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?

The family - that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape, nor, in our inmost hearts, ever quite wish to. ~Dodie Smith

Chapter 36: Family

"She's asleep." Sam sighed, almost in relief, as he sat down at the small table in Bobby's kitchen. He'd been up to see her only twice in the past three days and he had been lucky that she had been asleep.

The sunlight streaming in through the small window over the sink was enough to notify them to the time of day and the weather out. It was sunny with a gentle breeze and if they were in any other type of circumstance, they would have been outside running all over the place or helping Bobby with some of the work that needed to be done around.

The way everything seemed to be okay outside and in most people's homes. He didn't think it was fair that the sun was still shining with its damn annoying rays and the breeze still cool and soft when his family was falling apart. He found that unbearably cruel and sickening. He felt like punching a wall but he knew it wouldn't help. He also knew that it wouldn't make him feel any better.

"Have you figured out what happened to her?" Dean questioned, rubbing at his face, sitting on the counter. Nobody had the energy to tell him to get off or scold him for it.

"She was in a Wendigo's lair, boy. What do you think happened to her?" Bobby growled, not bothering to look up from his books. Dean had no idea what the hell he was looking for but he didn't want to ask. Bobby was already in such a sour mood.

"Caleb's dropping over to leave Jane's car and stuff. And… you know… her body." John stepped into the kitchen and his sons noticed how much he looked like crap. He had bags under his eyes, his hair looked greasy and dirty. Bobby handed him a cup of coffee and John seemed to take it gratefully. "How is she?"

"She's asleep. Honestly, I think it is better that way, for all of us. She needs to rest and apparently…" Sam paused taking a look at everyone; Bobby, who was glued to half of the table top full of books, Dean who looked like he was downright about to pass out, and his father who just looked dead. "So do we."

"Are we gonna bury her?" Dean mumbled, ignoring his little brother's ranting. He needed rest and pronto. But it wasn't like he hadn't been through the same almost-all-consuming exhaustion before. He practically lived with it for sixty percent of his life. Complain was the last thing he was going to do.

"We better leave that to Delaney. I'm afraid that there's not going to be that much left to bury anyway." Bobby sighed, flipping through the particularly large book in front of him.

"I thought the Wendigo hadn't… uhmm… feasted on her yet." The pinched disgusted look on Sam's face would have made Dean smirk any other time.

"Their definition of feasting and ours are very different. They eat… everything." John added.

"She feels bad." Dean informed, looking like he blamed himself for half of the things going on with the girl he had come to know as his sister.

"Her mom only died, Dean." Sam snapped sarcastically. "Of course she's going to feel bad!"

Tensions had been running high and nerves ever so thin over the last few days. No one talked about anything besides the situation going on and even then; they didn't talk much except to ask how Delaney was doing and her state and whether she ate.

"Not that, stupid. She feels bad because the last words her mom heard from her weren't exactly the nicest." Dean retorted a nasty look crossing his face but he let it go once he realized who he was talking to. He turned away slightly and rubbed at his eyes.

"Poor girl. To think her mother died not being on the greatest terms with her…" Bobby trailed off knowing that putting yourself in someone else's shoes at a time like that wasn't a great thing to do.

That was one place none of them ever wanted to be in again.

Before Bobby could open his mouth again, the familiar ring of a phone, emanating from John's jacket pocket, rang out making Sam and Dean look up.

"Ugh… shut the thing-"

"Hello?" John interrupted his eldest and turned away from them. He didn't have to exit the room since they were all as quiet as could be. "Uh-hmm. Yeah… I'm on it. Thanks."

John closed the phone and slowly turned to Bobby. "Caleb's got a case. I'm gonna take it. I'll be back in a few days. Boys, listen to Bobby and watch out for Laney."

"You're leaving?" Sam couldn't hide the surprise in his voice and it looked like hiding any emotion, was the last thing on his mind.

