AN: Okay, sorry this is kinda late. I read this one, decided it wasn't good, and rewrote it. During that, I managed to erase the next chapter. So... give me a week.

BUT HERE. LOOKY. A NEW CHAPTER.

For the reviews:

sandrum: Yeah, I admit things are going kind of fast, I'll do my best to slow it down a bit :) I'm glad you like it!

WhiteEvil: I'm glad my story fills the Gabe/oc void! :D I had that void for the longest time, then thought "screw this, I'm writing a lot of stories for him!" and taadaa... this happened xD

As for everyone else, I'M GLAD YOU LIKE THIS. I WAS REALLY TERRIFIED EVERYONE WOULD HATE IT AND SHUN ME.

With that said,

Enjoy~!

The sound of fire crackling, the smell of wood burning, the warmth of the fire, and standing between my brothers would have been very comforting. Except this is a hunter's funeral. For our father. We're burning him to ashes. He's gone. Forever.

Silent tears were running down my face, slightly shining in the orange light. The last interaction between us, was an argument. I can't remember that. I should be remembering all the good times we had together.

I remember when I was little, Dean and Sam were at school, but I was too young for school. Dad brought home paint, but forgot to buy something for me to paint on. So he let me paint his face, and I remember the smile on his face when my brothers came home, and let me paint on them.

The tears had free reign, and so did the strangled gasps. Looking up, I leaned onto Dean, who was trying to fight back the tears. Sam was openly crying, so I reached over, and gripped his hand with mine. Squeezing it, I tried to give him a small smile. He squeezed back and didn't even attempt to try to put on a small smile.

"Did he... did he say anything to you?" Sam asked hesitantly. Letting go of both of my brothers, I sat down, still sore from the Impala impaling me. Ha, Impala and impaling.

"No." Dean stated coldly, hinting that he didn't want to talk. Knowing my brother, I knew that Dad had said something to him. I'm not one to pry, but they were Dad's last words.

Sitting at Bobby's, no one really said anything. There was nothing to say. Bobby carried on, but drank more. No one really noticed that except me, but I kept my mouth shut because every one deals in their own way. Dean stayed outside all hours of the day, fixing up the impaling Impala. He hardly slept, he hardly ate. This was his way of dealing with it. Sam's way was more annoying. He kept to himself mostly, except to ask for my opinion on different articles, asking if I thought they were our kind of jobs. When I asked him to stop, he simply nodded, apologized and said he was going to break into Dad's voicemail.

My way of dealing with Dad being gone? Sitting on the couch with my knees to my chest. I haven't moved since we arrived at Bobby's. Everything's too numb to even try to move. I was at that stage where you can't even cry anymore because you can't care anymore. You can't even try to care, because all feeling's are gone. You sit around, barely a human since people needs emotions to live. I just sat there, an emotionless wreck.

I guess I fell asleep, after not being able to sleep for a few days. Standing on a bridge, in my dream, I looked down. Life's such a silly thing. Everyone says it's worth it, but is it really? We all die in the end, either peacefully or bloody. The latter is a hunters most probable end. I could jump off this bridge, and end it all. Of course, I'd wake up, but that didn't occur to me at the time.

What did enter my mind, was that Dad died. As obvious as that was, it came in a different way of thinking. Dad died. Either way, Dad was going to die. I didn't shoot him with the colt, so he died in the hospital. If I shot him, the demon would've died along with Dad. Then Dean most likely would've died in the hospital.

You know what life is at this point? Bitter sweet. Either way, something good would come out a great loss. That something good, isn't worth the loss.

I'm pretty sure this kind of thinking is called depression.

Fixing my attention on the fact that I was standing on the guardrail of a bridge, I watched the water. Dark blue, rushing by without a care in the world.

"Why do bad things happen to good people?" I asked out loud, to the strong pulsating energy behind me. The tone I said it with, was just so sad and heartbreaking, I barely recognized it as mine.

