Rights to everything belong to the CW and Eric Kripke.

Grief.

The only way to describe it, is to just say nothing at all. If you try to explain to someone exactly what grief feels like, or what it really is, then all you're doing is turning a saturated emotion into a bunch of empty words. People will never understand what you mean if they have never experienced the crushing weight of sorrow upon their own hearts. They may nod and look solemn, they may even care – but they will never understand.

Sam does.

Nina stared at nothing in particular out of the open car window, watching as a rush of sparkling rainbow colours streaked past her in a never-ending blur. The moderate breeze teased the ruffles of her auburn curls, and the sun upon her face was gentle and pleasant.

To anyone who looked in on them as they idled by, they appeared to be a young couple on a family outing. A handsome man and his girlfriend or even wife, on their way to someplace Better, with their bouncing baby boy cuddled up on the backseat. There are those that may have gone as far as to say that the two people in the front seats were Happy.

"You know, I still can't believe it."

Sam's voice held a smile as he peered down at her briefly. The wind had caressed his fringe in such a way that it sort of stood upright, providing Nina with a comical view of his forehead. What could almost have been a laugh escaped from her mouth, and she reached out to pat his hair back down again. He tensed beneath her touch, but only for a second and then he relaxed, though Nina had to remind herself to stop touching him without warning. It just felt so natural.

"Can't believe what?"

"Well you, and Michael. It's so weird to know that all this time when we thought we were alone..." He trailed off and turned his gaze back to the road ahead.

"So you can believe in - in demons and ghosts and evil things but you can't believe you have cousins?" Nina teased, laughing again. It felt weird in her throat – not a bad weird mind you, but it had been so long since she'd had a reason to laugh at anything at all.

Sam smirked and shrugged behind the wheel. Michael gurgled in the back seat and Nina twisted around in hers to smile down at him. Her beautiful baby boy.

"Hello Mikey." She cooed softly, caressing his rosy cheek tenderly with one finger – a finger which he immediately grabbed with his chubby fists and stuffed straight into his gummy mouth.

"Don't worry, we won't let anything happen to him."

Nina turned back around in her seat and frowned, wiping her soggy finger onto her jeans. "Don't put that on yourself Sam, he's not your responsibility he's mine. If anything happens to him – god forbid – it's on me. I've come to you for help but it's okay if you can't… we'll be okay."

Sam drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel, his eyes narrowed in thought. "You sound a lot like Dean right about now."

If Nina had been an animal her ears would have twitched; this was the first time Sam had mentioned Dean since he'd come up in their initial conversation back at the motel.

"What'd you mean?"

He sighed and glanced down at her. "I'm okay, we're okay, everything's fine Sammy. That's all he ever says these days, whenever I bring up Dad…He acts like nothing happened."

Nina twiddled her thumbs and decided to tread carefully, as there was an edge to Sam's voice that mixed exasperation with a hint of anger. She could tell frustration was building up inside of him, and knew now where the hard edges of his eyes had come from.

"Well, people deal with things in different ways - "

"But it's like he's not dealing with anything. I want him to get angry or to cry or to scream, I want him to do something other than work on his goddamn car all day long!"

His knuckles had turned white and his indignant voice had risen to just below a yell. Silence descended upon the car, even Michael stopped gurgling in his car seat.

Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be...I guess it's kind of normal to want the people around you to reflect how you feel inside. You're hurting because you lost someone you love, and you start to wonder why no one else is hurting too..."

She wanted to tell him that when her mom died, she'd refused to get out of bed for two weeks straight. She'd turned off the lights, pulled down the blinds, and had curled up beneath her duvet in the dark. She didn't want to see people on the street acting as though life hadn't just come to a violent Halt. She wanted them to cry when she cried, and to hurt they way her heart did. In the dark she wouldn't have to listen to the sound of laughter, or to watch as people continued with their lives as though Cassandra May hadn't just disappeared from the world, like the light of a candle snuffed out by the wind.

Freddie had been her foundation, her light beneath the dark of the covers, and he had held her in his arms until she'd cried herself dry.

