flashback -
THE MOTHER was pinned to the ceiling when she died. She wore a dress of flames.
The air was ridden with ash as smoke tumbled through the doors of the nursery; wails of the six-month-old child who resided there could be heard from down the hall.
The father was the first to enter the room. At the time, his brain could not comprehend the scene before him- his wife flush against the ceiling, being restrained by some unknown source, his youngest son deafening the room with sobs.
It wasn't until the woman burst into flames that the man reacted.
"Mary!" His voice was lost among the chaos, the crackling of the newborn inferno and the cries of the infant drowning his exclamation.
The daughter was only five years old at the time- impossibly innocent and agonizingly unprepared.
The commotion startled her from her slumber. She awoke with a jolt, her eyes wide open and her mind immediately roused. From her place on her bed, she met eyes with her twin brother across the room. His chestnut brown hair was disheveled and his misty green gaze was full of alarm. It was obvious he had risen in as much of a haste as her.
They both leaped out of their beds instantaneously, and if it were not for the treacherous circumstances, the brother might have made a joke about their identical tendencies; they were a set of twins that proved the idea of telepathy.
She was right at his heels as they stumbled down the corridor, cheeks dusty pink and soft bodies groggy from sleep.
A wave of unbearable heat washed over them, making them both hesitate. They slowed when the inside of the nursery was in view. The daughter wanted to vomit.
The fire licked at the yellow walls and across her mother's pale, clear flesh. The tendrils of black and gray burned her eyes red and raw as tears began to cascade across her cheeks.
Her father yelled something at the two of them, but she didn't hear. His lips were moving, but no sound emerged.
Embers and sparks sizzled all around, but the young girl could not tear her eyes away from the look of absolute terror that glazed her mother's features. Her face was barely visible between the flickering, engulfing flames. Her porcelain skin was wax- dripping, melting, deliquescing straight down her bones.
A hand yanked against the girl's wrist, and she was finally ripped away from her stupor. She followed her twin out of the home blindly, her eyes full of salty tears and images that could never be unseen.
The evening air was cool and gentle, a smooth breeze swimming across the neighborhood- and that made her angry. The world seemed so calm, so at peace, seemingly unaware of the events that were unfolding. She wanted to scream.
They didn't stop until they reached their car, parked on the opposite side of the street. Dropping her arm, her twin brought it back up to cradle the baby brother with both hands. The infant whimpered, and the boy tried his best to comfort the child.
The girl risked a look up at the window; the glowing orange was a beacon of destruction, a smoldering threat. Her pajamas smelled of charcoal.
She turned back to face her brothers; her twin was rocking the baby back and forth, rather awkwardly, yet still gentle, trying to soothe him in the time of sheer panic.
"Shh, Sammy, it's gonna be okay," the boy cooed, but the words weren't truly meant for the baby, but rather himself.
Oh, how desperately she wanted to believe him.
"Dean-" she tried to speak to her twin, but the words caught in the back of her throat, turning her mouth sour.
The boy's eyes lifted to meet hers, their candy-apple gazes locking momentarily. The girl shuffled closer to him, pressing her body against his. The warmth that surged through her this time was much more pleasant than the fire; this warmth was the feeling of home, of security, of love.
...
Body nestled tightly against her father's chest, the girl wept. Her tears fell silently, but to Dean, each one sounded like hail pounding against glass. He refused to cry himself; he took after his father in that way. He needed to be strong for his sister.
Sam was now sound asleep in the boy's arms, and feeling the baby's slow, even breathes helped to calm Dean down.
The family of four stayed like that for nearly five hours; no one spoke a word. Even after the biting flames were drowned into oblivion, even after the flashing red and blue lights ceased, even after the blaring warning siren faded, even after the dark hours of twilight broke into the gray of dawn.
Her eyes began to grow heavy, as she had cried her body dry. There was a small hole drilled straight through the center of her chest; she felt hopelessly... empty.
"D-Daddy?" It came out a stammering croak, and the father pulled his daughter further into his chest at the sound of her tiny voice.
"Yeah, sunshine?"
Sweat and grime coated her body as she leaned more into her father's side, squeezing her eyes shut tightly in the hopes of erasing the horrific images that now plagued her mind.
"... I'm scared."
The father's heart shattered then, as if it weren't already broken enough.
He swallowed his devastation and splayed a gentle kiss across his forehead.
"It'll be okay, Makayla. Nothing will hurt you as long as I'm around. I promise."
__________
The twenty-six-year old girl watched the corpse shrivel and smolder as the fire ate away at the remains. The light reflected in her candy-apple eyes, setting them ablaze right alongside the inferno. Her hands were deep inside her jean pockets, the warmth of the flames creeping up her toes and slowly settling over the rest of her body.
Dean's attention drifted from the heat to his sister, standing several feet away from the fire, leaning back against the black 'sixty-seven Chevy Impala; her brows were furrowed in thought. He could tell she was deep inside of her mind by the way she was sucking on the right side of her lip. The glinting of the blaze in her gaze only accentuated the preexistent fire of emotion that resided behind it, red and hot and angry. She was volatile, stoic; he was the only person who could read her, but he struggled with empathy and succor. Talking about mental health went against the way he was raised; the way they were both raised.
Makayla tried to pry herself from the thoughts that were swirling through her exhausted brain, slamming into the sides of her skull with a force strong enough to make her want to scream. Her eyes were glaring into the fire, unblinking, glazed over. A tremor ran over her as she finally managed to regain her bearings and pull herself out of her daze.
She blinked a few times before her gaze flicked to her twin, whose eyes were already upon her.
Any insecurity was brushed to the side as she renewed the true sarcastic nature of the Winchester persona she carried.
A small smirk was sent in his direction.
"We burned the son of a bitch. Let's blow this pop-stand."
Dean shook his head with a disbelieving smile on his face. "Did you actually just say that?"
Makayla's glare was nearly lethal. "Shut the hell up."
The man shook his head with a chuckle, sending one more glance at the dying embers before reaching into his pocket and grabbing his keys.
With a sigh, she inhaled a breath of dewy night air.
Makayla startled when a spark flicked out in front of her shoe, the wind carrying the ember from the fire all the way towards her, almost tauntingly.
The irony of the circumstance was almost laughable, how people likened her to the thing she feared the most. Strong, hot, temperamental, intransigent, and unpredictable; she was a fire within herself, an ethereal flame that would scold anyone who dared to draw too near.
But Dean Winchester was insufferably cunning and stalwart; Makayla might have even argued that it was his fatal flaw. But he knew one thing for certain- he would stop at nothing to help his twin sister.
__________
flashback -
With blood-sodden jeans, eighteen-year-old Makayla staggered through the door of their temporary motel room, breathing shallow and body enervated. Her right arm was slung across her twin's strong, broad shoulders, her left hand engulfed in the impossibly tight grip of her thirteen-year-old brother. Dean's fingers clutched his sister's wrist like it was his lifeline, his other arm wrapped securely around her hip as he helped her limp into the room, most of her weight on his own body- not that he minded, of course.
The eldest twin risked a look down at his sister's right leg as they hobbled towards the wooden chair at the opposite end of the room. A long, red-stained tear in her jeans and the fact that she could not support her own weight gave him all the hints he needed; it was pretty bad.
He felt sick.
Cautiously resting her down in the seat, Dean watched his sister's quivering lip and glittering eyes. His sister never cried, but he knew when she was on the verge; he knew whenever she was feeling anything- but her display of emotion wasn't what upset him; it was the fact that she was crying out of fear, and not pain.
Glancing over his shoulder, Dean watched the figure of his father slowly trod into the room, his silhouette a mass of intimidation.
The brother's attention immediately turned back to his twin and Sam, who was stood to her side protectively, his eyes never leaving her pain-ridden expression.
Dean opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately silenced by their father's piercing voice.
"Sam, Dean- get ready for bed. Now."
The eldest son swallowed quickly, noticing that his sister would not meet his eye as he cautiously turned back towards the bed that he and his sister had claimed as their own a few hours prior.
"Yes, sir."
He managed to mumble out, his skin flushed red hot with anticipation and his fingers trembling. He felt Sam's presence beside him almost immediately, and he placed his hand on the younger boy's back reassuringly as they walked behind their father.
The girl wished that Dean would stand up for her; she wished he would reassure their father that everything was alright, because John believed Dean over anybody else.
Everyone believed that Dean Winchester was fearless- Makayla, of course, knew that this was simply a reputation, but one he intended to maintain nonetheless.
But there was one thing Dean was undeniably afraid of: their father.
She kept her gaze fixated on the matted floral carpeting of the musty hotel room as her father's footsteps grew closer and closer, right up until they fell just under her line of vision. She squeezed her eyes shut.
It was quiet for a few beats, and the three children held their breath. The calm before the storm.
"I cannot believe how goddamned irresponsible you are, Makayla!"
Flinching, she tried to calm herself down enough to not snap at her overprotective parent. Drowning in her father's wrath severely pushed her limits. She glared into her shoes.
"Dad, I'm sorry, okay? It was a complete accident-"
"No, Makayla! There isn't room for accidents and mistakes! What if that cut had been through an artery? What if that cut had been around your throat?"
"... but it isn't..."
"That's beside the point!"
He barked, and she huffed quietly, a pang tracing up her leg as she clenched her body in frustration. She ignored the pain.
"Look, Dad, I can't go back and prevent it! I said I'm sorry, I don't know what else you want me to do-"
"I want you to learn from these stupid mistakes, Makayla, because your naïveté is what's going to get you and the rest of us killed!"
"I have learned, Dad, I learn every time! I'm not the only one that makes mistakes here-"
"Don't throw the blame on someone else, Mak. Don't you dare."
His words were quiet and seething, silencing her immediately. She was really pushing her luck with her father, but her impulsive nature was making it nearly impossible to back down. Not even Dean dared to backtalk to him; in any other situation, she would be considered the "milder" twin- when it came to their father, she had no filter.
She managed to calm herself enough to bite back her tongue, and her father seemed satisfied.
His next words were spoken in a growl.
"You won't be finishing this hunt, Makayla."
With a suddenly halted heart, she exploded.
"What, no, Dad, that's not fair, please!"
He seemed rather shocked at her outburst, but his initial surprise immediately shifted to fury.
"Life ain't fair, Makayla! It's about damn time you grow up and learn to be careful!"
"God, but I am careful, Dad, it was an honest mistake! Dean and I walked in there, none of us knew there would be three spirits instead of one, and then I took the hit! I honestly didn't think that-"
"And that's exactly it. You didn't think."
She stood up abruptly, but the adrenaline churning through her body made the pain in her leg subside. Dean almost rushed over to force her to sit down, but stopped himself. John stared at her, eyebrows lowered in anger.
"Dad, please, I promise, I've learned my lesson! I'll do better next time-"
"Yeah, well, guess what, sunshine? There ain't always gonna be a next time, and I am not going to lose you, too!"
Silence pursued. The boys stopped pretending to busy themselves and gaped at the unspoken truth of the argument as the girl's face fell. She sniffled, lowering her green gaze.
Her father sighed, suddenly exhausted, turning on his heel to head to the bathroom.
The fight should've been over, but Makayla was persistent and immovable and stupid.
"You never yell at Dean like this. You never make Dean miss out on hunts."
Her words were quietly muttered, intended for only her ears alone, but they didn't go unheard.
"You're not fucking Dean!"
