Stacey Winchester, MD

by loveintheimpala

Sisfic. After their fight with Azazel, Sam, Dean and their father suffered a car accident that left Dean fighting for his life. Taken to the closest hospital, they find an unexpected ally; the sister that has been away from their family for so long. Troubled by her past with Dean, she fights to do her job the best she can and save her estranged brother from death. Follows Season 2.

2. Family

Thank you for reading and reviewing the last chapter. Hope you enjoy this one.

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Stacey Winchester, MD

Chapter Two: Family

Sioux Falls, South Dakota — Bobby Singer's Home — 09:12AM

Stacey heaved a worn sigh. People said that it was supposed to get easier, that time healed all wounds. They said that the more time that passed by, as the days turned to months and the months to years, the less it would hurt. But, right now, to her, it all seemed like nothing but nonsense. Getting over the death of a parent, perfect or not, how was anybody ever supposed to believe that it got better? The harsh feeling of pain, loss, grief, guilt; it consumed her. And it wasn't going anywhere soon, that much she knew. The feelings that she simply couldn't shake were just there, persistent and unrelenting, weighing on her small shoulders.

It had only been a couple of days since they had lost their father, she wasn't sure how much healing she could have expected so fast, but she knew that the horrible emotions taking over her life were ones that were pulling her down into a dark place that she couldn't even hope to climb out of. The previous evening they had burned the body of their father, and that had seemed to be when everything had finally sank in for her. Until that moment, she had been numb. And, it had only been then, as she stood in the cold and stared ahead at the fire burning her green eyes, that she had truly realized, this time he really was gone for good.

The night they had lost him, Stacey was convinced that she had been too shocked to comprehend what had happened. She had been the one to call it when he had died, she had pumped furiously against his chest with every ounce of strength within her to try and bring him back. But, in the back of her mind, knowing what he had already done, she had known it was a futile attempt to save someone already doomed. There had been no saving him from the darkness he had been destined for.

The past two days had been nothing but a blur. She couldn't even imagine what was going through the minds of her brothers, because she hadn't spent enough time around them to find out. And, she knew, they had to have worked out by now that she was avoiding being in the same room as them for long enough to strike up some form of conversation. To them, maybe it seemed as though she were being heartless, maybe they assumed that she simply didn't care, but, truthfully, she couldn't bare to look at her elder brother and chance that he would work out what she knew. Stacey wasn't stupid, and her father had all but admitted to her what he had done that night. She had a feeling that they all knew, because, how could they not? Nobody had said a word about it, none of them had brought it up, and she was more than willing to keep it that way.

Stacey wanted to say that it had shocked her, that she was surprised by what he had done, but, when she really sat down and thought his actions through, she wasn't. Despite what Sam thought, or what he said, there had never been a shadow of doubt in her mind that their father had loved them, all of them. In the end, he always came through, even if it took him a few tries. He simply didn't give up. And that was something she had always admired about him. The way that he seemed to just keep on fighting, through anything, all the way to his last day in the world. But to think that their father had actually given up his soul to the one thing he wanted to kill more than anything, to think that he had died to give Dean another shot at life, that he had agreed to end his days with so little hesitation, that was something she imagined not a lot of people in the world would have the courage to do for another person. Especially if they were as aware as their father about where they were headed.

When she thought back to the way he had been at the hospital, she knew that she should have worked it out faster. She should have noticed. It had been strange their father hadn't seemed at all panicked about Dean's condition and the severity of it. When she thought about how soon after they had arrived he had drawn up a list of things he would need to summon the demon, the way he had wanted the colt there with him, needing it as leverage, he'd had it planned all along. A part of her had a horrible feeling that his soul hadn't been the intended package, that he had expected to simply trade the colt for Dean's life and then walk away, but they had wanted something more than that. And, knowing her father, he hadn't cared what the cost was. If it meant that Dean would wake up, she could guess that he hadn't given a second thought to saying yes and ending his own life. She thought back to the way he had been with Sam, to what he had said to her, to him speaking with Dean ensuring that nobody else knew what had been said, he had known all along what he was doing, and there hadn't been the faintest hint of regret on his face when he had turned and walked away down that corridor.