And when Freddie died…

"At least he hasn't run." She spoke quietly and stared out at the fields beyond the open window, but she could feel Sam's gaze upon her. She turned back to him, her eyes glistening with the darkest sorrow he had ever seen.

"That's what I did, when Freddie died. I ran away."

"Would you have run if it weren't for the whole supernatural thing?"

"Honestly? I think I would have run further."

They sat in the silence for the rest of the journey.

And if someone really wants to know what grief is, then tell them that Grief is a place you run to.

Grief is a place where you hide.

"I need to go!"

"Yeah whatever kid, my shift ends in three, two, one oh dear- I guess you'll have to wiz in the bedpan, or wait 2 hours for the night nurses to come and wheel you to the loo."

Nina scowled up at the greasy-faced nurse who towered above her hospital bed, and who was chewing exaggeratedly on the same gum she'd had in her mouth for the past four hours. The nurse bent down and stood up again slowly, due to the large bulge of fat hanging around her abdomen, and chucked the bed pan unceremoniously at the foot of the bed, before smiling grimly and walking away.

Nina would have to hold it. She laid back against the itchy sheets, which smelt faintly of blood, and closed her eyes.

"What a bitch."

Nina's eyes flew back open at the sound of a man's voice, and turned towards its source. She blushed as she realised it wasn't a grown man, but a teenage boy around the same age as her. He was grinning crookedly at her from his bed on the opposite side of the room, a bandage wrapped around his head like a crown, and his arm stuck in a yellowing white cast.

"I know right?"

Nina blushed again, and the boys' hazel eyes twinkled at her cheekily. "Tell you what, if you really need to pee that bad, I can wheel you to the loo."

Nina shook her head in embarrassment. "No! No really it's fine –

"Don't be silly it's only down the hall."

Before she could stop him he'd swung his legs over the side of his bed, and she laughed as he made a song and dance of pulling down his hospital robe. He was quite tall, just under 6 foot maybe, and beautiful.

Yes, he was definitely beautiful.

Nina wriggled upright from beneath the sheets and threw them to one side, revealing the cast covering her right leg.

"Jeez, what happened to you?" He'd crossed the room in a matter of seconds and was peering down at her with a cocked eyebrow, the way a small child might examine a shiny new toy that he doesn't know how to use.

Nina smirked. "Hey I could say the same to you! You look like you got into a fight with a pitbull and lost, miserably – are you sure you're even allowed to be out of bed?"

The boy faked offense and covered his heart with his hand. "I'll have you know it was a fight with two dogs not one, Hounds in fact."

Nina rolled her eyes in mock scorn. "Sure."

He grinned again and held out his hand. "Pretty girl with a quick tongue, might I ask your name?"

She placed her hand in his, and felt a tingle in her fingertips. "Nina Mary Winchester."

The boys' eyes widened briefly.

"Well, Miss Winchester - my name is Freddie – Freddie May, and it would be an honour to escort you to the lavatory."

She sometimes thinks she fell in love with him right there and then.

Nina May nuzzled her sleeping child against her chest, feeling his warm breath at the base of her neck. Her stomach churned wildly as she stared up at Bobby Singer's modest home, and the desert sun seemed to beat down upon her like a hammer. She was nervous, like really nervous – although she couldn't pinpoint exactly why. If these men were like Sam then she had nothing to worry about…

"You alright?"

Sam stood beside her, holding her two measly bags of belongings in one hand, and his own duffel bag in the other.

"Bobby…he sounded kind of, well mean on the phone."

Sam laughed loudly, and she managed a small embarrassed smile. Michael stirred against her, lifting his head slightly before falling back down into his slumber. That boy could sleep through an earthquake.

"He can be a bit gruff and straight forward, but really he's just a big cuddly bear." He smiled at his own private joke and began to make his way up the steps to the front door; she followed him tentatively, passing through the door as he held it open for her. The place smelt faintly of whiskey and Man, but was pleasant enough on the inside.

"Bobby?" Sam called out from behind her, and nudged her forwards gently, directing her into what she assumed was the living room. He dropped their bags on the floor and called out again.

