Hello, you wonderful person you. Whatever is going on today, you need to know that you're wonderful.

I started writing this story well over a year ago. But it wasn't until last week when my grandfather died, that I knew how to finish it. So this one is for my "Pops".

Thanks to Jenmm31- for not only beta-ing but being Sammy for me when I needed it. Go check out her stories. She's got something amazing cooking, and trust me- it's worth the wait.

Be kind to each other. Help each other. Love each other.

A/N- in this story, Natalie is nineteen. Please see profile page for disclaimer.

The Impala pulled up along the dusty, tired house. From the backseat, Natalie couldn't stop staring at it. It was so familiar, yet, at this moment, so completely alien. Her home- and not her home. Not anymore.

They had gotten the call two days ago. Bobby had had a heart attack. Not surprising, given his advanced age, but still somehow shocking. They were contacted by the hospital, where Bobby had listed Dean as his next of kin. Despite the hour of the phone call, despite the case they were working on, they had thrown everything they had with them into the car and drove non-stop till they got to South Dakota. Family came first- end of discussion. When they finally reached the hospital, the news was heart breaking. Bobby had been hanging on by a thread, the nurse told them, but wasn't letting go yet.

"I think he's waiting for you," she had said quietly.

The three Winchesters had gone into his hospital room. Natalie's heart plummeted through her feet. Her Pops was hooked to all sorts of machines and tubes- none of which seemed to be making him better. In her desperation, she wanted to destroy them all in her anger. None of them could make her Pops better. But she could barely move. However, Bobby's sluggish eyes turned to her. They seemed to light up, even just briefly.

"Hey, Little Bit. I'm glad you're here," he wheezed out. Natalie found herself propelled forward by her own feet. Later on, she couldn't remember actually giving her feet the command to walk forward, but there she was, right beside him, reaching for his hand. Bobby saw the shock, fear, and sadness on her face.

"I've looked worse," he said gruffly, and then smiled. Natalie couldn't help but give a watery giggle. The tears started pouring, unchecked, down her face. For once, she didn't bat them away. And for once, no one called her on it. Bobby gave her fingers a weak little squeeze.

"You listen to me, okay? You need to take care of the two of them." He gave a barely noticeable nod to Sam and Dean. "They're idjits."

Even though the tears weren't stopping, Natalie couldn't help but smile. "I will, Pops. Promise."

"And don't run in the house."

"Can't promise you that," she managed to get out, knowing that she would do whatever he wanted right now.

Bobby wheezed what may have been a laugh. "Listen up. You're the best thing that ever happened to the two of them. You remember that. And remember something else."

"What?"

"I love you."

Natalie's face crumpled. She pulled Bobby's chilly hand to her cheek. "Pops. I love you too. Please don't go."

"Not up to me anymore, Little Bit. Now go on. I need to talk to your daddy and your uncle."

Natalie gently laid his hand down, and leaned in, giving his tough, leathery cheek a lingering kiss. She stood up, turned, and walked right out the door without looking back. She couldn't. She knew if she did, she would never be able to obey his last request of her.

When she was in the hallway, Bobby looked at Sam and Dean, who both stepped in closer. Without words, they all knew that this was it. Bobby took as deep of a breath as he was capable of. "Stuff in the house is yours- you know that. Keep what you need- burn what you don't. Now that I've got that crap out of the way, listen up." Sam and Dean exchanged a quick look, and leaned in to hear what the old man had to say.

"Natalie is the best thing that ever happened to the two of you. Don't you forget it. And you need to know- you two were the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Bobby-" Sam said, but then words failed him. He simply didn't have what he needed to say.

Dean cleared his throat, and tried to speak, but he couldn't even utter a sound.

Bobby grinned at the both of them.

"Idjits," he whispered.

Then the room fell silent.

*SPN SPN SPN*

That had been yesterday. This morning, they had given Bobby a Hunter's Burial. Natalie had watched the flames stoically, just like Dean always did and was doing now. Sam was worried about his niece. This was the first time she was really experiencing the death of a loved one. Which was incredible, given that she was a nineteen-year-old hunter. Sam sent up a silent prayer of thanks that both he and Dean were there to get her through this.

After parking at the house, Natalie drug her feet walking up the porch behind Dean. She had her duffle slung over her shoulder, but it looked like it weighed a thousand pounds. Dean reached out to take it from her, but she gently moved away, muttering "I'm okay." She walked past Dean and withdrew her keys from her pocket, fitting the correct one into the lock. She twisted the doorknob and walked right into the house.