Sometimes, Stacey wished that she could have known her father before the hunting, when he had been with their mother, when they had just been a normal and happy couple. Before the demon, before the fire, before it all went so wrong. In the few photos she had seen from back then, he appeared so different. There wasn't the concerned frown etched into his features, there didn't seem to be the same level of constant alertness or the stance that he was on edge. He had appeared relaxed, happy even. There hadn't been anything for him to worry about back then, no monsters or ghosts or demons, no pain or death or torment. And then, in that one night, that one fire, it had all changed. And he'd become someone else. Someone driven by revenge, needing answers to a question she wasn't even sure that he knew. And, right before he had died, she was sure she had seen more of that person he had once been than ever before. The softness in his voice, the guard let down, the gentle smile on his face, all mixed up with the pain and grief and loss he had experienced throughout his life.

Until that night, Stacey had never truly realized how much her father had meant to her. Even when he hadn't been around, when they had gotten into fights, he had always been there on a hunt when she had needed him, he had been there as a kid when she had called, and, even if he hadn't the past couple of years, it still meant something to her. He had always seemed to have a habit of disappearing, often for weeks at a time, it had been that way throughout their whole childhood. But he always came back to them in the end. He was always alive and home. This time, like a malicious punch to the stomach, it hit her. He wasn't coming home again. He wasn't going to call her again. This time, it was the end.

Not having him around, it didn't feel real. Despite the mistakes he had made, he was still her father. And something told her that, right until the end, he had simply been a man lost in the world since the death of his wife.

Stacey wandered towards the large window of her bedroom, overlooking the large junk-yard owned by their unofficial uncle. The sun was shining brightly in the sky, and she could already feel the warmth of the day through the thin glass. Sometimes, if she opened the window, she could hear the sounds of tools clanging or the banging and crashing of metal as Dean worked to fix the Impala. That was all he had done since they had arrived there. A part of her wondered if it was because the car was the only real thing Dean had left of their father, but she wasn't sure. Because Stacey hadn't been out to see him, and Dean hadn't been up to see her.

Knowing what she did, she couldn't summon up the strength to even look her brother in the eyes. They had driven to Bobby's in complete silence, all lost in their own grief and thoughts of their father. Dean's eyes hadn't left the road ahead, Sam had stared absently out of the window beside him, and Stacey; if they had wanted to they could have easily pretended she wasn't even there.

Sam was trying his best to keep busy, that much she had worked out. She caught the odd few words exchanged between himself and Bobby as they researched. A part of her wasn't sure they were even looking for anything in particular, and maybe they were just doing it to pass by the hours and attempt to ignore the fact that John was gone. But, Sam was always full of questions, and she couldn't bare the thought of him asking if she knew anything more than what she was letting on. The last thing any of them needed was to face the real reason their father wasn't there anymore, especially Dean.

But, Stacey was more than aware, she couldn't hide up there forever. Eventually, she was going to have to face them. The truth was, she had no idea how either of them were dealing with it, and she wasn't being much of a sister to them by hiding away. As much as she wanted to ignore it and sit in hope that it would all go away, she had to face it. She thought back to what her father had said to her at the hospital, mere moments before he had died; take care of your brothers for me. That was a promise she had to keep.

Almost tentative, Stacey headed down the stairs quietly, maybe in attempt to not draw any unnecessary attention to herself before she had to. But, her efforts proved pointless. The house was deserted.

"Sam?" she called out, but there was no response. "Bobby?" Again, silence.

