The Secret of Henley Winchester || Dean's Daughter (Supernatural)

Chapter 10: Regret

          DEAN'S POV

 Dean wobbled, steadying himself on the punching bag. After having knocked back six beers within four hours, it was safe to say he was tipsy, bordering on drunk. Dean let go of the punching bag, stumbling along the hallway, finding himself back in the library. He slumped down into one of the chairs, groaning, as he massaged his temples, with his right hand, an empty beer bottle clutched in his left hand. Dean moaned as Sam's heavy footsteps pounded down the entrance stairs, a cacophony of loud bangs causing him to become more perturbed than he already was. Dean looked up at Sam, annoyance written all over his face. Sam frowned at Dean, dropping the take out on the table.

"So, she told you then," Sam remarked, sitting in the chair across from Dean. The green eyed man grunted in response, eyeing Sam.

"Yeah, she told me. Not before she told you though," Dean quipped, his grip tightening on the glass bottle.

"Dean, I figured it out on my own. I'm sure you were the first person she wanted to tell."

"You should've told me Sam! Three Weeks! It has been three weeks since we met her and she found it so easy to lie straight to my face!" Dean bellowed standing up from his seat, teetering a little. Sam got up, grabbing Dean's arm in an attempt to steady him. He shook him off, glowering at Sam.

Sam sighed, "It was not my secret to tell Dean. Where is Henley by the way?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, in her room. I told her I needed to be alone, and that she needed to leave."

Sam's eyes widened. "You told her to leave! Dean, she's a seventeen year old kid, miles away from her aunt. Where the hell is she supposed to go?"

Dean's voice was gruff when he spoke. "She obviously didn't leave Sam. I just wanted her to leave me alone. Like I said, she probably just went to her room." 

Sam groaned, "I hope your right. But Dean, try to think about how she felt. Henley has only ever had her Aunt, and she was afraid to tell you because she didn't want to get rejected by her father. She grew up without a mom, and she didn't want meet her dad only to find he didn't want her. She grew up without her parents Dean. I mean, I know dad was an ass, and wasn't really father material. But we still had him, and he kept us safe to the best of his ability. We at least got to know him. Now you've told her to leave, she's no doubt crushed."

Dean listened intently, breathing out slowly, taking in everything Sam said to the best of his ability. He rubbed his eyes, guilt washing over him for the way he reacted. He took a step forward, Sam grabbing his arm and leading him back to his room. He let go of Dean, and he fell back on the bed almost instantly falling asleep. Sam shook his head at his older brother. He knew Dean would feel guilty in the morning, but at least there was still time to make amends. Sam closed the door to Dean's room walking over to Henley's, knocking softly. After no response, he knocked again, louder this time. Sam's brows furrowed as he tried the knob, finding the door to be locked. Sam ran a hand over his face. He turned around, leaving the girl to her thoughts, figuring she wanted to be alone.

Dean groaned as he came to. He rubbed his eyes, sitting upright in bed. Once he opened his eyes he instantly wished he hadn't. The bright light blinded him, and he squinted adjusting to the harsh illumination. He definitely had a slight hangover. Then, like a tidal wave everything that happened last night came rushing back to him. Dean groaned, getting up and heading out of his room and into the kitchen. He was in desperate need of a strong cup of black coffee. Dean found Sam sitting at the table, eating a bowl of cheerios. Sam sent him a sympathetic smile, to which Dean groaned.

"Please tell me there's still coffee left," Dean grumbled. Sam nodded, gesturing to the half empty coffee pot on the counter. Dean shuffled over, grabbing a mug and filling it up, letting the steam waft through his nostrils. He took a small sip, the refreshing taste, and caffeine already making him more apt to take on the day, and confronting Henley. God, he was such an ass last night. Sure he had a right to be mad, but he shouldn't of snapped at her the way he did. Dean set his mug down, forcing himself to walk out of the kitchen, and over to Henley's room.