He bellowed, his voice impossibly loud and menacing. His face was contorted into a look she had never seen before- she had seen him upset, mad, angry, sure, but never this... he was furious.
Makayla swore she saw genuine hatred flicker in his gaze, and for a split second, she truly believed he was going to hit her.
The girl ignored her twin's sympathetic look from the side of the room as the tears finally rained from her eyes in a silent downpour.
"Shut up about this, have Dean sew up your leg, and get in bed. That's an order."
Her father marched into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him, leaving his broken daughter and collaterally damaged sons in his wake.
As Makayla finally began to cry, sinking back down into her chair, Dean raced forward and wrapped his arms around her tightly, her head buried in the crook of his neck. This was supposed to be the feeling of home, of security, of love, but tonight, she felt disgustingly out of place in her brother's arms.
"Yes, sir."
She whispered into the fabric of her brother's leather jacket as she wept into his shoulder, her answer to her father inaudible to any ears but hers.
She cried herself to sleep that night. Silently, of course, as to not let Sam or her father know. It was Dean that held her into his chest to muffle her sobs and take away her pain.
His comfort should've been the only remedy she needed. It always had been before. But that night, things were different. That night, everything changed.
She was suddenly a trespasser in the Winchester family, a stranger to her twin's embrace.
'I know, Dad. I know I could never be Dean. But maybe if I was... maybe then you'd trust me. Maybe then you'd finally be proud to call me a Winchester.'
__________
November 29th, 2005
"This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If it's an emergency, leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."
BEEP.
"Hey, Dad. It's, uh- it's Makayla. De and I just finished up that vengeful spirit thing in Orlando and are headed to New Orleans for that voodoo stuff... we wanted to touch base with you soon. Hope everything's well in California. Call as soon as you can."
October 11th, 2005
"This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If it's an emergency, leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."
BEEP.
"Hey, it's Mak. Just checking up again, making sure everything's alright, wanted to know what you've found. De and I are okay, although this voodoo gig is a doozy... we'll keep you posted. I hope you'll call soon. Dean's crazy worried about you. I keep telling him that you're just busy, but damn is he a worry wart- [muffled yelling]... Ouch! Damnit, Dean, you fucker! I have a bruise there!... Sorry about that, Dad. I gotta go, Dean's being a whiny bitch. Stay safe."
October 21st, 2005
"This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean: 866-907-3235. He can help."
BEEP.
"I didn't wanna believe Dean when he told me, but now I've heard for myself. What the hell, Dad? What's with the new voicemail? Dean's losing his damn mind over here, we're wrapping up our case today, but it's been real hard to focus without knowing where you are. Call soon. Please. Hope everything's okay."
October 26th, 2005
"This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean: 866-907-3235. He can help."
BEEP.
"We're on our way to Jericho now, Dad. Dean's been insisting since you changed your voicemail, and I said that we should wait it out a few days... a week's too damn long, we're shitting ourselves. Where are you? This is the longest you've gone without contacting us. Hell, I've called Bobby three times and he doesn't have a damn clue!... Seeing Dean like this is scaring me. I've never seen him so distracted. Please call as soon as you get these messages, okay?"
October 27th, 2005
"This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean: 866-907-3235. He can help."
BEEP.
"Okay, enough of this already! Dean's drunk out of his mind but he won't let me drive because you know how he gets about the Impala! I don't know what to do, Dad, okay? Sorry for being so damn weak and disappointing you, but this isn't funny. It never was. Just answer your goddamned phone and tell Dean that you're okay. I'm begging you."
October 29th, 2005
"This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean: 866-907-3235. He can help."
BEEP.
"We're a few days away, somewhere near Saratoga. From what I saw, we should've been there ages ago, but Dean swears he's taking some shortcut route. Whatever. He's trying really hard to stay calm so he doesn't stress me out, but you and I both know I can basically read his mind... We'll find you, Dad, I promise. Don't worry. Stay safe. We're on our way."
October 29th, 2005
"This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean: 866-907-3235. He can help."
BEEP.
"You're a damn asshole! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! Dean ran off at fucking midnight to go to the bar across town without telling me and now he's gonna get hammered and I'm not gonna be there to drive his dumb ass back to the motel and it's your fucking fault! Such a selfish, careless piece of shit! You know what, Dad?! Forget about me! I don't give a single fuck if I never talk to you again, and I bet you don't either, but that's not even important right now! I don't care what you're doing or how busy you might think you are, call your damn son. He's losing his mind over you, motherfucker! If you've ever cared about Dean, ever, then call him right damn now, because he is going to kill himself, and it's all your damn fault... I damn well hope you're satisfied, John Winchester. I hope you're fucking happy."
October 30th, 2005
"This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean: 866-907-3235. He can help."
BEEP.
"A tinny cryptic message wasn't what I had in mind, Dad! You're lucky we're fucking smart and caught the EVP. We'll be there tomorrow... and hey, I guess I'm sorry for my message yesterday, I shouldn't have blown up... I'm just... glad you're okay. Please call us with some real answers soon. We're dying over here... Take care of yourself. Dean and I are looking out for each other, but you don't have anyone with you... just- be careful. I hope to see you soon."
__________
Anthony's Song by Billy Joel was humming lazily through the speakers of the Impala; the girl could feel Dean's fingers tapping along to the beat on the center console between them.
Makayla appreciated the gesture; this particular album had never been one of Dean's favorites, but one of hers. She was well aware of the fact that he was only listening to please his sister.
The sun was setting, but Makayla did not find herself enjoying the sunset as she usually did. The reds and oranges and yellows of the sky reminded her of fire; they reminded her that every second they were wasting was another second that their father was in danger.
"You okay?"
She startled slightly at the sound of her brother's voice, cutting through the quiet of the car abruptly.
"Yeah, fine."
She lied through her teeth, smiling almost sarcastically. Her gaze did not turn toward him; her eyes stayed focused on the sky through the windshield. Of course, she knew that Dean could see right through her. It was frustrating at times, having Dean know everything she was feeling. She wanted him to see strength in her, see bravery in her, but with a life like this, happiness and security were not common emotions.
Dean held his breathe, immediately sensing her hesitance. He looked over at her as often as he could shift his gaze from the road; her arms were crossed tightly across her chest, the sleeves of Dean's flannel that she was wearing rolled up three or four times so her fingers didn't drown in them. Her socked feet were up on the dashboard, her hiking boots underneath the seat. If it had been anyone else, he would've screamed at them to get their feet down, because how dare someone disrespect his Baby?! But it was only Makayla, he reminded himself, and she was his baby before the car ever could be.
The girl was growing impatiently irritated; this car trip was taking far longer than it should've been, and she sensed there was something her twin was not telling her. She had kept her mouth shut this long, knowing he was on edge, but her patience had finally worn out. With a huff, she leaned forward and ejected the cassette from the radio, the car now cast into silence.
"Dean."
She deadpanned, although his name rolled off her tongue with a spice of warning. For the first time during the drive, Dean kept his focus trained on the dark, empty road.
When she received no response, she continued.
"Why has this trip taken over two days more than it should've?"
The man clenched his jaw, his eyes flicking towards her for just a millisecond before shifting away.
"Dunno what you're talking about."
She audibly scoffed at him.
"Oh? Really, bub? So you just accidentally ignored my navigations? Just accidentally took a shortcut that isn't short at fucking all-"
"Mak, I said, I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yeah, I heard you the first time, and I call bullshit."
She growled at him, her eyes ablaze. She hated when he kept secrets from her; they had promised each other years ago that honesty would be the thing that tied them together, but the pact was falling apart.
Dean clenched his jaw, staring straight ahead of himself, his index finger tapping anxiously on the steering wheel.
With a sigh, Makayla calmed her irritation as best as she could, enough so her voice was low and unthreatening.
"I'm worried about Dad too, De. I am. But just- please don't do this. Don't close up on me. You know how much I hate it when you keep things from me, bub."
Dean felt his anger melt at the sound of her voice; it was pathetic how easy it was for her to make him crumble.
He glanced at her once more with a sigh, her eyes studying him pleadingly.
He swallowed the thickness in his throat.
"We're about twenty minutes away from Stanford."
"Oh?"
She questioned, confused. It took the sentence a few moments to sink in. Her green eyes widened with shock when it finally did.
"Oh."
A sack of bricks was hurled atop her chest, but she did not react. Her calmness frightened Dean. It was... out of character.
He spoke too soon.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Dean Henry Winchester?!"
Loud, menacing, utterly crippling, the screamed words erupted from her lips. The brother could see her nose twitching from the corner of his eye; it was something that happened only when she was truly angry.
He kept his voice low and steady, trying to replicate the methods she, herself, used on him whenever his anger got out of hand.
"Look, Mak, I know that you're angry, I know-"
"Oh, you think I'm angry, Dean? I am livid." She growled at him, her eyebrows lowered so far down over her eyes, he wouldn't have been able to see them if it were not for the illumination of the angry fire raging behind them.
"How the hell could you do this, Dean?! Think it's okay to make this decision on your own, to keep this from me?! You know how I've been feeling after he went to college-"
"Yeah, well maybe I don't!"
He interjected, and she seethed, her fingers clenching into fists so tight, small crescent moons formed in her palms where her nails pressed.
"Maybe I don't know how you've been feeling, Makayla! I don't know why the hell you've blocked me out ever since Sammy went away, but-"
"Don't you fucking throw the blame on someone else, Dean. Don't you dare."
He was startled by her intensity, just then. He knew she had a temper. He also knew how to handle it. But at that moment- he saw his father in her. And it scared him.
She pressed her back into the seat, her head pushing against the headrest as if the pressure were going to unravel her frustrations.
"You are so, so selfish, Dean. I can't believe you would just... do this. Without asking me first."
Her words were softer now, holding more shock than anger, and it made the older boy's chest ache.
No, Mak. I didn't mean it. I was trying to protect you. I'm sorry, baby. Please...
"Dad left me in charge, Makayla Jaimes. I am responsible for you, and if I think getting Sammy is the best thing, then that is my decision to make."
Her head whipped over to face him in horror- never once, after all these years, had he pulled that card; he knew how she hated the way their father controlled her, how he treated her like a soldier.
And now Dean was acting like the General. And it scared her.
She opened her mouth to scream at him, to punch him in the damn nose, to do something.
How could you do this, Dean? I thought we were a team?
Mouth closing, she lowered her gaze from his menacing, stoic expression, her eyes glazing over.
"Yes, sir."
She whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.
And if you listened very carefully, in the silence of the car with nothing but the hum of gravel under rubber, you could her the older twin's heart shatter.
__________
"Oh, yeah, because it's totally not like Sam was raised a hunter or anything. Of course he wouldn't even think of locking his windows. Incredible idea, Ace."
Dean clenched his jaw and smacked his lips; with his sister's breath running down his neck and her resentful sarcasm, he was having great difficulty maintaining his composure.
"Have any better ideas, then?"
He asked, trying to keep his voice low, although she was making it exceedingly challenging.
The silence that followed cued him to jab the thin piece of metal he had in his hands underneath the window frame that led to their brother's apartment. With a grunt, Dean pried the window open, and to Makayla's surprise, it was unlocked.
He stood smugly, offering his glaring sister a smirk.
"Ladies first."
Urged Dean, nodding his head in the direction of the gaping window.
Makayla scoffed.
"So now you act like a fucking gentleman?"
He shrugged pointedly, and with a huff, the girl lowered herself onto the floor right underneath the window.