Stacey gave a slow shake of her head, and she crossed the room towards the back door of Bobby's home. She paused at the refrigerator and pulled out two beers as she passed. Already, as she stepped out into the sunlight, she could hear the familiar clanging of tools as Dean worked furiously on the Impala. As she approached, she became aware of her brother, and the only part of him that she could see. Both legs were sticking out from beneath his car as he worked on the parts under it, and a soft smile came to her face.

Stacey paused, and she kicked the bottom of his boot gently. "Hey."

Dean rolled out from beneath the Impala, and he brought up a hand to shield the sun from his eyes as he squinted up at her. For a moment, she was sure he was going to tell her to go back inside, to leave her alone, but he didn't. He looked a little surprised to see her, but his expression seemed to soften, and a gentle smile came to his face. "Hey." He sat up a little straighter. His hands and arms were almost black with oil, and his grey t-shirt was stained with grease and sweat. "You alright?"

Stacey offered a nod, unconvinced. "Thought you might want a beer." she offered, and she held one of the bottles out to him.

Dean chuckled, and he wiped his hands off on an old, oil-stained rag. "What is it, like ten in the morning?" he quipped.

"Not quite." she mused, and there was a humor in her tone. "But, I guess if you don't want one, that's fine."

"Uh, not so fast." Dean pushed himself to stand, and he took the bottle from her. "Thanks, sis."

Stacey nodded in acknowledgement, and they each took a long drink of their beers. There was something peaceful about Bobby's home, because it seemed to be the place they all gathered when they needed a break, or they needed some space to think. The only sound came from the birds above them in the sky. There was no breeze in the air, and the sunlight only seemed to be growing warmer as it shone down over them. They stood in silence for a long moment, both lost in their own thoughts.

"Hey, Stace?" Dean looked to her, and something in the pit of her stomach twisted. There was so much sadness in his eyes, a sorrow that she knew all too well. She saw it herself when she looked in the mirror. He looked as though he wanted to say something but he couldn't force out the words.

"I know." She gave a slow nod, and she reached out and took a hold of his free hand. "Me, too."

Dean gave a small sigh, and he looked thankful that they had managed to skip over that conversation. They were both hurting, they were both in the same boat, but they were wired the same way, neither of them liked to talk about their feelings unless they really had to. Neither of them wanted to sit there and cry about it, they didn't want to stop and dwell on their own loss or grief.

With that thought in mind, he set his beer down on the work bench and picked up a wrench. "You still know your way around an engine?" he asked, and he held the rusted tool out towards her.

Stacey quirked an eyebrow. "Are you serious?" She took it from him, hesitant. "Dean, it's been years since I've been under the hood of a car."

Dean huffed a laugh. "Well, that doesn't surprise me." he countered, amused. "What are you driving around in these days, brand new range rover?"

"Hey." Stacey warned. "I didn't come out here to be insulted."

Dean smirked at her, and he held up his hands in defense. "I'm not insulting you, I get it. You're a real soccer mom, right?" There was a fond smile on his face. "Guess a range rover might come in handy when you're doing the school run."

Stacey looked away from him, and she pulled a hand down her face. There was only so long this could go on for. "Look, Dean, there's something I need to tell you—"

"Hey." A voice came from behind them, and they both turned to see Sam walking towards them. There was a soft smile on his face, as though he was unsure of the reception he was about to receive, particularly from his brother. "How's the car coming along?"

Dean shook his head. "Slow."

"Yeah?" Sam sighed, and he looked at the wreckage before him. The Impala seemed to be in worse state than it had been after the crash. What had once been his brother's shiny black pride and joy was nothing more than beaten and broken and a mess. "Need any help?"

"What, you under a hood?" Dean scoffed. "I'll pass."

Sam nodded. Truthfully, he wasn't sure why he had offered. He didn't know the first thing about engines. But he felt as though he had to do something. "You need anything else, then?"

Dean gave a heavy sigh, exasperated. "Stop it, Sam."

But Sam appeared confused by his brother's sudden tone. "Stop what?"