"I'm so sorry, Blues." He wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me away from the edge. Turning around, I buried my head into his chest and cried. Cried for my pain. For Sam, who just wanted to be away from Dad, and got his wish. For Dean, who was probably lost without Dad's orders and guidance. I cried the tears I didn't have for the past few days. I cried, because I could cry. Everyone at Bobby's was avoiding me like the plague, where Gabriel actually comforted me. I don't think the boys even knew how to comfort someone who's grieving. Maybe Sam, but that's iffy.

He held me for what felt like hours while I let out all my tears. Eventually I looked up at him with red rimmed eyes, and tear stained cheeks.

"Thank you." Forcing a smile, even though it was small. He nodded, and kissed my forehead.

"It's time for you to wake up. I'll be close."

ONE WEEK LATER

"I feel like a damn soccer mom." Dean complained.

With the Impala still being repaired, Bobby let us borrow the only working vehicle in the yard. Which I really doubted. The vehicle? A crappy van.

Sam had traced a phone number from Dad's phone to an address, which is where we had pulled up to. The sign on the old looking building said 'Roadhouse'. We walked up to the door, which was locked. I walked around while Dean picked the lock. Peering into a window, I didn't see much through the dust and dullness of the window. Hearing my brothers open the door, I half-jogged up to them.

Upon walking inside, we took in everything. The bar on the right side, a bunch of tables and chairs, a jukebox, a pool table... wait. Someone was laying on the pool table. Must've had a good night or something.

"Hey buddy?" Sam walked closer to guy.

"I'm guessing that isn't Ellen." Dean smiled a little. Which is more than I've seen him smile in the past week. Well, he's smiling for the both of us. I haven't so much as said a word since I asked Sam to stop asking me about possible hunts.

Sam walked away into a back room, and Dean walked towards the bar. I moved myself over to the jukebox, looking through the songs.

"Please let that be a rifle."

I turned around, and saw a little blonde girl standing behind Dean, with a rifle pressed against his back.

"No, I'm just real happy to see you. Don't move." The blonde looked like she pushed the weapon harder against his back. She hasn't seen me yet, so it was best I didn't get involved yet. You know, in case my idiot brothers manage to get trapped or whatever. What else are sisters for?

"Not moving. Copy that. You should know something. When you put a rifle on someone, don't put it right against their back. It makes it real easy to do this." Dean spun around, and grabbed the gun out of her hands. Pulling back, she punched him square in the nose, causing him to drop the rifle and she caught it. I had to admit, that girl's good.

Dean looked at me, and I shook my head, holding up four fingers for him to see. That's our way of silently telling each other plans. This one meant don't mention me, and I'll save your ass... in a nutshell. I ducked down and hid in the shadows, trying to stay out of sight.

"Sam, I need some help in here!" Dean's hands were on his nose, making him sound slightly muffled.

"Sorry Dean. I can't right now. I'm a little tied up."

I tried to hold in a laugh as Sam walked out, with a small women pointing a gun at him. My laughter quickly dissipated when she said their names.

"Sam? Dean? Winchester? Son of a bitch." The lady behind Sam dropped her gun down, and looked between my brothers. If she knew their names, this is so not good.

"Mom, you know these guys?" The little blonde girl looked uneasy, still pointing the rifle at Dean.

"Yeah. These are John Winchesters boys. Doesn't he have a daughter too?" I watched as Sam and Dean exchanged looks. Dean nodded his chin in my direction, and Sam looked over causing every one else to look over. Very slowly I stood up, making myself known. The blonde girl looked a little freaked out. Walking over to Sam, I looked at her and frowned. Then did something I think my brothers have been waiting for, except probably not in the way they were hoping.

"Clear the room before you go around threatening people. I could've killed you." I stated coldly, making Sam flinch slightly before he reached around and rested his arm on my shoulder. Maybe he did that to hold me back, because this girl looked like she was about to fight back. And I swear, I wasn't about to let Barbie's sister win.

The older women started laughing, as if she were oblivious to what was happening between her daughter and I. "Hey, I'm Ellen. That's my daughter, Jo."

