A/N: From this day forward I shall no longer be able to update daily. I apologise but school is restarting and it's all serious business from here on out. This fic shall not be forgotten. I promise you. Enjoy.

2006 – July

Part 3

South Dakota – Sioux Falls

Charlotte sighed as she stood by the back door. Since Sam and Dean had burnt their Dad's body just over two days ago all Dean had seemed to do was work on his car. She'd offered to help but he'd shook his head with a frown and told her "I'm fine." It left no room for argument so she had left it.

He was there again. Working away. She turned back into the house and joined Sam at the small desk in the kitchen. "How are you doing Sammy?"

He lifted his head from his Dad's journal. "What?"

A faint smile pulled the corner of her mouth up. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," he muttered, turning his head back into his Dad's book. She rolled her eyes. Brothers. Any trace of a smile was gone and she shuffled forward to lean her elbows on the desk and her chin in her palms. Blue eyes fixed themselves on the brown ones that worked to avoid her. She could see it in his shoulders, in his small little sighs, in the nervous leg jittering he did. Everything screamed not fine. He eyed her. Shuffled in his seat. Looked at her. Sighed and finally let the book drop a few inches in the air. "Stop it."

"Sam," she drew out. Bobby was out grabbing supplies from the shop and she had been left to make sure neither brother killed each other or themselves. The tension was high and it was ready to burst. Both brothers had been tetchy not just with each other but with her and Bobby too. "You're not fine." Her voice softened and she dropped one arm down to let her hand fall of the table towards her. The other dropped straight onto his arm. "Please, talk to me." She gave it a gentle squeeze and tried to reassure him with a smile.

She didn't miss the swallow and she retracted her arm in hopes it would entice him to speak. "I'm fine," he said. "It just, it's just going to take some time."

Charlotte sighed and dropped her head. "Sam it's me. I'm not going to complain at you if you have a chick flick moment. I'm not going to tell you to man up or get over it. Your Dad just died."

"I know."

"Then show something! Be angry! Cry! Shout! Please! Just," her voice had dropped to a near whisper. "Just don't do the silent thing. That isn't you."

Sam let his Dad's journal drop onto the desk then and sighed. "I am angry okay. It's not fair that Dean makes a recovery and then he has to die. I mean," he took a breath and Charlotte ground her teeth as she watched him. Waiting. One of Sam's hands rubbed the space between nose and mouth and he was shaking his head. "I'm pissed. We'd finally found him. We finally could talk to him and I don't know, pretend we were some sort of messed up family again." His eyes flashed onto hers. He gulped and ducked his head. "Sorry."

She frowned. "For what?"

He cleared his throat and shuffled in his seat. "Talking about family. I, I know it's never easy for you to listen to me and Dean talk about it."

She waved a hand at him. "You, Dean and Bobby are my family. John was too," she took his hand in hers and squeezed it. "You're a part of my messed up family. If you need to talk about it, no matter how much I hate chick flick, I will deal with it."

Sam gave a chuckle at that. "Thanks." He squeezed her and back and actually smiled. It was one of the first genuine smiles she'd seen him wear since John died. "I guess that's the best you could do."

Charlotte rolled her eyes and stood. "I'm awesome like that."

There was another small chuckle and Charlotte moved to the fridge. "Yeah some days."

She grabbed two beers, popped the lids and turned back to face the room. "Try all days." Her feet moved her back across the room to him and she placed one of the bottles in of him. Then she noticed the water in the corners of his eyes. "Aw shit," she said. Her beer was abandoned on the desk next to his and she stood behind him and slipped her arms around his shoulders. Sam shook and his hands found her arms and he gripped them.

"I just-"

"I know," she nodded and moved her head to place her nose against the back of his head. "I know Sam."

"Dad he-"

"Yeah," she placed a gentle kiss to the top of his head and frowned into his head of brown hair. For several seconds they just sat and stood there. The physical contact spoke enough and worked to solidify them both to the ground. The seconds stretched and they soon turned into minutes. Charlotte let a thought drift across her mind and said, "Hey Sam?"

The tall man snivelled, "Yeah?"

"You let anybody know I was kind, I'm going to break your nose."

It had its desired effect and Sam's body shook from laughter. "Yeah," he sniffed. "Thanks you erm, you really know how to make a guy feel better? "

"Yep," she grinned and moved her face to kiss the side of the side of his face. "That's in the agreement too."

"Sure," he said.

She let go and took a sip of her beer. "I have a reputation to uphold thank you."

"Whatever," he muttered with a smirk and she retook her seat at the desk. Comfortable silence surrounded them and Sam finally wiped his face and cleared his throat. "You talked to Dean yet?"

"Nope," she took another sip of her beer. "I ain't touching that with a silver bullet."

Charlotte smiled proudly to herself as Sam gave another laugh. She was thankful that she could bring that smile to his face when she was certain that he wanted to do nothing but the opposite. "We should probably try talking to him."

She raised her brows at him. "Didn't you try that? And didn't he effectively tell you to get lost?" Sam sighed and Charlotte shook her head. "If you want I'll give it a go later on. I hold no promises though."

"Thanks." She nodded and took another sip of beer. She hoped to hell Bobby was stocking up because no doubt they would need more and soon.