Dean's heart was breaking. Not only had they lost Bobby, which in and of itself was terrible. But watching his child in so much pain, when there was nothing he could do about it, was heart shattering. He felt like all of the oxygen in the universe had been sucked out of his lungs, leaving him with nothing but emptiness. He stopped in the doorway, and turned to Sam to see the same pain in an identical mask on his brother's face.

"Sammy- what are we supposed to do?" Dean asked in a low, anguished voice. "Bobby's just...gone. What are we gonna do now?"

Sam just shook his head. "We take it one day at a time. We got to be there for his final moments- a lot of people don't even get that."

"Especially when it comes to hunters," Dean agreed. Sam nodded.

"Exactly. So we get through. We can get through anything."

Dean looked Sam right in the eye. "Even this?"

Sam looked evenly back. "Yup."

Dean nodded his head, once. He and Sam- they had always been a team. He couldn't and wouldn't do this without his little brother, and he didn't want to. With Sam by his side, he knew he had the strength to help his daughter through this as well.

Natalie had walked into the living room, dumping her duffle in the middle of the floor, and plopping down on the couch, just like it was any other day. Dean knew immediately it was all an act, but if this was what she needed right now, he wasn't going to stop her.

"So I figure we can go through all the books and files in like- what- two days?" She turned her head to look at her father, nothing but stoic determination in her features. "Do you think that's enough time?"

Before Dean could reply, Sam broke in gently. "Bug- we don't have to start that right away."

She shrugged, seemingly indifferent. "Why not? He would want us to have all of his research, right? We can load it up and take it back to the bunker. I cleaned out a lot of crap last summer- it shouldn't be that bad," she finished, as if she was talking about just going through some old dresser drawers.

"If that's what you want, then we'll do it," Dean said, firmly but kindly. That supportive tone almost broke her resolve to remain stoic, but she gritted her teeth, looked Dean full in the face, and nodded.

"Cool. What should we do about the panic room?"

"I'll clear that out," Dean broke in again, suddenly. He knew Sam loathed that place, and ever since Natalie had had a run-in with Crowley when she was six, she wasn't terribly fond of it either. He looked at Sam, whose face registered gratefulness at not being stuck back in there.

"I can go through the weapons and stuff that he had in the storage shed," Sam offered. Upon hearing that, Natalie's head perked up.

"Wait a minute. He kept weapons in the storage shed?" she asked. When both Dean and Sam nodded their heads "yes", she snorted a laugh. "So that's why he never let me in there."

Sam chuckled. "Well, when you were a kid, you were into everything. Can you imagine the terror you would have wreaked on this place if you'd gotten your hands on some of that stuff?"

"Yeah, but when I started training full time, he still never let me in the shed."

Dean shrugged. "Old habits die hard."

Natalie just rolled her eyes, but chuckled. "Whatever. I'm going to go put my stuff up in my room." She stood up, grabbed her duffle bag, and headed for the stairs. But when she got to the first step, she froze in her tracks. She looked down at her feet, as if she was seeing them for the first time. Dean was instantly on the alert, and by her side in a second.

"Natalie? What's wrong?" he asked. She didn't look up, but mumbled her reply.

"Pops hated it when I ran in the house. Especially on the stairs." She couldn't tear her eyes away from her feet. It was like she was hearing his voice inside her head all over again. Dean reached out and rubbed her back soothingly.

"Well, it's a good thing you're not running now. I'd have to yell at you," he said, in an attempt at humor. But she still didn't move. A good thirty seconds past before she spoke again in a whisper.

"I can't run in the house anymore. He told me not to." The next thing she heard were wild, racking sobs. It took her a while to realize that they were coming from her. Her knees buckled, but Dean caught her in an instant. He sat down, right there on the steps with her, and pulled her into his lap, just like she was a little girl all over again. She held on to the front of his shirt tightly as she cried. She didn't even realize when Sam came over and sat on the steps next to them, rubbing her back. Dean kept his hand on her head, pressed into his chest, as he rocked her back and forth.

*SPN SPN SPN*

After her emotional outburst, she shut down. She stopped trying to be brave, she stopped trying to make jokes. She didn't attempt to recover any part of her personality for the sake of Sam or Dean- she just didn't want to. She wanted to keep her head down, keep grinding, and never cry again. She just wanted it to be over and to get back to some semblance of a life that made sense.

