The sky was pitch black and cloudless, each dotted star clearly visible. God only knew what time it was, but it had to be past midnight. A park stood almost empty, the swings and the roundabouts silent for the night, resting before their work the next day. It was quiet - the only noises audible were that of a car passing every now and again, and the squeaking of a swing as one lonely figure sat on it, spinning round and round mindlessly, her eyes focused on the floor.

Zoey swung to a stop. She was about to twist the chains again when another figure sat on the swing next to her. From the corner of her eye, she quickly surmised from the silhouette who had joined her.

"Hi, Dean," she said monotonously as she began to twist the chains again.

"Hey, Zoey," he sighed, leaning back as he rocked his own swing back and forth.

"How did you find me?"

"I have a super sensitive sense of smell."

"Ha ha."

Their banter wasn't like it usually was. It was the same on paper, but neither of them expressed any emotion. They were like robots. Or Kristen Stewart.

Dean considered how to say what he was going to say, knowing Zoey wouldn't push any further on his following her. Neither of them had the heart to say more than they had to.

"Dad told me something before he died," he told her. Zoey just nodded, not overly interested. "Something about you."

She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing and continued twisting.

"He said I should only tell you if I really need to, but I don't see the point in listening to him anymore, considering where that's got us."

Still no response.

"He told me you have a sister."

This grabbed Zoey's attention. She froze, and the swing spun around 5 times before coming to a halt. The breeze increased for a moment, and an empty cola can went past Zoey's feet at a tangent, then bounced off Dean's and went under the slide.

"A what?"

Dean handed her a crumpled up piece of paper. "I didn't read it."

Zoey took it with hesitation. Her finger touched Dean's lightly as she did so, making him draw his hand back immediately. He'd made sure not to touch her ever since that night in New York. Sensing he was thinking about it too, Zoey quickly opened up the piece of paper. It had a name, date of birth, telephone number and address.

"Son of a bitch," she cursed as she crumpled the note in her hand. "I don't understand." Zoey leant forwards, resting her elbows on her knees. "Why the hell would John want me to know about her?"

"Beats me," Dean shrugged. He stood up, seemingly eager to get away from her as soon as he had delivered the message. "I should go check on Sam," he excused himself. "Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

Zoey nodded, her thoughts still trying to make some shape of themselves as she realized how tired she was.

Dean began to walk back to the car he'd borrowed from Bobby. He stopped just as he reached the park gate, looking at Zoey's back. She looked like a wax statue. Not even the swing was moving. He sighed. Part of him wanted to hate her, but part of him wanted to tell her everything was gonna be okay. He felt like he should say something - what? Don't stay out too late? Don't do anything stupid? Does she want a lift back? None of these seemed right. Dean turned around, and made his way back to the crappy old car, making a resolve to start work on the Impala the next morning.

An old engine wheezed into life, and begrudgingly began to move, fading further into the distance. Zoey looked at the paper again.

Stacey Marie Maynard

28 July 1981

609-804-3655

1186 Watson Street

Egg Harbor City, NJ 08215

Something - probably the inclusion of contact details - told her John wanted her to contact her sister. Indeed Zoey was curious - why hadn't she heard about this sister before? Why had she lived somewhere else?

Sighing, Zoey folded up the crumpled paper as best she could and slid it in her back pocket and started making her way back to her borrowed car. There was a faint orange glow on the horizon and Zoey was exhausted. She knew she wouldn't be able to make it back to Bobby's without falling asleep at the wheel, so she sent a quick text to Sam asking him to pick her up. Knowing he probably wouldn't get it 'til morning, she sat down in the car to wait for him. She was so exhausted that she fell asleep pretty quickly. And so exhausted she hadn't realized Stacey's birthday was exactly one month after her own.

Zoey jumped, her instincts shouting danger, as a sharp knock on the window woke her up. She heard muffled laughter behind her, and turned around as she sat up. Sam was there, having received her text, and the sun was out. It was still rather early, 6am according to the car radio's clock. A boy rode by on his bicycle, a bag of newspaper attached to the front, and an old lady hobbled up to the recycling bank with a plastic bag full of glass bottles.

"You're here earlier than I thought," Zoey said as she opened the door. "I don't entirely trust you with being on time."

"Then why did you text me?"

"Didn't wanna make Dean turn around, and I don't have Bobby's number." It was a lie. She had his number. She just wanted Sam to come.

"Still tired?"

"Not really."

"C'mon then." In one strong scoop, he picked Zoey up from the car seat and stood her on the ground, shutting the car door with a kick of his foot.

"What, you just gonna leave the car there? Bobby'll be pissed, y'know. He likes that car."

"Nah, we'll pick it up after."

Zoey looked at Sam suspisciously. "After what?"

He offered his arm like Mr Darcy might. "Miss Maynard, would you do me the honour of accompanying me to Starbucks?"

Zoey grinned and placed her hand on his arm. "Why, Mr Winchester, I would be honoured!"

Sam opened the passenger seat to his car and bowed as she climbed in, then shut it as he walked around to the other side and climbed into his seat.

"You know I hate coffee, right?" She reminded him.

"I know," he smiled. "But hot chocolate looks just like it."