Two Years after Edward Left In New Moon:

I finally did it. I had moved on. Like he asked me to.

Ever so slowly but I did it.

It took me a while but with the help of my father, and the strength of will, I allowed myself to live and move on.

The pain his absence had left when he first left had gradually decreased, ever so slowly, until one day it was gone.

I put school first. Slowly easing myself to allow me to stop thinking about the entire thing, locking my thoughts away. Allowing me to graduate and close that chapter of my life once and for all.

This was all thanks to my dad. Because he saw how much I struggled, how deeply I hurt, and my struggle caused him to worry. Growing more and more worried about my health, took some time off, and had us travel to a friend of his.

That is where everything changed for us. He told me about everything. How he was a hunter of the supernatural phenomenon, and how it started after his parents had been killed in a car accident. An accident that was deemed as a homicide/suicide, since they only ever found their car on that ledge in La Push.

Everything changed for us after that. I then confided in him about the Cullens and— and Edward. Which allowed me to get some closure, and completely move on from the ordeal, with his help.

Our relationship dynamic changed, which allowed him to become a better father to me, and I, a better daughter to him.

We confided in one another about our childhoods, much of which I had kept to myself because I didn't want him to know how much I truly suffered growing up with Renee. But when I finally did, he allowed me to get things off my chest, without his judgment, only concern.

Then the day came that something happened. An attack from a powerful demon got through all of his barriers, and it intimately killed him.

Only allowing enough time for him to direct me where to go.

He was slowly dying before my eyes, after the attack.

The demon, which he annihilated but not before he received a painful death blow to the chest, that sent him flying toward the wall. Shattering his sternum, and piercing his heart.

His last breathy words to me were of where to find his trusted friends, either Bobby Singer or John Winchester.

And to take the car located in the garage.

He told me to use the canister by the garage door to sprinkle all the house with its contents before setting the house ablaze.

I refused, hoping to get him to the hospital, to save him but as he moved to sit up, I heard a sharp inhale, and he began to choke out blood, before falling limply to the ground. His eyes glazed over.

I felt my eyes weld as I leaned over him to close his eyes and plant a kiss on his cheek, before rushing towards the garage and locating the familiar duffle bag he told me about, and the keys that belonged to the sleek Classic Camaro before grabbing the canister, popping off the cap, and quickly rushing towards everything, sprinkling everything in sight.

I quickly went up the stairs to grab a duffle bag and shoved my things inside before rushing down the stairs, taking a few pictures, and all of my private information before rushing towards the car again.

I tearfully splashed the gasoline onto every surface of the house, before walking out. Having planted a false cadaver — which my dad had made from clay, rubber, and stuffing, having made one for me or him and hiding them into a hidden closet in the basement just in case— in my old room before dousing the room in gasoline, and the stairs leading towards the room.

I made sure to douse all the surfaces within the house, before bending down to get my bags, and walking out into the garage through the kitchen door.

As I pass the doorway, and head towards the back of my dad's most prized possession, a Classic Camaro, which he painted himself— in a beautiful classic red color. I slowly approached it, dropping the massive army green duffle bag that my dad had, placing it in the trunk, just like the last time we went to see his friend.

Then I slowly moved towards the driver's side and slid in, throwing my bags onto the passenger's seat before pushing the small button that opened the door. It creaked in protest as it slowly lifted into the air.

I slowly backed out before parking on the curb, before getting out and fishing back into the garage, and finished dousing everything in the gasoline.

Then I closed the garage door and lit a match. Throwing it onto the wet ground.

I watched the flame slowly inch closer to the house before climbing into the car and driving away.

The last thing I saw as I drove away was the house that had been my home become engulfed in flames so bright that might well have been coming from hell itself .

I drove slowly while listening to my dad's old rock music, trying to wrap my mind around what had happened.

My father was gone.

I had failed to locate John Winchester.

Only managing to get his voicemail before directing me to another cell phone number, to which no one answered.

I did manage to get in contact with Bobby, sometime later, who quickly told me to drive to South Dakota.

I only stopped at the bank in Port Angeles, emptying both of my accounts, and closing them before driving out of the Olympic Peninsula without looking back.

Hours Later:

I sigh in frustration, one of my hands digging into my hair as I drive through the highway.

Dark shades covering my red, puffy eyes as I bite down my lip to keep the sob from breaking out.

The pain of my father's sudden absence rippling through my chest as I remembered my father's violent departure… and how useless I had been to prevent it.

I kept thinking about it, even though it had happened a few hours prior.

I drove straight to the location Bobby told me to drive in, only having to stop once more for food and gas in the state of Montana, before continuing the drive.

I had just driven past a town called Sioux Falls when the burn phone my dad had left in the glove compartment began to ring shrilly.

It was Bobby. He informed me that he had gotten a call from a friend's son needing his help, that he would be back within a few hours, and to go into his house, and lock everything.

No more and no less was instructed before he hung up so abruptly.

I sighed, throwing the phone onto the seat next to mine before nudging the accelerator down a bit more, in exasperation.

I finally arrived to Bobby's place just a few minutes after noon.

The large familiar yard that read 'Singer Auto Self Service Salvage Yard', informed me that I was in the correct place.

The yard was littered with cars, some were scrap, others were only frame left.

I slowly climbed out of the car, leaving the engine running, just in case, before knocking on the door.

I walked up the creaky stairs, inspecting the place before I made my way towards the front door.

Just as a black sleek, 67 Chevy Impala drove into the lot with a 71 rusted, Chevy Chevelle right behind it.

As the three men got out of the cars, I jumped and rushed towards my car, only to be stopped by the familiar face of the man before me.

He was the friend my dad drove me to after I had a meltdown, a few weeks after the Cullens left.

"Bella?" The older man asked, slowly approaching me with his hands slightly raised in caution.

"Bob—Bobby?" I stuttered as I reached him.

He nodded in response before I felt myself lose it. I felt my lower lip start to tremble as I felt his arms wrap around me. "He's gone, Bobby, he's gone." I cried, collapsing.

This story along with Give me hell, Bells will be short stories.

They may have a HEA, though it depends on the direction each story takes.

This one specifically is going to be a DeanxBella pairing.

So, Enjoy.