The Winchesters

4

(Getting to Know You)

Sarah Atchison

March 7, 2011

Petersen 2

Writers Workshop II

When Dean had pulled himself away from the picture of him and Dad, Sam and I were at a silence. I glanced over to him and he took a deep breath.

"You… don't know why they didn't tell you…"

"You're right." I said.

Dean nodded; I finished the last sip of my beer, and got up. The boys had already finished theirs.

"'Nother beer, guys?" I asked.

"Sure," they both said in unison.

I smiled, and took their empty bottles, and dumped them into the recycling bin outside the back door.

As I was opening the fridge, Dean started talking, "Sarah... You know Dad... He… he always had a thing... about family-his kids especially. He'd do anything in his power to protect Sam and I- and you- you too..." He took a long pause. I entered the room, handed them both their beers, then cracked mine and sat in between them again. Dean leaned forward, and opened his too. He rested his elbows on his knees, holding his beer with both hands as he looked down into the neck of the bottle. Then he continued to speak. "He just… he didn't know how to have a relationship and so-he... he tried to give you anything better than what we had..." He looked up at me with a soft expression.

"Whad'you mean?" I asked.

"Well, when our mom died-you know the story-"

"I don't actaully…"

Dean looked at me, his eyes darting from one of mine to the other, and then he shook his head a little bit. He sighed, afterwards moving his gaze in a rolling-of-the-head motion to Sam.

"Uh." Sam shrugged. "Well, there's this demon that... hunts our family. It-it killed our mom-pinned her to the ceiling of her bedroom, and by the time Dad got there… the place had burst into flames... And, 22 years later... it did the same thing to my girlfriend... and… that's why Dad's never been around. For any of us."

"Don't you say that Sam, he's been around…" Dean looked at Sam hard.

"Not much," Sam said as he shook his head slowly, his lip arching a bit. His head was tilted so he could see Dean and I. A piece of hair fell from behind his ear, and he pushed it back.

Dean pursed his lips and wrinkled his brow, "Anyway... After our mom died, two years after Sam was born, Dad told me about you. I was only six at the time, so all I cared about was havin' a sister, but as I got older, 12-13, and Sam was getting bigger, Dad told us about what he did for a living, what happened to our mom. We'd would see you from time to time-"

"We've met?"

"Not that you remember-not that Sam remembers. But yeah... we've met."

"I remember," Sam said. "I remember it clearly."

It hit me like a brick wall, "Then that means I must have met Dad."

"Of course you have. How could you have not?" Dean asked in confusion.

I felt the tears starting to well up in my eyes. "I-I don't remember." I looked down at the pictures. "That can't be, my mom-she- she said I'd never met him."

"Your mother's lying. Dad was there, and he loves you. Things have just been… compicated." Dean licked his lips to moisten them. He looked in my eyes, and said it again, "Dad loves you. He loves all of us. He's just... he says he's gotta find a way to get rid of this thing so it can't hurt us anymore. So in the meantime, we protect the innocent from things like it. It's what you were born to do too. I know right now we're just getting to know you, but- if you'll come with us you'll see-"

"Whoa whoa whoa," I said. "You expect me to do all the things that you do? You really expect me to just leave-leave here? Leave my mother? To go with you guys? Because of some guy who claims to be my father, some guy I don't even remember meeting?"

"Listen!" Dean said in almost a growl. He pursed his lips hard, and I could see pain in his eyes, rippling like water when a stone has disturbed its peaceful surface. "Don't you talk about Dad that way…"

"Easy Dean," Sam said in an almost whisper. Sam was gentle. Like me, he was sensitive in a different way than our brother. He was sympathetic.

The tears were trickling down my face as I stared at Dean. "I'm sorry," I said. Then I looked away.

Dean stood up and paced around the living room for a few moments. I stared at my feet, and Sam fiddled with his thumbs. I fell back onto the couch, and pinched my brow with my right index finger and thumb.

"You need to come with us…" Dean said more calmly. "Dad said that if you ever contacted us, we had to bring you to him."

I tried hard to understand, "Why? Why now? After 22 years?"

"You gotta ask him that. We just do what he says. Cuz he's our Dad, and you should too..."

I took a deep breath, sat back, and thought for a moment. I tried to bring myself out of it, but I couldn't. I sighed, and got up to go into the kitchen, "You guys hungry?" I asked with a lack of enthusiasm.

"Kinda." Sam said.

"How's chicken and biscuits sound?"

"Sounds like yes." Dean said.

I smiled weakly as he popped his head around the corner. He entered fully with Sam behind him.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking up at Dean. "I don't mean to talk about Dad like that... This is just... it's really hard to take in..."

"I know... I get that. I'm sorry for yellin' at you... I just. Dad means a lot to me."

"I'm sure he means a lot to all of us," Sam said. "So now, we have to find him, and we have to figure out why he wanted us to bring you to him only after you found us."

"You mean you don't even know?" I asked.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, and the back to me, and they both shrugged.

"No," Sam said. "We don't."