For the next two days, Natalie worked with a vengeance, cleaning out drawers, rifling through closets, shaking out old books. She stoically made a huge pile of lore next to the front door that was going back to the bunker with them, keeping a couple books for herself to read on the drive back. Often she would come across things with Bobby's writing. Whenever that happened, she would quietly lay whatever it was down on the nearest surface and walk out to the junkyard with a straight back and head held high. Both boys could hear, however, the sounds of gunshots and shattering glass inside the house. Once she had "worked through her feelings", she would come back in, head still high, as if she hadn't just shot out the windshields of half a dozen junker cars, and would quietly resume her work.

Later on, when they were sure she couldn't hear or had her ear buds in, blasting Metallica, Sam and Dean would go back and forth, trying to figure out how to help her deal with the grief. The circular conversation was getting tiresome- and more nerve wracking every time they had it.

On their fifth attempt, Dean finally just shook his head, giving a mirthless laugh. "You know, if Bobby were here, he'd smack the back of her head and tell her to give up the emo crap."

Sam's bitch face was instantly activated. "Dean-"

Waving away Sam's concerns, Dean rolled his eyes. "I ain't gonna do that and you know it. Just- ironic, when you think about it."

"Well, I still think that trying to let her deal with this, however she wants to, is ultimately what's going to be best. But that takes time- and putting her on lock down."

"She will be furious if I keep her from hunting."

"You know that she'll get reckless, just out of sheer pain. It's what YOU do."

"Don't mean that's what she'll do."

Sam answered gently. "Yes, it does."

Not wanting to acknowledge that Sam was right, Dean rolled his jaw and looked away. "I'm not taking hunting away from her until she 'deals with this', Sam. It'll kill her. She'll see it as a punishment and she'll shut down completely."

"So we talk to her- let her know what's really going on, and why we're doing this."

"It ain't happening, so you can just drop it right now." Dean's tone had a touch of finality in it. Enough to make Sam know that he meant business, but not at all up to his usual standards. He just didn't have enough fire in himself right now. "Look. Every time we lose someone, I'm always the first one charging back into the fray, right?" Sam nodded, unsure as to where Dean was going to go with this. "Doing something I know- and I rock at- is the only way that I can get my brain back on track to start dealing with this crap." He looked his little brother right in the eye. "And since you're right- that she and I are so much alike- you know that it's the way to help her. Only way that she'll let us."

As much as he didn't want to admit it, Dean had made a really good point. Sam sighed and hung his head.

"And you know how much it kills me to see that in her? In the both of you?" he said quietly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam looked back up at him, his eyes aching. "When Dad died and you shut down on me, I had no idea what was going on in your head. All I knew is that you were acting like none of it mattered- that you didn't care. And I know it was eating you alive, man. You were throwing yourself into any case that you could, ignoring what you were feeling. It scared me, Dean. I was afraid I was going to lose you too."

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat, but it refused to budge. After another couple attempts, he finally spoke around it. "Sammy. You're not gonna lose her. We're not gonna lose her. Just like you didn't lose me. I know that when I shut down, you hate it- don't think I don't know that. You gotta remember that not only was I dealing with Dad kicking the bucket, the man's almost-final words to me were that I might have to kill you. I was dealing with a boatload of shit that I couldn't even understand, much less accept. This time, we're just dealing with the pain."

"'Just'?"

"You know what I mean. She's only shutting down because she doesn't want to feel this- she's not wrestling with potentially losing the both of us too."

After a significant pause, Sam said, "You don't know that."

That statement unexpectedly caused Dean to see red- and his brain to go off the deep end. "And what the hell do you mean by that?" he fumed. "You make some kind of deal to bring Bobby back or some stupid shit like that? Because I will kick your lily white ass if you-"

Sam bitch-faced his brother again. "Calm down there, Hulk. You misunderstood me. I didn't make any deals- you know I wouldn't do that." Dean just nodded once, too embarrassed about his sudden mother-henish outburst to say anything. "All I'm saying is that Natalie is probably dealing with the fact that you and I aren't going to be around forever in a very real way now. And like it or not, that takes a toll on anyone."

Dean hadn't really considered that. Yes, they put their lives in danger nearly every day, but for nineteen years, he had always come home. The idea that maybe- one time- he wouldn't come home, would be shattering to her.

