A/N: Thank you to those who have reviewed, favourited and followed. Keep reading and enjoying it and remember, reviews keep the muse happy.
1994 – June
South Dakota – Sioux Falls
Dean sat slumped against the door of a car, watching as Sam and Charlotte climbed the rusted cars. And sat atop them triumphant the number they'd climbed. He was just making sure they didn't fall or hurt themselves, or catch anything from the rust.
Just watching them.
The sun was beginning to set and they'd already been there six days. He was itching to move. To get to the next hunt and help his Dad. Then Bobby as at the door, calling them in. He watched Sam and Charlotte climb down, jumping the last car with a tumble from Sam. He followed the kids into the house, hands in the pockets of his jacket.
Food was sitting and waiting for them. Pasta and sauce. Whilst Dean knew Bobby didn't have the best cooking skills in the world, the man had enough to make a decent Pasta bake. Provided he followed the instructions.
As they were nearing the end of their meal the door went and Bobby waved the kids down before he moved to answer it. Dean angled his head around the frame. He watched Bobby open the door to an injured looking John Winchester. His Dad stepped in and Dean frowned as the door closed with no Peter Dixon behind him.
The pair had gone to hunt some sort of hellspawn over in Connecticut. Well, a series of hellspawns that had gathered and were causing havoc for a small town.
Bobby pushed the man into the living room and Dean turned to his meal, suddenly uninterested. "Who was it?" Sam asked.
The fifteen year old waved his brother away, "Just finish your tea Sammy." Sam rolled his eyes but complied. Dean turned his head to Charlotte to see her looking at him strangely. "You too," he muttered, forcing a forkful of pasta down his throat. He watched the girl frown but comply. If it was just his Dad that had made it back, as beat up as he looked, then Dean didn't want to break the news to the kid first.
He painstakingly finished his meal, stacked the plates and tried to stop them from moving past the door frame. But they were too fast and too curious. The teenager was forced to follow in a slow pace, his eyes downcast and his hands stuffed into the far corners of his jacket pockets. Charlotte was gonna cry. He didn't need to be a psychic to know it.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked at the sight of his Dad.
Bobby looked how Dean felt and the teen noticed the older man's eyes on the young girl. Her face changing and he watched her eyes jump to the door, over John's figure and back to the door. She went to the window, looked out and kept her gaze forward as she spoke. "Where's my Dad?"
Dean could swear the kid knew. But she didn't want to believe it. Hell no kid would want to believe that their Dad was dead. "Charlotte," John started.
Then she was holding onto the thin window ledge by her fingers, knees already gone and head against the wall. "He's not dead. He's not. He can't be. He promised."
"Dad?" Sam asked and Dean tried to ease the lump away from his throat.
Then there were sobs. Heart wrenching sobs that had Dean closing his eyes in pain. "No!" She shouted. "No! No! No! He's not dead! He can't be!"
"I'm sorry," John muttered but it was too late. She had already collapsed in a heap, head bent over her knees and arms on the floor. Her body shook as she sobbed and Dean was finding it hard to watch.
John moved to place a gentle hand on her shoulder but it was a spark that shoved her to her feet and pushed him away. "Stay away from me!" And she was gone. Out the back door and into the salvage yard, tears falling in her steps.
Sam looked to Dean, to their Dad, to Bobby and back to the door. Dean dropped his gaze, turned and followed the girl out of the back door. There was a brief look between him and Sam in which Dean told him with his eyes, "I've got this."
The night suddenly seemed colder and Dean pulled his jacket further around him. "Charlotte!"
There was nothing for several seconds. Then he heard the sobbing. He followed the sound to find her sat curled up in her car. He wrenched the door open and perched himself on the edge of the dirty old seats. "I'm sorry," he said, eyes fixed on the floor kicking up dust around his feet. She didn't move, didn't say anything. Just sobbed harder. He hated it when chicks cried. Never mind a twelve year old. "Charlotte, I-" then he stopped. He couldn't think of anything to say that would make it better.
Hell nothing would.
But he tried. With a sigh he pushed himself further into the small space, ducking his head and twisting it to look at her as he spoke. "I know it sucks. I don't know what I'd do if I lost my Dad. But I am sorry. I'm sorry you did. I know nothing I say can make it better but," he paused, mind furrowing with his eyes. Then he sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Come here," he offered finally and he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You know, I'm offering you a hug here. Once in a lifetime opportunity. If your refuse you'll never know what a Dean Winchester hug is."