She staggered along with her brother tight on her heels, the only light being provided by the thin sliver of moonlight peaking through the clouds.
Blindly, the two quietly navigated through the foreign hallways, fingers on the walls beside them to maintain their balance.
Suddenly recoiling, a gasp escaped her lips as she accidentally slammed her thigh right into the corner of a kitchen table. She seethed, sucking her lip between her teeth as she clutched at her freshly bruised leg, trying her best to ignore the sniggers over her brother behind her.
"Go fuck yourself, asshole."
"I didn't say anything-"
"Yeah, but you were gonna!"
She whisper-shouted to him, a glare piercing through his chest.
Makayla couldn't help the denigration that soured her lips, poisoning her twin. She was so unfathomably angry with him.
How could he lie to me?
Of course, she knew exactly why. It was because she wasn't good enough. Wasn't strong enough, wasn't smart enough, wasn't brave enough.
Perhaps it was subconscious, an instinct; she could do nothing but take her resentment out on the unsuspecting boy.
Her anger quickly shifted to horror as she watched Dean crack open the door of the refrigerator, the LED light illuminating the room rather conspicuously.
"What the hell are you doing, dumbass?!"
She whispered, frozen in place.
Dean shrugged her off before scanning the contents.
"What a pussy," he grumbled, "no beer."
"Oh, god, Dean, how the hell would anyone be able to survive without a supply of alcohol readily available?"
Dean shrugged, ignoring the mockery of her statement.
"Beats me. Now, let's go find our sleeping beauty-"
Before he could finish, a figure appeared in the doorway beside him, an arm reaching out of the darkness and latching onto Dean's arm, yanking him away.
She startled, moving into action quickly. Trampling towards the commotion, Makayla reached downwards and grabbed the small blade she kept tucked inside of her boot, holding it out at the ready. However, when her eyes adjusted to the shaded scene in front of her, she relaxed.
It had been awhile since she had seen her brother's together; not to mention wrestling like this. As the girl watched from a safe distance, a playful smirk on her face, the two men tumbled and lashed at each other, fists and legs pumping and grunts echoing from their lips.
After several seconds of struggling, it was no surprise that her older brother rose as champion; the younger man was pinned to the floor beneath him, Dean's left hand pressing on the back of his neck and his other restraining one of his wrists.
Sam groaned as Dean let out a low chuckle.
"Easy, there, tiger."
The younger man's head peeked at the sound, his body stilling.
"... Dean?"
For some reason, the sound of Sam's voice broke some part of Makayla's torn heart. His voice was so deep, so rich, yet gruff- she'd missed him. So much.
"Hiya, Sam."
The older boy grinned cheekily, sending his sister a wink. She rolled her eyes, leaning against the doorframe.
"I do gotta say, little brother, you are way outta practice."
This phrase seemed to spark something within Sam, because a moment later, it was Dean that was pinned to the floor, the younger boy now reigning champion.
"... maybe not..."
"Did you boys kill that adrenaline, yet?"
Makayla finally made her presence known, stepping out a few feet from the shadows so Sam could see her clearly. His grip on Dean loosened as he eyed her for the first time, just enough so the older boy could push him off and regain his balance.
"Hi, MJ."
His voice was soft, cautious, as if she were made of porcelain and his words could shatter her. He had always treated her this way- with so much gentleness, so much care. It was different from the way Dean babied her, the way Dean was so obnoxiously overprotective. Sam was... respectful, sweet, affectionate.
"Hey, Sammy."
She half-smiled at him. Being around her two favorite people in her world, again- for the first time since he had gone away to college, Makayla felt whole.
And yet, seeing him again- she felt the walls she had constructed around herself begin to shatter. Sam broke her the moment the left. It took every ounce of her being to get up every morning and face the day without him by her side. They had shared many secrets, and yet, Sam had never once mentioned his plans to leave.
Sam knew he had hurt her; he had listened to all the pain-filled voicemails she had left for him that he never responded to. He prayed she would let him back in.
She was surprised by his maturity. His mocha hair was still shaggy and unkept, particularly disheveled after his rough with Dean, but his shoulders seemed even broader than she had remembered, and he was still a frustrating foot taller than her.
As Dean came to stand beside her, it was Sam that was entranced by his siblings' age.
They had always looked alike, having as much resemblance as two fraternal twins could; the same chestnut hair, the same startlingly bright candy-apple green eyes, the same caramel skin dusted with cinnamon specks. Dean had a good six inches on her, as she stood only at 5'6" and he at 6'0". He noticed the natural charisma both his siblings aerated, that obvious spark of wit that fueled both their beings. She was the embodiment of strength to Sam; she always had been. The sight of her, alive and well, standing before him, swelled his entire body with warmth.
Dean's red and black flannel practically swallowed her, reaching her mid-thigh. She had on a tight black tank top underneath that with a pair of muddied, unintentionally-ripped jeans with her scuffed hiking boots- a silver bladed knife was sparkling at her side. He recognized it as the one he and Dean had gifted her on her eighteenth birthday.
As the two were awestruck by the sudden encounter, Dean scoffed.
"Okay, chick-flick moment over, kids. It's making me sick."
Makayla snapped out of her stupor, glaring at her twin as she backhanded him across the head. Dean flinched.
Sam couldn't hold back his laughter.
Oh, these two...
"What are you doing here?"
He asked, the smile on his face immediately fading.
He watched as the face of his sister darkened, her jaw clenching. If Sam didn't know her so well, he wouldn't have noticed the way she shifted just slightly away from Dean. But he did know her that well; what the hell had Dean done now?
If there was an issue, Dean did what he did best; he ignored it.
"Well, I was looking for a beer."
He chuckled, nudging his sister, who stepped away from him with a glare.
When neither of them provided a genuine answer, Sam prodded further.
"Let me rephrase... What the hell are you guys doing here?"
Dean's humor faded as Makayla shifted her gaze to the floor.
"Right, yeah. We, uh, gotta talk."
As the youngest boy opened his mouth to speak, the light flickered on above them. Makayla squinted, momentarily blinded by the sudden brightness.
As her temporary vision impairment faded away, her attention drifted to a beautiful blonde woman who was sleepily standing in the door frame, her tired blue eyes wide with surprise.
"Sam?"
The woman startled, shock and alarm filling her soft voice.
Sam jumped a bit at the sight of her, almost as if he had forgotten she was there.
"Jess."
He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable.
"Dean, Makayla, this is my girlfriend, Jessica."
Makayla's mouth gaped open in surprise; Sammy had a girlfriend that he didn't even tell her about? A knife struck her heartstrings at the newfound information.
Sam's girlfriend's eyes widened in realization.
"... The twins, Dean and Mak?"
Makayla couldn't help but laugh.
"Hear that, bub? We're famous."
She mocked, elbowing him in his side with a teasing grin. Her smile faltered when she noticed where Dean's eyes were directed.
Her twin slinked forward flirtatiously, the cocky spring in his step that Makayla had learned to hate so much. He checked Jess out appreciatively- but not discreetly.
"Man, I love the Smurfs."
He smirked, gesturing towards the woman's very revealing pajamas- Makayla felt her nose twitch in anger.
"Dean."
She growled lowly, voice lined with warning.
He paid her no mind as he took one more step towards the blonde, who was shifting her weight rather awkwardly.
"You know, I gotta say... you are way out of my brother's league."
He winked, and Sam looked about ready to explode.
"Dean!"
Makayla reprimanded her brother's behavior yet again, her voice rising in volume uncontrollably.
Jess sent a tentative look towards her boyfriend, her face pleading for help.
"I'm gonna go put something on."
"No, no, I wouldn't dream of it."
Dean insisted, and Mak felt her blood reach the boiling point.
"Dean!!"
She shouted, disgusted as she grabbed a fistful of his leather jacket and yanked him back towards her. He stumbled, before shooting her a look of innocent distress.
"What?"
He questioned, as if unaware of his inappropriately libidinous behavior. Makayla glared at him pointedly, smacking him upside the head with annoyance. He flinched.
"You are absolutely insufferable, Dean Winchester."
She mumbled out, just loud enough so he could hear. He glared right back at her.
She inhaled a deep, full breath, allowing the air to rush through her veins and cool her steaming rage.
"Jess."
She turned her attention back to the woman in the doorway, who hadn't made any effort to move since Dean's last comment.
"It was such a pleasure to meet you, but we really need to borrow our baby brother right now. There's some... family stuff, he needs to catch up on."
Jess nodded in understanding, but Sam had just snapped out of his rage-fueled stupor. He stalked towards his girlfriend, swinging a lanky arm around her shoulder and pulling her to him.
"No."
He stated matter-of-factly, and Makiah quite literally choked on her astonishment.
"No?"
She repeated incredulously, her face contorted into a look of disgusted surprise. He stood his ground.
"Anything you have to say to me, you can say to Jess."
Mak's mouth hung open as she stared at him in disbelief, and Dean noticed the clenching of her trembling fists. He placed a hand on her shoulder before he slipped his forefinger and thumb underneath her chin to shut her gaping jaw, stepping in front of her.
"Careful, kid, you'll catch flies."
He taunted, and she looked at him, irritated.
"Fuck you."
She grumbled through gritted teeth, swatting his hand away, but she gladly accepted his silent offer to help with the conversation. She shrank back behind him, her arms crossed, her confidence drained from Sammy's refusal to cooperate. She was trying hard to contain her anger.
"Okay, Sammy, that's fine. But you gotta understand- this is a big deal."
Dean cautioned, and Sam nodded hesitantly, brows furrowed. The eldest brother drew in an audible breathe.
"Dad, uh... Dad hasn't been home in a few days."
He drawled, his words slow and carefully enunciated, as if it had taken a lot of brainpower to conjure up such a sentence.
Makayla couldn't help but facepalm at her twin's vagueness, and Sam reacted exactly the way she had anticipated.
The youngest brother stared at Dean in suspicion.
"So, he's probably working overtime. He'll stumble back sooner or later; he always does."
"No, Sammy-"
Mak cut in, pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation. They were wasting far too much time on their brother who was obviously not interested in rejoining the fray.
She lowered her arm before glaring at her twin, lightly kicking him in the ankle (a move he expected from her) as she pushed in front of him to grab her other brother's attention.
"Dad is on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days."
She barely altered her older brother's statement, and it still offered an entirely new interpretation. Sam's eyes flickered with realization, a gleam in his hazel orbs flashing almost too quickly to go noticed, but Makayla did. She knew him too well.
"Jess, you'll- you'll have to excuse us for just a second. We need to talk."
__________
It was quiet for awhile- not a word was spoken. It made Makayla uneasy. It was the kind of tranquility that only symbolized tension.
It was Sam who finally interrupted the silence.
"You two can't just break into my apartment in the middle of the night and expect me to hit the road with you."
Dean peeked quickly at his twin, just in time to notice her nose twitch slightly; she was starting to get angry.
"I don't think you're listening, Sam. Dad is missing. We need your help to find him."
He insisted, and Sam groaned.
"You remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's always missing, and he's always fine."
"Do you think we'd be here if that were the case?"
Makayla questioned, her face contorted into a scowl.
"Now are you coming, or are you not?"
"I'm not."
He stated, and the coolly, nonchalant way he said this, without hesitation, made her blood boil and churn.
"Oh yeah? And why the hell not?"
They had reached the parking lot then, the cool night breeze blasting them without warning. Makayla didn't flinch as she sped up her pace to catch up with her baby brother, half facing him as she kept walking, so she could read his expression.