"Sam is that you? Well it's about darn time." Came a deep southern drawl in response, shortly followed by the appearance of a scruffy man in his early 50's, wearing a red baseball cap and sporting a beard that Nina instantly wanted to reach out and stroke. He didn't look like the sort of man who would have let her stroke his beard however, and he eyed her up suspiciously as she stood in the centre of the room. She held onto Michael a little tighter.

She heard Sam respond and then excuse himself, but didn't pay much attention. She realised she had let her guard come down around the young and friendly Sam Winchester, becoming too comfortable, even though she had only known him a couple of days. She had to remind herself, as she restored the walls around her heart, that she could trust no one. Hadn't those been her mom's dying words to her? To trust no one?

Except the Winchesters…

Bobby looked taken aback, and she realised she'd been glaring at him. He held up is hands, shaking his head in amusement. "Whoa there sweetheart - no need to look all defensive and menacing! I'm Bobby Singer, and you must be…"

"Nina May."

"That's right, the girl who called up outta the blue soundin all scared and mysterious." He looked at her thoughtfully before extending his hand to her. She shook it, feeling her stomach un-knot slightly. She let out the air she hadn't realised she'd been holding in, and felt a wave of relief crash over her.

"Thank you, for not hanging up when I called, and for sending Sam - you must have thought I was crazy!" She gushed before she could stop herself.

He bowed the tip of his cap awkwardly, his eyes twinkling. "Ain't no such thing."

The sound of voices approaching the doorway caught both of their attention, and they turned just as Sam re-entered the room accompanied by another man. He was shorter than Sam, and had darker, shorter hair, but the same bright eyes gazed upon her, although Sam's didn't cut through her quite as sharply as these did. He appeared hot and sticky, and his grey t-shirt clung to his skin. He held a spanner in his hand, and a reproachful look upon his face.

Nina suddenly felt very out of place in this house of men.

"Dean, this is Nina. She's our –

"Have you tested her?" Dean's voice was gruff and surly as he frowned at Nina, evidently trying to size her up.

Nina took an involuntary step back, as though he had made a move to hit her instead of just speaking out loud. Sam huffed by his brother's side and sent an apologetic look Nina's way.

"No, Dean, but if you'd just listen –"

"Sammy have you learnt nothing? Trust no one. She could be a demon pretending to be our cousin, or even a shapeshifter – and how convenient is it that a distant family member we've never heard about before turns up out of the blue a week after Dad dies!"

"Dean!" Growled Bobby darkly. "We have a lady in the house; treat her with some courtesy."

"No, no it's alright." Nina laughed nervously and all heads turned her way. She gulped. "I mean, I didn't even know demons existed until yesterday and I don't know how you'd test for one but you can test me, if that will make you feel better? I don't expect you to just take my word for it…I've learnt a thing or two about trust over the last couple of weeks."

There was a pause, and then Dean nodded and pointed towards her with his spanner, just as Sam rolled his eyes. "See?"

"You don't get to touch my son though." Nina added, somewhat darkly, and in her best motherly 'no-nonsense' tone. She slowly placed Michael down upon the worn out sofa and used her summer jacket as his blanket. She then made a show of standing directly in front of him with her arms folded sternly, daring Dean to contradict her.

"Seems fair enough." Sam's tone was forcefully light as his eyes flickered between Nina and his brother. "And then Nina can tell you guys everything she's told me about what's happened to the other side of our family."

Well, Nina thought.

Almost everything.

"I now pronounce you man and wife! You may kiss your bride."

Freddie beamed down at her, his whole face seeming to glow. He grinned and turned to the Reverend.

"May I?"

Reverend Matthews smiled and bowed his head. "You May."

Nina laughed, her heart blossoming like a rosebud in her chest. "How dare you make such a pun at my wedding!" She scoffed playfully, and the congregation cheered and chuckled in response.

Freddie winked, his hazel eyes shining like stars as he pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers.

"I love you." He murmured against her lips. He pulled away but held on to her hands, caressing the ring around her finger.

"I love you!" She smiled brilliantly back at him, her hopes and dreams soaring skyhigh in anticipation of her new life with the man she loved. He winked at her again and turned to face the crowd of close family and friends. He raised her arm up in the air, like she'd just won a boxing matched, and yelled at the crowd –

"I LOVE HER!"