He nodded slowly. "Guess I thought she'd have understood that idea by now."

"She does- but seeing it in practice is way different from just understanding it."

Unbeknownst to either of them in that moment, Natalie was eavesdropping on their conversation from the top of the stairs. She had been sitting there for quite a while, silent as a stone, while they talked about her. She knew Dean would be furious if he'd known she was eavesdropping again- he kicked her ass halfway to hell when she was twelve for doing that very thing- but right now she didn't really care.

She knew they were worried about her. She knew she was driving both her father and her uncle off the deep end with concern. Somewhere deep inside her, she cared, but it was too buried under layers of pain and darkness, and she couldn't bring it to the surface. She felt incredibly guilty that she was so seemingly lackadaisical about their distress- that particular emotion seemed to have no trouble shooting to the surface, adding another level on top of her own pain. Her body and soul felt heavy- as if she had lead in her very skin. It was difficult enough just moving, let alone trying to pry out feelings that would only make the lead grow deeper and heavier.

She quietly, but very deliberately, put her hands on top of her thighs and pushed herself up silently. She had more work to do on Bobby's room, and she just couldn't make herself listen to the conversation downstairs any longer. Yes, she was facing the mortality of everyone she loved, but they weren't giving her enough credit. She had known for a long time- a lot longer than they ever suspected- that there was going to be a time when no one came home. She had countered that by training as hard as she could to keep that moment as far away as possible, and vowing to keep her family safe, no matter what.

But what was bothering her the most wasn't so easy to fight.

*SPN SPN SPN*

About half an hour and two beers later, Dean finally shook his head. "Sammy, there's just no easy solution on this one. We're just gonna have to play the cards as they're dealt. And for the final time, I'm not taking the kid out of hunting. You gotta trust me on this one."

As much as he still didn't like it, Sam nodded, resigned. "Maybe you're right."

"Course I am. I always am." Sam snorted a laugh in response, causing Dean to grin, too. "Come on," he said to his little brother. "Let's go make sure she hasn't buried herself in a pile of books." He trotted up the stairs, Sam on his heels. After a moment, he chuckled and looked back over his shoulder. "Hey. You remember the time she knocked over that bookcase in Bobby's study and actually buried herself in a pile of books?" He snickered.

Sam smiled as the memory came back. "You sure weren't laughing about it then."

"That's because I thought she'd broken her neck. God, she used to destroy this place without ever meaning to," Dean said as he reached the top of the stairs.

"And some things never change," Sam said, eyeballing the garbage bags and books scattered along the hallway. He and Dean carefully picked their way across the corridor. Through the open door, they could see Natalie sitting on the floor, her back to them. She didn't appear to be moving.

Dean started shoving rubbish out of his way. "Nat- you okay?" he called out loudly, in case her ear buds were still in. She turned her head towards him slowly.

"Dad," she said in a quiet voice. The tone in her voice made him panic, for some reason. She was never that quiet. Dean kicked a pile of old flannel to the side to get to her. She was sitting Indian style on the floor, and there was a book in her lap. Upon further inspection, it appeared to be one of Bobby's old journals. "I…found this," she said, her voice slightly strained.

Dean's eyes quickly slid to Sam's. Knowing Bobby, there could be anything in that book. Terrified that she found something that had really upset her, he spoke gentle and low. "What is it?"

She swallowed hard before answering. "It…you know how Pops used to keep personal journals about his own life?" she asked. The words were difficult for her, but she persisted. Dean nodded, remembering all the times she had come across very accurate and embarrassing details about their lives before her "without meaning to" by reading those books. She looked right up at him. Her eyes seemed tortured. "Well- I've never seen this one before."

"What is it, Bug?" Sam asked, making his way over to them, the stress of the moment taking its toll on him as well.

She couldn't speak for a moment, but dropped her gaze back to the open book. "It's…mine. This is a journal about me." Once again, Sam and Dean exchanged a quick look. They hadn't known Bobby had kept one about Natalie. Dean wasn't entirely sure how to phrase his question, so he just flat out asked.

"What did you find in there, kiddo?" For the first time in a while, she smiled, taking them both by surprise.

"Everything," she said, her voice catching a bit in her throat. She held it out to Dean for him to see for himself. He bent down, taking his time getting to the floor. Once he was there, though, he took the book and began flipping through it. It was crammed full of everything from journal entries to drawings to pictures. In the crease of the open book, towards the front, was a braided piece of rope. He picked it up with his calloused fingers.

