Chapter 31: The Blood On His Hands

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November 2014

"Give me a shot of... Um..." Cass began his order with the brunette waitress who stood before you at the small table.

Dean turned over his shoulder to see her better. "Four whiskeys."

The four of you now sat at a nearby bar, having watched Claire leave moments earlier. Cass had insisted on going after her, the second Dean had pulled you back. But as much as you hated to admit it, Dean had been right about doing so. The girl needed space and together you and the Winchesters had convinced Cass to give her a small amount of time before going after her again.

"Cass, don't beat yourself up man... Claire was..." Sam, ever the more emotionally equiped brother was trying to console the angel.

Cass finished Sam's sentence before he could continue though. "Right. She was right. Who am I to tell her how to live her life?"

"Well, somebody needs to... It's not like we're talking about Mother Teresa here. The girl just about knocked over a Gas n' Sip. She's got issues." Dean commented.

Which elicited a small sigh of frustration from you. "Anyone would have them after what she's been through..."

Sure, Claire had issues, but the three men seemed to be missing the point. Yes, she had tried to rob a connivence store. Yes, she was delusional about Randy, her supposed father figure. But most importantly, she was a seventeen year old girl, and no one had been there to guide her.

"Because of me." You didn't want to confirm or deny Cass with a response, so you stayed quiet, deep in thought. Your mind wondering back to your own sister, hoping she was okay.

"Well, you are wearing her old man's meat suit. Probably didn't help." Fucking hell Dean, your comment wasn't helping. You were relieved to see Sam shaking his head at him.

The conversation turned to Cass asking Sam and Dean about their father. The brothers then told you both about the time Dean had gotten drunk in New York. Very, very drunk in New York. Which had resulted in Dean, back then a teen himself, stereotypically telling his dad how much he hated him.

In a deep voice, Sam added to the end of the story, an impersonation of their dad. "It's not my job to be liked. It's my job to raise you right."

Neither Dean or Sam, had spoken much about their parents in the past. At least not to you. And you were fascinated to hear about their youth and how different you had been raised when compared to them.

"What about you Glowworm?" All three men turned to you when Sam asked you the question.

"Hmm? Me?" You weren't expecting things to turn on you.

Dean was sitting on your right and he turned in his chair to face you expectantly. "You had your mom and dad right? What was that like?"

"Ummm. Normal, I guess." But that didn't seem to satisfy Dean or the others. "I didn't go to a bar when I was underage for a... No, wait technically I did. Mum and Dad were there though, somewhere..."

The three of them looked at you bewildered. "You, your parents took you to a bar, when you were underage? How old were you?" Sam asked the question but Dean and Cass nodded, curious.

"Firstly, it was a pub, with a bar. They're like restaurants, so families go there to eat too. My dad used to play in bands when I was growing up. It was his hobby. Bass and lead guitar." Dean seemed interested in the instruments. "And most years they were booked on New Years Eve and the whole family went. I remember falling asleep under the table when I was about five or so, even with the music playing." You laughed at that memory. How you'd managed to sleep through that seemed impossible now.

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