"Stop asking if I need anything. Stop asking if I'm okay." He lowered his tone, and he sighed, because he knew that it wasn't fair to take it out on him. "I'm okay. Really. I promise."

"Alright, Dean, it's just..." Sam opened and closed his mouth, as though unsure he wanted to press his brother further. "Look, ever since we've been here you haven't brought up dad once."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, and there was a long silence. He looked up to his brother, and there was a note of annoyance etched within his features. "You know what, you're right. Come here." Sam simply frowned at him. "I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance."

"Dean." Stacey warned. "Stop it." But her words fell on deaf ears.

"Don't patronize me, Dean." Sam snapped. "Dad is dead. The colt is gone. And it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened."

Dean threw up his hands. "What do you want me to say, huh?" he pushed, exasperated.

"Just... I don't know. Say something." he urged. "Hell, say anything. Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car."

Dean pondered his words, but he chose not to rise to his brother's tone. "Revenge, huh?" He nodded. "Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of dad's research? Because I sure ain't. But, you know, if we do finally find it.. Oh. No, wait. Like you said, the colt is gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it." Sam stared at him, but he didn't respond. "We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing. Okay? So you know the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car."

Sam looked from him to Stacey, who simply shook her head, at a loss.

"Well, we've got something, alright?" Sam pulled a cell phone from his pocket. "It's what I came out here to tell you both. This is one of dad's old phones. Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail. Listen to this..."

Reluctant, Dean folded his arms over his chest, and nodded as if to indicate that he had his attention. Sam held out the phone to them, and he pressed the speaker button. "John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn. You know I can help you. Call me."

"That message is four months old." Sam stated, looking between them for some kind of response.

"Dad saved that chick's message for four months?" Dean raised an eyebrow. That was odd. "Who's Ellen? Any mention of her in dad's journal?"

"No." Sam shook his head. "But I ran a trace on her phone number. And I got an address."

For a long moment, Dean looked unsure. He looked from Sam, to Stacey, to his car, and back again. "Alright." he caved. "Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars."

"Sure." Sam nodded, and he turned and headed back towards the house without another word.

Dean took a long drink of his beer, and he pulled a rough hand down his face. "I'll take you home on the way." he muttered, barely glancing towards his sister as he spoke.

Stacey frowned at him. "What? No." She shook her head, determined. "I'm coming with you."

"The hell you are, Stacey." he warned, and his tone left no room for arguments. "You are not taking a hunt with us. You're out of this life, sis, and it's staying that way."

"You can't do that, Dean." she countered. "I'm your sister. We've just lost our dad, alright? I need my family."

"You have a family. At home." The words came out a little harsher than he had intended, and he saw the shock on her face. "Look, I'm sorry. But, Stace, you gotta understand here, one hunt is never one hunt. Just look at Sam. You've got a husband, you've got a daughter. You can't be in this life. You can't be near it. I'm not risking it."

But she wasn't prepared to back down. There was only one way she could make him understand. "Dean, listen to me. I need to tell you—"

"No." He stopped her. "What are you even doing here, Stacey?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what the hell are you doing here?" He shook his head, more at himself than her. "I should never have brought you here. You should be at home with Matt. With your baby."

Again, she shook her head at him, and tears filled up in her eyes. "Dean, please just—"

"I know. I'm sorry, Stacey." His voice softened, and his green eyes found hers. "I know you don't wanna talk about her with me. I get it. Believe me, I do. I walked out on your life, and that's on me. I got no right to know her. But..." He sighed. "Can I at least know her name?"

"Dean, stop." Her voice was little more than a shaken whisper. "Please."

The tears fell from her eyes and fell gently down her cheeks, and Dean shook his head. "I'm gonna take you home." he assured, and he rested a hand to her shoulder. "It's gonna be alright, Stace."

