The girl who answered the door was beautiful. She was five-four, maybe five-five, early thirties. She wore boyfriend jeans that were ripped across the thigh in three different spots; each rip showing just a little bit of skin. Up top, a Metallica shirt, which was old and faded and possibly a size too big for her; yet it suited her just fine. Her jet black hair sat just below the shoulder and it was dead straight, not a fizz, kink or twirl in sight. Her small, but perfectly sitting, black eyes scarcely took the boys in before she dismissed them both with, "I'm sorry boys; whatever you are selling, I am just not interested." As she closed the door in their faces, the girl went back to the conversation she was having with the mobile that was wedged between her head and shoulder.
Swallowing hard with the indignity of it all, Dean looked at Sam and Sam back at Dean. Both boys wore a sort of stunned ambushed look on their faces; Dean finally addressed what had happened, switching it up to full-blown disbelief, as he checked Sam out and then glanced down at himself, "Do we look like travelling salesmen?" he asked, smacking his hand in the air as he spoke. Sam shook his head, no, before he reached out and banged hard, on the door, three more times.
The boys had travelled nonstop to reach Grand Junction, Colorado in just under ten hours. It was almost morning, but the sun hadn't hit the horizon yet, as the boys pulled into a fine looking motel, right on the edge of town, opposite a greasy looking diner whose sign simply read, "Ginger's". The boys had rested, catching a bit more shuteye, than they got during the long drive, as they took turns showering and getting ready for the day. Sam had done some nifty computer work, backtracking the email to Hope in order to find a surname, then, an address in town for one, Harper Olliston. After breakfast, and lots of coffee, the boys had headed straight over to find Harper, only to have the door, slammed in their face by a very pretty girl.
"I told you before…" the girl started to say as she answered the door, for the second time, but Sam cut her off, "Ma'am, ah, we are not salesmen…" he said as he pointed to Dean and himself. "My apologies," the girl stated; looking the boys up and down and perhaps obviously seeing his mistake. "Look… whatever it is, I'm kind of in the middle of a crisis here, can you just go on to the next house…" she added, pointing to her phone, to let them know that the crisis must be on the other end of the line.
"No." Dean barked, pushing back on the door as she started to close it, forcing it open again, "We can't just go on to the next house… We need this house. We are looking for Harper. Do you know where Harper is?" Dean spoke the last words very slowly, trying to calm the annoyed feeling he was getting. "Why do you want Harper?" the girl asked as she looked carefully at Dean, her right hand still held the mobile phone, but she seemed to have forgotten that she was on a call. "We are here because Chayse got…" before Dean could finish his sentence, the girl all but yelled, "Chayse sent you. Oh my god, you're here to help. I'm so sorry. Please come in, come in." Into her phone, the girl quickly said, "I'll have to call you back."
The girl lead the boys through the main hall and into a back sitting room, "I can make some coffee or tea, do you want anything?" she asked them both, suddenly nervous or so it seemed to Dean and Sam, they exchanged quick glances before Sam answered, "No Ma'am, we just need to see Harper." The girls face dropped, which confused the brothers, "I'm Harper," she said softly, "but you would know that if Chayse had sent you." A sudden sadness, etched with fear, could be seen in the girl's whole body, her eyes especially mirrored the loss that her soul was feeling, "She's dead, isn't she?" The look between the brothers let her know that she was right and she dropped to the floor, her world collapsing in on her. Sam almost caught her as she fell, but in the end, he had to scoop her up off the floor and walk, or half carry her over to a long orange couch that leaned up against the far wall. Harper wasn't crying, in fact, she wasn't doing anything, she was just gone, lost in her mind, in her thoughts and memories of Chayse.
After a while Sam pushed her for some information, trying to bring her back to them, "You knew her well?" he asked softly as he touched her shoulder. Harper looked up at Sam, her small eyes wide and empty, then, slowly she turned her face to look at Dean, after staring at him for what seemed an age, and just as the whole situation became uncomfortable, she whispered to Dean, "You have her eyes…"
Tears sprang to Dean's own eyes and he turned suddenly so that Sam and Harper would not see. Harper realising the pain that he was in, as her own, turned back to Sam, "and you? Are you her brother as well? She never said she had brothers?"
"She didn't know." Sam answered her, a chilling sadness in the three words he spoke.
