Chapter 24

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Taking a bite of my chicken strips, I winced when hot grease spewed from the inside. Apparently letting them sit for ten minutes even after I’d gotten them from the kitchen hadn’t been enough time for them to cool off.

The three of us were sitting at a diner, eating a quick lunch before Sam and Dean dropped me off at the daughter, Florence’s house. Sam and Dean were going to the house to check it out.

“Hot hot hot,” I said, the chicken strip burning the inside of my mouth the whole time.

“I know I am,” Dean said.

“Haha, very funny,” I said.

“I try to be,” he said teasingly. I pushed him playfully and he chuckled slightly.

“So I’ve been trying to find Dad,” Sam said suddenly, as if he’d been contemplating whether or not he should bring it up.

“And?” Dean asked.

“I had ‘em check the FBI’s Missing Persons Data Bank. No John Doe’s fitting Dad’s description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations,” Sam said with a sigh.

Dean took a bite of his burger and spoke to Sam with mouthfull. “Sam, I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t think Dad wants to be found. He’ll show up when he’s ready.”

“If he’s even alive, Dean,” Sam said, his voice rising in anger at his brother’s refusal to offer help.

“Dad’s alright, Sam. I can feel it,” Dean said firmly, shutting down the conversation.

“How can you be sure?” Sam shot back.

“Alright you two,” I said with a sigh. “Sam, tonight we’ll look through your Dad’s journal and call his contacts. And you,” I gestured towards Dean, “Oughta help.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m as eager to find Dad as anyone but if he doesn’t want to be found… well I’m sorry to tell you, but he’s not going to be found. Give him time and he’ll come around. He always does.”

“If you’re so sure about it then why’d you come to Stanford and pick me up so we could go out and look for him?” Sam demanded.

“Can we talk about this later?” I said, glancing around. Several people were staring at us.

“Fine,” Sam grumbled. “But this conversation is not over.” He gave Dean a pointed look and pushed away from the table, going outside. He was finished with the salad he was having for dinner, but I still felt bad.

“We should probably finish up,” I said quietly. Dean sighed heavily but nodded. I finished the last of my chicken strips and took one last drink of my soda before standing. Dean followed suit and threw some money on the table and we made our way outside.

The three of us silently slid into the Impala without a word. Dean started it and before I knew it he was stopped outside of Florence’s house. I got out and leaned down to look through the passenger side window.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be,” I told Dean. “But I’ll try to call you.”

“We’ll call you when we’re done,” Sam said.

“Alright,” I said, tapping on the top of the Impala before they drove away.

I approached the house and opened the screen door, but before I could knock a tall blonde answered the door.

“Are you Florence?” I asked.

“I am,” she said, stepping out and closing the door behind her.

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