"No." She stopped him, a little too quickly. "It isn't. Dean, you don't get it. You don't understand. I don't wanna go home." Tears fell freely from her eyes, and, this time, she made no effort to hide them. "You think this is about me wanting to go home? You think I'm crying because I wanna go home to her, I can't, Dean. I can't go home to her. I've been trying to tell you since we got here, and you're not listening to me." Her breath caught in her throat. In that moment, she appeared frantic, desperate to make him understand what he had no comprehension of. "I need you to listen to me."

"Hey, hey, hey." Dean pulled her towards him, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Stacey, I'm listening." But she was too far gone. She was shaking in his arms, sobbing like he hadn't ever heard before. "Stace, what's wrong?"

This was about more than her being away from home, it was about more than them losing their father, that much he could tell. Her shoulders were trembling beneath the strength of his arms, and her body was racked with sobs of pure heartbreak. Shaking hands gripped to the front of his shirt, so hard that her knuckles had turned white, and her head bowed down as she squeezed her eyes closed and tried in vein to force the tears that consumed her away. She couldn't form words, she couldn't think straight. He was missing something big.

Dean pulled back just enough to look at her, and something twisted in the pit of his stomach. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, as though he wanted to say something but his head simply wouldn't allow him to bring the words together. "Stace?" he coaxed, his words soft, gentle. "What's wrong?" It was a dumb question, but he wasn't sure what else to say at that point. He was lost.

Stacey breathed a shaky sigh, and her forehead rested heavily against his chest. "I don't—" Her breath hitched, and she lost her words. "Dean..." The pain in her voice was something he physically felt inside. "She's gone."

The words hit Dean like a punch to the face, and the force of them was enough to knock him back a couple of steps against the side of the Impala. The world around him seemed to stop turning in that moment, and time seemed to come to an abrupt halt. His head was spinning faster than he could control, and his thoughts were racing too fast for him to keep up with them. He tried to think back through every interaction or conversation they'd had since the night she had told him, searching desperately for some small clue he could have missed. He thought back through the times she had tried to tell him something over the past couple of days, and every single time he had shut her down, expecting it to be a conversation he hadn't wanted about their father.

For a long moment, Dean didn't respond. He didn't look as though he had registered her words at all. He tried to form words, but nothing left him, and he simply held her tighter towards him, because, at that point, he was all he could offer. Without even realizing, Dean sank down to the ground with his sister still held in his arms, and her legs folded beneath her as she dropped down to the dusty road. The only thing she could do was cry, something that she hadn't done in so long, and all Dean could do was hold her until she was ready to tell him what had happened.

Gradually, her tears became less erratic, and she seemed to calm. The grip on his shirt loosened, and her trembling hand wiped the tears from her face. "I'm sorry." Her words were little more than a broken whisper, and, it occurred to him, he wasn't sure he knew what she was apologizing for.

"Stacey," he pressed, cautious. "What's happened?" He reached out and gently brushed the tears from her cheek with his thumb.

Stacey shook her head. "My baby..." she whispered. "She came early. Way too early. She wasn't..." Again, she lost her words.

"I'm sorry, Stacey." He pulled her closer towards him once again. "I'm so sorry. Why didn't you tell me? All this time..."

"I couldn't tell you." she murmured. "I couldn't tell anyone. Not until I had to. I was just... lost. You walked out on my life, Dean. How was I supposed to pick up the phone and tell you something like that? I wasn't even sure that you'd pick up. I did what you asked me, I told Matt you were dead. And..." She sighed. "I don't know... I didn't know what to do."

Dean sighed, and he shook his head. How could he not have known? All the time they had been apart, he had imagined what his sister's life had been like. He had worked out when her baby had been due, and he had found himself wondering each day of that month what his sister had been doing; was she giving birth? Was she sitting at home with her baby in her arms? Those thoughts had never left him. When he had woken up in the early hours of the morning, he had wondered if she were awake too, holding her small child and hushing her back into a slumber. When he had seen mothers on the street, he had wondered how his sister was coping with her new life. And, all that time, she had been suffering a loss he hadn't even been aware of. Often, Dean had found comfort in the idea that, whatever was going on in his life, somewhere in the world he had a sister and a niece living a happy life. How wrong he had been.

