A/N: Thanks, again, for everyone's reviews, favourite-adding and Story-Alerting for this story. It definitely makes me happy and I look forwards to them! At least I know I don't completely suck!

Also, I got a message from an anyomous reader who said they wanted to see some tears, and a cute fluff moment between our not-couple. So, here we go :)

Chapter 7

Dean spent a good portion of the day in the garage, making lists of parts he had to replace in the Impala and what order he wanted to do it in. The trunk and back bumper were definitely at the top, considering the amount of damage it had taken during the collision. The back windows would also need to be replaced.

Sighing, he scrunched up his mouth. It was going to take money to get the parts he needed. The Impala wasn't exactly a new car, considering it was a 1967 model, and certain parts did not come cheap. Sure, the insurance companies were getting involved and he would receive monetary compensation from the other driver's company, but it would've been nice to get everything covered. That wouldn't happen - insurance companies never liked paying their clients.

"Maybe Bobby'll have parts laying around," he mumbled to himself, thinking of his unofficial uncle who ran the Singer Salvage Yard in South Dakota. While Bobby was not a blood relative, he was a good and old friend of John and Mary's, and therefore practically family to Sam and Dean. The guy even held a soft spot for Kelsey, who wasn't blood to anyone.

His thoughts drifted back to her, and what Sam had told him earlier that morning. Kelsey was something he had managed to avoid thinking about for the last couple hours, but now, it was like he couldn't stop.

Sam had said they were practically a couple but without the title, him and Kelsey. At one point, Dean supposed, he may or may not have had feelings for the girl. Puppy love, he could call it, back when they were young teenagers. He was, after all, her first kiss. She hadn't been his, but he had known as soon he had kissed her that he was definitely hers.

He couldn't deny the girl was pretty - with large, green eyes that lit up like Christmas lights when she got excited, or darkened like stormy seas when she was upset, and a mass of red hair, for the moment, she was a far cry from his usual type of blonde, and big busted, and "kind of stupid", Sam had once said.

A small smile played across his lips as he thought about the difference between Kelsey and other girls he knew. Other girls he had dated could be constant flirts, and always try to make a good impression, or come off as desirable. They would twirl a lock of hair, and offer up a flirty smile or compliment, and when the opportunity was there, steal a kiss. Some girls were quick to make it known they wouldn't mind some special attention between the sheets. Those were the girls that Dean often found only wanted one-night stands, or the ones that didn't want that, wanted something long-term.

Dean didn't do commitment. Something about promising to love one single person forever until your dying breath seemed a bit ridiculous. Feelings changed, people grew, and effort stopped getting put in. Offering yourself up to someone only to have them change and decide they didn't want you anymore - that was exactly why Dean didn't want to do the relationship thing. Promises could be broken, and aside from his own parents, he saw them happen quite a bit.

Kelsey, on the other hand, was different from those other girls. She took life as it hit her, day by day. She didn't worry about her number of partners, or getting the phone number of whomever the cute bartender of the night was. She much more preferred living life, and making memories. Being silly, even. More than once, he had walked in from work or as he was getting ready to go out with friends, and found the girl dancing around in the kitchen or singing along to some crappy pop song in her bedroom. She had no qualms about being different. She had no qualms about making something last. Her two relationships had lasted a little over a year, each. Dean remembered when her first one ended, she had spent an entire day crying before telling him (as he was threatening to go pound the guy) that maybe there was a lesson to be learned from it all.

"After all, Dean, that's what life is, right? A bunch of lessons that we're supposed to learn?" she had asked. Dean hadn't had a response to that thought.

All of that was what made Dean almost want to try the commitment thing. It didn't feel like commitment would be such a bad thing with her. But, she had never expressed interest in a romantic sense and he had never been able to work up the courage to ask her out. Instead, whenever the question "So, are you two together?" arose, or some variation of "Why aren't you two dating?" questioned, the pair would just shrug with a smile and move on with the topic of conversation.

Maybe that was why he was having a hard time blaming himself for the car accident. He had been driving. Going to the movies had been his idea. His dad had even tried to talk them out of it, had said the roads weren't the greatest, but Dean had really wanted to see the movie and Kelsey had expressed interest in going too. So they had gone.

And now, Kelsey had no idea about who he was, or who Sam or their parents were. She had no idea about her own parents, where they were or how they were doing. That was a conversation that had not been brought up yet by the girl, even after being out of the hospital for over a week. Dean would've figured that would be one of the first things she would've asked about. Then again, Kelsey had always had a habit of keeping things up to herself.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he hummed to himself as he re-read the list. But soon got distracted by a sniffle.

He frowned and tilted his ear in the direction that he heard it. He hadn't closed the door to the garage completely, and it sounded like it was coming from the kitchen.

