The Final Hour (Winchester Sister 3)

I Have Sinned

Trigger Warning: there's one scene where she tells a guy to not threaten rape because of his actions towards her

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Sioux Falls, South Dakota
305 Days - July 3, 2007

"Then you use that thing to press it into the mold. Yeah, then you put in here and leave it to cool and set."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, setting the mold into the plastic rack and starting to fill another shell.

Dean stayed silent for a few seconds, considering his choice of words. "Because one day, I'm not gonna be here to show you how to melt a bullet."

"There anything else you want to show me in 305 days?"

"Didn't I tell you to stop counting?"

"Yeah, sorry. It's just difficult."

"Just don't think about it," he whispered furiously.

"Sure, I'll just forget my brother is going to Hell like we're forgetting that Dad died."

Dean pushed his chair away and walked to join Uncle Bobby in his library. The old man was attempting to put together the Colt again from nothing but ancient papers.

"Dean!" I called out after him but he ignored me.

I'm starting to realise now that I don't think before I say things that hit home for my brothers. After our bad three days in Black Rock, we haven't really talked much. I think we were all pretty shaken up after finding out that Gordon sent those dudes for me. The guy's in jail and he's still trying to find ways to kill me. I wonder if he's found out about Sam yet. He's going to have a field day when he does.

Dean wouldn't acknowledge my presence when I needed his help with this whole bullet thing so I walked over with the rack in hand. "What do you do when the shell breaks?"

He looked at the broken shell and poked around the thingy. "The silver is still a little hot," he explained. "You should be able to push it back in towards the middle of the break. File off the stuff that leaked out to smooth before you do that though."

I stared at him for a minute before saying thank you.

Dean looked a little taken back before nodding. "Come back if you need me."

I agreed and sat in the middle of the library with a file. We looked up briefly as Sam entered the room with his hands in his pockets. "Hey," he greeted.

"What's up?" Dean asked.

"Might've found some omens in Pennsylvania. Dry lightning, barometric-pressure drop."

"Weather men for monsters?" I questioned, scraping my finger with the file.

"Maybe. But one guy blew his head off in a church and another goes postal in a hobby shop before the cops took him out. Might be demonic omens."

"Or just a suicide and a psycho scrapbooker," Dean said.

"Yeah, but it's our best lead since Lincoln."

"Where in Penn?"

"Elizabethville. It's a half-dead factory town in the dust belt."

"There's got to be a demon or two in South Beach," he groaned.

I stood from my place and put the ready bullets into a linen bag.

"Sorry, Hef. Maybe next time," Sam teased. "How's it going, Bobby?"

Uncle Bobby slammed his tool on the table, "slow."

"Eh," Dean groaned. "I tell you, it's a little sad seeing the Colt like that."