"We used to be so close." he muttered, more to himself than to her. "There was a time that you would have told me anything."

"I know." She nodded. "But that was a long time ago, Dean. A lot has changed since then. We're not the same people. We're never gonna have that back."

"Maybe we could." he offered. "I mean, when was the last time we had a real conversation? You're my sister, Stace, this, us not speaking, it's not right. And, I know that's on me, I know I made it that way, but, maybe we can fix it."

Stacey huffed a bitter laugh. "You don't get it, Dean." she looked to him, apologetic. "You made me tell Matt that you were dead. I've been living that lie ever since that night. I had to tell him some story of how you died, why we didn't go to your funeral, why dad or Sam never showed up when I'd lost my brother. Matt doesn't know what we know, he doesn't know the life we've lived, I can't just explain it all away and tell him you're suddenly back from the dead."

"What are you saying, Stacey?" he pressed, curious.

"I don't know." she replied, honestly. "It's one or the other, Dean. We all learned a long time ago, you can't have both lives. Dad and Sam proved that. I don't wanna go back to the life where I have to pretend I don't have a family. I don't wanna go back to pretending that you're dead."

Dean had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, almost as though he already knew the choice she had made. "You need to think about this, Stace." he told her, firm. "You need to think about what you're saying. You can't turn your back on your life. You've got a home, a husband, you're a doctor. You've got friends, a whole life."

Stacey nodded. "I know." she mused. "But, really, what's all that without having a family? You and Sam, you're my brothers. I don't want to go home and act like you're not real. I'm so tired of it."

Dean frowned. "I thought you were happy, Stace. Both of you, you never seemed anything but happy."

"I am happy, Dean... it's just..." Stacey shrugged, because she was trying to explain something to him that she didn't yet understand herself. "I keep having these thoughts. The first time I remember, I was sitting on my sofa with Matt, I can't even remember what movie we were watching, talking about baby names. And, I remember thinking to myself, maybe this is it. I looked at my rings, at my bump... And, I thought, he loves me, we're gonna have a baby, we're gonna be a family. I've got the guy, the career, the baby, the home, the car... maybe I've made it. I mean, isn't that what everybody in this world wants? They want to think they've got that perfect life that everybody dreams about? But we're not everybody, are we? We're different. That night, if things had been different, I'd have left with you in a heartbeat. I wouldn't have looked back. I love him, Dean, I really do. But, I can't help but think, is this the life I'm supposed to have? Because, I don't think that it is. I feel like I'm pretending, living someone else's dream."

"You can't be serious, Stace." He shook his head. "You don't wanna come back to hunting... do you?"

"How would you feel?" she asked, serious. "I mean, if you were me? Med school was never supposed to be forever, Dean. It was supposed to be a plan B. It was supposed to be an option in case everything in hunting went wrong. It was supposed to be a break. And, suddenly, I found myself married, pregnant, working this job I'd never even imagined. How would you feel?"

Dean thought on her words for a long moment. And he understood. Stacey had been all about hunting before she had left. She had come home to them on every break she'd had to help with research, to assist them on hunts. She had called him or their dad with ideas, with ways to kill whatever they were hunting, and, had they needed her, she had driven across country to help them take something out. He got it, being a doctor had never been the plan. The night she had told him she was going to college, it had hurt, but, he understood, it had never been about an escape. It had been her taking an opportunity that they all knew she wouldn't get again. And then she had found herself in love, however much she had tried to avoid it, she simply hadn't been able to. And she had taken a job that meant she could be close to him. But the hunter within her had never gone away. He remembered, when his father had trusted him to take hunts alone, Stacey had been so fast to swap her shifts or take a few days off to help him. It had been that way until he had shown up that night with the news of their father, when he had turned his back on her and walked away, for what he thought was her own protection.