This wasn't how the reunion was supposed to happen. This wasn't what Sammy was supposed to say.
She just wanted her little brother back.
She watched him sigh with furrowed brows.
"I swore I was done hunting. For good."
Dean took this as his opportunity to catch up too, standing on the opposite side of Sam.
"Come on, Sammy. Sure, it's not always easy, but it ain't that bad."
Sam scoffed, finally halting about ten feet away from the parked Impala, in the center of the parking lot.
"Really, Dean? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45."
Dean shrugged.
"What was he s'posed to do?"
The youngest looked at him in shock.
"I was nine years old! He was supposed to tell me not to be afraid of the dark!"
The girl scoffed.
"And why the hell would he lie to you and say that? You know exactly what's out there, Sammy. You damn well should be afraid of the dark."
Sam sighed in defeat, and the sister reveled in her small victory.
"Still. The way that we grew up... after Mom was killed, and Dad so obsessed with revenge on the thing that killed her..."
Makayla looked towards her twin, whose gaze was fixed on a spot in the distance, deep in thought.
"We still haven't even found the damn thing. We just kill whatever the hell we can find."
"And we save a lot of people doing it, too."
Dean reminded.
Silence settled over them, a weight pressing on their shoulders as Mak looked up towards the sky, the sight of the stars slightly calming her raging heart.
"Do you really think Mom wanted this for us?"
Sam queried quietly, and Mak's head snapped over to him, appalled.
Dean could tell she was on the verge of exploding, and he raised a hand, gesturing for her to calm down, his candy-apple eyes pleading. Makayla squeezed her eyelids shut and drew in a long, slow breath, the cold air combating the boiling rage stewing in her stomach.
"Man, we were raised like frickin' warriors."
Sam recalled sadly, having missed his sibling's exchange entirely.
Much to Dean's chagrin, Makayla's fury bubbled over at the words.
"So what the fuck are you gonna do, Sam? Let people get hurt from a force you know you could stop? Pretend monsters aren't real and live some perfect apple-pie life? Is that it?"
Sam was shocked at her outburst; sure, she and Dean were similar, but Makayla was typically a much milder version of the male twin, as her temper rarely got out of hand when it came to Sam. It was surprising for her to get in his face while Dean just stood off to the side; the roles were typically reversed.
"Not perfect. Safe."
Sam corrected quietly, and Mak scoffed.
"And that's why you ran away."
She shook her head, and the two brothers both felt their heart shatter simultaneously at the sound of her broken voice.
Maybe things had changed more than Sam thought since he left. It finally dawned on him; Makayla didn't like to burden Dean with her feelings, and after Sam had left, she had no one to go to. She had to deal with all of her mental illness alone.
"MJ-"
Sam started softly, his eyes beginning to water. Makayla's head was bowed, her hair shadowing her face as she glared at the ground silently, her fists clenched and trembling. She blinked rapidly to fight the tears from emerging.
"I just went to college. It was Dad who said that I should stay gone. I was just following his orders."
"Yeah, as if you ever fucking followed his orders before."
She retorted, just loud enough for the other two boys to hear. As Sam was about to respond, Dean broke in, suddenly taking on the responsibility that was typically his sister's- cutting the tension before it blew up even more. He took a step towards her.
"Dad's in real trouble right now-"
"-if he's not dead already."
Makayla grumbled sourly, and the brothers shared a glance.
Sam remained silent, and Dean sighed.
"We can't do this one alone."
"Yes, you can."
The youngest insisted.
"Maybe I don't want to."
The words escaped Dean's lips before he could think about what he was saying.
Mak's eyes widened slightly at his statement, wide eyes flicking up to stare at her twin; her stomach sank to her feet and her heart sank to her knees.
He's sick of you, Makayla. He knows that you aren't good enough, smart enough, strong enough to help. He doesn't want to carry your weight anymore.
She looked down, biting her tongue so hard she tasted blood.
Both brothers knew exactly what had been said.
Sam knew it would hurt her; even though he had some catching up to do, he still knew his sister and her brain. He knew how much Dean's approval meant to her. To have him say he didn't want to work alone with her would break her heart.
Dean knew it would hurt her; Makayla hadn't been talking to him much about the hurricane of hurt swirling in her body lately, but he knew something had been going on in that pretty little head of hers since Sam left. He didn't quite know what it was, but he knew that it was bad enough to pull down the strongest person he knew. He knew that she looked up to him. He hadn't meant what he said, or at least, not in the way she took it. He simply meant he wanted Sammy there; not that he didn't want her.
Dean couldn't take back what he had said, as much as he wished he could. He would fix it, he promised himself. But right then, he had to focus on getting Sam onboard.
However, no focus was required, because the hurt on his older sister's face was enough to pull Sam on the bandwagon.
He glanced at her, sorrow in his gaze.
"What was he hunting?"
Dean and Makayla both looked at him in surprise. A smirk quickly replaced the eldest brother's gaping mouth as he nodded towards the car, popping open the trunk and then the arsenal.
After Sam had followed, Mak took in a trembling breath of air. Her hands were shaking.
They'd be better off without me.
No. Not now. She shook the thought from her brain with a huff, pushing it back into her mind, before marching over to stand on the opposite side of Dean, leaning into the trunk.
"Alright, where the hell did I put that thing?"
Makayla rolled her eyes, jaw clenched, reaching back into the corner of the trunk closest to her, coming back out with a folder filled with clusters of papers. She held it out towards her brother knowingly, a small scowl on her lips.
"Oh, Mak, what would I do without you?"
He mocked rather sarcastically, and she snorted.
"You'd lose your goddamned head if it wasn't screwed on."
She muttered. Dean glared. Sam broke the two out of their bickering.
"When Dad left, why didn't either of you go with him?"
Makayla shrugged.
"We were tackling this voodoo thing in New Orleans. You wouldn't believe the kinda shit that happens down there-"
"Dad let you two go on a hunting trip alone?"
Dean stared at him, bewildered.
"We're twenty-six, dude."
Sam shrugged.
"Still. The two of you? Alone? Unsupervised? I'm surprised you didn't rip each other's throats out."
Makayla found herself actually taking offense to his words, but Dean shook it off.
"There were a few close calls for the anklebiter over here, that's for sure, but we managed. Right, kid?"
Makayla glowered.
"Shut your pie-hole, bub."
The eldest brother grinned triumphantly before turning his attention back to the documents in his hands. He filtered through the papers carelessly, selecting a few and swiping them from the folder.
"Here we go. Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho. About a month ago, this guy-"
Dean shoved one of the papers in Sam's face, pointing towards the pictured male.
"- they found his car, but he'd vanished."
"Completely MIA."
Mak added, glancing over her brother's broad shoulders to have a look at the photograph herself.
"Maybe he was kidnapped."
Sam suggested, and she looked at him with narrowed eyes.
"Really, Sammy? You really think Dad woulda looked into this if he thought it was just a kidnapping?"
She snapped; Dean raised a hand, eyes narrowed.
"Alright, cool it, both of you. I swear, I could cut the tension between you two with a frickin' butterknife."
Makayla lowered her head in silent anger, knowing her argument wouldn't do much good.
"Look, Sam. Another one in April."
He offered Sam another article, which he accepted.
"December of 'oh-four, 'oh-three, 'ninety-eight, 'ninety-two-"
"Ten of them over the past twenty years. All men, same five-mile stretch of road."
Mak finished. Sam stared at the papers in front of him, calculating, before Dean slid them back into the folder and dropped it back into the trunk.
"It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. We hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough."
Makayla reached into the trunk for a small tape recorder, nearly whacking her head on the hatch as she stood back up.
"Then, Dad left this voicemail."
She didn't want to listen to her father's voice again, but she knew she didn't have much of a choice. She offered the device to Dean, who accepted it and immediately pressed PLAY.
John's staticky voice reverberated through the small speaker.
"Dean... something big is starting to happen... I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean... Take care of Mak. We're all in danger."
It clicked off abruptly, and Sam sat for a few beats, wide-eyed.
"You guys know there's EVP on that?"
Sam stated quietly, and before Mak could retort something witty back, Dean beat her to it.
"Not bad, Sammy. Just like riding a bike."
Sam shook his head, and the girl sighed, snatching the recorder away from Dean.
"We slowed the message down, ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what we got."
She pressed PLAY again.
The tape crackled, a female voice cutting in abruptly.
"I can never go home..."
Mak quickly tapped STOP as an involuntary shiver traveled down her spine.
"Never go home."
Sam repeated, trying to process the words in his head.
Dean ducked out from the trunk and slammed it shut, leaning forward on it towards his brother. Makayla looked back to the building, the breeze blowing a loose strand of hair in her face.
"In almost two years, Sam, I haven't bothered you, haven't asked for a thing."
Makayla swallowed the thickness in her throat. The same couldn't be said for her. She had pestered her younger brother constantly, stuffing his voicemail box full of messages or stories or pleas to come back home. She had only given up about a year ago, her heart utterly broken. He hadn't answered her back once.
Sam hesitated with a sigh, looking away. His eyes shifted to his sister, whose skin was illuminated in the pale moonlight. She looked radiant.
He quickly drew his attention back to Dean before offering a curt nod.
"Yeah, alright. I'll help you find Dad."
Dean nodded with a small victorious grin. Makayla tensed visibly, shocked. She stayed silent, but her hands were still shaking.
"But look, I gotta be back first thing Monday. Wait here, I'll be right back."
Before he could take more than two steps, she stopped him.
"What's Monday?"
Sam sighed, slouching slightly.
"I have an interview."
"A job? Skip it."
Dean scoffed, but Makayla could sense something more than that. Her eyes never shifted from Sam's muscular back.
"It's a law school interview, Dean. And it's my entire future on a plate."
Mak was rendered speechless. She didn't know much about schooling, but an interview for a law scholarship... that was big.
"Law school, huh?"
Dean smirked, and Sam glared at him over his shoulder.
"Do we got a deal, or not?"
Sam questioned, annoyed, and Dean glanced at his sister. She made eye contact before looking down, slowly turning to walk back towards the right side of the Impala, her head hung. Dean sighed, but said nothing.
Sam took that as his cue to leave.
...
Dean was surprised to find her stationed in the backseat, as he knew that being in the back made her feel isolated. She typically made Sammy sit in the back, but Dean had a sickening feeling that she chose her seating simply so she didn't have to sit near him.
Her face was expressionless as she stared out the window at nothing in particular. He gulped before opening the door on the opposite side, sliding into the seat beside her.
She didn't flinch at the sound of the door slamming shut. Her eyes stayed trained on the constellation she had spotted in the sky: Draco.
When Dean made no efforts to start a conversation, she took the initiative.
"You know, Dean, you better promise me that I don't gotta sit in the back the entire trip, alright? You know how much it aggravates me when I can't have control over the radio, especially 'cause Sammy doesn't know shit about good mus-"
"Makayla."
He interrupted softly, wiping the playful smirk clean off her face. She turned to stare into his candy-apple eyes, the sadness and guilt that filled them spilling over the edge and drowning her.
He smiled sadly at her, but her face stayed emotionless, stoic.
"I didn't mean what I said earlier, sweetheart. About not wanting to hunt without Sammy. I mean, you and me have been a team since the day we were born, anklebiter. Huntin' wouldn't be the same without you."
Makayla swallowed thickly, turning away from her brother to stare straight ahead momentarily, calculating.
