Summary: Delaney Mannings is dropped off with the Winchesters a few months after her father's death. She stays with them for two years and they become close. What happens when she has to go? What happens when she comes back?

Chapter 36: I know.

"Hey. How's Laney?" Dean bumped into his brother as he walked out of Delaney's room. Sam bypassed him and trudged down the hall.

Dean turned, following Sam with his eyes. "Hey. You okay? Sam!"

Sam stepped into the boys' room without as much as a glance at his big brother. He slammed the door closed behind him and the click of the lock was heard.

"What the hell?" Dean mumbled. He was about to pick open the room door when John's voice called his name. He slowly made his way down the stairs and into the living room.

"Dad, I think something's up with…" Dean trailed off as he noticed the expression his father and Bobby had plastered on their faces. Their eyes had a blunt serious look to them, one they usually put on for whenever they had some very unsettling bad news to deliver.

"What's going on?"

The two older men were quiet for a moment and it seemed like they were waiting for the other to start talking. Dean waited patiently, keeping his eyes glued to his father.

John was the first one to speak, sighing deeply. "Dean… An old friend of mine called. Caleb. You remember him, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well… he told me he had a lead for a Wendigo a few days back. Called to tell me he'd handle it. Told me that when he'd entered the monster's place, there were bodies strewn all over the place. He didn't pay much attention to them until he found a body that the Wendigo hadn't feasted on yet. A woman's body."

Dean didn't know how any of what his father was saying was relevant or important for that matter. Dean examined Bobby for any clue but Bobby just looked away.

"Dean…" John breathed. "It was Delaney's mother."

…

The look of pain on Delaney's face was so beyond hurt and guilt. Dean had never seen anything like it.

He watched as her face transformed from pure curiosity to grief in an instant. She sat there, her expression deeply confused as she tried to get some words out, some questions. Before she could even talk she turned away, gripping her stomach tightly as soon as the words registered in her brain.

"Please tell me... please tell me you're kidding. Please." She begged, eyes already beginning to water, mouth quivering in the effort of keeping the sounds of pain at bay.

Her mother couldn't be dead. She was invincible. She'd always been okay. Even after the major injuries, the near death experiences, she had always held on. Delaney had believed she would always be there. Even when she didn't want her to be. It couldn't be possible. Any of it. They had to be lying to her. They had to.

"I'm sorry, Laney. I'm... sorry." John spoke softly.

"Please. Just... please." Delaney pleaded, holding onto the blanket covering her; with such force she could've ripped it if she tried.

To Dean, it looked like she hung her head, as quiet as a mouse. Then slowly, whimpers began to escape her lips, which soon became full blown sobs. Tears trailed down her face like rain, dripping off of her chin, slipping down her neck, leaving salty wet trails behind.

Dean turned to John, waiting for orders to do something. He didn't necessarily need them but he preferred to hear what his father thought was best. But, John didn't exactly know what to do himself. He'd dealt with crying people often. In his line of work, how couldn't he? Most of them were hysterical, scared beyond thinking straight, wetting their pants. But, Delaney, well, Delaney was close. Close to his heart and he didn't know how he could comfort her.

John noticed the hopeful expression his son had on and carefully said, "Do what you would do for Sam."

Dean was surprised. Never, in his seventeen years, had he heard his father make anyone else an equal to Sam. All he had ever heard from the man was, "Sammy. Take care of Sammy. He's your main priority. Watch out for Sam."

Dean knew he shouldn't have had to think about it. All that mattered at that moment was Delaney and her wellbeing. All he could do was hold her and wait.

John approached Delaney, put his arms around her, and kissed her softly on the head. Dean watched as he let go of her and exited the room.

Then, Dean sat next to Delaney, cradling her in his arms as best as he could, and listened to her hurt almost non-human sobs.

Delaney leaned into him, burying her head in his chest.

At first, he held her awkwardly. He had never had much experience with crying girls so he wasn't sure what was comforting. But, one thing he knew was that he never, in the rest of his life, wanted to hear such distressed crying again. It was something extremely horrible for anyone to have to go through and for someone to hear. It was a crying so broken and desperate and… lonely. A cry that broke your soul.

And, the worst part was that the cry came from Delaney's lips. It was that she was the one that was broken.

