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I know I've said this before and I'll probably have to keep repeating myself, but Thank-You! Sometimes I tend to question this whole process but I realize; I write for you. If no one reviewed, I wouldn't write. It's a simple equation but I wanted to make sure that you, the reader, knows that. So without anything further, here you go.

We don't see things as they are; we see them as we are. ~Anaïs Nin

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Chapter Thirteen

Hunted

I woke startled, heart pounding in my chest; with bleary eyes I squinted trying to see what in heck had awoken me. It was early yet; early enough that I knew the dew hadn't even settled on the grass outside. The motel room was shrouded in the eerie glow that came from early hours, where the sun was about to awaken and the moon had not yet fallen asleep.

I shook my head, about ready to fall back into the comfort of slumber. I reached out expecting to feel Sam; he had always been my teddy bear in situations like this and felt the empty space next to me. I frowned; he probably went to go get the newspaper or something. But something still nagged me. The conversation we had last night still bothered me. Sam wouldn't leave us like that, would he?

Bolting up in bed, I felt something flutter down from my chest and settle on my lap; it was a note. Dear god, it was a note! I read the contents and frowned darkly, shaking whatever was left of my slumber from my bones. He had left, though he left a note behind, but he still broke Dean's promise. For what? Because of something he might become? Bullcrap, we made our own destinies and we could face danger united rather than on our own.

I stumbled to Dean's bed and shook him awake, there were no words that I really needed to say; somehow he knew. Dean always knew.

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He was gone.

It was as simple and complicated as that.

I tried looking on the bright side; I tried telling myself that Sam had left on good accord. But whom was I kidding? I could tell by Dean's frowns that he was just as angry and hurt as I was. And leaving a note to me? I saw the point of it; so that he wasn't really 'abandoning' me, he just had to think some things out for himself. But to me? Utter lies and disillusionment. Who was he kidding? We all had things that were bothering us, we all had our own baggage but especially after our last hunt, I would have thought Sam of all people would at least try to fix our bridge of communication.

"You going to eat that?" Dean asked over a mouthful of what appeared to be French fries.

I swallowed down my thoughts, "What?"

He motioned to my full plate, "You haven't touched anything."

And I had no intentions of doing so either. It was in my genetic makeup to fuss and overly worry about things until I couldn't even function and it was something I sure as heck wouldn't change. I frowned harder at my heaping plate; hoping, wanting anything for this nightmare to be over with.

Dean sighed, having swallowed the mass that had been in his mouth. I watched him with uninterested eyes as he pushed his plate away disgusted. Which told me he was very worried…Dean never, ever pushed away his basic 'needs'. Or so he once told me. "I know you're worried Bells, but you have to be strong."

I ran my hand roughly through my hair, it was so much easier said than done. How could I be strong? Maybe if I tried hard to be normal again, to function properly, that would ease his mind and maybe then, just maybe, we could gain our strengths from each other. It was plausible and weak at best, but I had nothing else. I nodded to him, coming to terms with the gravity of our situation, "All right, Dean." He didn't move until after I had begun quietly eating, the entire time trying to quiet the screaming voice in my head; that it wasn't right, it wasn't okay that here I was eating a meal with my brother and my other one could very well be dead.

We ate quietly Dean and I. Which was a rarity for us; we usually always did things whilst eating. Whether it were in the form of blaring music into our ears, flipping through the television or plainly conversing together. It was a sad realization, something so sudden and swift that my body ached from keeping the tears in. There was an elephant in the room and it was traipsing around, teetering dangerously on a thin rope. I just hoped it would leave us by tonight. Though I knew sleep wouldn't come easy to me. Not by a long shot.

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I stared at my reflection in the mirror and barely paid heed to the conversation I heard in the next room. Dean had spoken to an Ellen and though I knew he would never, in his right mind, gladly remain tied to a woman, I still couldn't squelch the mischievous glint my eyes were harboring.