Her sadness was quickly replaced with anger, and her green eyes hardened as she turned back towards him.
"Yep. I'm looking forward to it being Sam and Dean, the Winchester Brothers again."
She snarled, and Dean was shocked, recoiling visibly at her words.
He narrowed his eyes.
"The hell do you mean?"
His spat words stung her ears, and she finally realized what she had just impulsively admitted; a selfish insecurity she had never planned on sharing with either of the brothers.
"Just- forget it."
She muttered, and Dean huffed.
"No, Makayla, you tell me what is going-"
"I said forget it!"
She snapped aggressively, her eyes ablaze. Dean retreated, surprised by his sister's harshness towards him. For the second time that day, her typical gentleness had turned to pure rage.
The pair bickered and argued plenty, but she never raised her voice at him so viciously. Dean had the hardest, toughest, strongest exterior of anyone on the planet, but she could penetrate it with just a few words. She was his one strongest weakness.
Makayla pushed him away. Again.
After a few beats of tense silence, Dean clenched his jaw.
"Fine."
His tone was unnaturally calm, and the girl flinched as the door slammed shut behind him.
__________
Mak hummed along to the music softly, tapping her index finger against her right thigh, her eyes shut as her head pressed against the cool window. Her legs were curled underneath her on the back seat.
"Lord, I was born a ramblin' man."
Makayla quietly sang along with the music, and Sam couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his lips at the sound of her voice.
She quickly clamped her jaw shut and sent him a glare through the rearview mirror. He shook his head with a teasing grin.
"Hey!"
Dean grabbed their attention through the open driver's window, his arms full of a variety of different junk foods that in no way, shape, or form, could pass as a substantial meal.
"Sammy, you want breakfast?"
Sam eyed the selection, and crinkled his nose.
"No, thanks."
Dean shrugged, turning to his sister. His eyes turned sad as she avoided his gaze.
He didn't ask if she wanted to eat. He knew the answer.
Sam took note of the exchange, and told himself he would question Dean about it later.
"How'd you pay for all that?"
He inquired, changing the subject.
"Still running those credit card scams?"
Dean dumped the food on the seat beside Mak, cueing an eye roll from her.
"Well, hunting ain't exactly millionaire's work."
She reminded, deadpanning, as her eyes flickered across the snacks Dean had purchased.
Dean removed the gas nozzle from the car and returned it to the pump.
"Besides, Sammy, all we do is apply. Ain't our fault they keep sending the cards."
Sam laughed in disbelief.
"What names were on the application this time, huh?"
The sister whipped her card out of her back pocket, holding it out in front of her younger brother's face.
"Burt Aframian, and his kiddos Hector and Pamela."
She informed him with a smirk, and as Dean seated himself back in the car, Mak instinctually handed him a cola and a bag of chips, which her brother automatically accepted. Sam swore the two of them were telepathic.
"Sounds about right."
Sam chuckled.
His attention turned to their collection of tapes.
"Dude. You have gotta update your cassette collection."
Makayla feigned offense, a hand reaching up to clutch her heart.
"How dare you?"
Dean glanced at her through the rearview mirror as he pulled onto the interstate, a smile on his face.
"Yeah, Sammy, why would we do that?"
Sam looked shocked.
"Well, for starters, they're cassette tapes."
Makayla huffed sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest.
"And Dean. Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica?"
Dean quickly snatched the tape labeled Metallica away from his brother, cradling it as if it was his lifeline. (And Mak knew that it was.)
"These are the greatest hits of mullet rock."
Sam continued.
"House rules, Sammy."
Dean reprimanded, passing the case of tapes back to his sister as he slipped in the Metallica tape.
"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."
Makayla snorted as the music began to blare out of the speakers, her seat vibrating with bass. It was oddly relaxing. Familiar.
"How many times have I told you? Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old. It's Sam, okay?"
Dean ignored him completely, and Makayla laughed.
"Sure, sure. Whatever you say, Sammy."
...
She heaved a sigh of relief as they approached the sign that read Jericho 7.
"Jesus. Finally."
She muttered, and Dean laughed, looking back at her.
"Always so impatient."
He chaffed, and she shrugged.
"Learned it from my older brother."
Sam turned to Dean before they could bicker further. She was undeniably grateful. She was in no mood to banter with Dean. She was still obnoxiously upset with him.
"I just checked with all the local morgues and hospitals, and there's no one matching Dad's description, so that's something."
Dean glanced at Sam until Makayla gasped at the sight ahead of her, lurching forward to clutch at the back of the driver's seat.
"Check it out, bub."
Up ahead was a bridge blocked off by multiple cop cars with flashing red and blue lights. Dean slowly edged on the brakes.
As Dean slid from his seat, Makayla clambered forward towards the glovebox, practically on top of Sam's lap as she filtered through the selection of fake ID's, eventually settling on the ones that read Federal Marshals.
The girl snatched up one for Dean, herself, and her father's for Sammy. She flashed them towards her younger brother with a knowing look, and he rolled his eyes.
"Get off of me, MJ."
She scoffed as she scooted out of the car, tossing Dean his badge and then Sam his. She let her older brother take the lead as she followed closely behind him towards the scene of the action.
"There was another one just like this last month, wasn't there?"
Dean asked the nearest officer authoritatively, scoping out the terrain. Makayla tried to scrutinize the details of the crime thoroughly; catching small hints was something she excelled in.
"And who might you three be?"
The sheriff questioned suspiciously, and Mak held up her badge without hesitation.
"Federal Marshals, sir."
She spoke with a firm nod, her eyes hard and professional.
From his spot standing slightly behind her, Sam was impressed by his siblings' acting capabilities.
The man paused, studying the three, although his eyes noticeably lingered on Makayla.
"You're a bit young to be marshals, aren't you?"
Mak was, sadly, used to this misogynistic attention and treatment. His roaming eyes didn't have much of an effect on her; she knew that men like this, that saw her only as walking sex, gave her an unfair advantage if she needed to use her flirtation to get her somewhere.
"That's real kind of you."
She smiled sweetly up at him, and Dean gritted his teeth. His sister often used coquetry to con men when they were on hunts, but that didn't mean he approved of it. If any man so much as laid a finger on his baby sister, he would hunt them down quicker than he had any monster.
The officer looked down, flustered, and Mak's eyes flickered to Dean, nodding at him in reassurance of her success. He stared back, unmoving. She motioned towards the car, and he took the hint that it was safe to move on; she had won the cop over.
Dean cleared his throat, breaking the awkward tension.
"You, uh, did have another one just like this, right?"
The sheriff nodded carefully.
"Yeah, about a mile up the road. There've been others before that, too."
The three siblings made their way over to the car, the cop behind them.
"This victim... you knew him?"
Sam asked sympathetically as his older siblings circled around the car skeptically.
"Small town like this, everybody knows everybody."
His words were slightly ominous, and Makayla shivered, glancing back over at him only to find his eyes already on her. She looked away.
"Any connection between the victims, besides the fact that they're all men?"
Dean interrogated, and the man shrugged.
"Not as far as we can tell."
Makayla stopped in front of the car to observe the spattered blood on the windshield. Her green eyes were calculating.
"So, what's the conjecture?"
She lifted her gaze to meet the man's, and he looked startled. She resisted the urge to yell at him; he seemed surprised that a woman was capable of asking an independent question.
"Honestly? We're, uh... we're not sure. Serial murder? Kidnapping?"
Mak closed her eyes, trying to talk herself into patience. Cops like these- ignorant, useless officers, who had absolutely no idea what was really going on- were a waste of their time.
Dean, however, seemed incapable of containing his opinions.
"Well, that's exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys-"
Sam stomped on his foot rather hard, and the sister sighed.
"Thank you for your time, officer. Good luck."
She flashed a half-smile to the cop, patting his arm before she marched back towards the Impala, her brothers a few feet behind her.
Dean smacked Sam upside the head.
"The hell was that for?"
The youngest asked, face contorted into a mask of pain and annoyance.
"Why'd you step on my foot?"
"Why'd you talk to the police like that?"
"Enough, you two!"
The sister whirled around, and the brothers immediately quieted, turning to face her attentively. Her eyes were narrowed.
"Stop behaving like children."
Dean scoffed, but Sam elbowed him before he could shoot anything snarky back.
"Sammy. These cops- they don't know what the hell they're really dealing with. We're on our own for this one. If we wanna find Dad, we have to figure this out ourselves."
Sam sighed with a nod, and Dean smirked.
"But Dean,"
Mak continued, and her older brother looked down like a shameful seven-year-old.
"that doesn't mean you treat the officers like shit, okay, bub?"
Dean grumbled out an apology, and Mak sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. She glanced back at the scene of the crime, and she could sense that the boys were about to taunt her for mother-henning them like she often did.
"C'mon, boys. Let's get out of here before we get busted."
...
Candy-apple eyes flashed from face to face, machiavellian, unabashedly trying to seek out someone of interest. From her spot in the backseat, looking out the window, her eyes landed on a teenage girl hanging up flyers on the street.
Mak smiled.
"I think I found 'er."
Her brothers both directed their attention to the person that had piqued their sister's interest.
Dean turned the car off.
"Then let's-"
"I got this one, fellas. I have a feeling she'd be more comfortable with someone who actually has empathy, thank you."
Sam looked incredulous as she opened her door to leave.
"Did she just call us 'fellas'?"
He muttered to his brother, who waved a dismissive hand.
"You'll get used to her shit soon enough. You've been away from her too long, Sammy."
He chuckled, his statement meant to be a joke.
"Yeah."
Sam whispered in agreement as he watched his older sister waltz over to the girl.
Makayla cleared her throat, standing behind the person who was presumably Amy.
"Excuse me... are you Amy?"
The young woman spun around in surprise, her eyebrows knitted together. Once her eyes landed on Mak, and she realized she wasn't in immediate danger, she relaxed slightly.
"Oh, um, yes, I am."
The Winchester sister sighed, a sympathetic expression on her face.
"Sorry to startle you. I'm Makayla Squire, my brothers Sam and Dean are over in the car over there,"
She gestured to the Impala, but Amy didn't look.
"Troy is our nephew... He told us a lot about you."
Amy's lips turned downward into a nostalgic, yet suspicious frown.
"He never mentioned you."
"We... regrettably, aren't as close as we should be. My brothers and I live up in Modesto."
Mak explained as the girl began to wander forward towards another post to hang a sign; the sister's eyes flicked back over to the car, seeing her brothers' watchful gazes.
"We came as soon as we heard what happened... we've been asking around, seeing what we can find out. Do you... mind if we ask you a couple questions?"
Amy turned to face her, before nodding slowly.
"You can meet me at the diner up the street. I have to go grab my friend from a couple blocks over, but I'll see you there."
Makayla smiled gratefully, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Thank you, Amy."
...
"We're still siblings, our last name is Squire and Troy is our nephew, alright? We live up in Modesto... what else is there to know?"
Makayla was slightly annoyed with Sam; these cover-ups did not need to be as in-depth as he was making them...
He sighed.
"Yeah, alright."
Dean huffed impatiently.
"Can we get a move on, then? Jesus Christ, it's not like these girls are Sherlock and Watson. Our aliases don't gotta be perfect!"
Makayla glared at him through the rearview mirror. While she felt a little petty, after the previous night's argument, she wasn't particularly happy with him. And Sammy... well, he had a tendency to act like a... well, like a know-it-all. She was not about to put up with that, especially since he hadn't been on a hunt in four damn years. Her body was beginning to pump with frustration.
