Chapter Two

Dean's POV

"What do you want, Crowley?" I looked across the motel room we were staying in for the night – in-between jobs – to see Sam stand, phone to his ear, worried and slightly pissed-off expression.

"Hold on a sec," Sam motions me closer to him from where I was, trying to eavesdrop.

"Squirrel, can you hear me?"

"Hearing you, Crowley. We won't give it to you, don't bother asking," this is the third time he's called, the first, to see if we had it, the second one, he was annoyed because we cloaked everything to do with us, to make us invisible to their methods.

"Oh, I'm not asking. This time, I have something you want."

"And what exactly do I want?"

"This innocent girl, who doesn't know the truth, with a daughter, a husband, a little house to call home, a family. She'll die if you won't give it to me."

"And why would I care about some random chick over this? The only thing the King of Hell himself wants."

"Because, Squirrel. She isn't just anyone."

"No?"

"No."

"Well then, who is it?"

"Millie."

My heart stopped.

I haven't heard her name since I was a kid.

I haven't seen her since we were five.

No. Crowley doesn't know she exists. How can he? Dad and I erased everything to do with her existence. She's not a Winchester. She's not my twin, she wasn't born in Lawrence, Kansas. Her mother's name isn't Mary.

Millie Winchester doesn't exist.

Crowley's playing me, I realise. That's the only explanation.

"Should that name mean anything to me, Crowley?" I ask in a voice I hope sounds indifferent.

"You don't believe me, Squirrel. Do you?"

"I believe you'd go to great lengths to get this from us, but I don't know this so-called Millie chic," I say truthfully, well, partial truths, anyway.

"He doesn't believe us, sweetheart, perhaps you should say hi," his muffled voice sounded away from the phone, static sounds the other end.

"He has me, I don't know what he wants, don't give it to him –" she was abruptly cut off.

"What's your name?" Sam asks into the phone.

"Millie, Millie Winchester. Who are you?" No… I was hoping it was a trick.

"That's a strange coincidence," Sam started. "My brother and I are Winchester, too. Sorry for getting you into this mess, I think Crowley was mistaken."

"What's your name?" she asks curiously.

"Uh, Sam and my brother, Dean," I wasn't fast enough to stop him. She knows her brothers names. Sam doesn't know hers. If she says anything remotely like, 'OMG, you're my long lost brothers!' We are all doomed.

"Huh, I was thinking that maybe we were relatives or something, but I don't know anyone in my family named Sam or Dean. Sorry."

She may have never known about the truth. But she sure has our Winchester personality. She knows when to shut up and act neutral.

There was a silence.

A tense, long, uncomfortable, nerve-racking silence.

"So sorry, sweetheart, I suppose my boys did make a mistake. Wrong family tree, it would seem."

Oh, thank you God, wherever you are.

–– 0 ––

"Strange." Sam randomly stated during our dinner.

"Hm?" I sounded, in the middle of chewing a large bite of pie.

"Crowley doesn't usually make mistakes, not when threatening people."

"True, true," I mumble, still trying to swallow to form proper conversation manners.

"I mean, how many Winchesters are there, really?"

"Mm hmm."

"What are the chances? Maybe she's a cousin or something we never met? Did Mum have siblings? I didn't think so…"

"No."

"Then Dad? Could he have had siblings we didn't know of?"

"No," I took another bite.

"Then, is she like a second cousin? Our grandparent's siblings' children's children?"

"Hmm mm."

Sam's focused and confused eyes snapped to mine. "Why are you so indifferent about this?"

"What?" I ask, mouth full from my last bite. "I'm not, I'm hungry and I'm eating."

"Yeah, you are, why? Wait, do you know who this Millie is?"

"As I said before, why should that name mean anything to me?"

"Because you don't seem to care. It's weird for you man," Sam turns his full attention to me, eyebrows drawn in some serious confusion.

"I don't care about a lot of things, why should I care about a girl with the same last name? You heard her, she's never heard of us," I point out to him before taking another bite.

"That's the point, you do care about her, that's why you're so indifferent!"

I sighed, annoyed at how well my little brother knows me. "Why do you care that I care?"

He jumps up. "So you do care!"

I stand up to, swallowing the delicious pie. "Yeah. I care. Why do you have to persistently try and find someone that I care about?"

"It shows you aren't a total douche after all. That's why."

"So I'm a douche now, nice, real nice," I add, sarcastically.

"That's not exactly what I meant –"

"Then what did you mean?!"

"That you actually care about someone other than me!"

"Why shouldn't I? Because I'm a hunter? Because I had to leave the only family I've had outside of you? Or maybe, because of the Mark on my arm? Huh? So? What is it, Sam?"

"It's everything!" Sam shouted.

"What?"

"You're different, Dean, there's something in you, Dean and it scares the hell out of me!"

"Scares you?"

"Yeah," his voice softened. "I'm sacred it's going to take you, Dean, make you into something else."

"It's not changing me, Sammy. I'm still here."

"Then prove it, tell me who this Millie is."

I sighed, he is very persistent when it comes to these sort of things. "What do you wanna know?"

"Who is she?"

Here goes nothing, "My – our – sister."

Silence. Nearly a whole minute passed while he digested it.

I continued to eat, waiting for him to say something.

"Sister? How on Earth can we have a sister? How come I never knew?!"

"You didn't need to know, Sammy."

"I didn't need to know?! How long have you known?"

I scoffed. "My whole life, she's my twin."

"Twin?! There is no way this can get any weirder."

"Dad had friends who picked her up and looked after her, I haven't seen her since I was five. We left you and Millie at Uncle James and Aunty Susan's place for, like, ten weeks after Mum died, and while Dad found out the truth, up until our birthday. We took her to another friend who was willing to help raise her."

"How come she isn't a hunter, like us?" he asked softly.

"Dad couldn't raise her like he did us, he wouldn't have that on his conscious, I suppose."

"But he could raise us on a good conscious?" Anger seeped into his vocals.

"I think it was more… like he trusted his strong sons to be able to protect themselves, his little girl though… They say fathers have a soft spot for their girls."

"I wouldn't know, I've never knew a father or been one."

"Hey, I thought we were over this, Dad did the best he could, and at least he raised you and have me! Millie didn't have anyone! I'm just glad she's married and had kids – wait… that makes us…"

"Uncles."

-o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o- -o-