I pushed open the bathroom door and leaned against the doorjamb, giving him an unimpressed look. He finally had changed into his pajamas and was pacing around the room muttering to himself. Any other time and I would have laughed. "So…Ellen…?" I raised my eyebrow innocently.

He stopped and glanced up at me, shrugging, "What?"

I laughed quietly, "Dude, you have a girlfriend?" I laughed harder after I voiced my question, the question that had made him visibly pale.

He stalked towards me, grinning, "Umm…no. She's like forty-three!" He enthused and I laughed harder, "She's a good contact."

I wiped my eyes letting him wrap me in a hug; I shoved my head into his chest breathing in the comfort, "How are you?"

He shrugged understanding my muffled question, "Doing much better after your lame joking."

I pulled my head away from its comfortable spot, insulted. Did he just say I was lame? "Excuse me, Sir but I'll had you know—"

He shook and it took me a moment to realize he was quietly laughing to himself, "You're so easy to wind-up."

And I punched him in the shoulder.

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I woke up with a start, forgetting for a brief second that Dean was asleep beside me and I quieted my shuddering breath. Waking in the grips of a nightmare was a curse and salvation but waking up to find your brother still gone hurt. Maybe he didn't love me enough to stay…right? Maybe it was the reason that Dad had left too, just like my Mom. I suddenly was abashed by grief, realizing my Mother never loved me. She didn't die heroically like Sam and Dean's mom; she died by her own will, her own hand. And she didn't once think about me.

"Tell me what you're thinking." Dean expressed.

I hadn't meant to wake him, I hadn't meant for him to catch me in the shaming act of sobbing but when I felt his hand rub my back soothingly, I knew he hadn't minded. "I just…" I cleared my throat and tried again, "I was just thinking…maybe Sam doesn't love me Dean. Maybe Dad never loved me, my Mom never loved me." I quietly confessed.

I felt the bed move and he was suddenly beside me, pulling me around to face him, "Look at me Bella."

I shook my head, not wanting to see the condemnation I thought would be lurking in his eyes, "No."

"Look. At me." He quietly ordered and despite my inhibition, I found myself glancing up at him and I died.

There were no inklings of any condemning thoughts, of any anger or blame. Only love and…understanding. I shook my head, not understanding or maybe not wanting to read into what I thought I saw. I never knew anymore.

He cupped my head between his two hands, making sure I couldn't look away; so I couldn't deny the truths any longer. "He loves you, Mirabella. Dad loved you and I'm very sure you're mom loved you too." Dean wiped away my tears with his thumbs and smiled tenderly at me.

I shook my head; stubbornness ran deep in me, "If they loved me, why did they leave?" I asked brokenly.

He shook his head, "I know it might seem that way, but they do. They left because of their own makings, Bells. Not because of you. I remember after you left, Dad had went to the store and got them to reprint a whole bunch of photos of you. He hid them everywhere; in the car, in his wallet, on the wall. I was really starting to get sick of your face." He joked.

I smiled up at him, reaching up to grab one of his wrists, "But why?"

He sighed, pulling away from me only to wrap me in his arms once again, "Sam…has things to figure out. And in his own stupid Sammy way, he pushes people away. Dad was the same way, Bells."

I nodded, letting my head rest on his shoulder, "Why do you think my Mom killed herself?"

I felt Dean tense and I knew maybe he still wasn't comfortable about broaching the whole 'mother' subject. "Bells, I was too young to remember what Dad said about her." I sighed, "Hey, look at me." He cupped my face staring intently down at me, "She phoned and we came to get you before she...she had to love you that much right?"

I thought about it, ignoring the doubt and uncertainty. All I knew was that Dean loved me and he would never leave me. That much I was certain of and for now, I was dang happy about that. "Yeah, I guess so."

I didn't know what we would do tomorrow and quite frankly, I just wanted to get through tonight. I knew Dean and I would be fine, it would hurt but it was the truth. Deep down, I never wanted to go on without one of my brothers, I never knew that I could go on with one of them missing. But the truth? The stark brutal truth was that I could go on and I could very well survive by my own just fine.