He coughed, rapping his knuckles on her bedroom door. "Henley, we need to talk." he rasped, rocking back and forth on his heels. Dean's brows furrowed as deafening silence answered him. "Henley open up. Please, we need to talk about what happened yesterday. Just open the door." Dean jiggled the knob, grunting in annoyance as he realized it was locked. He banged on the door, hoping that would be enough to annoy the short girl. "Henley if you don't open this door right now, I will break it down!" he shouted, jaw clenched. Dean counted to three in his head, before he began ramming his shoulder against the door. After the third time, the door flew off it's hinges, and Dean's heart dropped, his stomach jumping into his throat. "Sam!" Dean bellowed, storming out of the room and back into the kitchen. Dean looked liked some crazed man as he entered the kitchen. Sam stared at him with eyebrows raised, eyes looking over Dean worriedly.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, getting to his feet, quickly making his way over to Dean.

"Where is Henley, Sam?" Dean's nostrils flared, as his breathing quickened.

"I thought she was in her room..." Sam trailed off, his expression becoming more worried by the second.

"Well, clearly she isn't. Where the HELL is she?" Dean hollered, masking his worry with anger.

"Calm down. I'm sure she's around here somewhere. Let's look around the bunker and I'm sure we'll find her" Sam encouraged, shooting Dean a reassuring smile, as they headed out of the kitchen.

After hours of searching and shouting, Sam and Dean couldn't find any trace of Henley. Sam turned to Dean, putting a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and look at him.

"What?" Dean barked, his patience wearing thin, and his worry increasing.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Do you think after what you told her yesterday that she actually left, Dean. Do you think she ran away?"

Dean shook his head. "No, all her stuff is still in her room, and she wouldn't be as careless as that. She's hurt and she's still a kid. My kid. She's not just going to leave without any of her stuff."

Sam sighed, "That's my point Dean. She's your kid, and if she's anything like you then she can hold a grudge."

Dean glared at Sam, though realizing he had a point, decided it would be best to check the garage for her car. Once confirming that her car was still here, they both went out the front door of the bunker to see if there was any trace of her, and if she decided to hitch hike. They walked up the stairs and out onto the road, sighing in defeat when they didn't see her in the distance or anywhere close by. Dean huffed, turning back around to follow Sam back down into the bunker, when something shiny glinted off the ground, blinding him. He blocked the glare with his hand, slowly making his way over to the small object on the ground. Dean crouched down, his eyes widening as he realized what the object was. He clutched the bracelet in his right hand tightly, eyes darkening as he noticed the blood that covered the ground only a few feet away.

"Sam!" Dean hollered, standing upright, squeezing his eyes tightly, letting out a shaky breath. Sam jogged back up the stairs quickly making his way back over to Dean.

'What is it?" Sam breathed out, his breath catching in his throat as Dean opened his palm, showing him the bracelet. "Shit, it could've been anything. Demons, vampires, angels...

"Men of Letters?" Dean questioned, his voice dangerously low.

"Why would you think..." Sam's voice trailed off, and his eyes widened as his eyes honed in on the blood. Henley had managed to scribble something on the road with her own blood. The letters were wavy and appeared to be written by a five year old, but it was clear that Henley had written out, 'men L' with the 'L' drooping at the end and cutting off abruptly. Dean growled deep within this throat, gritting his teeth. A sour expression had transfigured Dean's face from one of anger to unadulterated loathing. He snarled, standing up abruptly. Facing Sam, he stormed past him and back into the bunker. Sam followed behind, anger radiating off him as well. Sam could just barely catch what Dean was muttering, but he knew just from the tone of his voice that there would be no mercy.

As they made their way to the Impala, Dean opened the trunk, examining the contents inside, Sam standing next to him. They had a lot of land to cover, and so little to go on. Dean ground his teeth, exhaling slowly, peering at the weaponry.

"They picked the wrong family to mess with.  I'll kill every last son of a bitch if I have to, just to get her back safely. The British may have fancy tech, but they're lacking one vital ingredient. Experience." Dean turned to Sam, a grim look spread across both their faces. "We've got work to do."