The three made their way into the diner, spotting Amy along with her friend already seated in a booth. Makayla took the lead as they approached.
"Hi, girls. Thank you for doing this, we appreciate it."
The sister's hands were in her pockets, and Amy smiled at them, motioning towards the opposite bench.
Dean slid in first, then Mak, and finally Sam. Amy's friend was looking at them suspiciously.
"As I told you earlier, this is Dean and Sam."
The sister gestured towards her two brothers.
"I'm Rachel."
The girlfriend's partner added, and Sam interrupted the pleasantries quicker than Makayla would have hoped.
"So, Amy... when did you find out what happened to Troy?"
Mak sent Sam a glower from the corner of her eye, and her left leg jerked to kick his shin threateningly. He held back a grimace, his body tensing and his lips tightening. He shot a look at his sister, who offered him a warning glare in return.
Amy inhaled a breath.
"I was actually on the phone with him. He was on his way home, and he said he'd call me right back..."
She paused, and the Winchester sister could see her swallowing her tears.
"... he never did."
Mak forced a sympathetic smile, although she wasn't really thinking about the girl's emotions, but rather the logistics of the case.
"Did he say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?"
Sam questioned, and Amy shook her head slowly.
"Not that I can remember..."
Makayla bit her lip as she felt her twin's gaze on her face. She glanced at him, and they shared a silent conversation.
Any ideas?
Nothing.
A few beats of awkward stillness ensued and just as Mak was about to break it, her younger brother beat her to it.
"- I like your necklace."
Her gaze fell the Amy's neck, where a silver pentagram dangled from a chain.
Makayla immediately looked at her twin with wide eyes and furrowed brows, unsurprised to find him doing the same.
Strange.
Surprisingly, Amy's head perked at the mention of her jewelry.
"Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents with all that devil stuff."
She giggled, and Makayla smiled uneasily.
"Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful... I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing."
Makayla couldn't help her jaw from dropping at her brother's stupidity.
"Ooookay then..."
"Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries..."
The twins spoke in unison, both completely in shock at Sam's idiocy, and the pair of girls across from them seemed equally appalled.
With a kick to the ankle from his sister, Sam knew he needed to take a backseat.
Dean sighed and leaned forward, lacing his fingers together as he rested his arms against the table.
"Ladies- The way Troy disappeared, something's just not right. So if you've heard anything..."
The girls shared an a look of uncertainty, and Makayla raised her brows.
"What is it?"
Amy's friend, Rachel, shrugged hesitantly.
"... with all these guys disappearing, I guess... people talk."
"What do they talk about?"
Both Mak and Dean chorused, not even bothering to look at each other as they spoke in unison. Sam, on the other hand, had to refamiliarize himself with their connection.
Rachel sighed, an uneasy glance sent to her friend.
"It's something like a local legend... this one girl... she got murdered out on Centennial, like ages ago."
"Oh?"
Makayla inquired, her interest piqued.
Potential murdered spirit and disappearing men? Just another Winchester Thursday.
Dean nudged Mak's leg with his own and she nodded at no one in particular, letting him know that she was just as curious as he was.
"Supposedly she's still out there... she hitchhikes. And whoever picks her up... they disappear. Forever."
Sam and Dean shared a glance as Makayla nodded in thanks.
"We really appreciate your cooperation. We'll be in touch if we find anything on Troy."
With sudden and almost impolite haste, Makiah forced Sam out of the booth so she could escape. She made her way towards the Impala without looking back to her brothers.
They had work to do.
__________
"Somebody already has them? Really..."
After stopping at the local police station in hopes of finding some records of the woman's death, Makayla was dumbfounded by the news; someone had already asked to see the original documents, even though the case had been closed since 1982. Someone else was interested in this specific twenty-year old-case. And that could only be one person...
"Yeah, a man named Burt Aframian stopped by a couple weeks ago, lookin' into the same sorta stuff. Something come up?"
The blonde-haired-blue-eyed deputy in front of her asked, and she swallowed the growing lump in her throat, almost certain her face had become as pale as a sheet.
"Uh- yeah. Yeah, I, uh, guess you could say that."
Chuckled Makayla breathily, itching the back of her neck uncomfortably, suddenly very claustrophobic.
I need to get out of here, tell Dean and Sammy...
"We can get you some fresh printouts of the records, if you'd like. It'll only take a secon-"
"No! Thank you, but, uh, I have to get back to my comrades. I appreciate your time."
She stuttered hastily, and the man in front of her furrowed his brows.
Stumbling out the door with clumsy swiftness, she was annoyed that the man followed closely behind her.
Can't he take a damn hint?
"Well, just let me know if I can do anything for you. I'd be happy to help-"
"Thank you."
Makayla snapped, her patience officially worn thin. The man jolted with momentary shock, but finally took the cue to leave.
With hands empty of information but head full of relieving news, she jogged towards the library in search of her siblings.
...
The librarian hushed the girl with anger in her eyes, and Makayla smiled apologetically. As she entered into the building, full of excitement, nearly calling out their names, she had forgotten that they were in a library.
Dean'll be so relieved...
And maybe with his nerves calmed down, he'll stop being such an ignorant, self-absorbed asshole and finally apologize.
Makayla overlooked her digression at the sight of her younger brother hovering over some papers in his hands.
Dashing over to him, he looked up with confusion as to why she was so elated.
"MJ? What-"
"Dad has been here, looking for this same stuff. We're on the right track!"
She nearly burst with relief, gripping her brother's biceps tightly with her hands. Her smile was as bright as a newborn flame.
"Where's Dean? He's gonna flip."
Sam couldn't help but grin himself, as her joviality was contagious.
"How- how do you know?"
"Well, I went down to the police department and was asking about any murders on the bridge in the past fifty years. The deputy was confused, but then I realized, maybe it wasn't a murder, maybe it was-"
"-a suicide."
Dean's voice interrupted her from behind- sounding almost... annoyed? - taking the words from her mouth. Sam watched as her eyes rolled with her own vexation. She shifted, as to face both her twin and her younger brother.
"Yeah. Constance Welch, jumped off the Sylvania Bridge off of Centennial."
"Yeah, we know that, Mak-"
"Let me finish!"
She snapped at Dean, her eyes illuminated with aggravation. He raised his hands in mock defense, although his sarcastic gesture was concealing his genuine shock at her outburst.
What's gotten into her?
"Anyway... when I asked to see the records, they told me that someone else already had them."
Sam laughed in astonishment, but Dean- having missed the beginning of the conversation- was still confused.
"Yeah, and so?"
Makayla sighed, her nose twitching just slightly.
"Some guy named Burt Aframian had asked to see them a couple weeks back... his name ring any bells?"
After a few beats, Dean's green eyes widened.
"So, Dad?"
Makiah huffed with a small laugh.
"Yes, Dad!"
She watched as a smile slowly spread across his face, and although the sister was trying as hard as she could to hold a grudge, the smile of solace on his face was enough to cue her own.
Sam's brows furrowed in thought.
"Okay, so we know that we're on the right track. We know Dad was thinking the same thing as us, and he probably figured out the case, but there's one problem..."
Makayla's expression darkened, nodding in understanding.
"His track is cold."
She mumbled; Sam and Dean glanced at each other in uncertainty.
"But... if Dad wanted to solve this case- then that's what we're gonna do. Go through the motions. Maybe it'll lead us straight to him."
She finished, determination etched into her features. Dean nodded in immediate agreement, but Sam was still skeptical.
"I don't know, guys. I mean- what if something bad actually happened to him? Would he really just drop a hunt this quick?"
Dean sighed.
"Look, Sammy, the best thing we can do right now is figure this out. Obviously Dad wants this case solved."
"And honestly, this hunt is the only clue we have as to where he is."
Mak added, offering her younger brother a sigh. She was frustrated with her father herself, too, but she was going along with the while goose chase cooperatively, for Dean's sake.
Sam's contemplative eyes narrowed in thought. After a moment, he exhaled.
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right."
...
It was nearly 11:30 by the time they reached the bridge.
The sun's aurora had faded into murky darkness, and Makayla felt uneasy at the fact that the stars were invisible from where they were stationed; the stars are what grounded her. Without them, she felt scattered.
Makayla stalked towards the left edge of the bridge, leaving her brothers still near the car as she wandered away. Leaning against the railing, she couldn't help but notice that the water below was incredibly muddy and polluted, waves of flowing rapids caused by the wind echoing in her ears- the sight made her nauseous.
"So, I guess this is where Constance took the swan dive."
Dean chuckled as he stood himself to the right side of his twin, following her gaze to the river below.
"Guess so."
The girl whispered in response, her fingers buried deeply in the pockets of her flannel shirt.
The pit in her stomach only seemed to grow in weight, dragging her down. Something was very wrong.
Sam positioned himself opposite her.
"So you think Dad woulda come here?"
MJ nodded without hesitation.
"Of course. He was after this case-"
"-and we're after him."
Dean punctuated, finishing her thought.
Makayla tore her eyes away from the darkness below and found her legs carrying her further down the bridge. Dean walked alongside her, and Sam trailed behind.
"Okay... now what?"
Sam inquired, cueing a frown from his sister.
"We... just keep diggin' 'til we find him, I guess."
She answered hesitantly, glancing at her twin for reassurance. Dean connected his green gaze with her own, sending her a small smirk. She looked away.
"I'll be honest, it might take awhile."
Dean sighed, although Mak knew that he spoke the truth.
"Guys, I told you, I have to be back-"
"Monday. The interview. Of course."
Dean snapped sarcastically, and the girl beside him punched his broad shoulder with annoyance etched on her face, reminding him to behave.
"Yeah."
Sam assured quietly from behind them. Makayla stopped walking and turned to face him; Dean followed suit.
"Yeah, sorry, I forgot... but you're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're gonna become some lawyer? Marry your girl?"
The eldest brother retorted, and Mak scoffed.
"Dean."
She warned, arms crossed over her chest tightly.
"Yeah, maybe."
Sam answered Dean, challengingly. Mak's twin took a few daunting steps closer to him.
"Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?"
"Dean, stop being an ass!"
Makayla insisted, but he ignored her, just as Sam did. She realized that this was going to turn into a serious argument in a few seconds. All she could do was stand to the side and wait until it got out of hand.
"No, and she's never going to know."
Sam growled back.
"Well, ain't that healthy? Look, you can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later you're going to have to fess up to who you really are."
Dean coated these words with a sense of finality, turning his back to his brother and venturing farther down the bridge. As he reached Makayla, he pushed past her, checking her shoulder with his. She gawked at him in disgust.
What a child.
"Oh, yeah, Dean? And who is it that I really am?"
The youngest asked, jogging after his brother. Makayla placed a hand on his shoulder in hopes of slowing him down, but he blew her off.
She loved when she was practically invisible.
She turned and faced the side of the overpass, listening to the crashing waves instead of Sam's pounding footsteps.
How easy it would be to follow in Constance's footsteps. How easy it would be to put an end to her illness.
With horrifying realization, Makayla pulled herself from the depths of her plagued mind only to find that she had walked all the way to the edge of the bridge.
She looked back at her brothers. They hadn't even noticed.
She could have jumped, and they wouldn't even stop her.
"You're one of us."
Dean shrugged matter-of-factly, and with newfound aggression, Sam shoved his shoulder back so that he was now standing in front of him.
"No, Dean. I am not like you. This is not going to be my future."