Everybody rose, stamping their feet and smashing their hands together in an almighty applause.

Nina's new husband impulsively picked her up in his arms as though she were light as a feather. Her dress flowed over him like milk and honey, the sun causing it to sparkle as though it were on fire.

She held onto him as though she could never bear to let go, and knew that she'd never felt more alive.

A thoughtful quiet had settled over Bobby's living room. Bobby sat behind his desk, a dark frown stricken upon his face as he stared out of the window across his beloved scrapyard. Sam was leant against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he studied the wooden floorboards beneath his feet.

Nina sat by her sleeping son, calmly stroking his hair with the back of her hand, and biting onto her tongue to stop the tears from falling. He looked so peaceful, so calm amidst all this talk of death and devastation. Her poor broken heart wanted to rip itself out and cover him in kisses, to protect him from all of the dark matter that was floating around his future.

She'd told them everything. Her mother's last words, the fires that had claimed first her father then her mother – even the manner in which Freddie had died. But she'd kept something back about her late husband, holding onto a secret so bizarre that she often wondered if she'd dreamt it all up…

Someone cleared their throat; Nina looked up and realised Dean was staring down at her, his expression unreadable.

"So what you've told us is that not only did the yellow eyed demon kill our mom, but he also murdered our Grandparents, our Uncle and Aunt, and our Dad?"

It didn't escape her notice that he had missed out her husband's name. She broke away from Dean's piercing gaze and looked down at her hands instead. She'd chewed her nails right down to the skin, a habit she'd never had before, well before…

The thing that killed Freddie didn't have yellow eyes.

"Yeah, yes I guess that's what I'm saying." Nina sniffed.

She didn't know what to make of Dean. She'd passed his tests, had drunk his Holy water and given him her arm to bleed, and yet she could feel a sort of vibe coming from him that was stained with distrust.

"Well great. This doesn't really help us in any way –

"It's something Dean, at least it's something." Sam snapped, exasperation in his voice. "It's a lead, we know where he's been, we can visit the house and try and find a clue that could help us!"

"Oh and what do you expect to do when – if – you find it? Ask it to stop killing people? The colt is gone and dad is dead. We got nothing. We can't even make heads or tails of Dad's research."

Dean took a swig of his beer with shaking hands.

"We got nothing." He repeated quietly to himself, before leaving the room and heading outside, spanner clenched in his tightened fist.

Nina breathed in deeply, feeling her lungs shake beneath her bones. With trembling fingertips she tucked a curl behind her ear and rose slowly to her feet. She frowned and stumbled over what to say – these men, her family, had been her only hope.

"Sorry to have wasted your time, we'll be on our way if that's alright – I need to put as much space between me and home as I can." Was what she meant to say, in a bold and certain voice.

Instead what came out was a very small and frightened "How am I supposed to do this on my own?"

She glanced up at Sam through glistening eyes, heart pounding against her ribcage as panic rose to wild heights in her chest. His expression was pained as he approached her, and as the first tear fell from her face, he encased her in his strong arms, bewildering her.

"You're not on your own." He soothed, clasping her head against his chest.

She tensed and then relaxed against him, closing her eyes and letting go of everything for the first time since the night after Freddie's death. Since then she'd had to be so strong, so unbreakable, andi t was as if every wall she had built since the first crack had appeared in her heart all those weeks ago, had tumbled to the ground around her. All of the desperation and devastation in her weak little soul began to pour out of her in shuddering gasps, racking her entire body in painful spasms of hysterical sorrow.

"How am I supposed to do this!" She cried against him, her knees and lungs failing her as she became limp, breathing in short gasps that weren't delivering enough oxygen to her system. She heard Bobby barking something in the distance, and Sam's response was muffled as she struggled to breathe. She began to fight him, pounding her fists against his chest in an effort to get away, in an effort to breathe.

"I can't – I can't –"

The last thing she heard before she blacked out, was Michael starting to cry.

