Thank you for reading and reviewing the last chapter! Apologies that it has taken a little longer for this update, but things have been absolutely crazy lately and life has just gotten in the way!

As always, thank you so much to the incredible loveintheimpala, because, without her, there would be no story!

Hope you enjoy this one!

Danielle Winchester

Chapter Four: The Darker Side Of The Life

Jericho, California — Police Station

Dean and Danielle headed down the road ahead of the station, heads down as though wary to be seen.

"Don't say a word." Dean warned, and Danielle looked to him, confused. "If I told you so comes out of your mouth, Dani, I swear—"

Her eyes narrowed, and a smirk came to her face. "Are you suggesting I have reason to say I told you so?" she remarked, smug. "If this is about us getting arrested, because of you, again, then, yes, I told you so."

"And what the hell does that mean, again?" he exclaimed, outraged. "It is not always my fault."

"Yeah," She scoffed. "Dad is gonna love this one. What was it he said? One more arrest and we were both back to hunting with him."

"It's an empty threat." he rebuked. "Dad doesn't want us hunting with him. You said it yourself, we were driving him nuts."

Danielle chuckled. "We're a force to be reckoned with." she quipped. "It's not our fault that people can't handle us."

Despite himself, he huffed a laugh. "I've said it all along, kiddo." he grinned. "We're too awesome for other people. That's why they don't get us."

"Nothing to do with us being antisocial monster hunters, then?" she countered. "I always thought that was what separated us from normal people."

"Who wants to be normal, anyway?" He gave a shake of his head. "Where's the fun in that?"

Danielle shrugged. "Sam does." she offered. "Maybe there's something in it that we just don't see."

Dean looked to her, but he didn't comment for a moment. His mouth opened and closed, and, whatever response he'd had, he seemed to think twice about it.

"We should call him." he stated, a little more serious. "See if he can come pick us up."

Danielle nodded in agreement, and she pointed off somewhere in the distance. "Payphone."

Dean nodded, and they headed towards it. "You got any change?" he asked, searching the pockets of his jacket for any spare coins.

"Uh," Danielle reached into her jacket, and she brought out a few coins with a shrug. "Make it a quick call, I guess."

Dean took them, and, one by one, he shoved them into the slot, impatient. The phone rang and rang, and he was sure that their brother wasn't going to answer it. But the line crackled, and he sighed in relief.

"Hey." Sam answered. "I'm guessing you're out of jail."

A smile came to his face. "Fake 911 phone call, I don't know, Sammy, that's pretty illegal." he remarked, and the humor showed clearly in his tone.

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, you're welcome."

"Well, listen, we gotta talk—"

"Tell me about it." Sam interrupted. "So, I went to see the husband, turns out he was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been dad's next stop."

Dean shook his head, exasperated. "Sam, would you shut up for a second?"

But Sam didn't seem to note the urgency in his brother's voice. He spoke quickly, as though to be sure that he could get it all out. "I just can't figure out why dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet."

"Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you." he pushed. "Dad left Jericho."

"Wait, what?" Sam asked, perplexed. "How do you know?"

"We've got his journal." he stated, and his eyes fell to the book in his sister's hand.

But Sam now seemed to understand his concern. "He doesn't go anywhere without that thing."

"Well, trust me, he did this time." he muttered. "He left us a message, same old ex-marine crap when he wants to let us know where he's going."

"Co-ordinates." Sam muttered, despondent. "Where to?"

Dean shook his head. "We're not sure yet."

"I don't understand." Sam went on. "I mean, what could be so important that dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? Dean, what the hell is going on?"

Dean opened his mouth to respond, not even sure of what he was going to say, but he didn't get the chance. The sound of tires screeching came from the other end of the phone, and it was followed by a loud slam. "Sam?" he chanced, cautious. "Sam?!" But there was no response. The line crackled, and his ear was filled with the sound of static before the call went dead.

His stomach dropped, and he slammed the pay phone back against the holder.

Danielle stared up at him, eyes wide in alarm, as though to ask what was happening.

"Come on," he urged. He grabbed a firm hold of her wrist and pulled her from the phone box with him. "We gotta move."

Dean was already marching down the road again, and Danielle had to jog a little to keep up. "What's going on?" she pressed.

"Sam's in trouble." he muttered. "I think he's headed up to the house. Something happened, I don't know."

But those words brought Danielle to a stop. There was a frown on her face, incredulous.

Dean turned, and he held up his hands. "What?" he snapped. "Dan, we gotta move."

"What are you planning to do, genius?" she rebuked. "Run ten miles and save him?"

Dean's eyebrows raised. "Well, do you have a better idea?" he snapped, impatient.

Danielle narrowed her eyes, as if to say that she'd take his challenge. Her eyes fell to a couple who were climbing out of a car across the street, and she smirked slightly. "Maybe I do."

Dean frowned, confused. "Dan, what—"

But she was already gone. Before he could get another word out, she was marching across the street away from him. To where, he wasn't sure.

"Hey, hey, excuse me!" she yelled, loud enough that the couple standing on the side walk before her turned in curiosity. They looked on at her with a frown, confused, and all Dean could do was stand back and hope that whatever she was planning to do wasn't going to land them back in jail, or worse. "Federal Marshals, ma'am." she stated, confident, as she pulled her fake badge from the inside of her jacket. How she still had it, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. "We need to borrow your car."

The woman's face contorted to a deeper frown, and her gaze shifted between the two of them, accusing. All Dean could do was offer an apologetic shrug, and nod in agreement.

Begrudgingly, and with an unimpressed sigh, she handed the keys over towards Danielle, who took them with a smile.

"We'll bring it back, don't worry about it." she affirmed. And, without another word, she turned towards the black car before them.

Dean cringed slightly, and did everything in his power to avoid looking back at the glaring woman behind them, and he followed her lead. He slammed the door closed behind himself, and he threw her a look. "Neat trick." he muttered.

"You're just bitter you didn't think of it." she countered, smug.

"Yeah, whatever." he muttered. "Anything to get out of running, huh?"

Danielle scoffed, and she gave a nod of agreement as she started the engine. "I don't run." she remarked. "Don't be ridiculous."

A chuckle escaped him, and he shook his head at her. "Just, for once in your life, Dani, don't get lost. That's all I'm asking right now."

Danielle rolled her eyes at the comment, automatic, and she took off down the street.

Danielle's driving was more reckless than Dean had ever known it to be before, and, if nothing else, it proved to him that the lack of concern she wanted to portray for their kid brother was nothing but an act. Her knuckles were white from the intense grip she held on the steering wheel, and her green eyes were wide and glued to the road as though their lives depended upon it. Hell, they did. She ran red lights, she turned corners so fast he was surprised the car hadn't flipped, and he wasn't sure he even wanted to know how much over the limit she was going.

Eventually, and he thanked his lucky stars as it did, the tires of the car screeched to a halt as Danielle swerved the car to an abrupt stop. He reluctantly released the hold he had on the dash, and he turned to her, accusing.

"Who the hell taught you to drive?!" he snapped.

"You did." she pointed out, confused. "What was wrong with that? I didn't get lost, did I? Wasn't that the only thing you asked of me?

Dean opened and closed his mouth, and he took a short breath. "You're one on your own, Danielle Winchester." he remarked.

"I'll take that as a compliment." she quipped. "Come on, we need to find Sam."

Simultaneous, they climbed from the car and headed warily towards the house ahead of them. It was old, decrepit, and looked as though no one had lived there in decades. The Impala was parked before it, and, for a moment, it looked as though there was no one inside.

"Where the hell is he?" Dean asked, his voice hushed as though he didn't want to disrupt the silence around them.

A soft thud came from the inside of the Impala, and that was when they saw him. There was a frown on his face that indicated he was in pain, and that was enough to have his two siblings sprinting towards the car. A form flickered above him, and the woman who they had seen on the bridge made herself visible to them. On instinct, and not sure of what else he could do at that point to save his brother, Dean moved to the trunk. He took out the first weapon he reached, and he fired a shotgun, over and over, and watched helplessly as the bullets smashed the window and flew straight through her. With a screech, one that gave away nothing but anger and fury, her form vanished once again.

Wary, Danielle stepped forwards, and she pulled open the door. "Sam?" she pressed, cautious. "Are you alright?"

"I'm taking you home." Sam mumbled, almost inaudible, more to himself than to either of them, and he forced the car into drive. He slammed on the gas, and he drove the Impala furiously towards the house. Dean and Danielle stared on, eyes wide, because he wasn't slowing down.

"What the hell is he doing?" Dean pushed, alarmed.

The car collided with the side of the house, and the Impala drove straight through it. Unsure of what else they could do, Dean and Danielle sprinted after him.

"Sam!" Dean yelled. He marched around to the window, and he looked him over slowly. "You okay?"

Sam looked up with a frown, he didn't look sure, but he nodded. "Yeah," he muttered. "I think."

Dean pulled open the door, and he took a hold of his brother's hand as he pulled him free from the car.

"Uh, guys." Danielle's voice sounded from behind them, and they both turned.

Constance stood before them, a glare on her face that promised revenge. She looked murderous. The temperature around them dramatically dropped, and before them they could see their own breath in the air. Before they could even think to react, a large desk was thrown towards them with an unseen force, and it slammed the three of them back against the Impala. They couldn't move.

"Was this really your plan, Sam?" Dean pressed, accusing, as he threw a glare towards him. "Smart."

But Sam's eyes narrowed, as though to say that he knew something they didn't. "Wait."

As if on cue, the dim lights above them began to flicker on and off, and the woman who had been glaring through them just moments ago now looked terrified. Droplets of water fell through the ceiling and bounced from the floor, and a stream began to rush down the staircase. At the top stood a young boy and girl, side by side, holding hands. They were pale, their clothes were tattered, and their hair dripped with water as though they had just walked in from a thunder storm. Or, Danielle pondered, they had just gotten out of an overflowing bathtub.

"You've come home to us, Mommy." An eerie voice sounded throughout the house, and it seemed to echo from the walls.

In the blink of an eye, the two children were beside her, holding her tightly, and all Constance could do was scream. She struggled against their hold, her form flickered in and out, and then, in a surge of energy, the three of them dissipated into a splash of water on the dusty floor.

The three of them were left alone, and the only sound now was the steady drops of water as they hit the damp floorboards. The pressure had been lifted from the desk holding them to the Impala, and they pushed it away easily.

"So," Dean gave a slow shake of his head, and his eyes scanned the room around them as he tried to process what had just happened. He took a short step forwards, and the water covering the floorboards splashed beneath his boots. "This is where she drowned her kids."

Sam nodded. "That's why she could never go home." he concluded. "She was too scared to face them."

"You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy." he said lightly, and he gave him a hard slap on the chest as he passed.

Sam gave a laugh, though it came out as more of a grimace through the pain he clearly felt, and he shook his head. "Yeah, wish I could say the same for you." he rebuked. "What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?"

"Hey," Dean pointed a finger at him in warning. "Saved your ass." He crossed the room towards his car, and he leaned closer for a better look. He wiped at the dust covering the hood with his fingertips, and he frowned. "I'll tell you another thing; if you've screwed up my car," He turned back to him, face serious. "I'll kill you."

Sam huffed a laugh, as though he already knew there was nothing to be concerned about, and he followed Dean's lead towards the Impala. Dean climbed behind the wheel, face like thunder, until he turned the key and the engine roared to life.

"You get a free pass," he muttered, begrudgingly. "This time."

Danielle climbed into the back seat, and she glanced between them. A part of her wanted to say something, but she couldn't. Her eyes lingered on Sam for a moment, but she just didn't know the right words to use. Gradually, the panic she had felt was wearing down, and everything seemed to shine in a new perspective for her. In the moments before they had found him, she had been so sure that they were going to lose him, that something awful had happened, and she had envisioned them having to tell Jessica about why they hadn't brought him home again. But, there he was. Their brother. Her brother. And, suddenly, everything she had ever thought about him was so different.

But Dean's thoughts seemed miles away from anything too serious. He turned up his music and the sound of rock blared throughout the Impala. He reversed away from the house and turned in the direction of the highway, never looking back.

"See, Dan," Dean commented, the first of them to break the silence since they had left the house. "This is how you drive a car."

Danielle rolled her eyes. "I know how to drive a car, Dean." she deadpanned. "You taught me, remember? So, if I can't drive, it just means that you're a crappy teacher."

Dean scoffed. "Maybe you're just a crappy learner." he rebuked. "There was nothing wrong with my driving lessons."

"Nothing wrong with them?" She huffed a laugh, incredulous. "Dean, lesson one of learning to drive was learning how to break into and hot-wire a car."

"And can you honestly sit there and tell me those skills never came in useful?" he countered, smug.

"Yeah, you're a real inspiration to me, sensei." she remarked.

Dean rolled his eyes, and he threw her a look over his shoulder, amused. "You joke now," He shook his head. "Just wait until you're being chased by a gang of werewolves and you need to hot-wire a car to escape. Then you'll thank me."

"Wasn't that you?" she pressed. "Only, it wasn't a gang of werewolves, it was a a gang of strippers. And you still didn't get away without a slap."

Dean laughed, really laughed. "Yeah, I enjoyed turning twenty-one." he mused. "Good times. You remember that, Sam?"

But Sam's attention was fixed solely to the road map open on his lap, illuminated by the flash light tucked neatly between his shoulder and chin. "Check it out," he stated, and it was clear that he hadn't been listening. "The co-ordinates dad left you, it's Blackwater Ridge, Colorado."

Dean raised an eyebrow, because he had never heard of it before. "Sounds charming." he remarked. "How far?"

"Uh," Sam frowned down at the map, and he shrugged. "About six hundred miles."

"Hey, if we shag ass we could probably make it by morning." he said, and there was a hopeful tone to his voice.

But Sam looked away, and he gave a soft sigh. "Dean, I, um..."

Dean glanced to him, and then back to the road. He understood. "You're not going." he resolved. The disappointment was evident on his face, but he covered it as quickly as it showed itself.

"That interview is in like ten hours." he said, apologetic. "I gotta be there."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He nodded. "I'll take you home."

Sam turned off the flash light and returned the map to the glove compartment, and a silence fell over the car.

"We need gas." Dean muttered. "Thanks to Danielle and her crappy sense of direction."

Danielle rolled her eyes. "Are you still talking about that?" she huffed. "Let it go, Dean."

Dean pulled the car into a gas station towards the side of the road, and the car came to a smooth stop. "Sammy, fill it up." he muttered. "I'm gonna pick up some snacks."

Sam nodded, but he said nothing. He and Dean climbed from the car, and their doors slammed closed at the same time. The sound made Danielle jump a little, and she sat up straighter. Through the window, she watched Sam, and she shook her head to herself.

No matter how much of the weekend she had spent trying to convince herself that she didn't care anymore, that her and Sam were done, that there was no turning back, she just couldn't shake the feeling of complete dread, terror, and pure fear that had consumed her at the thought of Sam being hurt back on the hunt. It hadn't made much sense at the time, but things had calmed down, the adrenaline rush had gone, and it was something that just wouldn't leave her mind. She cared. And she couldn't believe she had ever thought otherwise. Suddenly, the anger that she had held onto, whether deserved or not, didn't matter anymore.

There was no choice, she had to say something, because she couldn't spend another four years hating him. She wasn't sure she had it in herself.

Slowly, almost tentative, she climbed from the car. He was already returning the gas pump to the holder, and, as he turned, he stopped.

"Hey." Danielle stated.

A slight frown came to his face, he looked wary, as though unsure whether she was going to start something. "Hey." he replied, blunt, cautious.

Danielle sighed, and she leaned back against the Impala. Her arms were folded tightly over her chest, and she looked nowhere but the road at her feet. "Your girlfriend, she seems really sweet."

Despite himself, Sam smiled, and he nodded. "She is." he agreed. "She's great. I think you two would really get along."

"Look, I'm sorry abut what I said, you know? I get why you wanted to get away from this life. Honestly, I don't blame you." She sighed. "I shouldn't have said what I did."

But Sam shook his head. "No, you were right." he countered. "I should have called. I wish I had."

Danielle nodded. "Well, I guess you can give us a call tomorrow and let us know how your interview goes, right? I'm sure you'll do great."

"Thank you." He smiled, and it was the first genuine smile from him that she had seen all weekend. "I really missed you, Dan."

Danielle nodded in agreement. "Me, too."

Without hesitation, Danielle stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around his middle. For a moment, the action seemed to surprise him, but he held her back just as tightly. Right there, everything felt okay, and Sam could allow himself to believe that they had never fought at all, that he had never left them, that their dad wasn't missing. For a moment, he could allow himself to believe that they really were just a normal family.

"Wow." A voice came from behind them, amused. "Isn't that sweet."

Danielle rolled her eyes and turned to face Dean, but the smile couldn't be hidden from her face, or from Dean's.

"Come on," she pressed, and she took a step back from Sam towards the car. "Let's go."

Four Hours Later — Palo Alto, California — Stanford

The Impala came to a steady stop outside of the large apartment building where Sam lived. The drive back had seemed so fast to all of them, unlike the drive from there to Jericho. This time, the three of them had spoken to each other, they had laughed together, there had been no silence, no arguments, no awkwardness, simply three siblings catching up on the years they had missed out on.

There was a soft frown on Sam's face as he climbed out of the car. He leaned down slightly and glanced between them through the passenger window. "Call me if you find him?" Both Dean and Danielle nodded. "And, maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?"

"Yeah, alright." Dean agreed, although deep down he didn't expect it to ever happen. Sam patted the roof of the car and turned to walk away, but something stopped him. "Hey, Sam?" He turned. "You know, we made a hell of a team back there, the three of us."

Sam nodded, and a sad smile graced his face. "Yeah."

Dean and Danielle said nothing more, and Sam turned his back on them and headed back towards his normal life.

The Impala took off once more down the road, and Danielle climbed over the bench into the front.

"Watch your boots on the leather, kid." Dean chastised, but the only response he received was a light punch to the arm as she sat back down. He glanced between her and the road, and he raised an eyebrow. "You alright, Dan?"

"Yeah," She nodded, but she didn't look convinced. "I'm fine."

Dean frowned, and he studied her for a moment, as long as he could before he had to turn back to the road. There was something about the way she was sitting, with her legs pulled up to her chest, and the way her brow was creased, she looked concerned, worried, maybe even afraid. He had to wonder, was it all about Sam? Or was this something more? Was this about their dad?

He opened his mouth to ask, but he thought twice, and he closed it again. It wasn't the time, or the place.

"Tell you what," He pressed, a little brighter. "How about we head to a bar and have a few beers, then we'll get take out and watch some crappy horror movie back at the motel? We'll worry about everything else tomorrow."

Danielle nodded, and she smiled. "Yeah." she agreed. "Sounds good to me."

"Hey, uh, what time is it?" he asked, curious. "My watch stopped."

Danielle glanced down to her own wrist, and she raised an eyebrow. "Mine, too."

They looked between each other, and their eyes found each other's for a moment. Something was wrong. Without the need for confirmation, Dean swerved the car and set off back towards Stanford.

The Impala screeched to an abrupt halt outside of the apartment building, and Danielle lunged forwards with the unexpected force. People were already gathering outside on the road, and their attention was fixed solely to one of the windows a few floors up. There was no question, it belonged to their brother. Bright flames burned clearly through the thin glass, and smoke seeped out through the open window.

Dean was already out of the car and sprinting towards the front doors of the building before Danielle had even had the chance to process what was happening around her. Acting on pure instinct, eyes wide, she followed him, never giving it a second thought. But Dean stopped. He turned to face her at the bottom of the steps, right before the doors, and he shook his head.

"Stay here." he ordered, his voice was hard, demanding.

But Danielle frowned. "Dean—"

"Don't fight me on this, Dan." he urged. "Please. Just, stay here."

Danielle shook her head at him, fearful. "No, Dean." she pushed. "I—"

"Danielle!" His hands took a hard grip on her shoulders as he marched her backwards, and he refused to let go. "Don't you dare." he warned. There was a pleading look in his eyes that begged her not to argue. "Please. I'll get him, I promise. Just, don't move."

But she wasn't willing to back down. She pushed him hard in the chest, and she made a move to get past him. "Are you fucking crazy?" she snapped. "You are not going in there alone! You don't know what's in there with him or—"

"Dan!" he yelled. "We don't have time to stand here and fight. I am not going to lose you, alright? Stay. Here." His voice softened. "Please, Dani."

