The late November air only did so much for her. In San Diego the weather was always in a way tempered. It was controlled and it never was too hot or too cold. It was nice like that. Though in honestly the snow was something nice to think about as well.

Tiny remembered as a child, she would beg and beg to go up north to Julian for a quick little stop. Their caretaker of the time would sometimes cave in, and when they did they would get in that big old car they had and drive up north and there they would look at the snow in utter awe. Sometimes they couldn't play in the snow, all bundled up and ready, but they got to feel the burn upon their little cheeks and hands and they would smile upon the sensation alone. Tiny loved the cold, they all did.

She would remember that the snow was just a distant memory from there, and from that one mishap it seemed that eternity would continue to give her a day without snow. She never grew up around it but she though that the snow was beautiful.

Now as November was rolling by and the first of December was coming, she thought well that a few specks of snow here and there would be nice, however it seemed the thought of snow would not wish to be in her embrace. It made her frown relatively much as she was hopping to go and get to see some snow this year. They where traveling now, and the last case after all was in Lake Monitoc, Wisconsin. In all honesty she expected at least a bit.

She had gone on her phone rather quickly to check if by any chance snow was in it's natural habitat here, which it was but it seemed to be rather iffy to this rather random man searching for a vacation. It stated around Mid to late November, yes, December, no till January. Who would have thought. This was rather confusing to her, but as the first of December was coming, she just hoped she see snow around then. That that certainly didn't mean it wasn't cold. It was rather cool.

The Impala was rather nice but she felt that Hannibal surely would provide the most heat, thought so to speak Hannibal was happily engaged with attacking Sam's hands, which took that out of question. At the moment it was really a time to stop, and that pleasant motel with the oddly colored stains seemed to be the only thing to suffice here. It had a little diner by the side, or just some random stop for food and they where contempt.

In all honesty this surroundings felt strange to her. All her life she had the taste of the finery, the obligation that many would seem down right ungrateful. Never had she needed to struggle for the necessities in life and plenty of times sadly it would seem she grew up with everything privileged given to them such for the sake of society. She had grown up rather ungrateful for the things she did have, for the luxury of many things not all people could say they understand. In It's own right it placed a new set of lights in her mind.

Here, she was in motel rooms with odd stains, random stops of cheap burgers and cheap everything. Then there was the cheap beer at the bars, the people who had cheaper clothing, cheaper everything. It reminded her of a world she hadn't seen in many years, something she can recall. No, she didn't grow from poverty, but she grew in a world where the prosperity could not provide what was really desired.

She just looked out the window, seated by the little seat with the tiny table by the window. Her eyes where there, gazing off into the nothingness as the curtain slowly closed to it's end, the clear material covering a world that had long been forged over. There, she was nursing a sparkling water. Plain, but much more pleasant that she would ever image in to be. She had turned from her notebook, folded on her lap lightly, and grabbed it, taking a swift sip as it slowly crossed over cracked lips and a parted thought.

This world wasn't a shocker to her, it was just different. That's what she told herself at least. She always thought she was a simple woman with simple needs, and though she never truly knew if she was, that's what she told herself at least. This wasn't a world too bad. It was just different. Though her mind desired to drift to the things that where left there, the sometimes filth that was there, it was just something that was remotely there and the brothers found it fine, so she assumed to take their lead. That wouldn't be too hard right?

Dean and Sam where occupied with sorting through their things. Sam was comfortably seated on his bed. His laptop spread upon his lap as his fingers typed away on the keys. His body however was far from the comfortableness of his position. His hands had quickly become strained from the obsessive typing, from his mind racing over events that could not currently be fixed. His eyes where strained, and everything about him was. The dip below his eyes where growing over those few days.

It had almost been a month they have been together already and what little information of the eldest Winchester's whereabouts where taking a toll on the brothers. It seemed like such little time had passed. Was nothing safe from the firm grip of time?

Dean had tossed the rag lightly in the bag again. His eyes where tired, and the occasion drifts would leave him to linger. His gun was something he treasured dearly. Besides the fact that it was a gun, it was beautiful. It held it's engravings and it's ivory grip. It was oriented beautifully. He still remembered how he got the weapon. It was around January, when his birthday was. The boys where at Bobby's house and John was there. The day was relatively light and for once John was there. Both men where huddled around a box placed upon the table and Dean was seated with Sam. His eyes would glance back to grown ups and then back to Sammy, his curiosity was full however his control was placed elsewhere.

Within moments eventually, John had motioned for Dean to come, his eyes all but hardened and unmerciful as per usual. He had came forwards only to have the box turned to him and there before him was a beautiful box. It was pure black, with a sleek cover over and inside was a soft crimson velvet. Within the case there was the gun. Beautiful and polished lovingly, as it sparkled just right. On the side was seven bullets, each carefully engraved and placed neatly in a row.

It was a gift, just for him. He had grown up in a world of weapons, in one where childish actions should not exist. It was harsh. What was needed was necessity, and the beautifully carved Colt M1911A1 was something for him to lavish upon at least in this world. Ever since it was his weapon of choice, and it was a weapon he took dear care of. It was wonderful, and it had saved his life and it had been besides him through thick and thin.