As the hours passed and food was eaten, beer drank, mild conversations trickling by, Bobby called it a night early. Sam has asked about the spare room not soon after and she had nodded. It was still there. Once the youngest Winchester was gone the sounds that Dean had been making whilst fixing up the Impala were loud.

Too loud.

She sighed. He didn't remember anything from the hospital. Nothing. Not a single word about what she had said, what he had said. Nothing. She bit the inside of her bottom lip something fierce and hissed as she drew the faintest of blood. A shaky breath let itself out. She hated him. She truly did. And that was why she grabbed another beer from the fridge and carried it to the back door.

He was bent over the old engine block, busy fixing that up whilst everybody else slept. With a sigh she stepped out into the chilling night air and approached the work bench. He didn't even lift his head. Screw you too. "What?" he said.

"I brought you a beer."

That made him look up. "Thanks." And back to his work. She sighed. Nothing. She sighed again. He seemed to frown at that and she groaned. Loudly. The tension in his jaw was clear as he ground his teeth, pressed his hands into the bench and latched his eyes onto hers. "What?"

She set her blazing eyes on his. "Stop it with the silence."

"I'm fine."

"No you're not!" She groaned as she realised people were getting into bed and sighed. In a lower voice she said, "You're not fine Dean. Just, please, do something."

She saw his jaw tighten and he picked up a screwdriver and moved to the car. "I am."

"Fixing up your car is not what I meant?"

"Then what did you mean?"

He wasn't even looking at her and she could feel her temper rising. She was going to throttle him. She was. With purpose she stormed next to him and wrenched the screwdriver from his hands. He stood up with a sigh and simply looked at her. "This silent thing you have going on. It isn't you."

"You said that," and he turned on his heels and moved into the garage. His hands began searching through the toolboxes for another screwdriver.

She slammed the tool onto the workbench and marched up to him. "So stop it. Please." He glanced at her and she saw the slight tighten his jaw took. "This isn't healthy."

"Scuse me," he started to brush past her.

Charlotte wrapped one hand around his upper arm and pulled. He stopped and turned his head. And she saw fiery eyes. Anger. Pain. Stress. Fear. Infuriated. There was a clatter of metal on concrete and his other hand grabbed the back of her head, screwed itself up in her hair and pulled her towards him. His other hand worked itself free in her initial shock and he grabbed her shoulder and held her tightly. His mouth found hers.

It was sloppy. Rough. Lustful. Desperate. Bruising. Needing. Desire. His fingers dug into her skin and she couldn't help the response. Her mouth worked to match his and soon he was forcing her back until she hit the workbench. Then he was pressing his body against hers, pushing her into the bench and holding her firmly in front of him. His hands moved to her waist, leaving finger prints on her bare flesh in purple bruises and she groaned.

The boundary between pain and pleasure was blurring fast and she felt the fire begin to burn in her own stomach. She hated Dean. Hated him with a passion. And that passion was sex. "God," she muttered into the hollow of his neck as started to attack her neck. His mouth burnt a trail down her neck.

Fingernails dug into his shoulders through his shirt and he squeezed the flesh above her hips that little more. He ground his hip into hers and a growl started low in his gut. "Cassie," he whispered.

Charlotte's head snapped forward and she put both hands on his chest. "What?"

Dean's eyes snapped open and after a moment they widened. His mouth dropped open as he tried to work some words into his mouth. "I- No, I-" She shook her head and pulled herself free from him. "Wait," he said. "Charlotte!" He grabbed her arm. She spun and threw a fist to his face. It hit his left eye. He let go and staggered back from the surprise. "Jesus Christ!" he shouted. He pulled back a hand from his face and stared at her. "Really?"

Charlotte felt a tremor begin in her hands. "Really? I don't care if you're miserable because you just lost your Dad. I don't care if it feels like the end of the world." She took a step closer to him and she could feel tears starting to brim her eyes. "Locking us out? Treating us like crap? Thinking you can say or do whatever the hell you want?!" One tear escaped and it tracked a line down her face. "Well screw you Dean. Do me, do us all a favour and sort your crap out soon so that we don't have to deal with more crap on top of the crap we already have! How about for once you think about us. You think about how shitty we might be feeling and you actually ask. Or is that too chick for Dean Winchester?"

She scoffed, wiped her face of the tears that were falling and turned on her heels. "Charlotte," he called softly. She just moved on. Desperate to get away. Desperate to get away from him. Up the stairs and straight to her room. Once the door was closed the tears refused to hold themselves back. They jumped down her face in crowds and she sobbed with body jerking sobs. She couldn't help the verbal vomit. She couldn't hold it back and just let it go. Hell she wasn't sure she meant half of it. Part of her felt better for it whilst another part was curling itself up. The loss of her Dad had come back on her and the memories had been taunting her for days now.

Maybe that was it. Old memories being dredged up, stirred around by John dying. Then Dean ready to die. The Shifter. Love. Alex. Bobby. Pretending to want a normal life. Pretending to have a normal life. Everything just… snapped.

Through the dirty tears she managed to crawl atop her bed, wrench a pillow to her chest and let the last vestiges of tears loose and curled her legs up. A strange fuzzy warmth settled itself around her and she welcomed it in through the blurred darkness creeping up from the shadows. As the last glimpses of conscious life sunk itself under the black the smell of engine oil and grease invaded her nostrils.

"I'm sorry," whispered itself through the dark and forced her to frown into oblivion.