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Chapter 22: Learning to Cope

"I think I found us a case."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Already? Don't you think you should maybe take things a little slower?"

"What's done is done. I can't bring Niki back from the dead, but I can help other people from sharing a similar fate. It's the right thing."

He rubbed his hand over his face that was starting to get scruffy from not shaving the night before. "What is it?"

"I think there's a ghost in a small bed and breakfast in Missouri. There's been a few deaths. It might be something." You clicked on a link about the family owned inn and showed it to Sam. In the past two months there have been three suicides, all located in the same room. The last one happened only a few days ago. According to the stories, the house has had an ominous past which only grew darker when the daughter of the family living there had hanged herself in the middle of the night. Everything lined up. It could be a case.

You waited eagerly as Sam scrolled through the article. He kept his eyes squinted as he focused on the details of the inn. When he finished, he sat back in his chair and sighed. "It could be something," he agreed. "Or it could be a coincidence. I can call up one of our friends and they can check it."

"No, Sam." You slammed your laptop shut and started into the kitchen. He followed behind. "Don't start acting like Dean. Don't make me out to be some incapable girl."

"I heard my name," Dean grins like a child as you enter the room with Sam in tow. "What is it this time? My nice ass or chiseled abs?"

His antics would have been funny if Sam hadn't set you off in a defensive mood, so you ignored him and continued to argue with Sam. "You realize that forbidding me from hunts is exactly what made me leave last time, and I'm not obligated to stay here. Either you're on board or I'm out of here."

"Woah, woah, woah," Dean stated, flipping a hand towel over his shoulder as burgers sizzled in a pan. "What's this about you leaving again?"

Your body sank tiredly into the chair at the table. It was annoying that they were so protective of you. If it was always going to be like that, living there didn't seem to make sense. You hunted monsters. It's who you are and they couldn't keep that from you any longer.

"I'm sick of this same old song and dance with you guys. We still don't know each other that well and, for some reason, you both think that you have some kind of say in my life."

"Y/N," Sam started.

"No," you cut him off. "If I'm going to stay here, I need to have some breathing room to be me. No more making me stay behind. No more sheltering me like over protective parents. It's getting so old and I can't take it."

"Did you find a case?" Dean asked hesitantly.

"I think so." Dean stood and assumed his position at the stove, flipping the sizzling patties over in the spattering grease. "There's a haunted inn." You took the time to explain everything that you had read while Sam stood silently in the doorway. You could tell he hated the idea of a hunt so soon after the run in with Abaddon.

"I say we go," Dean answered. He pulled out some off-white plates from the cabinet and placed the picture perfect cheese burgers on them. Your mouth watered, not realizing how hungry you were.

"But Dean-" Sam received a look from Dean that instantly shut him up. You needed to figure out how to master that look. It could come in handy.

You stood from your spot at the table and pulled out the condiments as Dean placed the plates down. Before walking back over, you decided to tuck a few beers under your arm for the three of you to enjoy. When you sat the condiments down in the middle, followed by a beer in front of each boy, Dean smiled.

"A beer without even having to ask. Where have you been all my life?" he teased.

"You know... Hunting monsters and stuff," you replied. You could have slapped yourself. That was the worst reply ever. It didn't even make sense, but Dean was beginning to give you butterflies the more time you spent with him. That meant that you were going to be inevitably worse at social interactions with him.

"So when do you want to leave for this hunt?" Dean asked through the half chewed food in his mouth.

"Are you actually serious?" you asked with excitement. He cocked his head to the side in a nodding fashion. "Can we leave tonight?"

"How about tomorrow morning after we've all had a little sleep," he suggested.

You agreed and began eating the delicious food. Sam wiped some stray ketchup from his mouth before saying, "Why don't you guys get Cas in on this one. I'll stay back and get some cleaning and shopping done."

You look at him quizzically. "Did I do something to make you mad?"

He pressed his lips into a surprised frown. "No, there's just some stuff I want to get done."

"Dude," Dean says. "It's a simple salt and burn. We'll be back in a couple days."

You looked between the brothers and frowned. You didn't mean to start problems by wanting to go on a hunt. "It's fine," you sighed with the feeling of defeat hanging over you. "I can just go alone and be back in a couple of days."

"No," Dean said. "If Sam doesn't want to go, it can just be you and me."

"Why don't you want to go?" you asked him. It bothered you that Sam seemed so put off by the suggestion of the hunt. Maybe he wasn't as fond of you as you had thought.

"It's the article. Did you read all of it?"

You nodded, knowing instantly what he was talking about. The article said that the people who committed suicide were all wives of an abusive husband. It wasn't exactly a thing you wanted to mention.

"What are you guys talking about?" Dean questioned.

"The article," you started, "it said that all of the victims were abused wives."

"And I think that lessens the chance of this being a real case."

You finished the last bite of your burger and got up to wash your plate.

"Why don't you go relax." Dean smiled. "Sam and I can clean up."

"O-okay."

Confused and hurt that Sam wasn't being open minded, you walked out of the industrial kitchen. Rather than relaxing as Dean said, you stayed outside the doorway to eavesdrop on them. You had a feeling that they were about to discuss what was going on, and you were excited to figure it out. Sam had always been so kind towards you. It was odd for him to be brushing you off like that.

"She's trying to distract herself from Niki's death," Sam said in hushed yell.

"What's so bad about that?" Dean retorted. "You've done it. I've done it. Sam, she just lost a friend, it's no surprise she's trying to distract herself."

You hated being that transparent, though searching for a hunt immediately after Niki's funeral was not the best way to show that you were coping. Truthfully, you weren't coping. Sam was one hundred percent right, but that shouldn't matter. A hunt was a hunt.