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"It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace."
― Chuck Palahniuk,

Warning this chapter may include,



Read at your own risk

There is a saying by James Dobson, "a good father will leave his imprint on his daughter for the rest of her life." Dean had to disagree, his father was not good, it took years for him to accept that. His father was a drunk, an abuser, a man who took everything from him. He was plenty imprinted. His father's touch corrupted every part of him. It veiled the beauty of his love for Castiel in hate, twisted his protection for Sammy into obsession, and it destroyed the love he held for his daughter. Broke every portion of want to be a good father, it dismantled the peace he had the first time he looked into her eyes. Corrupted the innocent humor he found within her.

He devastated them.

It had not taken long for Dean to spur himself into action. He never moved as fast toward his car, never. Not through the panic of Sammy, losing Cas, anything. He'd never felt fear like this, it gripped his entire body, squeezing any form oxygen from his lungs and turning into ice. Any form of warmth he felt was gone and replaced with frosting, death gripping fear. A call to the angel didn't work, because of course, when it was Belle on the line, the being was nowhere to be found.

What is it the poets say about history?

The speed in which he pushed Baby should have been impossible, the smell of burnt rubber spreading in the car from the skidding and peeling of his tired were overwhelming. Sam... Sam didn't say anything when the car skidded to a halt, so forcefully the tailed swung under the momentum, if it were any other day, the man would have poked fun at his brother for fishtailing.

But it was today.

So, he said nothing about his knuckled white grip, or the way his teeth dug so far into his cheek blood spilled out along chapped lips. He spoke nothing of the silence in the car from a radio which he couldn't remember the last time had been silent.

Sam didn't say a word.

Didn't utter a syllable when they flung themselves from a barely halted car, not a sound when they broke down the door, and he most definitely stayed perfectly silent when the wounded cry of a father broke from him as they spotted a golden ring perfectly placed on the stack of photos Belle had been looking at fifteen minutes prior.

He got out his phone, typed in the contact and rang, and then, and only then did he speak. "Bobby?" His voice broke as he called out in the empty house, the form of Dean startling him as he pounded his fists on the table. "Bobby we need your help."


When the team arrived in Washington State, there was an air of urgency, it was an immediate reaction of orders, JJ and Prentice were to go to the police station, drop off Lis and get information then report to the most recent scene, Reid and Morgan were headed to the first crime scene, see if they could find what the Winchester were looking for whilst Hotch and Rossi headed to the second scene to compare.

The ride over was quiet, Morgan mused, it was as if Spencer was too afraid to speak, he probably was. "I'm not mad at you kid..." Derek spoke, the lights flashing on the SUV as he sped through the streets, "Okay," he relented at the look shot at him, "I am, but... it's more hurt... why didn't you tell me?"

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