"What's this?" he asked, curiously examining it.

"That's from when he taught me how to braid," Natalie said, her tone bordering between joyful and disbelieving. "I can't believe he kept it all these years."

The memory suddenly came rushing back to Dean. Natalie had been five, and had just started school. They had come back from a hunting trip to find that she had been taught how to braid her own hair. As a completely devoted fan of Frozen at the time, she had worn her hair in braids almost exclusively the rest of the year. It had taken some prompting and cajoling, but the boys had finally extracted the information- Bobby, the wizened, tough as leather old man, had taught the kid how to braid.

Dean chuckled, rubbing the twine braid in between his fingers. "Man, we razzed the hell out of him for that, remember, Sammy?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I do. He taught you how to braid with rope?" he asked his niece. She nodded.

"He used old twine that he had to keep newspapers together. I scattered papers everywhere pulling rope off of them so he would teach me," she said. She reached her hand out, and Dean gave her back the book. She reverently turned a couple more pages and landed on an old photograph. "Oh my god," she said, examining the picture that had been taped to a page. "This is my kindergarten photo." She turned the book around and showed Sam. Sure enough, there she was. Sam had to squint to make out the caption.

"'Little Bit just turned six'," he said, reading out loud. "'As one can see from the picture, she's thrilled about it'." That caused Sam to laugh, as the picture of the child was anything but thrilled. In fact, if looks could kill, the camera would have been toast according to the death glare on her face. "You look so angry here," he said to her.

"I was angry. I hated school so much. I was so pissed that I had to get this stupid picture taken," she said, tracing her finger over the dusty photograph. "I was imagining stabbing the picture-taker guy in the neck when he took this."

"You would," said Dean. He remembered how much he had laughed over this photo the first time Bobby had shown it to him. "What else is in there?"

Eagerly, she flipped further in the book. She found a fuzzy photograph of herself smiling wildly at the camera; a large gap was in her top teeth. "I remember taking this photo," she said, but with a confused look on her face. "But why is it all fuzzy?"

Sam leaned over, examining it. "Because we took it on my phone. Bobby probably printed it out after I sent it to him."

She looked at Sam, shocked. "You used to send him pictures of me?"

"Oh, all the time," Dean said. "You know, you drooling in your sleep, picking your nose, stuff like that." She rolled her eyes, but turned the page. Dean pointed at another photograph. "Yep, see, here's another one." He tapped on the picture of what looked like a four year old Natalie sitting next to Dean on the couch, intently studying a case file while Natalie intently studied Dean's phone. "God, I remember this. This was the day you got lost in the hardware store. After we found you, you wouldn't leave my side for like three days afterwards."

Natalie shook her head, still surprised that they had sent Bobby so many pictures, and that he had actually kept them. She kept flipping until she found some writing, wanting to see what Bobby had made notes about her on. She stopped on a particularly long paragraph, and after reading for a couple moments, made a face similar to the one she had been making in her class picture.

"What?" Sam asked, curious. She shot her bitch face at him.

"Nothing," she grumbled, but Dean was too quick for her. He snatched the book out of her hands, prompting her to squeal "Hey!" which is profoundly ignored. He read the passage for himself, finally guffawing out loud.

"We were just talking about when this happened," Dean said, chuckling again. Natalie made another swipe for the book, but Dean pulled it out of her reach. He looked at Sam, his shit-eating grin going full blast. "Listen to this, Sammy. 'That little brat had it coming to her. I only swatted her once, and she better be damned grateful it wasn't more than that. She knows better than to climb up on those shelves. If she ain't careful, she's gonna turn into an idjit just like the other two'." At that, Dean's own joyful expression turned sour over Bobby's proclamation, while Natalie barked a laugh.

"Okay, give it," she said, snatching the book back out of Dean's hands, still chuckling. She rifled through a few more pages. "Ah! Here we go," she said, holding the book up and clearing her throat. " 'Dean called and said that Natalie went on her first date tonight. I'm choosing the word 'date', because Dean made it sound like she was going to Woodstock with pockets full of PCP'." At that, Natalie lowered the book just enough for Dean to see her all-knowing smirk. She resumed reading. " 'Hard to believe that Little Bit is old enough to date. She's only fifteen, but she's so damned pretty I'm surprised she ain't been through a handful of boys. Both Sam and Dean had played the field plenty by the time they were her age, but she's been smart about it. Guess she's not going to be an idjit after all. Thank God. Finally, a Winchester with brains'." All three of them chuckled at that because it was just so- Bobby. After they had calmed down a bit, Sam looked at Natalie. She was biting her lip, trying to suppress a smile.