Jo looked uneasy, and sent me a glare, but slowly put the rifle down. "Hey."

"You're not gonna hit me again, are you?" Dean cautiously glanced at the small blonde, and I looked at her after seeing her glance at me again.

"I'm going outside. Try not to get hustled by girls." Shrugging off Sam's arm, I made my way to the door. I was about to go outside, but added "Again." as an after thought.

Sitting against the crappy van tossing rocks across the parking lot can only stay entertaining for a little while. It's safe to say I was pretty damn bored. I should've stayed inside. Even if inside meant being in the same building as Jo, it also meant not being alone with my thoughts. That is the last thing I want to happen. Sighing, I gave into my train of thought, seeing as how we weren't leaving anytime soon.

Dad was really gone. Yeah, I came to this realization plenty of times, in different ways each time. But he was gone because of me. If I just shot him somewhere were it would kill the demon, but not Dad, I could've saved him. Maybe, just maybe, if I shot him, I could've acted quickly enough, and prevented the shot from being fatal. Or if I just noticed it wasn't Dad in the first place. It's all my fault. This family is torn and ripping itself to pieces because of me.

"Jazzy? You're still out here right?" Dean's voice brought me out of my slowly deepening hole I like to call the pit of depression. Quickly wiping my tears away, I stood up and also wiped the dirt off my clothes.

"Yeah, I'm here." I walked out from behind the van to face Dean.

"We're heading out. Get in the Mystery Machine."

Laying across the backseat in the van, now dubbed 'The Mystery Machine', I was listening to music through a pair of headphones. It didn't last long when I saw my brothers talking. Pulling the headphones out, I sat up and leaned forward.

"I know what you're thinking, Sam. Why did it have to be clowns?" Dean pulled on a big smirk with a slight chuckle. Oh, that's low. Really low. Using Sam's fear against him. If I remember correctly, Sam once told me about Dean going on a plane and screaming.

"Oh give me a break." Sam rolled his eyes, and looked back to me.

"You didn't think I remembered, did you? You still bust out crying when you see Ronald McDonald on the television."

"At least I'm not afraid of flying."

"Hey, planes crash." Dean was quick to defend himself, making me smile a little. First smile in days.

"And apparently clowns kill."

I laughed a little, causing them both to snap their heads back. Hey, another first for these past few days, laughing. Wow, I'm really depressing. Dean grinned at me, and Sam just smiled like a fool.

"It's good to hear you laughing again, Sis." Dean returned his attention to the road.

When I woke up, I realized a few things. One, there was no sound. It was completely silent. No engine of the crappy van. No voices. Silence. Two, the thing under me wasn't the backseat. It felt like a crappy motel bed. Three, I was in a crappy motel. Four, the smell of greasy breakfast.

Sitting up, I looked around. No brothers, but our bags were here, along with what I assumed to be a bag of breakfast on the table. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I stood up and walked over the bag. There was a cup beside it, filled with what I assume would be coffee. On the bag was a note.

Morning Jaz. Here's breakfast, and it'd better be gone by the time I get back. You haven't eaten in the past few days, and yes, I noticed. We went to the carnival. Do some research and I won't bring up you not eating in front of Dean.

Ps, I'll check the garbage cans inside AND outside.

- Sam

I sighed and rolled my eyes. It's not like I wasn't eating on purpose. It was just never an issue after Dad died. Now that I think of it, I haven't eaten since a few days before Dad died. What with basically being in a coma and being tied to beds.

Grabbing the contents of the bag, a bagel and a breakfast wrap just dripping with grease, I opened up Sam's laptop and set to work.

A few hours later, and a billion notes, I sorted through what I thought was important. Digging for my phone, I flipped through the contacts and called Sam.

"Hello?"

