifted as I took my hands out of my pockets, "Yeah, well, someone needed to come out here and talk some kind of sense into you." I quipped, folding my arms across my chest.

Abigail scoffed in sarcasm, "Thanks for the offer, but I'm—"

"Fine. Yeah, I heard that four times now." I stated catching her dirty looks and ignored them, "You're getting pissed off for no reason, Abs. Sam and I have a good reason to not let you go with us."

She let out a breathy laugh, "What the fuck ever, Dean."

"Stop being a goddamn princess, Abigail." My voice rose along with my temper, "Sam and I are just concerned about you."

Abigail rolled her eyes at me, "Concerned?" She questioned with a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. I nodded my head, "Concerned…that's funny, 'cause the only concern I've seen you show this past week is for the Impala."

"Oh, don't start." I said in a clipped tone.

"How 'bout this? Instead of havin' this pointless argument, why don't you and Sam go on ahead and leave me behind since I'm such a goddamned burden to the two of you." She quipped, glaring at me with pursed lips.

"I never once said that to you," I snapped, growing angry at her accusations.

"Yeah. Well, you implied that I was back at Bobby's." Abigail said coolly, earning a cynical scoff to pass through my lips, and rolled my eyes at her. She was being a complete child!

"I said you were a liability, not a burden—big difference, sweetheart!" My voice raised further until it was borderline yelling.

Abigail shook her head at me watching what I did closely, and smirked, "Not to me there isn't."

"Abs, have you taken a look at yourself? When was the last time you actually slept?" Her eyes went to the ground as she worked her jaw oddly out of anger and kicked out her legs with some momentum, "Sam told me that it's been two or three days since the last time you actually got some sleep."

Her head shot up, face twisting in anger. "Like you care!" She exclaimed, "You wouldn't have even known if he hadn't told you!"

Anger boiled in my veins. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"You haven't given a rat's ass what Sam and I have done." She said pointedly, "From sun up to sundown you stay out of the house to avoid us—to avoid me," Her hand tapped her chest roughly, "—while you work on the car! The only time I've seen you acknowledge our existence is when we're at the NICU. Other than that, you're oblivious, like, we're not even there!"

"I haven't avoided you or Sam!" Abigail rolled her eyes at me, jumping to her feet and walked by me, shouldering past me roughly, and I turned with her, "The car needs fixed, and I fully intend on getting her back on the road, no matter the cost!" I argued. This was going nowhere, and Abigail was far from being calmed down. I noticed the red tone on her neck and chest knowing good and well that she was royally pissed off, and like a flick of a switch, her entire demeanor changed into sheer exhaustion. Her walls finally came crashing down while mine held up, firm and unyielding.

I saw how tired she truly was. She looked lost—scared, even—as she sucked in part of her cheek, chewing on it for a beat. "Does it ever occur that you're not the only one missin' Dad?" She asked softly, "He wasn't just yours and Sam's dad; he was mine too."

I scoffed, "Is this what this is about? Dad?" I questioned, "Well, here's a newsflash for you. I'm fine. Really. Now drop it and stop acting like a freaking two year old." In all honesty, I wasn't fine. I was nowhere near being fine.

Abigail let out another scoff, and this time it was soft and weary, "Fine." She said simply, flicking her hands out and slapped her thighs, "You're lyin', Dean, and I know that you are." Her chest heaved with the next breath she took, "And you know what? You're right." Her voice grew quieter…wearier as the seconds passed, "Dad's dead, and I—" She blew out a breath, "—and I know that, Dean. Just like my parents. Just like my brother and sisters." I saw her place a shaking hand over her mouth, bringing it down in a swift motion as she looked to the ground fighting off the tears that threatened to come out. "All I'm sayin' is that you can lie to yourself all you want, Dean. You can lie to Sammy all you want, and make him believe that you're all fine and dandy, but you can't lie to me. Just…talk to me. Please."

After a minute of heavy silence, her eyes bored into mine with a knowing look that had become very unsettling. "You're only holdin' yourself with pins and needles for the very same reasons I am, and lemme tell you somethin'—that's not gonna hold up for long." I rolled my eyes up to the evening sky, seeing several hues of purples, reds, and oranges splash across the horizon. Anything to avoid the truth coming from her mouth. "When they bust loose, Dean—so help me they will—don't you come to me, cause you already look at me like I'm some dying animal." I hung my head with a clenched jaw. It felt like I had gotten punched in the gut, but the girl knew me better than I knew myself sometimes.

If she only knew what we went through. I brought my hand up to scrub any sign of emotion from my face, peering up to her imploring eyes. She wanted answers that I couldn't find the words to. There was none. Instead, like a dumbass, the only thing that vomited out was, "Are you done?"