"Yes. I'll be back as soon as I can." John stuck the phone back in his jacket and drained the coffee left in his cup, heading out.

Sam bolted up, leaving the chair unbalanced, trailing after his father.

"You can't leave!" Sam quickly rounded his father, to stand in front of him. "Not with Delaney like this!"

"I'm not leaving her alone." John reminded, picking his duffel up off of the living room floor and swinging it over his shoulder.

"But you are leaving her." Sam dropped his voice to a more appropriate tone. "She needs you, Dad."

John paused in his movements and turned to his youngest. The expression of frustration and desperation in his baby's face was hard to ignore, even after all the times he had had to. He wanted to stay home with him. He wanted to be able to take them out to baseball games and talk to them about normal stuff that they should be going through. He wanted to actually be a father to them, in the sense that they needed at their ages. Yeah, he didn't have real talks with them about things they wanted to know. Yeah, he was rarely home -or with them. He wanted to be, God knew he did, but that wasn't his main priority at that moment. If saving them, keeping them alive, meant not being a 'father' to them, in the sense everyone else seemed to express, then he wouldn't be their father. He had to be what he had to be. He had to do what he had to do.

He just hoped they'd understand that someday.

"No, son. People out there, victims, need me. She'll be fine. It sure hurts a hell of a lot but she'll be fine."

"She's family."

"I know."

"You've always said that's the most important thing. No matter what."

"And it is. But, she's here, at home. With Bobby and Dean. She's safe, Sam."

"This isn't about safe! Her mom just passed away! You're like her dad! You need to be here!"

"Not now, Sam. Go finish your breakfast and no more."

Sam closed his mouth reluctantly, trying to cool his temper because he knew where this was going, set his jaw, and returned to the kitchen. Dean and Bobby were silent but Sam knew they had heard every single word.

Dean watched his brother. He examined the angry rejected look in Sam's eyes and he knew what was growing in him. He had seen it before and had worried about it endlessly. Sam didn't understand why John did certain things. Hell, neither did Dean but he shut his mouth and he did what he was told. Sam argued and seethed, believing his father was an obsessed unfair man who couldn't care less about his children.

Sam was growing apart from John, if he had ever been close to him, and Dean couldn't do anything about it. Sometimes Dean wished his dad would cool it, go easier on Sam. He hated how they bickered sometimes, the coldness and misunderstanding so deep in their eyes Dean could sink in it. He wished he could build a damn bridge between their big heads so they could comprehend that neither one meant any harm. But they were stubborn. Like father, like son.

And Dean, well, Dean was the glue to everything. He considered himself as much. He worked his hardest at keeping his family together when he knew it was close to falling apart. He was the one that sucked everything up and he was the one that had to be strong.

"I'm goin' up to see Laney." Bobby broke the silence, sighed, and exited the room.

Sam continued to pick at his eggs and Dean watched him.

~ Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go by any rules. They're not like aches or wounds; they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material. ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald

…

Bobby entered Delaney's room quietly, closing the door softly behind him. The room was perfectly clean, everything in its place, the sunlight streaming through the window illuminating it all.

Sam had refused to close the window blinds, hoping the sun would do something to better Delaney's state. So far, nothing had changed.

She had been in the same speechless, unresponsive state over the past three days and everyone was really starting to get worried. They had given her a day or two to let it out but they had at least expected some improvement along the way. John had talked to her, Dean had talked to her, and now it was Bobby's turn.

Bobby didn't know what to say anymore than he knew how to take care of a teenage girl. But like any other time, he'd swing it and hope for the best. He had never been much of an emotional talker and he couldn't stand any cheesiness or chick-flick moments. But for someone he loved, he'd do anything. That included, spilling his feelings like a fifteen-year old girl when necessary.

Delaney was sitting up, tinkering with something. Bobby watched her for a moment, waiting for her to say anything, to demand to be left alone. When she didn't, he walked closer and he saw she was fiddling with the necklace that had always been around her neck. The one with a small black fish.