Makayla jogged over quickly, her hands clenched until her knuckles were white.
She hated when they fought.
"You have a responsibility to-"
"To what? To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back."
The girl froze in shock. His words filled her ears with poison and she found it trickling down to her lungs.
She found it hard to breathe.
How dare you, Sam? How fucking dare you?
Makayla clenched her jaw, prepared to punch Sam in the fucking nose, but Dean had beat her to it, his hands around Sam's collar with his body pressed to the rails of the bridge.
"Don't you ever talk about Mom like that."
Dean growled lowly, and the girl realized that this was finally her opportunity to cut in.
She placed a gentle hand against Dean's chest, and when he made eye contact with her, his raging gaze turned soft. He carefully lowered his hands from around Sam's jacket and let go of him with a small shove.
Dean, realizing his open display of emotion, quickly swatted his sister's hand away, although she didn't really mind. She knew he appreciated the gesture, even if he'd never admit it.
She stood in front of Sam.
"I'm sorry, kiddo. I really, really am. I know... I know you didn't ask for this, Sammy. Hell, none of us asked for this-"
"I know."
He whispered with a tight understanding smile, although his hazel green eyes were still sad. She placed a hand on his right shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"Uh, guys?"
Dean called, and Makayla turned to face him, following his gaze.
On the edge of the bridge, stood Constance, her hair flowing in the wind. And with one graceful sweep of her legs, she plunged off the edge.
Makayla gasped, eyes wide with horror.
She leaned over the rail, looking down at the rapids below, but there was no sign of her spirit.
"What the actual hell?"
She proclaimed as her brothers came to her side.
A light from their right caught their attention.
The Impala revved to life with a roar of the engine, the headlights two beams of destruction.
"Uh, Dean?"
Sam asked, and Makayla could barely hear him over the sound of blood pumping in her ears.
"Who the hell is driving?"
Dean patted down his pockets, before groaning.
"I must've left the keys in the fucking ignition!"
With a sinking weight growing heavier by the second, Makayla let out a shaky breath, reaching into the front pocket of her jeans to retrieve the keys to the car. She held them up for the boys to see, all of them taking a few seconds to comprehend what, exactly, was going on.
It wasn't until the car began to speed forward that they reacted.
"Run!"
Sam shouted, and the twins didn't need to be told twice. The trio bolted away from impending doom, feet dragging along the asphalt and hearts pounding against their chests.
The car was gaining on them. Fast.
It was right up their asses now, and Makayla felt her stomach lurch.
Dean grabbed her hand, and before she knew it, they were flying over the edge of the bridge, awaiting a fate possibly similar to that of Constance Welch.
__________
The sudden freeze of the water below shocked her, sending a paralyzing chill down her spine- she opened her eyes only to find herself blinded by the muddiness of the river as it pulled her in thousands of different directions.
Panic took hold of her body as she reacted to the freezing cold. The disgusting water filled her mouth as she tried to scream, thrashing her limbs in a sad attempt to reach the surface. She was sure that she was going to die.
Her face broke through the tide just long enough for her to gasp a breath of fresh air, but soon enough, she found herself pulled back under.
"Dean!"
She shrieked when she resurfaced again, her limbs increasingly harder to control due to panic and cold.
"Dean, help!"
The water flowed all around, pushing her farther and farther from survival, until she felt two strong arms of pure salvation grip her by the shoulders.
With a choking gasp, she sputtered, the cold night air stinging her wet face as she continued to panic; her hair clung to her damp cheeks as she continued to flail in the arms of her savior, unable to control the utter hysteria that was fueled by her pathological fear.
"Mak! Makayla, it's okay, baby, I got you..."
The voice sounded miles away, but when she recognized it as Dean's, she was pulled from her uncontrollable delirium.
"D-De?"
She stammered, the iciness of the water freezing her to the core. She sputtered again as Dean pressed her to harder against his chest, treading water for the both of them. She seemed to be shaking more than the tide.
"Yeah, baby, it's okay. We'll get you outta here."
Mak felt several tears slip down her cheeks as she latched onto him, her eyes shut tight as she tried to ignore the swirling water around them.
She hated it. She hated the irrational terror that clawed away at her brain, tearing down the walls of strength she built in order to protect herself from pain. She hated how she could be caught looking so feeble, how Dean treated her like she was the most delicate piece of china that could shatter at the slightest vibration. She felt pathetically weak as he paddled to the shore, his arm around her chest as she cried, her panic now turned to shock.
The older brother settled his sister onto the mudbank, not really paying mind to the sludge they slid into. He collapsed in a coughing heap on the ground, and the girl turned and gripped his disgustingly dirty coat as if it were her lifeline.
She trembled and shook- from fear or shock or genuine cold, she wasn't sure. But what she did know, was that her entire body was numb.
It was only after several minutes of silent tears and quivering lips that she was brought back to reality as Dean brushed his hand across her cheek. The look of consolation and pity in his eyes was enough to make her throw her guard up, as impossible as it seemed.
"I'm okay, Dean."
The reassurance came out as more of a whimper, her body still convulsing from the shock. Just as Dean was about to protest, Sam's voice sounded from above them.
"MJ! Dean!"
Dean pulled himself to his feet, running a hand through his muddy hair.
He looked down at his sister, who was struggling to stand on her wobbly legs.
He offered her a hand.
She waved him off, dragging herself upward with great difficulty.
She didn't want his help. She could do it alone. She knew she could.
As she straightened, however, her legs seemed to disagree; she stumbled straight into her brother's suspecting arms and had to push against his chest to regain her balance.
"I'm fine, I'm fine."
She insisted with a scowl, shifting her weight and stepping away from him carefully.
He kept a hand on her shoulder for support.
She pushed it away.
"Down here, Sam."
Dean called in response, keeping his gaze on his sister from the corner of his eye.
Sam was, obnoxiously, dry and clean on the bridge above, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Are you guys okay?"
Dean looked at his shaking sister, whose face was three shades paler than it should've been.
"We're f-fine, Sammy."
Makayla jumped in before Dean could. Her twin studied her carefully before huffing.
"Yeah, Sam,"
He grumbled,
"just peachy."
Dean nodded towards the hill the two of them now had to scale to reach the top. Makayla groaned, running a hand through her mucky hair. When he made no effort to move, she glared at him.
"Well? Start walking, then, bitch!"
Her words were slightly stuttered due to her trembling.
Dean furrowed his brows.
"Did- did you not just hear me tell you to go first?"
Makayla stared at him blankly for a few moments.
"Oh."
She whispered, still slightly bewildered. Her brain was swimming, feeling like it was still trapped in the tirades of the river.
Makayla begrudgingly ventured forward as Dean hiked right at her heels.
About two minutes in, she froze, pain erupting behind her eyes. She stumbled back as Dean clumsily placed a hand on her spine for support.
"Woah, there, kid, are you okay?"
She couldn't hear him; after her vision cleared, she felt strangely disembodied- almost as though she didn't remember where she was. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, flicking from tree to tree. It wasn't until the sensation of Dean's warm hand against the small of her back returned that she relaxed.
"I'm fine, bub."
She snapped after a few beats, swatting her hand. His eyes were narrowed skeptically- she was definitely lying.
"Yeah, okay, doll-face."
He muttered.
"Sure you are."
...
Her back was resting against the bumper of the Impala as the boys checked under the hood to make sure everything was intact after the phantom driver took hold of the car.
She was huddled into herself, her legs pulled to her chest and her chin atop her knees- she tried to stop shaking. She tried to regulate her breathing. But nothing seemed to work.
Panic attack?
Maybe. She'd only gotten them a few times before, but she didn't remember them feeling like this.
Heavy footsteps approached her from both sides of the car.
She didn't look up as Dean leaned against the trunk and Sam sat down beside her.
"Is Baby okay?"
Makayla stuttered, lifting her head from her knees- with much effort- to look at her twin.
"Yeah. Whatever that ghost did to her seems all right now. That Constance chick, though. What a bitch!"
Dean shouted, his gravelly voice echoing in the quiet night.
Makayla chuckled, a bit harder than the comment deserved, and the brothers shared uneasy glances.
An intense tremor ran over her spine, her brain pounding alongside it.
Dean was concerned, to say the least. He shed his heavy leather jacket, slick with mud, off of his shoulders, trying to slide it onto her shoulders. She flinched away.
"The fuck are you doing?"
She asked incredulously, standing up abruptly.
"You're shaking, Makayla! I'm just trying to help you-"
"I don't need your damn charity, Dean, I'm absolutely fine!"
Dean's face dropped when he heard the sudden slurring of her speech. He studied her form, and it was then that he noticed the bluish tint to her complexion.
Sam seemed to notice it, too, as Mak recoiled when his warm hand came in contact with her icy forehead.
Sam's eyebrows knitted in concern. He flashed a look up to the older brother.
"Sweetheart, I think you've got hypothermia."
She blinked.
"What?"
Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, as Dean took a step closer.
"You definitely have hypothermia."
After a few seconds, she seemed to understand. Makayla's green eyes widened.
"No. Sammy, I'm fine, it's just a little nippy, s'all."
"The water wasn't even that cold, Sam."
Dean reminded his brother.
"Hypothermia?"
Sam looked up at his brother with a sigh.
"Slow motor reflexes, trembling, slurred speech. It could be trauma-induced. But either way, she's going to freeze. And she'll only get sicker if we don't get her warmed up right now."
The voices of Mak's brothers sounded as though she were hearing them through ears filled with cotton- almost like they stood at one end of a tunnel and she stood at the other.
She made a momentous effort to concentrate on their words.
Makayla shook her head.
"I promise, I'm fine."
Dean scoffed, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Like hell you are. Now let's go get ourselves a bed to sleep in so you can-"
"No."
Dean blinked.
"Excuse me?"
Makayla bit her lip at her boldness, but her mouth seemed to move on it's own.
"No."
She repeated, and Dean took a step back.
"Look, I know that your brain is a slushee right now, but I don't get what your deal is tonight!"
She glared at him, and he noticed how she swayed slightly while she stood.
"My deal is that you treat me like I'm seven. I'm the same age as you, Dean! I don't need you to protect me!
"You're sick-"
"I am not sick, Dean! It's cold outside, and I'm soaking wet! Of course I'm going to shake a little bit!"
"Makayla Jaimes, Sammy and I are just trying to help. Can you get over your pride for just one damn second-"
"Me? Get over my pride?"
She retorted, turning unsteadily towards her younger brother. He was stood awkwardly to the side, trying to stay away from the heat of the argument. When he noticed her glance that pleaded for reinforcement, he backed away.
"I'm, uh- I'm gonna wait in the car."
He mumbled, turning to the passenger door and closing it with a slam. Dean fumed.
"Why the hell can't you just admit that you need help?"
"Jesus Christ, Dean Winchester, you're one to talk!"
"Yeah, well, this ain't about me!"
"And it never fucking is, is it?"
Her tone turned suddenly violent, lashing out at him.
"That's what you do, Dean! Whenever you're confronted by sentimentality or vulnerability, you turn it on me, and I hate it! You think it's your job to protect me, but in all actuality, Dean, you just use that as an excuse as to why you don't take care of yourself! You compensate for your own lack of self-preservation with your 'responsibility' of keeping me safe, and it's bullshit on a stick!"
She was vociferating pure nonsense now, her mouth shouting things before her mind could even comprehend what she was saying.