There was another sniffle, a sad one and a shaky breath.

With the frown etched onto his face, Dean rested the notebook down on the hood of the Impala before heading through the door and into the warm kitchen. There, he found the source of the sound.

"Kelsey?"

The girl in question jolted her head up and twisted in her chair to look at Dean, and her face went red in embarrassment before quickly turning back around so Dean was staring at the back of her. He could see her quickly wipe her face before he closed the door and moved slowly over to the table.

"What's wrong?"

When he received no answer, he hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder, feeling her tense up a bit, sniffling all the while. Pulling out the chair beside her at the table, he plopped down on it and bent over to catch a look at her face.

Her face was pink, with clear tear tracks down her cheeks. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her nose and lips puffy from all the crying she had done. The white bandage that had been on her forehead had been removed, the gash healing nicely but would probably leave a faint scar. Most of the cuts that had littered her face had faded.

Realizing he was looking at her, Kelsey had quickly turned her face away from him. "Nothing."

"Ahh, now you wouldn't be crying if it were nothing." Dean reached over and slid a hand onto her back, rubbing it gently. Tense or not tense, until she told him to back off, he would try his best to comfort her.

It took a long, few moments before she spoke. So long that Dean was preparing to repeat the question.

"I burned dinner."

Dean bobbed his mouth open and closed for a moment like a fish gulping for water before shutting it and quirking his brows in question. That was what this was about?

"Huh?" He finally asked after a moment, it coming out confused.

Kelsey, still refusing to look at him, lifted a hand and pointed it in the direction of the stove. Looking over, Dean paused in rubbing her back before getting up to inspect the dishes on top.

Lasagna was in a glass pan, the top black and still smoking. Dean was no cook, but he would bet dollars to doughnuts that lasagna wasn't supposed to look like that.

"Well, uh... the top's a bit... crusty, but maybe the middle is cooked...?"

That set off a fresh set of tears from the redhead at the table and Dean instantly felt bad. He really thought that comment would've made her a bit happier, and help her see that he kind of, sort of had faith in her cooking.

Turning on his heel, he rested his hands on his hips. "It's just lasagna, Kelse."

"You don't get it." She cried, propping her elbows on top of the white table, and buried her face in her hands. "It's not just lasagna."

"... Is it magic lasagna?" Dean tried joking.

Kelsey finally looked up, and glared at the man, silently telling him this wasn't the time for jokes. "That's not funny. Your parents and Sam are gonna be home soon, and there's no dinner ready." She furiously wiped her tears off her cheeks again, desperately trying to get the tears to stop. "I forgot I had it in the oven, because I forgot the set the timer. And I just wanted to do something nice so I tried cooking dinner."

She pointed at the cook book that lay on the counter beside the stove, opened to a page that detailed how to make homemade lasagna. "And I ended up burning it, Dean!"

Dean sighed and moved back over to his chair, resuming rubbing her back as the poor girl cried. Eventually, when she didn't stop, he did what he would do best when she cried, and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her in against his chest. When she didn't protest, or push him off, he rested his chin on the top of her head and resumed rubbing her back.

"Hey, hey, it's cool. It's just food." He cooed after a long moment of silence. "Besides, the whole forgetful thing is normal. They told you that before you left the hospital."

"I know, but-"

"No buts. It happens, Kelse. So long as you didn't burn the house down, mom and dad won't care." He joked again, unable to take something like crying over burnt food seriously. "I get that you wanted to do something nice for us, I can appreciate that, but it happens. If it makes you feel better, Sam can't cook either."

Kelsey sniffed, her hot tears soaking the front of his AC/DC tee, arms curled into her own body as Dean bear-hugged her. When the tears slowed down, and he could feel her calm down, Dean loosened his hold on her and pushed her back a little so he could look down.

"We can still make dinner fancy."

Kelsey wiped the final few tears from her cheeks and rolled her shoulders. "How?"

Dean grinned brightly. "We can get some Chinese or something. Put it on some fancy plates. Eat with class and tell everyone you made it."

That grin made Kelsey snort out a laugh. "That sounds good." Motioning to his tear-stained shirt, she continued, her voice hoarse from the crying. "I'm sorry."

"Eh, it's just a shirt. Just tears." Dean shrugged, completely letting go before standing up and crossing the tiled floor to one of the drawers. Pulling the second top drawer open, he dug through the papers and yanked out a stack of take out menus, returning to the table.

"Time to decide what grub is good."

Later that night, after a take out of Chinese was enjoyed on fancy dinner plates, Kelsey appeared in the living room where the Winchesters were watching TV. It was Mary who first noticed the girl standing in the door frame, a picture frame in her hand.

She offered Kelsey a smile. "Coming to join?"

Kelsey offered a tiny smile back, and shifted. "Do you guys have a minute?"