"Sam, it's Jaz. Found some things about the carnival. Listen up, I'm not repeating it. In 1981 the carnival called Bunker Brothers had a clown thing too. A bad clown thing. Their lot manager is the owner of Cooper Carnival, the one in town. His name is Mr. Cooper. Putting two and two together, I think he brought whatever the spirit is attached to. Either that or we actually have a homicidal clown." I smiled when I could just imagine him flinching at that idea.

"Did you eat the breakfast?" Of course he would ask that, what else would I expect?

"Yes, Sam. I ate. Thank you. Put that info to good use, and please for the love of all that's holy, be careful."

"You too."

With that, I hung up and looked around. Well, now I'm bored. I'd be hunting with them, but they insisted that I stayed indoors, but close enough to them. You know, sore from being impaled and all.

I started cleaning up when I felt different energies. Not one of them good. Making a beeline for the window, on the way grabbing a tin of salt out of my bag, I opened the curtains slightly. There were about a dozen people standing in the parking lot, just talking to each other. But I felt like I should know better. These were probably demons. So much for being careful.

Running over to the door, I locked it and laid a salt line along it. Digging through my bag, I pulled out my favourite knife. Dad gave it to me for my 16th birthday. The blade was silver with traces of iron.

The flutter of wings sounded behind me, but before I could stop myself, my hunter instincts kicked in. I threw a fist at him, but he caught my hand before it collided with his jaw. I gasped and my arms fell to the sides.

"I'm so sorry Gabriel!"

His hand covered my mouth and he shushed me.

'Stay quiet. There are more demons out there than you can handle.' With that said via angel radio, Gabriel disappeared from in front of me. I haven't heard from him in almost two weeks, and he can't stay for more than five minutes? Oh, listen to me. I sound like an overly attached girlfriend. Oh my god. I'm an overly attached girlfriend.

There was a commotion outside, it sounded like yelling. Half running to the window, I watched in horror as Gabriel was being surrounded by the demons. Then they were gone. So was Gabriel. It was like no one was even outside to begin with. If I didn't know better, I'd say that I was hallucinating due to trying to escape the pit of depression.

"Boo."

I spun around, ready to attack. This time I was able to stop myself, probably only because Gabriel was standing a good ten feet away from me. Dropping the knife on the table, I ran up to him, wrapped my arms around his neck and crushed his lips with mine.

"Whoa, I should save your ass more often." He smiled and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"No, you should show up more often. I just missed you." I gave him another peck on the mouth and let go of him. I backed up, and sat on the bed. He smiled at me, with a flash of something really deep in his eyes. Maybe it was care, or affection. Either way, it made my insides heat up.

"I missed you too. Didn't mean to stay away so long, I just got caught up in... what I was doing." He gaze shifted to the floor, and he fidgeted a little.

"Well, whatever it was, I'm glad you're here. Honestly. And you would not believe the day I had yesterday." Scooting back on the bed until my back rested against the headboard, I grabbed the remote off the nightstand and turned on the TV. Gabriel took his place beside me on the bed, and laid his arm around my shoulders.

"Was it a good day? Cause you know, you're talking more." He gave me a slight squeeze and kissed the top of my head.

"Not really. I'm mean, sort of. I guess. I don't know. Dean drove us to this place called the Roadhouse, he got beaten up by a stick with a blonde wig, and Sam was held at gunpoint by this lady who seems awesome named Ellen. Long story short, I threatened the blonde stick, walked outside and waited for the boys. Had some alone time with my thoughts, came to the conclusion that I'm falling into the big giant sink hole called depression, and that my Dad's death is my fault. Then -"

"Whoa, whoa, hold up." He sat up and turned to face me. "That was not your fault. It will never be your fault. It was that demon's fault. No one else's, and especially not yours." He cupped my face with one of his hands, his thumb wiping away the stray tears. I nodded, and simply let the dam break. Burying my face into his chest, I sobbed loudly. Everything hurt. I didn't want to hurt anymore.

"I just- I can't. He's gone. I couldn't stop it, he's gone. It hurts."

"Sh, I know. I know, it'll be okay. I'm here." He ran a hand over my hair, and wrapped his arms around me.