Bobby sat down next to her, the bed creaking slightly. He didn't speak for awhile, just waiting for the moment something would come to him.

She stopped twisting the fish around and around and spoke, "Go."

That one word made Bobby more determined to stay.

"Did I ever tell you about my wife?" His voice came to her softly, calmly. Caringly. Delaney's cold expression seemed to falter a moment.

"She was beautiful. The prettiest thing I had ever laid eyes on. Before I knew anything about this life and the monsters, she was possessed. Almost rabid. The things said when she was possessed… let's just say I knew she wasn't human. Not anything close. I was clueless. I had no idea what could have happened. I had no idea what was wrong. All I knew was that she wanted to rip out my throat. In the end, I did what I thought could put her to rest. I… I killed her."

Delaney looked up at Bobby, eyes wide and filled with pain. Pain for the man she thought of as her uncle.

Bobby, for the first time since he had walked in, saw the state she was in. Her eyes were red and tired, her wavy hair was dirty and greasy, tangled and all over the place.

It broke his heart to see her in a state of such pain and denial. It hurt profoundly when she gave him the look of pity that everyone seemed to give him when he spoke of what he had to do to his wife.

"I killed her. The only thing in my life. I became a hunter, dedicated my ol' self to hunting these sons-of-bitches. I still dream about it. The way she wanted to tear me apart, the way she wanted to drive me insane… the way I stabbed her. But, I tell myself that I put her to rest. That she was peaceful. You don't know how I felt when I figured out that all of it could have been prevented with a few old damn words. I've lived a long time thinking it was my fault. I still do. I just don't want you to live that way. You don't know what it does to you. You're cleaner out of this than I am so you use that and you move on. She knew why you were talking that way and I even dare to say you had the right. Your mother knew you loved her, Laney. And you know she loved you. Now you let go of that guilt and self-hate I know you're feeling."

Delaney didn't move or speak as Bobby stood up and exited the room. She didn't react or look anywhere else but at the pendant in her hand minutes after her room door had been closed. But then softly you could hear her whisper, "I'm sorry, mommy. I'm sorry."

…

Delaney's seventh birthday

"Mommy!" Delaney ran at her mother, who was preparing a huge chocolate birthday cake.

"Does it have pudding inside?" Delaney mounted the stool next to the kitchen counter and once seated, swung her legs back and forward, excitedly.

"Yes, Delaney." Jane laughed, trying to memorize the excitement and impatience in her daughter's face. She felt she'd only have a few years to see it plastered on her daughter's face, anyway. She knew about the monsters and it was only an amount of time until she had to be put to work as a hunter.

Jane was younger, her blonde hair cascading down her back in long smooth curls. Her eyes were a deep chocolate brown that Delaney had acquired. Her face was still beaming like most young people's do, her complexion a light creamy color. She didn't have many wrinkles or any other sign of older age yet but you could slightly see, if you looked closely, laugh lines.

"Is daddy coming home?" Delaney took a quick swipe at the cake with her small index finger, and stuck it in her mouth before her mother could smack it away.

"Yes. But just in case he doesn't make it on time, he told me to give you this." Jane wiped her hands on her apron and from it removed a small package.

Delaney squealed at the sight of a birthday present from her father and held out her small hands desperately. Jane handed the package to her but before she opened it, Delaney frowned.

"So… he's not coming?" Delaney asked.

Jane sighed, having gone over this more times than she would've had the patience for, "He said he's going to try. Now, open it!"

Delaney did and the look on her face was forever imprinted in Jane's mind. The way she pulled the necklace out of the box and held it like it was some priceless artifact. That was what Jane had hoped for.

"You like it?" Jane watched her daughter, and walked over to stand behind her. She placed her hands on Delaney's small shoulders.