"Oh god mom I'm so sorry! Here let me – "

Cassandra chuckled and shooed her daughter out of the way. "Shh shh don't you worry about such a little thing as a broken vase – "

"Oh but I know it was a wedding gift from Dad – it's your favourite!" Nina fretted, bending down next to her mother and reaching for a jagged piece of clay.

"No don't!" Her mother reached out to stop her but it was too late.

"Ouch!" Nina cried out, staring down blankly at the jagged cut in her finger, before glancing up sheepishly at her mom, who had one eyebrow cocked in exasperation.

Cassie held out her hand and Nina placed hers gently upon it. "Now this," Said Cassie, indicating Nina's cut, "is what happens when you try to fix something that should stay broken. You get hurt."

"It's only a small cut…" Nina faltered and let her sentence trail away. Cassie had a glint in her eye that Nina couldn't fully read, though it registered somewhere between sorrow and thoughtfulness. She caught her daughter staring up at her, and smiled, though the glint stayed stuck in the centre of her pupil.

"Some things, my love, are made to be broken. Sometimes good things rise from the pieces – for example take you and Freddie. If you'd hadn't broken your leg during gymnastics training, then you never would have met the love of your life!"

Cassie let go of Nina's finger, and rose creakily to her feet. "Though sometimes bad things come from the broken pieces, but only if you try to pick them up."

Nina stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking at the iron in her blood. Her mom helped her to her feet and smoothed a loose curl out of her face.

"The crazy moral of that story, Nina, is try not to break your mother's favourite vase! But also that if you accidentily do, you should leave the remnants of what used to be a vase, upon the floor."

The next time Nina visited her mother's house, all the broken clay had been swept away.

Nina toyed with the gold band around her finger and considered – not for the first time – taking it off.

"Too soon." She whispered to the dark.

She'd woken up around two hours after passing out in Sam's arms, covered by thick sheets in a bed smelling strongly of cologne. She'd panicked when she realised Michael wasn't beside her and had nearly become hysterical again, checking every room on the top floor of Bobby's house before racing downstairs, only to be greeted by the sight of Bobby feeding Michael a bowl of mashed potato in the kitchen.

He'd looked up sheepishly, bits of mashed potato in his beard, and tilted his baseball cap at her. "Not gonna start screaming again are ya?" He'd drawled, the corners of his lips twitching as he fought a smile.

She let out a long breath of air before shaking her head. "No sir."

He'd nodded matter-of-factly, holding out the bowl of for her to take. Michael had laughed and clapped his hands when he'd realised she was nearby, gurgling sweetly through a mouthful of food and reaching his chubby little arms up towards her.

Sam and Dean were gone for the rest of the day.

Nina glanced at her watch and sighed at the time. It was 2am and she couldn't sleep; her mind was racing through everything that had happened since Sam had appeared on her doorstep. It had all happened so fast, and even though they'd believed her story, she was beginning to wonder if she did anymore. It was so surreal, so unreal …

'A fire', they'd said, 'you're mother died in a fire – she wasn't torn to pieces by some Thing. She choked to death.'

'A tremor,' they'd said, 'Freddie died during an earthquake tremor – they weren't uncommon.'

'It's just your way of dealing with these two losses, so unfortunately close together' – that's what they'd fed her. 'Maybe you should take a break, take a holiday, let us look after Michael so you can look after yourself.'

That's when she'd decided to run.

She sat slowly upright in bed, and kissed the top of Michael's head before throwing off the covers and treading carefully across the carpet to the door. She needed some fresh air, or a glass of water, or something.

The stairs creaked and groaned beneath her feet, the noises seeming louder than ever in the stillness of the night. At the bottom of the stairs she caught sight of the front door, and a frightening thought crossed her frantic mind.

What if I just up and left?

She hated herself for thinking it, for even considering abandoning her son and her new family.

And yet…

"Not thinking of doing a runner are we?"

Nina jumped in fright, her pulse quickening as a dark voice cut across her thoughts. She turned towards the source of her panic, suddenly very aware that she was only wearing a tight t-shirt and a pair of short shorts.