Dean simply couldn't help but notice that those honey eyes would occasionally glance at the craftsmanship of this weapon. As he placed it back together, with the soft click of it's parts, he couldn't help but smile lightly. Her weapons where rather basic for a starter, at least that's what he would like to caller her for now. His weapons however where rather trained.

The eldest of their party stood up, with a creak of the bed that rumbled below him at the loss of his weight and he took long steps to reach her. Her eyes had averted elsewhere, her cup placed down gently as was the pen in her hands that lazily sat there. He had grabbed the edge of the seat across from her and sat there, making himself comfortable as he leaned forwards. Those honey eyes that hid behind glasses turned to him.

His hands where gentle with his gun besides all the wear and tear it faced. Her eyes glazed over each feature and his eyes proudly shown the weapon he had by his side. Most of the times he couldn't care much for it, after all it was just one of the many guns he possessed, but for some reason he couldn't help but just show her the beauty that was the gun he's had ever since about 11 years ago. Carefully her hand reached out and they softly rubbed over the curved and the swiftness of it's hold. Her fingertips dabbed over them careful and for a moment it seemed like she had already memorized every curve. Her fingers seemed to already remember ever part and now, now she was just recalling the new scars and the new wears and battered marks it's held.

Gingerly the weapon was returned to their rightful owner.

"I think it's time we talked."

Hannibal lifted his head from besides Sam as he sat on the bed with his large body close to his leg as Sam himself lifted his own head to look at his brother and Tiny. Tiny had tilted her head lightly, her eyes casting downwards as she sighed lightly, closing her notebook and folding her hands lightly on the table. Her glasses where carefully removed as she lifted her eyes up to look at Dean who looked at her with a hardened gaze. It meant business, and it was determination and almost distrust in those eyes.

She knew that he couldn't take it much longer, and no doubt it was from the glow her necklace provided that Dean had noticed well. He spoke nothing of it, and his mind had been wondering on much more important things anyways. Her lips pursed lightly as she looked at him, her own eyes attempting to lock onto his own beautiful emerald orbs. "What would you like to know." she spoke simply.

He licked his lips lightly as he looked at her. "When did you start hunting?" she frowned lightly. Her hand reaching out for her glass again as she took a slow sip. "To be honest." She stated as her finger lightly dabbed on her lip. "I'm not sure." Sam had intently looked up at this. His laptop shrugged to the side as her head tilted towards the window again, looking at nothing. "In honesty the first memory I have was just death… everywhere. I was just a little girl and I swear I killed something then. I had too… did I really though. It doesn't matter. My first hunt I would have to say though was when I was like…. what fifteen? I think that was it. After that, I really didn't get too involved. I could say I've done my occasion though."

"You said you where new to this. You said you where a hunter."

Her eyes looked up to Sam's glaring ones that narrowed at her. Her head had then turned to Dean's own eyes, narrowed, distrusting, and in it's own right curious. Unlike Sam, who was bitter for many things, Dean knew there was something more to it. He knew that to everything she would say now there would be more to it.

"And that is because I am not a hunter. I'm something different. It's hard to explain."

"I don't think so. Why don't you tell us plain and simple?"

"I said it was complicated. I mean it. I wish I could but I'm…"

"What?!"

Dean had stood up as Sam spook with narrowed eyes. He hadn't been too well these days, after their last case. Another argument arose, another on the benefactor of their father. It wasn't easy but he could see the same thing Sam was and there was no point in seeing an out to this. However Dean also knew that Tiny was doing something she promised to do this moment even if her body was so tensed and scared that he could tell she was trying to keep a promise whither comfortable or not and Sam wasn't helping to ease her into talking more.

"Sam cool it okay, let's just listen to what she has to say." Dean reasoned. The situation as it was, was completely uncommon, however when he retrieved Sam from his situation in collage it should have been expected. He was angry, different, driven by the desire of hatred and vengeance. Now at the moment he was the voice of reason, and soon when everything was fixed and solved it wouldn't be, but now he needed to be. He needed to hear this. Deep down he couldn't understand why but he needed this so fucking bad that it seemed like it was eating him away.

Sam glared at him but none the less he settled down again and with that he sat down and his eyes turned to Tiny. Seated again across from her, he folded his hands and with a tight smile he looked at her dead in the eyes and spoke again. "Then what was it that you where telling us earlier when we met?" He stated in that gruff voice of his. Her eyes gleamed, looking back and forth. "I haven't lied to any of you. I meant it. I could never lie to you two…I couldn't." her voice died in a whisper at the end as her hands dug into her hair.

"I don't understand any of this. Why don't you just tell us upfront? You know us, and we know nothing about you-"

"And the person you should be asking this to is Dad, I can't believe he never told you a single thing about me."

Dean blinked as he heard her. His mouth was open in shock as Sam straightened up from his seat. None of them could believe it and there before them was a girl who held a hand over her mouth. Her face almost looked panicked and there was the rhythm of silence that flooded over them.