There was a slight hiccup in her crying before she shuffled, turned and wrapped her arms around his chest. He could feel tears making a patch on his shirt, but for now, he could deal with it. He hated it when chicks cried, would usually run away from it but Charlotte was different. Yeah they had their ups and downs. Yeah they'd mocked and prodded each other. But she was one of the few outside of family who he could talk about hunting with. Who understood some of the things he did.
He simply held her. Awkward. Confused about what he should be doing to help further. But he patted her back and let her squeeze his chest tight and sob into his shirt. Minutes passed and he felt her shake against him. Dean looked down and frowned. Shorts and a t-shirt. With a roll of his eyes and biting back a sigh he removed her from him to take off his jacket and pull it over her. It was more than twice her size, hell it was big on him.
But at least it would keep her warm so she could cry til her hearts content.
Charlotte shuffled her body to put her arms through the sleeves, pull the thing around her and attach herself to Dean's chest again. The sobs were whimpers now. Just sniffles and Dean sat there, letting the soft breeze twist the end of his hairs into his eyes and out again.
Yet he stayed there. Comforting her.
Then there was a nuzzling of her head against his side and he looked down to see her eyes begin to close. He nudged her gently, "Hey. You're not sleeping there."
"Comfy."
He gave a small quick and light chuckle. "Yeah? Well it's kinda cold and you've got my jacket."
She only slumped further into him and pulled his jacket around her tighter. "Comfy."
"Come on," he made a start to move but her arms around his waist squeezed, wanting him to stay where he was. Another chuckle. "Charlotte. Come on."
"Don't wanna."
"Don't make me carry you back."
She glared up at him through red puffy eyes and tear tracked cheeks. "You wouldn't."
He winked and the essence of a smile tugged the corner of her mouth. "Oh I would princess."
Charlotte pulled back to punch his arm. "Don't call me princess."
"Darling?" Another punch. "Sweetie?" Another punch. "Cutie pie." That made her screw her face up and punch him twice. "Yeah I don't like that too." He tried to think of more words before he smirked down at her. "Babe?" That made her shout with disgust and she threw her punches at his arm again. "Okay! Okay!" He held his hands up and grabbed her fists. "I'll stop." She looked up at him, frown still in place and glared. He chuckled and climbed out of the car. He held a hand out and nodded his head to the house. "Come on. Let's get inside where it's warm."
Charlotte was hesitant and he saw the worry in her eyes. Out here she could still believe her Dad was alive. Or at least the pain was a little easier. But inside? Where John was? The man who'd been able to walk away from it whilst hers had died? Yeah. He understood why she didn't want to go inside. "I don't wanna."
She slumped back onto her knees and Dean simply looked from her to the house and back, trying to figure out how to deal with this. In the end he sighed and raised his eyebrows at her. "I will carry you."
She crossed her arms and glared. "No!"
"Yeah."
"No!"
"Right," he reached in, turned her over and grabbed her underneath her shoulders and pulled her out. She was screaming with laughter as he dragged her out and let her feet hit the floor. She struggled against him and Dean grabbed her waist, pulled her up and scooped her up. She fumbled in his arms and he panicked as his grip on her almost fell. Then she was wrapping her arms around his neck and fussing. "Hold still princess!"
She flailed her legs and Dean had to let go of them to hold her waist in order to not drop her and not have her drag him down. "No! Not princess Jerk face!"
"Well that's a little harsh."
"Put me down!" She muttered with laughter.
"Nope," he said with a smirk as he half carried half hauled her back into Bobby's house. He ignored everyone, bent to put her feet on the floor then grabbed her knees and hauled her over his shoulder. She screamed and he ignored the slapping and light punches she was delivering to his lower back. "Stop hitting or I'll drop you."
"No! Don't drop me! Put me down!"
"Put you down?" He was halfway up the stairs and with one hand on the rail he pushed the arm holding her backwards just a little.
"Noooo! No! No! No!" she screamed, grabbing his shirt and dragging herself back onto his shoulder. "No! Not like that!"
He carried her to the spare room, let her fall backwards onto the bed with laughter and stared at her triumphantly. "Told you," and he winked.
She giggled, got to her feet on the bed, yawned and jumped at his neck. He almost fell under the sudden weight but managed to steady himself as she hugged him. "Thank you Dean."
"No problem Princess." She hit his shoulder and Dean chuckled. "Alright down boy," again she hit him but she slipped to the floor and Dean watched another yawn take over her face. "Bed. Now."
She crawled into it, refusing to get changed and pulled his arm with her. "Can you stay? You make it better."
He sighed and relented. The last thing he wanted to do was let her cry herself to sleep. He got in behind her and felt her drag an arm over her body and clutch it tight to her chest. He sighed, let her get comfortable with his arm and decided to wait until she slept.
Before he knew it he was falling asleep too.