"Yeah." Delaney nodded and immediately placed it around her neck. She started to twirl it around; awed by the way it glittered in the sun. It was a long silver chain with a medium sized fish pendant. The fish had its large lips open, forming an O and if Delaney had been asked what it was doing, she would have said "Giving a kiss." The fish seemed to be made of a dark black wood, most likely ebony. The fish was delicate and extremely detailed for its size, every scale expertly carved and shaped.

"'Love, Daddy'" Jane murmured, happy at the sight she was being given. When, in truth, it was "Love, Mommy." Delaney looked up at her mother suddenly, not knowing it was her that the present came from, and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"I love you, Mommy."

"I love you too, Baby."

…

Delaney's POV

They were all I had left. She was all I had left and I pushed her away. Away and away until neither could stand the sight of the other.

And I blamed her. I blamed her for everything that I couldn't handle, that was so out of either one's control. I hated her for a long time, not at least trying to understand what was going on with her.

How could I have done that? To a woman already so broken, how could I have done that?

I had been so angry and frustrated that I had been left behind, that she couldn't possibly care about me. I had been so angry that I hadn't heard from her in years. That I had had to live with this huge fear living inside me, growing and growing until sometimes I felt I couldn't even breathe. And after that, I had been so angry about the damned fact that after everything, even if I hadn't completely let go and the fury was still inside me, burning up, she had pulled me away from Sam and Dean. When everything had started to make sense. When I could finally think about something else besides my old home and the way she used to hug me and the way we used to laugh. She had bounced right back in and pulled me away.

What kind of daughter was angry that her mother wanted her back? What kind of daughter practically hated her mother?

I wished that my feelings were justified. I wished my anger had some basis on reality and that I hadn't just been selfish and ignorant. I wished I had a reason for acting the way I did and being as angry as I was. But, as much as I tried, as much as I wished, I couldn't find that reason. My guilt was overwhelmingly clouding everything else and I no longer had any justification for what I had done. Before, I could have come up with a billion but now I didn't feel I had any.

And instead of talking to her and trying to figure out what was wrong with her, I just hated her. For being weak and hurt when I had to be strong.

The worst part was, I hadn't even understood that I couldn't even begin to imagine what she was going through. I hadn't forgiven her, and in the end, she had died thinking the only person who could've loved her and missed her, hated her with all she had.

But I didn't. I loved her. The woman who did everything she could to make me feel like I still had a dad by being both parents for me, the woman who took me on daily adventures so I could forget the monsters that filled my night and day, the woman who stayed with me at night when I was too scared to act brave, the woman who had done everything she could to keep me a child a little longer.

And the truth was that, no matter what either one did, you were supposed to forgive and forget. I knew it was hard to do any of that when I had felt I had a reason and a justification for acting so, but I was supposed to let it go, no matter how hard. We should have handled it a different way, I knew that. I couldn't help but feel that most of the fault lay with me because I knew neither had much left, many people left in their lives and I knew how easy and quick it was to lose someone. In the blink of an eye. I had just been so angry and hurt. And that had cost me a lot.

I loved her. With all that was left of me.

But then, every once in awhile, the realization hit just as hard if not harder then when they had told me the words I never thought I would hear. She was gone. And there was no way I was getting her back.

I was empty.

My breath caught as I heard something I wasn't sure I was hopeful about or distressed about. I stumbled out of my bed when I heard a car pulling up into Bobby's yard. I watched, holding on desperately to the windowsill until my knuckles turned white, as Bobby went out to meet Caleb. Then, they rounded the van to the back.

And slowly, so painfully slowly, they pulled out a body. One wrapped in a large sheet so white. White as the snow on that long ago winter day where I was happy and oblivious. When I still had a family. When I was… me.

And I cried. I knocked over the small tables in my room. I grabbed the picture frames on the walls and I threw them, stomping on then with my bare feet.

Then, I collapsed. I curled up under the window where I had seen myself, my life, fall to pieces.

And I cried.