"I'd feel lost." he admitted. "But, Stace, you've built a life there. Hunting, it's never going to be easy. And, it's never going to end happy. It's never going to be safe. Think about what you're walking away from."

"I have." she concluded. "And, you know, if things had been different between us, I'd have come home the minute I lost my baby. It's not the life I'm supposed to be living, Dean. I'm a hunter. I always have been."

"And, what about Matt?" he pressed, cautious.

Stacey shook her head. "Me and Matt..." She sighed. "We haven't been the same since it happened. I don't know how fixable we are. If we're fixable at all. This isn't some rash decision, Dean. I've thought about this. For a long time. It's what I want. I want my life back, I wanna feel something, I want my family. You and Sam... you gotta know, Dean, you come first. If it really came down to it, I'd always choose the two of you. Everything else, I'll deal with later."

"Okay." Dean resolved. "If that's what you want, Stace. Okay."

"Dean?" Sam's voice rang through the dusty air. "Stacey?"

"You're gonna have to tell him what happened, you know." Dean spoke, his voice soft. "He'll understand."

Stacey nodded. "I know." she murmured.

Sam appeared from the other side of the car, and he looked down at them, curious. "What are you guys—" But he stopped. He noted the look on his brother's face; solemn and lost deep in his own thoughts, his arm wrapped tightly around their sister's shoulders. Stacey; eyes bloodshot and wet eyelashes, her face was blotchy and it was evident that she had been crying. "What's going on?" he asked, cautious.

Stacey shook her head. "C'mere." She gestured for him to sit down. "We need to talk."

Tentative of whatever news they were about to break to him, Sam lowered himself to sit on the ground with them, and he looked between them, curious. "What is it?"

Stacey opened and closed her mouth, because she wasn't sure where to start. Having that conversation with Dean had been difficult enough, she wasn't sure she was ready to have it again.

"Stacey's gonna come with us." Dean spoke, when he realized that his sister wasn't going to.

Sam frowned, and for a moment he looked confused. "You're what?" He shook his head. "Stace, you can't. I know we've been through a lot, but you can't just turn your back on your life. I made that choice, Stacey, and, trust me, there's no going back."

Stacey nodded. "I know." she affirmed. "I don't wanna go back. This is what I want, Sam. I wanna be with my family."

"Think about your daughter here, Stacey." he urged. "What kind of life is this gonna be for her? I know you're hurting, we all are, but—"

"Sam, stop." she spoke, firm. "Listen to me." She paused, and she shook her head. "I don't have a little girl at home, alright? I lost my baby."

"You what?" Sam's face paled, and he stared at her, eyes wide. Everything seemed so surreal. A few days earlier, before they had ended up in that hospital, Sam had no idea what kind of life his sister had been living. In one night, he had found out that his sister was married, and that she had been pregnant. And now, he was learning that she had suffered the most devastating loss imaginable and she was willing to return to the life of hunting. How had everything changed so much, so fast? "Stacey, I'm sorry." His eyes shone with sympathy as he tried to understand the pain she had gone through. It hurt to think that they hadn't been there for her. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't know." she muttered. "I wanted to. I wanted to call when it happened. I wanted to tell you both at the hospital, but there was just so much going on. We were all worried about Dean, and then we were grieving dad, and, I just couldn't."

"I've tried to talk her out of it, Sam." Dean told him. "I've told her there's no going back, I've told her everything you're thinking about telling her now. This is what she wants. She's made her decision."

Sam looked to her, and hazel eyes found green. "You're sure?" he pressed, his voice soft. "This is what you want?"

Stacey reached out and took his hand in hers gently. "This is what I want." She looked between her brothers, and she smiled. "I want my family together."

Sam looked towards his brother, and the look on his face promised that he wasn't going to be able to talk her out of it. It assured him that they were going to look after her, that they would keep her safe, and they would help her deal with whatever pain she was still suffering through. They were going to be a family again. And, what more could any of them ask for at a time like that?