Dad. John was her Dad?

"Tiny! I-"

"No, no, just stop. Don't say anything!"

Her voice had gained a higher pitch and her eyes had widened. Her eyes where looking desperately around. "When I said Dad, well he's not actually my Dad, h-he's.. uhm…h-he's just... you know…I-I. I called him Dad ever since I could remember. He's not actually my Dad." she attempted to clarify as she raised her hands in surrender. "I've known John ever since I could remember and as a little girl with no mom, no dad, having a man come out of no where ever so often to see if you're already felt like a dad to me. He didn't do much in my life but he was the only male figure there. Be it he's only here with me and my brother for like what, an hour, lucky a day or two a year but he's never really here… God! I'm screwing this up!"

Her hands went to her face, covering it. Her body began to shake as she didn't dare to look out. Dean had closed his mouth as she spoke again, his jaw clenching as his eyes went back to Sam and then to the girl before him. Sam was quick to come forwards standing besides his brother as they looked at her, shake and tremble as if in fear.

"Tiny..."

"I-I didn't mean too…"

"Why?"

It was a simple question, and to what, neither of them knew but they simply needed to know. Instead of quenching his thirst for answers, it only made my questions come out. More missing facts that made it even more frustrating than before. It had made him bitter before, the photo of her and THIER dads with her. Now she was calling THEIR father dad. None of it was adding up and they just couldn't understand.

She didn't dare look up and as she spoke her voice was rather muffled.

"Why what? Why I'm here, why I'm acting like I've knew you boys my whole life. I don't know! John's…. John's told me so many things about you and I though he's done the same back about me, about our family. I thought… I thought wrong when you boys showed up not knowing a thing about me. I just hurt. What am I suppose to say to you? Oh, hello, I'm Tiny. I'm the girl who knows you're Dad and calls him Dad too because he's the first person to actually care about me and that says something knowing how John is. Having the inability to show affection. At least he check on us! No one's ever done it before. I'm also the person who calls John asking if you boys are okay, asking John if he needs help. I'm the one who sends things hoping I can help any way I can. Oh, no, but it seems John hasn't told you boys about me so I'm gonna go act like I know nothing, act like there is nothing and deal with it because there is nothing. This is you're family and in it I am nothing and that's how I wanted it to be but it seems I'm gonna tell my whole life story. I'm just so screwed up and I just don't want to say anything because I really don't have a say in it. I'm here to help you boys, not get in the way, not ruin you're story. I don't belong in it. Maybe I shouldn't have come! I'm just making everything worst."

Her voice had rose higher and higher as it did till there was nothing but almost a sob at the end. Her face was in her hands, trembling, shaking. Her hand covered her mouth trying to silence herself. She felt miserable. She felt like nothing.

Dean blinked his eyes, and just like Sam they where both trying to take it all in. There where no words he could take in. None of them could, and as they looked at her. There was no words to say.

Dean looked at her, his eyes sincere. He didn't get all his answer, but right then and there he got more than he could have ever imagined at getting. Sure, why was a question none of them could answer but here was two brothers who have been worrying for a man they called father who screwed them over and here was a girl who knew no one but their father and in her desperation to try to hold together what their father has been poorly forging for them and keeping from then together.

What John had done was keep a huge load of a secret they could never imagine could ever arise. John had forged a huge lie to both of them. Their was an obvious intent of separating them, a huge wish to destroy what was there. Maybe it would have been easier to break this tie but all they knew now was that their fate was intertwined. None of them had asked for this, none of them earned this unremarked path of self hate but here was a story they wanted to hear. No, needed to.

Dean had gotten up from his seat and for a moment, a long moment, he grabbed her and embraced her in his arms, and Sam's own arms did the same things to. They where strangers to one another. Distant bodies intertwined by a single thread down in the long run. This was meant to happen, they where sure of it. But right now, it didn't matter. Right now there as a person disregarded by their own fate. A person shrugged aside from a story that she was meant to play a big part in.

They certainly didn't know how important her part would play in these tales. This road was long, this road was hard, and now this road would be trailed by another. No, not some random purpose, but by a prophecy that knew their fate long before they knew their own.

It was simply at this very moment, they could never have imagined what fate had in mind.

Author's Note

I was honestly intending for this to be more mysterious, and more subtle, random questions, but somehow in unraveled into this and I have to say, It may have been rather odd in it's own sense, but I couldn't have been more prouder. Despite what had happened I let the words come on it's own and it just unraveled like this. I hope this unfolds some questions. I'm not planning to tell anymore than needed. I know some of you are going to be like John Winchester was terrible. And he was, but you still can not take away the fact that despite all the shit he did he loved his kids. It was mentioned one time how Sam and John just cancel out because they are so much alike and because of it, it got me thinking. I just imagine John kind of different. I'm not saying he valued her more than her boys, but their is a pretty good reason for him to do this. I don't know anything about our minds but I can assure you, John is one complex character in this. I Hope you enjoy! Please leave a review or comment. I would really mean a lot.

Thank You for Reading! :3

With Love,

VioletFlame14