…

~The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together. ~Erma Bombeck

General POV

Sam was heartbroken at the sight that lay before him.

Delaney's feet were cut and bleeding, the front of her shirt also stained red. She sat under the large window in her room, head against the wall, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling.

Things had been knocked over but that didn't discourage Sam. He was fixing Delaney. He was bringing her back even if not all of her. He knew well enough that no one was the same after the death of a loved one, his dad being the living proof of that. But he was bringing Delaney back. Even if she had to scream and cry and hit something or someone but damn it, he was bringing her back.

He walked through the mess and slowly kneeled in front of her. "You love your mom?"

The bluntness of the question struck Delaney hard, when before she had been distant and distracted, he had her full attention now.

Sam felt like the lowest of scum asking her that but if it had a breakthrough, he'd take what come after.

"Well, do you?" Sam's voice cracked a little bit as the agony fleeted across her face. Her eyes revealed the pain the question seemed to cause her, the guilt so deep and raw that Sam was frightened by it.

The look she gave him was the worst part, a look of pain. She was straight out telling him, "I'm sorry, Sam. I can't do it."

"Don't give me that look. Come on. You're going to take a bath, you're going to get dressed, and you're saying goodbye to your mother." Sam held out his hand, firm in his decision.

Everything depended on whether she took that hand.

"If you love your mom, you'll let her go. You love your mom and she loved you. It hurts, I know it does. But, you can do this, Laney. If you don't let go, it's going to kill you. You know you can, even if the first step feels like you're turning on her. I'm not saying forget her and what she was to you. Just don't remember her this way."

Delaney slowly inched her head up, to look at one of the most important people in her life. A person that was so much a part of her that it was sometimes scary. She would've never thought that the two boys she had met all those years ago, the ones she remembered calling nerdy before meeting, would have ever become so deeply entwined with her emotions and her life. She would've laughed right out loud and called who ever told her that, insane and stupid. Even at the age of nine.

Because, the truth was, they were a part of her. They were her. Because, when she had felt alone and scared that her mother would never come back for her, when she was so achingly numbingly afraid she'd be alone, they had reached out to her. The little boys that were just as scared and alone had reached out to her. Even at her young age, she had understood what strength that took. Especially for them, family being everything to them, the only thing they had left. They had taken the time to make her feel okay when most of the time; they had tried to comfort each other.

That formed a bond between people. That formed family.

Despite the tears filing her eyes and the trembling in her lower lip, she found that she still made her way to Sam. Her hand found his like so many times before. And with that familiar thin hand of his, the feel of it against her own, she braced herself for the next step. She knew it wasn't going to be easy and she was having a hard time thinking it would ever be easier.

But what her grief had seemed to cloud from her was that she didn't have to do it alone. She had those two pairs of beautiful eyes always watching her, always with her. The semi-green ones that flashed with anger more than often, but that deep down showed that they loved her. And the soft hazel nurturing ones that looked over her even if they weren't any older than her.

She would cry on the way, that much was guaranteed. But she'd be making her own damn way.

Other things may change us, but we start and end with family. ~Anthony Brandt

I couldn't decided on just one quote. I originally only intended to add three quotes for the last chapter of the fic but I decided it would be cool to just start doing it now, until the end. Thanks, Kinthinia! For the quotes and the advice and betaing and for being on awesome friend. Hugz!
Thanks to everyone who has alerted this story and Favorited it and reviewing. You have no idea how much it means to me every time I check my traffic or stats and find that ten or more people have reviewed. Between us, guys, I think I'm addicted to pressing the reviews button and reading what you have written for me and my story. :P Shhhh!
I love writing and reading so much and for you guys to enjoy what I write is a pure treat. I sometimes still can't believe it.

Thank you so much.

:)

P.S I know, I know. I got carried away with the quotes. At least let me know if they fit the sections. Pretty please. Oh, and I messed up in the numbering so this is actually chapter 36. The last chapter was chapter 35. Okay?