I just want the pain to go away.

rgvrkijbfedp\ji]hbtjihbt'uohrwghip\grpjin\gvrflji (sorry, that's my frustration coming out. Yes I'm leaving it here because WHY NOT.)

I guess I fell asleep in Gabriel's arms, because the next time I opened my eyes, sunlight was pouring in through the window, and Gabriel was gone. Sitting up and looking around, I saw Sam and Dean sitting at the table. Which made me wonder where they slept, if they slept.

"Sunshine's finally awake. Come one, Jaz. Gotta go back to the Roadhouse. Ash has something for us, or he should." Dean stood up, and ripped the blankets, that I swore I fell asleep on rather than in, off the bed. He dropped a bag of what I'm assuming is breakfast onto my lap, and walked away.

"Oh, uh, you have it. I'm not that hungry." Dean spun around to look at me, at the same time Sam glared daggers at me. He raised his eyebrows and pointedly looked at Dean, and back to me. "Uh, I-" I sighed, "I'll eat it on the way there."

During our little stop at the Roadhouse, we all sat around, just kind of relaxing. Except Hoe, uh, I mean Jo, was basically eye raping my brother, and mullet man, Ash, kept flirting with me. At first I did it back to humour him, but it was honestly getting annoying. Dean proceeded to hit on Jo, and I stayed beside Sam, trying to learn how Ash put Dad's way of tracking into a computer. Another reason I stayed with Sam, was so I didn't shove my knife into Jo's unhappy places.

After the Roadhouse, we headed for Bobby's, because God forbid we forget about the Impala.

Dean was outside working on his baby, and Sam was helping me make lunch, spaghetti and garlic bread. He was stirring the noodles, while I was making juice. After all, not everyone can live off of alcohol.

"Have you eaten anything besides what I bought you?" Sam looked up from the boiling noodles. I sighed, knowing that this would come up again.

"Do you really wanna hear that answer?" I placed the juice in the fridge to chill, not wanting to look at Sam. Especially after I heard him slam the stirring spoon onto the counter.

"Why?" One thing I like about Sam, is when he's mad, he doesn't explode like Dean does, unless you pull his strings and braid them. I shrugged, not really knowing why I wasn't eating. I just wasn't hungry.

"I'm not sure. Listen, I'll eat some of this, and I'll have dinner. But I just don't get hungry anymore, and that's not my fault."

He simply nodded, still clearly upset, and walked outside. No doubt to also bug Dean about his grieving process. I sighed again, knowing I should go out there and be the peace maker, as usual. Maybe they should have some time first, let out much needed steam. Taking the pot off the stove, I strained the noodles, and poured them back in the pot. I poured Dean a glass of juice, and decided I should head outside now.

Something was telling me I should stay inside. I ignored it, and continued on my path to my brothers. Sam passed me on the way, he was heading back instead. Looks like I was a little too late for their spat. Frowning, I heard glass breaking. Hunter instincts, and I dropped the cup, running to Dean. I stopped dead in my tracks, and watched him beat up his car with a crowbar.

"Dean?" Walking up behind him, I tapped his shoulder. Bad idea. Very bad idea. He swung around, crowbar and all. Before I knew it, I was laying on the ground, with something hot rushing down my head. I couldn't see clearly, let alone try to think clearly. Someone was sitting me up, I think. My head was heavy, I couldn't hold it up. The liquid was dripped down my face, into my hands. Blood, lots of blood. I could sort of hear someone calling out to me.

"Jaz! Jazzy, you keep those eyes open! Don't you close those pretty blues on me!" All that really registered was my name, and 'blues'. Was it Gabriel?

"Gabe?" I could barely get that out. My throat felt like it was shut off, everything was getting darker and I couldn't feel anything.

"It's Dean, keep those eyes open. We're almost inside." We were moving?

I couldn't take it anymore. Everything started to feel all at once, all pain. It hurt. Everything hurt. I couldn't take it anymore. Everything went black. The last thing I heard was Dean yelling for Sam.