The time it took for Sam and Dean to return felt like an eternity to Haven .
She'd stood by as Bobby talked to Dean and Ellen. She'd given him The Bible and pointed out Revelations and the reapers and Death. She heard that Jo was seriously hurt.
Then it got quiet and she didn't know what they were doing or how they were. All she could do was wait, and the panic that she tried to keep down, the fear... It hurt. Bad. She went outside and prayed, and prayed some more. She cursed at her father, and broke more car windows in her anger. Then she wept and said she was sorry and prayed more, begging for their safe return.
When the wind around her picked up, and the sound of angel wings came through the night, she stood. Running inside, Haven stood in the doorway as Castiel appeared with Dean and Sam. She bit her fist to keep from crying out in relief. They were here, they were back, and just as a smile started to form she realized that they were short two others. Jo and Ellen were not with them.
Dean was leaning heavily against Castiel. He seemed lost; his eyes weary, and faded. Sam watched Dean, then hung his head and pressed a hand to his eyes. "We lost. Everything. The Colt didn't work. Ellen and Jo," Sam's voice cracked and he took a breath before continuing. "they're gone" Shaking his head, he glanced at Bobby. "They died for nothing. It didn't work."
Bobby slowly backed away, his face a mask of grief. Sam followed him, as did Dean and Cas. Haven hung back, unsure of what to do, knowing they were a family, feeling like an outsider and not wanting to intrude. So, instead she watched as they huddled before the fire, each a figure of pure sadness. They soon separated, one by one going their own way. Bobby to his room, a bottle of whiskey in his lap. Castiel, disappearing in a rustle of wings. Dean went outside, his gait slow, his posture slouched. Sam was left standing by himself, a lone figure, with shadows of the flames flickering at his skin.
Sighing, Haven stayed where she was. What was she supposed to do? There was so much hurt in this house. Sam was before her and he once again seemed to be taking the full brunt of it. The days events weighed heavily on his shoulders another burden, another load of guilt. She wanted to go to him, but did he want her help? After their encounter earlier she was unsure. Would he just push her away again?
Dean's grief poured through the door, engulfing her and leaving her gasping. It was powerful, and ached with darkness. He was in so much pain. Making a decision, she walked out the front door, towards the man who's heart was a little more bruised and broken than it had been before he left. "Dean," she called, as she spotted him standing by a car looking puzzled.
He picked up a few shards of window glass and looked towards her. "You?" Nodding, she went to stand beside him. "What are you doing out here? You should be inside with Sam. He'll be needing you right now." He dropped the glass and leaned against the door.
Haven took a spot beside him, her arms resting on the roof of the car. Shrugging, she spoke softly, treading lightly, not wanting to startle or upset him more. "I thought maybe you needed someone."
Dean rolled his eyes, and gave her this half smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm not much of the touchy feely type."
"Yes, I have discovered this to be true of you." Looking up at the stars, she stood by, ready if he was.
He bit his lip and turned away from her. She could not see his face, but she could see his shoulders tremble. She could see his clenched fists. "What can you do? It happened, they're gone. Ain't nothin' gonna change that."
Haven shook her head no, and turned towards him. He was looking at her now, eyes like broken green glass. "No I can't change it. I can't take it away, but I can help. At least for tonight. "
"I'm just so sick of it."
"I know," she whispered.
"I should be thinking about what's next. What do I do now. Starting with how to get my damn car back." he tried to laugh, but it cracked, and left him frowning hard at the ground.
"You just lost someone you cared for, Dean. You need time to grieve."
"Grieve?" Scowling, he glared at her. "Do you have any idea how many people that I cared for have died?"
"Yes." She had seen so much through Sam, knew that they had dealt with so much pain and loss.
"All I can see is Jo and the way she..." Clearing his throat, he shook his head. "And Ellen. She wouldn't leave Jo. Blew themselves up trying to save us. Trying to give us a chance to kill that bastard. And for what?" He cast his eyes down, his entire body growing tense as he fought against the anger and sadness.
Haven reached out, and took his clenched fist. Raising it, she enclosed it between her two hands. She let some of her warmth flood through Dean's fingers. She hoped he would let her, it was only a little, but maybe he would accept that. "It's not your fault, Dean."
"The hell it's not," he muttered, but his hand relaxed, entwining with hers, and he shuddered before taking a step closer. "I can't."
Haven turned toward him, her eyes meeting his and again she was filled with the sadness. "Then let me help you."