Mary nodded, and shut off the TV with the remote, ignoring the protests from her husband and sons. "What's up?"

Kelsey licked her lips, then looked down at the frame in her hands before handing it to the blonde female. "Can you tell me who this is?"

Mary took the frame and studied it for a moment, finding Kelsey's younger face and that of another female, a brunette this time, looking back up at her. Vibrant green trees littered the background, a swing set and slide evident.

"Oh, you must've only been about 13 when this was taken," she commented, eyes tracing every detail of the photo. Feeling John move closer to study it himself, she nodded. "Yeah, this was taken right before you came to live with us."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks but kept quiet to listen to the conversation. They both remembered that particular time.

"So, who is she?"

John was the one to answer this time. "That's your mom, Jennifer. Or Jen, as she went by."

"My mom?" Kelsey parroted, remaining standing despite Mary's invitation to come join them on the couch. "What about my dad?"

Mary and John exchanged looks, silently discussing the best way to go about telling this story before Mary took another long look at the photo. Handing the frame back, she pursed her lips, but was gentle when she spoke, quiet as if speaking too loud or harsh would upset the girl.

"Your dad, Rob, left when you were just a kid. Probably about nine or ten. You haven't seen him in years." She explained gently. Every part of her hated this conversation already, and they weren't even in the thick of it. "Your mom lives in Malibu."

The information, as simple and short as it had been, hit Kelsey and she felt very confused and hurt. None of it made sense. "Why does she live in Malibu, and I live here with you?"

John didn't answer, instead choosing to focus on his sons with a look that made it clear the order was not up for discussion. "Guys, out."

The two looked like they wanted to argue that order, but ultimately sighed in defeat. Standing up, they brushed past the girl on their way out, both clapping Kelsey on the shoulder in encouragement. John waited until the thundering of his sons steps had quieted, indicating they had gone upstairs, to speak.

"Your mom was sick." He answered bluntly, ignoring Mary's look that suggested there may have been an easier way to put it. "When your dad walked out, your mom started drinking. Just a glass of wine here and there, but that one or two became a bottle and spun out of control. Your mom stopped being able to take care of you."

"We were close friends with your mom," Mary added, keeping her blue gaze on the redhead. "When she needed help, we got her in to a treatment facility in Malibu, and took custody of you. Tried to keep your life as normal as possible." She shrugged lightly. "You've been with us ever since."

Kelsey blinked rapidly, finally moving over to the arm chair before sinking into it, needing to sit for a minute. "I don't..." She scrubbed a hand down her face, taking a deep breath. "Do I talk to her? Or, or, see her?"

"You and her call once in a while, and send letters every now and then, but in the last couple years or so?" John shook his head. "You haven't had much contact."

"Why not?"

"No idea." He admitted. "It just kind of stopped. You stopped taking calls, she stopped sending letters. And you wouldn't talk about it."

There was a long pregnant moment of silence, as the information hit her again. Kelsey's eyes were unfocused, as she thought over all of this. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but was so emotionally drained from the last couple of weeks, she didn't know which ones to ask. Finally, without looking at either of the adults, she settled on an important one. "Why did you take me in?"

"Like we said," Mary answered, soothingly repeated again. The forgetfulness hadn't been as bad as she had thought, but she still found herself having to repeat things every once in a while, even if she had said it only a couple minutes before. "We were friends with your mom. You were in the same grade as Dean, and you trusted us. Figured if we could keep your life as normal as possible, meaning we keep you in the same school and city with people you already know, then maybe living without your mom constantly would be a bit easier on you."

A slow, heavy nod, Kelsey keeping her attention on the photo in her hand. She blinked heavily, and felt a strong urge to cry again. What was with her emotions? Was she always so emotional? She blinked heavily, tiredly.

It was at that point John gestured to the stairs with his hand. "Maybe you should go to bed. It's a lot to take in, and you might feel better in the morning."

"Okay," she agreed before standing up and moving to the staircase. At the last minute, she turned on her heel and headed back to the couple who remained there. Bending over, she gave each of them a hug, not only feeling the strongest urge to do (not one unlike the urge she felt with Dean the previous night), but thankful for their generosity too.

"Thank you," she whispered, tightly hugging both John and Mary in turn. Finally letting go, she blotted her lips. "For everything. Goodnight."

With a wave, and then shoving her hands into her pockets, Kelsey paused briefly to catch her own "Goodnights" from the couple before heading upstairs. Without bothering to change, or do her teeth (promising herself she'd do a better job in the morning), she wandered into her own bedroom that she was becoming increasingly familiar with, and yanked down the sheets before sliding on in. Pulling them back up to her chest, Kelsey curled up and sighed deeply before letting herself fall into a deep sleep.

A/N: Hope that was good fluff for you! Please review!