There was a painful clench in my chest when a hurt look took hold in her eyes. I couldn't hardly believe I said that to her. With a clenched jaw, she merely nodded with a pained expression residing upon her face. I wanted this to be different. I mean, for crying out loud, we had a daughter together, and for me to cast her away like I just did—

"Yeah…I'm done." She muttered, letting a sliver of pink dart out from her mouth to moisten her lips. I mirrored it with my own when the doors to the Roadhouse opened.

"Is everything okay out here?" It was Ellen. "Your brother and I heard ya'll yelling and arguing, figured I'd come out and check up on you two."

Abigail's fortress instantly went back up and she nodded to the older woman, "Yeah, it's fine. He and Sam was just leavin'." Ellen glanced from her to me quickly, and folded her arms. I looked away guiltily.

"Well, you're more than welcome to stay here while they're gone." Ellen offered.

"I appreciate it," Abigail told her softly, "But…there wouldn't be any way for me to find a ride someplace to head back to South Dakota, would you? I'd like to get back to the NICU." My heart sank. As tired as she was, she didn't need to be driving six hours back. I looked to Ellen, hoping that she could see how incapacitated she was.

With an understanding smile, Ellen shook her head, "Not till in the morning, baby girl. Everything's closed for the night." Abigail's face fell, pursing her lips, and nodded. "Go on inside. I'll find you something to eat. You look like you're half-starved." Without another word, Abigail walked by me without another glance, disappearing into the Roadhouse. I deserved that. So I stood there in the parking lot, clenching my jaw out of spite that she had hit the nail on the head, once again.

Ellen stared at me for a long while causing me to shift uncomfortably, "It's not really any of my business, but Sam told me everything that's happened, and I can't say I don't blame that you and him are concerned for her. Especially with your little girl in the hospital—"

"Yeah. You're right. It's not any of your business." Ellen's eyes narrowed at me, "But don't think for a second that I don't care about Abigail."

"Well it looks like you two need some time apart." She stated, "And I believe that it's a good time to leave." As if on cue, Sam came out looking in at the Roadhouse, then back out to me genuinely confused. Licking my lips, I glanced between him and her, finally nodding in agreement.

"Let's go, Sam." I muttered, digging into my jacket pocket, pulling out the keys to the minivan. This job was definitely going to be different without her.

Next up-Everybody Loves a Clown (Part Two)!

I seriously had no intention on making this longer than usual, but I just get writing and writing and writing until I wound up with almost 50 pages! So, I decided to half it out into two parts so it didn't bore you guys to death. I should have Part Two out in the next day or so. Just needing to add some finishing touches. Who knows? It may even be out later today!

I'd love to thank Ladysunshine6 for lending some help with writing a few scenes and adding in a few things, as well as giving suggestion as to what I wrote. So not all credit is going to me, but to her as well!

I'd like to give credit to everyone in the Supernatural franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise. I would absolutely die if fanfiction .net took this down for my stupidity.

Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! If this chapter came out a little jumpy between POVs or awkward in some places, let me know so I can get to it as quickly as possible! Let me know how I'm doing!

The song for this chapter: Pain Redefined by Disturbed.

curlystruggle- I think everyone was expecting a little boy! I figured I would change it up for a surprise baby! Like Abigail said in Bad Company, Dean's gonna keep the entire male population away for the next thirty years!

Thegirlwhowaited24601- Thank you! I'm glad to know that you're enjoying it!

angelicedg- I know it! I was tearing up when I wrote some of the scenes, but the kicker was when Abigail lost it. Ladysunshine6 is a huge help and helped write that scene!

grapejuice101- I think everyone's glad the baby is safe! This is definitely going to be a game changer with a baby on board!

SassyGrl23- When I read it the first time, I teared up.

ebonywarrior85- Thank you! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

giddyfan- You're very welcome! It didn't feel right doing something like that, and I have to agree with a lot of readers-killing off a baby was too common. To me, this just opens doors and brings on new challenges!

sarahmichellegellarfan1- Yes, ma'am! Almost every fanfic that contains an OC having a baby girl (or boy), they always end up naming her/him Mary or John. I wanted to step away from the usual and do something different. Megan means 'strong and capable' while her middle name, Daniella, is the feminized version of Daniel-who in the Old Testament was in that ten of lions.

RebornRose1992- Thank you so much!

HellishFury- No, thank YOU. Your review was what I needed to read! This lets me know I'm doing something right! At least that rollercoaster is over with, right?

deangirlforever85- Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

wideawakepastmidnight- Thank you so much! Writing out those chapters offered me so many possibilities. Actually, Megan was a surprise! I was going for a boy and name him either Cody Bryant or Ajax Colt, but I changed my mind I think after Route 666 or earlier than that. I can't really remember where it was! haha. Glad you like it! (: