It had been three weeks and two days. Three weeks and two days, and all hope that she would call me, telling me that she had changed her mind were diminished. I didn't sleep much the night she left. Or for the next couple nights. And I still had spells where I just couldn't sleep. I'd thought about it a million times, and I still wasn't sure what would have possessed my father to call and tell Grace that we were better without one another. But she didn't have to jump and run right away, either. She could have said no. She could have told him that she didn't want to go. That I mattered too much for her to be able to go. But it was obvious. The only one who mattered was my father. The only Winchester who ever mattered to anyone was my father. It wasn't that I hated my dad. I didn't. But God, he had just taken away the only person who had really ever mattered to me. Aside from Sammy. I couldn't devalue Sammy. I sighed a bit. It was like the guy thrived on getting people used to one way of life, and then ripping it from beneath their fingers.

I'd met this girl named Cassie since then. Beautiful. Amber skin and chocolate eyes, with ballistics to kill, if you catch my drift. We hit it off, and I decided that maybe she could help me forget. I'd told her about Grace. A toned down, non-hunter version. And she understood and consoled me. She even went so far as to forgive me the couple of times that I called out Grace's name in bed. At first, my mindset had gone to 'everything happens for a reason,' and I had convinced myself that maybe Cassie had been the reason that Grace and I had to fall apart. So, after that revelation, I told Cassie about my profession. Told her what I spent my days doing before she met me, and she told me I was crazy. Told me to get out of her life and not look back. Told me that she'd heard some doozies in her day, reasons why guys wanted to break up with her, but that this was certainly new. I tried to plead my case, but she all but shoved me out the door and told me never to darken her doorstep again.

That was fine. She wanted me gone, I could do that. Maybe the dramatics were a bit much, but that was to be expected, I supposed. I was on my way to the Mustang, when I realized that I'd gone about this in a really irrational manner. I took everything out on Grace, and had never even pointed a finger at my dad. I took the cell phone I'd bought in Missouri from my coat pocket and dialed my dad's cell phone number. I had to ask him. Needed to talk to him. Four rings, and still no answer. But just as I was about to give up and hang up, I heard my dad's voice come through the phone. "Hello?" he asked. He sounded ecstatic. Well, at least one of us was.

"Dad?" I opened the door to the Mustang and sat down, rolling the window down, since the reception sucked with the window up.

"Dean. How are you doing, son? Find that shape-shifter yet?"

"No," I spoke coldly. "Dad..."

"Son, it's not a good time right now. Can I call you la—"

"No," I didn't let him finish. "Dad, I need to know something. Why?"

He went silent, and I think I heard another voice in the background. Probably Grace. God knows what I'd just interrupted. I heard him shushing someone, and then he came back to the phone. "Son, can we—"

"No!" I shouted. God, this was frustrating. I deserved answers. Needed to know why he didn't want me to be happy. "Do you have a 'if I can't be happy, no one can' complex or something?" I asked coldly into the phone.

"Hold on a second..." he said, and the line went quiet.

I looked at the display on my phone. The call hadn't ended, and now that I listened a little closer, I heard a bit of shuffling in the background. "Dad! DAD, come BACK!" I shouted. God damn, sometimes the way he handled things made me wish that I could just throttle him. I saw Cassie peek her head out the window from behind me and started the car, holding the phone to my ear with one hand.

"I'm sorry. Housekeeping..." his voice came back through on the other line. I could tell that was bullshit, but I wasn't going to call him on it. I already had enough on my mind. Upon a closer listen, I picked up a choked sob in the background of the phone call. "Why what?"

Why what? I pulled over to the side of the road and shut the car off. How could he even ask me why what? "Why did you call Grace to you, dad?" I practically shouted out the window of the car, at the river off in the distance. This was frustrating. I had never asked my dad questions in my life. Always been his good little soldier who listened to him without question, and the one time that I wanted answers, he wouldn't give them to me.

I heard him sigh, and a bit of shuffling on the other line. And there it was, that choked sob again. I heard my dad shush someone—was Grace crying? The anger in my veins subsided, and I felt concern replacing it as I heard that sob again. That was Grace. Before I could ask, my dad spoke up. "Son, you'll understand in time, I promise. Right now, there are some things that I have to attend to so—"

"Is Grace okay?" I asked, interrupting him mid-sentence and not caring less what he thought of it. Grace was crying. What was going on? Why had my dad called her there? They'd been in Vermont. Had something happened? "I hear—"

"Grace is fine. We just had a rough hunt, Dean. Which is why I have to let you go..." he said, and I could hear in his voice that he was lying. But if he didn't want to tell me the truth, that was fucking fine. He and Grace could have all the sex they wanted. He could have her. I didn't want her if she could just up and leave me for my father like that. Fuck, you think you know someone.

"Fine. That's fine, dad. Talk to you when I talk to you..." I said, and moved the phone from my ear to hang it up.

"Wait," I heard my dad's voice pleading. Why I owed him anything, I didn't know, but...I waited, as I was told. "Dean, I'm sorry. But...I—I don't think you're ready for—"

"I know. I know you don't. Just let it go. I don't hate you dad. And...please, take care of Grace, okay?" I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the seat of the car. Grace was the first woman I had ever really loved, and I would still be destroyed if anything happened to her. "She may act like an altar of strength, but..."

"I know, son. I'll...I'll call you, okay?"

I wiped my eyes, feeling tears welling up in the corners of them, but I didn't let it show in my voice. "Okay..." I said simply, and ended the call, shutting my phone off. Part of me wanted to talk to Grace. To see why she was crying. But another part wasn't sure if I could do it. I'd end up begging her to come back. And who was to say my dad would even let me talk to her to begin with? I wiped my eyes and started the car again, heading toward the hotel I was staying at. Maybe a good night's sleep would clear my head. Though...if I wanted a good night's sleep, I shouldn't have called my dad so late at night. And I had to work on clearing my head, too.

I decided, in that moment, that love was a useless emotion. That I didn't need it. That it only led to pain. If I couldn't have Grace—a woman who truly understood everything I did? I didn't want anyone. I'd just go through life as a bachelor. Why not? Many men before me had done it, and for much less of a reason. As far as I was concerned, I was entitled to living my life the way I wanted to live it. I pulled into a hotel and sighed as I grabbed my wallet from the passenger's seat. Love. Who needed it?

Not me, that was who.