Eventually, Dean became used to the feel of her and held her closely, only caring about comforting her. He was slightly frightened at the way her shoulders shook uncontrollably and the troubling urgency in her breathing. He tried his best to hold her, to make her feel like she wasn't alone. Although, he knew that what he was doing could only help a little.

God, how he wanted to make her better. To make her feel like she would be okay. He'd always been able to make her feel better. She'd told him countless times and he had understood. The way he made her feel safe, better, was the way Sam made him feel. Like he'd be okay and he'd make it through. He needed to have that effect on her now. Not only for her, but for himself too. He didn't want to feel as useless as he felt. He couldn't stand seeing her like that.

He couldn't.

…

Sam didn't enter the room. He listened, his back pressed against the door to Delaney's room. Her cries went from moaning incoherent noises to sobs then to moans again.

He was hit with a small pang of fear when everything went silent. Was she okay? He waited impatiently for Dean to call out or emerge but he did neither.

Sam wanted to enter. He wanted to say sorry for leaving her when she needed him. He hadn't tried to understand her and that was unforgivable.

He was scared to enter. He knew he should leave it all behind him and march in there and hold her but Dean was doing a good job. Dean knew how to hold people. Or, at least, how to hold Sam.

Sam waited for it to be his turn to hold Delaney.

…

Dean held her as she slept, dreading the moments when her body shook with tremors and shivers. She gave such terrifyingly small whimpers in her sleep.

He felt her jerk a little and he held his breath as she slowly opened her eyes. He waited for the crying to begin once again.

She slowly turned away from him so that the back of her head was against his chin.

"Delaney?"

She didn't answer.

"Are you awake?" He knew she was but he was leaving the choice up to her. He wasn't stupid. He'd dealt with as many tragedies in his life that any other hunter had, maybe even more. He knew that at moments like these, all you wanted was to be held, to feel something warm against you to dispel the coldness and cruelness the world seemed to spew out.

He felt an almost imperceptible nod against his chin.

They grew silent. The window showed the darkness that seemed to cover everything outside, leaving nothing to be seen, the fierce wind rattling at the very same window. Dean listened to the whistle of it for a moment then turned away.

Dean didn't know what to say but he sure wasn't going to ask her if she was okay. He knew better than that. There was no way anyone would be okay with something like this, not for a long time anyway.

"You… don't have to say anything," She spoke, her voice scratchy and hoarse.

"Delaney, I'm sorry. For all those things I said about her and how I pushed you. I had no right."

Delaney breathed slowly, trying to hold herself together. "I… was still… so mad at her."

"She knew you, Laney. She knew you still loved her."

She shook her head and when pain sprouted through it, she stopped. She was literally biting at her lips and clenching her fists as tight as she could, to keep from crying. She didn't think she had any right to cry for her now. To need her now.

Dean felt this and held her tighter.

"Go ahead. It's okay."

"Go." She choked. "Just… leave me alone."

"I'm not leaving."

"Just… go!" She snapped, pushing him away. "Go!"

"Delaney…" He warned, scared she would become extremely agitated and split her stitches or hurt her injuries.

"Go!" She stumbled out of bed and tripped over the carpet in her need to get away. She didn't move once she was sitting against the bed. She felt the pain spring up again, filling her every pore. She didn't understand how it could hurt so badly. She began to sob again, gripping her stomach tightly, waiting for it to subside. She knew it wouldn't.

Where was her mother? Why were people saying she was gone? She couldn't be. Not when she still had so many things she wished she could have told her. Not when she still had so many questions she could have asked.

She tried to blink away the hot tears that kept coming, that streamed down her face disobediently, reminding her of the things she could have had with her mother, the things she had pushed aside and rejected. How could she have done that?

Dean slowly rounded the bed to the side she was on and sat next to her. Delaney buried her face in her knees.

Dean gently put his arms around her, and silently held her.

"I miss her." She breathed heavily, the sobs wracking through her petite form, or at least, petite compared to his.

"I know. I… know." And he did. He knew what it felt like, exactly, to miss a mother.

Love you, you Guys!
This fic is rapidly coming to an end but before you freak out, don't worry. There will be a sequel. I would say... less than 8 chapters to go. I think.:P

~Mar98

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