Her green eyes found his, and he could see the tears that threatened to fall. The fear that shone there was something he rarely saw in her, but, this time, he couldn't afford to dwell on it. Tentative, and against every fiber in her body, she released her grasp on his jacket, and she took a short step back from him.

"Be careful." she urged. "Please, Dean. Be careful."

Dean nodded, and, with one last look at her, he turned and continued on his way towards the doors of the building.

All she could do was stand and watch him go, and she closed her eyes in some kind of prayer that they would both come out of there again. The smell of smoke filled the air, and she was sure she could already feel the heat as it came from the building.

Ten minutes passed. Ten minutes of wanting to be sick with fear, worry, desperation. Ten minutes of wanting to run into that building and find them. But then it was over.

Dean appeared in the doorway of the building, and, from where she was standing, he looked as though he was forcing Sam out with him. His brother was fighting him, shoving him in the chest as though he wanted to go back. Dean all but dragged him out, and he forced him through the double glass doors onto the street. He only released the harsh grip he held on his jacket when they reached the side of the road.

Danielle turned to look at Dean, and her eyes searched his face for some kind of an answer, some kind of an explanation. His eyes found hers, remorseful and scarred, and she knew. He gave a slow shake of his head, and that was enough for her to understand exactly what had happened in that apartment.

Almost hesitant, she turned to their younger brother, and she approached. His face was the picture of a broken man, his eyes were watery and shone with the loss that he had just experienced, and her heart broke for him. She took a loose hold of his hand, and she gave it a soft squeeze.

"I'm so sorry, Sam." she stated, soft, genuine. "For all of it."

Sam said nothing, she wasn't sure that he could, but he gave her hand a tight squeeze in response.

"Give me a minute." he muttered, distant, as his hand slipped from hers. He walked away, and he refused to look back at either of them. His shoulders were slumped, and he walked without direction or purpose. He was beaten.

Danielle sighed sadly as she watched him go, but she wouldn't push him. Instead, she turned back to Dean, whose attention was fixed solely to the apartment building before them. There were more and more people gathering on the road. The fire service and police and ambulance service were taking over, and flashing lights and the sound of sirens seemed to absorb any silence that had been present.

There were tears in her eyes, and all Dean could do was place an arm firmly around her shoulder and pull her closer to him.

Danielle looked towards Sam, and she sighed sadly. He stood at the trunk of the Impala with a shotgun in his hand, and the force that he was using to load it was spurred on by pure anger, desperation, loss.

"What are we gonna do?" she asked, her voice hushed.

Dean followed her eyes toward their brother, and he shook his head. "I don't know, Dan." he murmured. "Come on."

Sam looked shattered, broken, confused. He was pale, and his eyes were bloodshot. Slowly, almost hesitant, he looked between the two people standing behind him, and he sighed. He tossed the the shotgun in his hand into the trunk and slammed it closed.

"We got work to do."

Palo Alto, California — Motel Room — 04:56 AM.

The room that Danielle opened her eyes to was dark, and she couldn't remember when she had fallen asleep. She remembered the tossing and turning, she remembered the headache, and she remembered thinking to herself that sleep just wasn't going to happen for her that night, clearly, she had been wrong. She pulled a hand down her face, and she forced herself to sit up. The sight of the figure sitting at the table at the other side of the room startled her, and she jumped a little in shock. She frowned at her brother, because it wasn't like him to be awake at such a time. He sat at the table with their dad's journal open before him, and there was a bottle of whiskey beside it. The only light in the room came from the dim lamp behind him, but, even through the bad light, she noted the look on his face. The journal was opened on a page close to the beginning, and she knew that he had to be reading about their mother.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, and her voice was low enough that there was no chance of disturbing Sam.

But Dean didn't appear to have heard her. He didn't respond, he didn't react, he didn't even blink. He seemed far too lost in his own thoughts to be listening to anything that was going on around him. That worried her. She climbed out of bed and crossed the room towards him, cautious, and she took a seat in the chair opposite him.

"Dean?" she pressed. "What's wrong?"

