Sam looked at his brother. "Now what was that all about?" Dean pulled a sturgeonface. "Beats me. Sugar low maybe? You know how he devours all kinds of candy and sweets. Haven't seen him eat at all since he got here. Not even his usual sucker." Sam scratched his ear. "Could be... Oh well." he sighed and say back down. "More time for research." Dean shook his head at him. "And how's that coming?" he asked, teasing. "Amazingly slow. For some reason, the internet has next to nothing on it. So I'm back to oldfashioned handwork. I'm glad the Men of Letters kept such an extensive library. I found three promising books within an hour."

"Men of what?" I asked. Dean sat down next to me. "Men of Letters. It was a secret society, founded to gather any and all info on the supernatural. Our granddad, Henry, was part of it, before it got disbanded in the fifties. This used to be their headquarters." I looked around again. "Wow, really? No wonder it's so big and well equipped, even if a bit oldfashioned sometimes. Why did they stop?" Dean looked at his fingers. "They didn't. A demon, actually a Knight of Hell, one of the strongest demons ever, slaughtered them all. Except for Henry, who got away with the key to the bunker by using magic. He got transported to this time, more specifically our motelroom. The demon, Abbadon, followed him here. With his help, we stopped her from getting the key, but he got killed." I looked at his sad face. He actually blamed himself, yet again. "Dean, he knew the risk he was taking. He knew he never got home, because we told him that Dad had grown up without him." Sam said. "I know, Sam. But still... I liked the guy. He had Dad's spunk and determination."

I looked over at Sam and saw that he was having difficulties too. My heart ached for them. They had loved and lost so often... And now I learned within a day, that they had lost the closet thing to a father they ever had, and their grandfather too. How many more didn't I know about? My chest felt constricted, as if I was going to cry. Yet I didn't feel really sad. Yes, I felt sorry for Sam and Dean, but not so sorry that I had to cry. "Guys..." I choked. They looked up simultaniously. "... I'm so sorry." Somehow, my eyes started leaking tears, but it was like they weren't mine. Like I was looking at myself from a distance, knowing I was ok, but still the tears came. "Heyheyhey... Gwen, come on, hon. We're ok, really." I heard Dean say, and Sam grabbed me a tissuebox. "Here. What's wrong, Gwen? It's sad, but it shouldn't concern you this much."

I couldn't speak. All kinds of emotions washed over me like waves and all I could do was let them come. I wasn't the one feeling them, I knew that, deep down inside of me. The emotions were very, very deep and some very, very old. A tiny part of me wondered at that, as it regarded everything stoïcly. That part was the tiny bit in me that never melted or bent. Never broke, never succombed to anything. It was my core being and it was telling me: "It's ok. It's not yours. Let it just slide off." I didn't sob, whimper or even make a sound. All that I did, was let the tears stream down my face. It went on for minutes and the Winchesters were looking at me with expressions bordering on panic. They didn't know what was happening, and they didn't know how to handle it. I felt it. And because of that, I suddenly knew where all the emotions came from. They were theirs! All the repressed anger, grief, pain and so on that they had built through the years, it was breaking through the dams they built and I got caught in the flood.

Finally, the tears slowly dried up. I took one last tissue and dried my eyes. "I... I'm sorry guys... I think I need to lie down a bit." They looked so relieved that I'd stopped, that I almost giggled. "Sure thing, hon. You do that. Sam and I will keep you safe, while doing research. Piece of pie." I got up and walked off towards my room. On the edge of hearing I heard Dean whisper to his brother. "What the Hell was that?" And Sam's answer. "I don't know, but I feel exhausted!" I was glad that aspect of crying a river was put back on their plates. I was a bit tired, but not as drained as I should have been. I got to my room, rummaged in my bag for my nightgown and changed. Then I hopped into bed, hoping I could sleep this odd feeling of being detached off.