Dean stood in the doorway of the kitchen, an absent gleam in his eyes as he held her in his gaze. In his hands he held two glasses containing an auburn liquid. Nina knew there was no point trying to explain herself, she'd been caught staring longingly at 'the way out', so to speak. She crossed her arms over her chest and held his stare defiantly.

"Would you blame me?"

Dean's expression was unreadable as he extended a glass towards her.

"Yes." His voice was gruff, but strangely void of emotion.

A lump began to form in her throat – but she had no intention of crying. If anything it was anger that remained caught in her oesophagus , as she reached out and accepted the glass from her cousin. She lowered her eyes and spoke quietly.

"Then you know nothing of love."

A mournful smile playied upon Dean's lips as he turned his back on her.

"Perhaps." He whispered softly.

He left her standing in the hallway alone. She stared after him, the glass of bourbon shaking in her grasp. The anger that had recently occupied her veins was replaced with something sadder, and after standing in the dark for what seemed like eternity, she followed him into the kitchen.

He was sitting at the table, his head held in one hand and his empty glass held in the other. She sat down opposite him, carefully lowering herself into the chair and taking a sip of whiskey. It burned its way down into her chest and sat upon her heart. She pushed her glass back towards him.

He raised his head tentatively and stared down at it, as though clueless as to what he was supposed to do with it.

"I'm sorry." His voice was low and hoarse as he glanced up at her, his expression tortured. "I'm sorry about what I said to you earlier, I was just…"

His lost word dangled between them like a thread of silk, bending in the breeze. He licked his lips and lowered his gaze again, circling the rim of his empty glass with his fingertips.

Nina sighed. "I know I'm not really family; I don't expect to be able to walk into your lives and start acting like, like I'm the best discovery you've ever made. I know this is probably a bit much – having to accept a strange woman and her baby into your life, when you've just lost someone so close to you. I get that."

The corners of Dean's eyes creased as he grimaced weakly up at her. His eyes were dark pools of despair, and Nina knew she was seeing a side to him that Sam would never be able to, and that maybe she would never see again.

"What is this? Therapy and Healing with the Winchesters?"

His joke was hollow, and Nina couldn't even force a smile.

"I could do with a bit of healing."

Her heart sat like a stone in her chest, crushing her insides. She looked down at her hands and fingered the ring on her wedding finger.

"God I miss him."

She'd let the words escape without even realising it, as was often the case these days. It seemed sometimes like she'd lost all sense of control.

"Yeah." Dean nodded slightly, before taking a sip from the glass Nina had pushed towards him. He then half laughed and half sighed as he raised his eyes to the ceiling, as though the ghost of his father was up there somewhere. "Yeah I miss him sometimes more than I can bear."

Nina watched him intently. "Do you think it gets better?"

He looked back down at her, confused. "Better?"

"Easier."

This time Dean really did laugh, before downing the rest of the bourbon and licking his lips, his eyes shining in the dim light.

"No, cousin, I don't think it does. I think it gets worse and then you die."

He started at nothing in particular for a while, as though contemplating the ominous meaning of his own words, before slowly - and shakily – rising to his feet.

"Anyway. Enough. Goodnight Nina. I hope... I hope you decide not to run from us."

"Goodnight Dean, me too."

And suddenly she knew she really meant that.

He paused by the doorway and turned his head back towards her. "None of this - none of our conversation - ever ever gets relayed to my emotional little brother, got it? He's the bleeding heart of Ghandi and I can't stand it, though I guess it's what makes him so Good - in every sense of the word."

Nina smiled through her tears.

"Goodnight Dean."

"Goodnight Nina."

She watched him leave, listening to his muffled footsteps going up the staircase. She finally slipped her wedding ring off of her finger, and read the inscription inside the curved rim.

She'd asked him once, why he'd chosen to engrave their wedding rings in Latin. He'd replied that Latin was one of the oldest and most beautiful languages that had ever existed, and that he wished their time together could last as long as the Latin language did.

"So go on then, tell me what it means." She'd gazed up at him impatiently, and he'd kissed her first before whispering its translation in her ear.

"Si te angelus meus eris sim -

'I'll be your angel if you'll be mine'."