Dean gave the smallest shake of his head, and his brow furrowed as he tried to string together a coherent sentence. His gaze never shifted from the page in front of him.

"I don't know." he admitted. His voice was small, almost timid. It was a tone she didn't recognize. "I don't know, Dan."

"Dean?" She followed his eyes to the spot they refused to leave, and her stomach turned at the photo of their mom and dad that lay atop the open journal. "What's going on?"

It was a rare thing that he ever looked the way he did there, in fact, she wasn't sure that she had ever seen him look so upset before. It concerned her. Whatever was going on in his head, it wasn't good, that much she could tell. She considered the idea that it was something to do with their parents. Maybe it was the anniversary of their mother's death that was on his mind, because, only then did she realize, it was today. Or maybe it was that he was thinking about their dad, and the fact that he hadn't been in Jericho waiting for them, the way she knew he had hoped he would be.

Dean finally managed to face her, and he looked wrecked. "I saw her, Dan. When she—" But he stopped himself, abrupt. He wouldn't say anything more, she wasn't sure that he could.

Danielle frowned at him, and it took her a moment to understand. "Jess?"

Dean nodded. "She was," He took a short breath, as though to compose himself, and it was clear that he was struggling to get it out. "She was on the ceiling, Dani."

Danielle stared at him, because she didn't look sure of how to react to what he had said. She hoped to god that they weren't thinking about the same thing, but, judging by the old photograph before him, she knew that they were.

"You mean like..." she trailed off, and she shook her head. "Dean, what?"

"It was exactly the same way that dad described mom." he stated. His voice was small, maybe even afraid. "Burning on the ceiling, her stomach cut..." he trailed off, and he seemed to lose track of his words for a moment. "It was the same thing, Dan. Whatever did that to our mom, it was there. I know it. It was inside that room."

For a long moment, Danielle was silent. There was an obvious question to ask, but, deep down, she already knew what the answer was going to be.

"Have you called dad?" she pressed, cautious.

Dean huffed. "Yeah, all I got was his voicemail." he muttered, glum. "You were right, Dani. You were right all along. We never should have come here. We never should have brought Sam back into this life."

"Dean, this is not on you." she told him, blunt. "Don't even start thinking like that."

"You said it, Dan, you said it's never just a weekend." He shook his head. "I should have known that."

Danielle gave a soft sigh, and her gaze shifted towards their sleeping brother. Her green eyes lingered on him for a moment, remorseful. "Poor kid." she murmured.

"What are we gonna do, Dan?" Dean asked her, and, as she looked back to him, his eyes pleaded with her for some kind of reassurance.

But, the truth was, she was just as lost as he was. "I don't know." she admitted. Tentative, she reached out and pulled their dad's journal towards herself. She closed it softly, and shifted it towards the edge of the table, out of sight. "It'll be alright. He'll be alright. We'll get him through this."

Dean looked up to face her, and his eyes found hers. There was no confidence behind her stance, and it didn't take a genius to work that out. But he offered a nod in way of agreement, because what else could he do?

"Yeah." he muttered, despondent. He didn't believe it, and, he knew, neither did she. "I know."

A soft sigh escaped her and, despite how she tried to avoid it, her eyes fell back to the journal that lay before them. "You know, I had a bad thought tonight." she said, tentative.

Dean looked to her, and he raised an eyebrow, curious. "I already don't like the look on your face." he muttered, exasperated. "Do I even wanna know?"

"Those co-ordinates." she stated. "Dad wants us to go somewhere, we can agree on that, right?" He frowned at her, as if to ask what she was trying to say. "Maybe it's not that he wants us to meet him there."

"So, what?" he pressed. "Why else would he leave us that message?"

"Maybe he left us that journal on purpose. Because we both know that he isn't on speed dial anymore when we get stuck on a hunt." She sighed, because she could see that he wasn't following. "Look at it, Dean. He's given us all we need to hunt without him. I think he wants us to do it without him. I don't think he's missing. I know you're not gonna want to believe it, but I just don't think that he wants to be found."

Dean regarded her for a long moment, and a thoughtful frown took over his features. "Why, though?" he asked. "I don't get it."

Danielle shook her head, at a loss. "I don't know." she admitted. "Honestly, Dean, I just don't know anymore."