"What's that about?" Sam asked, pointing to her lip. She shook her head and blushed.

"I didn't know…. I mean, I didn't realize that he thought I was…pretty," she said in a shy voice, not looking at either of them.

"You nuts? Of course he thought that. You're gorgeous," Dean said in his tough guy voice. She just shook her head again, rolling her eyes and sighing, but couldn't quite keep the smile from her face.

"Shut up," she mumbled, grinning. She turned a couple more pages and found one that was dated only a few months ago. She quietly began reading it to herself.

"'Just got off the phone with Little Bit. She and the boys are hunting a banshee down in Wyoming. They've got it pretty much knocked in the head- she didn't really need to call. But I'm glad she did. She likes calling me to ask for help because she knows I like it when they need me. That kid knows more about banshees than anyone I've ever known, and that's because I taught her about them myself. She just wanted to make me feel needed.'

'Truth is, she has no idea how much I need her and the boys. Can't say it to another soul, because who knows who could take and run with that idea if they wanted something bad enough from me. But I just feel like I gotta write it down somewhere as a record. Those boys were the sons that I always wanted. They may have been John's but they sure as hell are mine, too.'

'And Natalie- well, she was an unexpected little game changer. I never took either of the boys to be the parenting type, but they've done so good by her I guess I was wrong. Either that, or she was just born perfect. Which is possible, if you think about it. She was the only thing that kept me from blowing my brains out when I got stuck back in that damned chair, so she saved my life. But not only that, she made my life worth saving. She reminded me that humanity isn't a doomed experiment- that there was a lot of good and right in the world. And I'm so damned proud of her I could burst, because she's taking her perfect little self and making the world perfect for everyone else.'

'I guess I also need to say how much it means to me that she still cares. So many other people would have given up on a withered old bat like me, but she never did. Neither did my boys. I've said it before and I'll say it again- Family don't end in blood. And I'm damned grateful for it.'"

Natalie's breath caught in her throat, and her eyes blurred with tears. What had been bothering her- what she hadn't been able to reconcile in her mind- was the frightening thought that Bobby didn't know how much he meant to her. That he had left this earth not knowing how important he had been to her, and how much she had loved him. This entry in his journal not only allayed those fears, but it reassured her that he had loved her deeply, too.

However, she wasn't ready to share that- not just yet. It was too raw and too real for her to talk about without crying, and she just didn't want to do that right now. She gently closed the journal and hugged it to her chest. Without looking at either of the boys, she spoke carefully. "Can I….keep this?"

"Course you can," Dean said without missing a beat, watching her carefully. Whatever she had just read hadn't upset her, but he could tell she was at the end of her emotional tolerance. However, before he could remark on that, Sam spoke.

"I think Bobby would have wanted you to have it, Bug," he said gently. He reached out a hand to stroke her cheek. She gratefully leaned into the comfort. When she turned her head away, getting too close to tears for her own liking, he reached down and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as if to say I won't let go.

Dean couldn't take it anymore- his heart was aching too much for her. He scooted next to her on the floor, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She leaned her small frame against him while still holding tight to Sam's hand, and felt herself really inhale and exhale for the first time in a few days.

"You gonna be okay?" Dean asked her, his voice laced with emotions that he didn't want to share yet. She was silent for a time, trying to come up with an answer. Finally she spoke.

"I don't know," she said bluntly. "I really don't know."

"Why don't you know?" Sam asked. She couldn't look at either one of them- she stayed leaning into Dean's chest as she answered.

"Because the definition of 'okay' has changed for me. Before, 'okay' meant that everyone was here, and fine, and…" She couldn't bring herself to say 'alive'. She plowed on. "But- I'll never have that again. Part of me isn't here, and won't be, ever again. So everything's changed. I know that I'll figure it out and find what 'okay' means again. But right now, I just don't have a clue what it means or when I'm going to figure it out. So I don't know if I'll really be 'okay' again."

The room was silent as the small family held onto each other, each searching for their definition of 'okay'.