"It figures. Not that she told me much. In fact, I barely knew her, but I was… am, still… in love with her." Harper started crying then; there was no noise, just silent tears, each one carrying a memory from her mind to her heart, which only brought about more tears. Sam looked up to see if Dean had heard Harper's last statement and the pair locked eyes, not knowing what to do or say next. Harper carried the conversation for them, through her tears; the fondness she spoke with melted the brother's hearts, "She blew into town. Saved Robert's life; a werewolf almost killed him. He introduced her to me, as the 'girl wannabe'. It was a joke, their joke. I mean, she was probably twenty-six or twenty-seven. They knew each other well, that much was clear. He adored her; as if she was his own daughter and she… she loved him like a father. Giving him grief for drinking too much and not being as careful as he should be. At the time, it seemed so normal. But later… later I wondered if he really knew her that well. She could be so distant and she made sure that no matter what… you couldn't help her. I thought it was just me, but I'm sure now that Robert felt it too, just the way he spoke sometimes. In the years after. We, Robert and I, kept in touch, for a while…" Dean and Sam were hanging off every word Harper was saying; Harper just watched the floor as she spoke, reliving each moment she described. "Two people had been killed before Robert had turned up in town. I was the manager of the inn where he was staying. He saved my life and then had to sit me down to have his 'talk' about things that go bump in the night. My life was never the same after that. Of course, I wanted to help, but he would have nothing to do with me. I was the one who told Chayse where he was when she turned up. My god but she was beautiful." Harper retreated then, back into her mind, remembering Chayse all over again, fresh tears welling up in her eyes.
Sam sat beside Harper, quietly stroking her back, as the tears fell. Dean watched on from across the room, unable to find the words that would fit in that silence. The tears slowed and Harper continued her story, "The three of us sat around coming up with places that the pack might be hiding. The two of them would go off looking, each time coming back empty. Then this one time, they found what they were looking for. They came back a complete mess. I tended to Roberts wounds first, and he soon went off to bed, then I helped Chayse. I asked her if she would be leaving now, not really wanting to hear her answer, but already knowing, a knot growing in my heart. She was a free spirit, with many secrets and she had kept me at arm's length the whole time we were together, making sure to control what we were to each other. She told me that she couldn't stay. Not that she didn't want to, but that to stay, would put me in danger and she wouldn't have that. I remember starting to cry, telling her I would gladly take the danger if it meant I got to have her, but she just pulled me in tight and held me until the tears stopped. We had that one… perfect night… and when I woke up in the morning, she was gone. I never saw her again."
Silence returned to the room, the trio now lost in their own thoughts. The light dimmed as the day wore on; Harper rose and made her way to the kitchen. Sam followed wary of what she might do, given the loss she had experienced today. "Tea… or coffee?" she asked him when she heard him enter the room behind her. "Coffee." he replied quietly. As she started to make the coffee, Harper asked, "When did she die?" Sam's heart sank, how could he hurt this girl any more than she was already hurting, Harper took that job away from him too, "So, not long ago, right?" Sam nodded. He understood immediately what Hope would have seen in her. How refreshing she was, without even trying. How she thought quickly and knew how to put you at ease, no matter what might be happening in her own life, like the thought that if she had reached out sooner, she might have been able to see the love of her life, one more time.
Dean came in from the sitting room at that moment, he was carrying a framed photograph, "This is Chayse." He stated, showing Harper the picture. Sam thought it was odd, Dean pushing Harper on something that hardly mattered; of course, Dean would have recognised Hope's picture, why did he need Harper to confirm it? "Yes, with Robert and I, outside the inn." Harper smiled slightly as she remembered having the picture taken, what a wonderful day that had been, but the smile slipped away as she realised she would never have that again. Sam was still confused by Dean's behaviour until Dean passed him the frame. Sam turned it around to look at the picture and his eyes went wide in surprise; there was no mistaking it. Hope was in the middle, a small smile on her face. To her right was Harper, looking radiant in another pair of faded jeans and a black shirt, this time showing some Acca Dacca love; her arm wrapped around Hope's waist. All pretty ordinary, however, the most amazing thing about the picture was the man on the other side of Hope, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, a massive smile on his face. Bobby Singer. Sam shook his head; he looked up and found Dean staring at him, taking in his reaction, feeling it again, as if it were his own. The two of them stood in silence, staring at each other. If it weren't for the picture, neither would have believed it.
The silence was broken when Harper put two coffee mugs down on the island that sat in the middle of the kitchen. "Drink up!" she ordered the boys.