Dean retreated into himself at her hostility, eyes wide with shock. He repeated her words over and over again to himself, processing. After several seconds of tension, his initial surprised turned to anger.
"What the fuck are you saying, then, Makayla?"
"I'm saying that you need to drop this whole 'I-know-what's-best-for-you-because-I'm-your-older-brother' tough-guy spiel! You're just too damn headstrong to admit that you need help sometimes, too, because you're Dean-fuckin'-Winchester, the child prodigy, and I'm sick of just being your pet!"
"You don't want my fucking help, then? Fine! You can freeze to death for all I care!"
She startled when the car door slammed and she was alone in the freezing night air, her body numb.
But her brain wasn't.
And it hurt like hell.
"You can freeze to death for all I care!"
Tears pricked at the back of her candy-apple eyes as she swayed more intensely, her fingers twitching uncontrollably.
She couldn't even remember what she had said; the selfish insecurities she had revealed, attacks at her twin brother she didn't even believe.
The world seemed to be spinning now, whirling into blurriness all around her. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. The pain in her head grew sharper, more concentrated in her forehead than before.
The next thing she knew, her skull was smacking against the ground and she was cast into darkness; the only thing that she carried with her into the abyss of sleep was the realization that Dean had directly told her that he wouldn't care if she died.
__________
Dean was fairly certain that he had blacked out while he was driving.
The only thing he remembered before they reached the motel was his little sister's head cracking against the pavement and her blood mixing in with the mud on his hands.
There was molten diamond collecting in his waterline, but he dared not shed a tear as he twisted the keys from the ignition and exited the car to open the back door for Sam and Mak.
He couldn't look at her. Dean kept his gaze focused on the flickering red neon sign broadcasting the name on the building, ignoring Sam's grunts of struggle as he shifted Mak's limp body in his arms.
He could only imagine what she looked like- her freckly tan skin flawed with brown and red splatters, her unmoving body looking so falsely at peace.
The thought made him sick.
"Maybe... maybe I should stay here with her while you get us a room... walking in with bloody body might not be so friendly."
Sam chuckled uneasily, but Dean could not force even a smile. He pushed himself away from the car, catching a glance of his sister from the corner of his eye.
Trembling.
The next thing he knew, he was at the front desk.
The hostess behind the table studied him with a distasteful look- it was only then that he remembered his filthy state. He didn't care.
"One room, please- two queens, if you got 'em."
She turned her nose up, a small glare of red creeping through her eyes as she typed into her old computer.
"Two doubles."
"Fine."
Dean snapped, throwing his false credit card across the countertop haphazardly. She snatched it away with a pointed look.
When she scanned the card, she relaxed just slightly.
"A family reunion or something?"
She questioned, the bored drawl in her voice making him backtrack.
"What?"
He questioned, unsure of his hearing.
"We had another man, Burt Aframian, check out Room 14 for the month. It just isn't a particularly common last name."
Dean's head was swimming.
Dad.
When she received no response, the woman sighed, extending the key towards the man.
"Lemme know if you want any of the adult channels activated."
She muttered rather rudely, and for the first time in Dean's life, he was too distracted to retort something equally insensitive back.
"Thanks."
He doubted she could hear him as he rushed back outside to where Sam was cradling Makayla in his arms, a look of concern in his eye.
"Dad was here."
Dean's breathing was labored.
Sam's head perked, brows furrowed.
"What?"
"Dad. He rented a room for a month. Here."
"Shit."
Sam muttered lightly under his breath.
"What do we do?"
Dean bit his lip and looked down, eyes gleaming.
"We gotta get in there."
It was then that Makayla stirred in Sam's arms, a small groan of pain eliciting from her lips. Dean's face fell.
"You- go to Dad's room. I'll take care of her."
Sam told the eldest brother, his face reassuring.
Dean hesitated.
"No, I should..."
"You should let me clean her up. I don't... I don't think it's good for you to see her like this."
Sam was right, Dean knew. The guilt and regret that was pummeling through his throbbing body would break him down soon enough.
With a sigh, Dean handed the keys to Sammy. As he went to back away, he paused, looking down at his unconscious sister.
My fault.
He reached forward and brushed a strand of her sticky hair away from her bloody cheek.
"Give her a towel when you stitch this closed. She likes to have something to bite down on."
The twin's voice was full of caution, and Sam couldn't help the empathetic smile on his face. Dean cared about her so much, even if he wouldn't blatantly admit it.
"Of course."
"And- and she'll probably hold your wrist while you do it. And she's strong. And it hurts like a bitch, but it makes her feel better."
"Got it."
"And have her take a warm shower when you're done so she warms up. And then tell her she can wear my gray flannel, it's her favorite, she likes it because it's fleece-lined and she gets cold really easily so it-"
"Okay, Dean."
Sam interceded, playfully annoyed.
"I'll be careful. This isn't my first time playing doctor."
"Yeah, but not for four years."
Dean muttered, turning his back and venturing towards the entrance to the hotel, locking the Impala behind him.
"I'll see you in a bit."
Sam sighed, glancing again at the precious bundle of life in his arms.
"Yeah."
...
Dean startled slightly as Sam entered the room that belonged to their father.
"Where's Mak-"
"She's in the shower."
Sam raised a hand, gesturing for Dean to calm down. The eldest took a breath.
"Did you-"
"Her forehead's all stitched up."
"And-"
"Yes, I gave her a towel. And yes, she did hold my wrist."
Sam raised his left arm as rolled down the sleeve slightly, exposing the tan flesh of his wrist that now had finger-shaped bruises forming along the bone.
Dean chuckled airily.
"Good."
It was silent for a few beats, and it was then that Sam finally noticed the chaos surrounding them. The newspaper clippings and articles covering the walls. Papers and books strewn across the floor.
"What the hell?"
He muttered, and Dean raised a hand and pointed to one article in particular.
"Dad figured it out."
He announced matter-of-factly, and Sam's eyes grew wide.
"He did?"
"Constance Welch- a Woman in White."
Sam whistled.
"How did we not see this before?"
It came out as more of a statement rather than a question, and Dean shrugged.
"We woulda gotten there sooner or later... but if I were Dad, the next stop on my list would be to-"
"- burn the corpse."
Sam finished.
"But she's still around. So maybe she was cremated?"
Dean tried.
The younger man stepped forward to observe the article in question.
"It doesn't say..."
Dean furrowed his brows, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Then the next step on Dad's list would be to talk to the husband."
"If he's still alive."
Sam added.
The two of them shared a comfortable silence, then, the ramshackle room somehow comforting.
"See if you can find an address. I'm gonna get cleaned up in here."
Dean nodded towards the bathroom, turning away.
"Woah, woah, not so fast."
Sam paused, raising a hand, and the brother huffed.
"Damnit, Sammy, I just wanna take a shower-"
"We need to talk. About Makayla."
Dean's sarcastic twinkle in his eye faded to dullness, a shadow crossing over his face.
"...Yeah. What about 'er?"
Sam gaped before scoffing.
"What do you mean, 'what about her'? What's going on with her?"
Dean faltered, his jaw clenching in contemplation.
"'Dunno what you mean."
"Stop, Dean. Just stop."
Sam's annoyance was rising.
"Look, Sammy, I don't know what's wrong with her, okay?"
"You're her twin brother, Dean, you know her better than anyone on the planet-"
"She won't talk to me, Sam!"
His voice cracked as he yelled in frustration, finally able to put his emotions into words, some part of his heart chipping away. His eyes were cloudy.
"She won't talk to me. I don't know why. Ever since you left- she's... it's like she's trying not to feel."
Sam's face fell as he tuned in to his brother's admission. He didn't know what made him sadder- seeing Dean so shaken up, or hearing that his sister was even worse.
"She hardly eats. Hell, she can't sleep unless I'm right there next to her. And honestly- I can't remember the last time I've seen her cry. Like really cry."
"Dean..."
"I'm worried, Sammy."
Dean couldn't look at him.
"We're all fucked in the head. But the two of us... we both go to her for this shit. And she ain't been coming to us lately."
He drew in a shaky breath.
"And I've been such a dick. I didn't even tell her I was plannin' on coming to pick you up at Stanford."
Sam did a double-take.
"Wait- you what?"
Dean glared.
"Yeah, I know, I'm a douchebag."
"I'll say."
Sam scoffed, but the older brother ignored him.
"And then, what I said to her tonight, I mean-"
"Don't beat yourself up too much, Dean. We all say things we regret sometimes, especially you two, when you get into arguments. You both have a bit of a temper."
Dean couldn't even smile.
"You'll figure this out. You guys always do. It'll all work itself out..."
Something churned inside of Dean's stomach- pain and sadness and shame and guilt all in one.
"I don't think you understand, Sammy. I told that girl that I wouldn't care if she died."
He whispered with a sigh.
"That's not something she's just gonna forget."
...
Sam was sprawled out on the bed closest to the bathroom, his hands behind his head and his long legs extended across the length of the mattress. The room was growing unbearably warm as the sister's hour long shower grew into an hour and a half.
On the bed adjacent to him was Dean, huddled on the left side of the mattress; Makayla always complained about him hogging the space, so he was trying to be extra cautious of her needs.
Especially right now.
He knew she liked to sleep on the side closest to the door- she had confided in him one time that she liked being between him and the entrance, as it made her feel better knowing she was between him and whatever imminent danger might be on the other side of the door. Dean found that oddly reassuring.
By the time she was done, they had turned all the lights off and the only brightness was supplied by the flickering TV, some stupid sitcom playing reruns with the cheesy audience laughter echoing quietly from the speakers.
Her hair reached her shoulder-blades when it was wet and straight, and the stitches in her upper right forehead were clean and precise. Dean's gray flannel was buttoned to the very top, her fingers drowning in the long sleeves and her legs covered all the way to her mid-thigh.
Dean's heart swelled at the sight of her awakened state. She looked so young and innocent and gentle and clean and pure.
He watched as she paused outside of the steamy doorway, glancing at Sam before making eye contact with her twin.
Say something, Dean, say anything.
But his lips were glued shut and his jaw wouldn't move and his voice was strangled by the fear of rejection.
The next events that occurred would be something Dean would replay in his mind for months after it had happened, only adding to the weight of remorse and failure that piled on his broad shoulders.
Makayla pushed her way onto Sam's bed, forcing his spread limbs to scoot to one side in an attempt to make room.
She snuggled into his chest. She wouldn't look at Dean.
Sam sent a look of panic and surprise to Dean, who was too stunned to even react.
She can't sleep without me next to her. We haven't slept in separate beds for almost four years.
Sam's eyes pleaded for forgiveness as he hesitantly lifted an arm to wrap around her shoulders, but Dean looked away, his heart rumbling with sharp pricks of pain.
The bed seemed so cold and empty. With a sigh, he scooted slightly closer to the middle- but he couldn't force himself to move all the way.
He'd leave space for her... in case she changed her mind. In case she need it. Because he was always there for her if she needed it- even when she didn't want it.
Always.
__________
Makayla couldn't remember the last time she had slept so horribly.
It was nice having Sammy next to her, sure, but something felt... off.
And rightfully so. Because everything was off.
Sam was big and warm and his arms were always open to Mak, but there was something that just wasn't Dean about him.
Both boys knew that their sister was a sucker for physical affection- words didn't always embrace her in the way that a hug could. And she needed someone with her when she slept- just so she knew they couldn't get hurt just like their mother did, when Mak was sound asleep and helpless (and, also, five years old, but the girl had a tendency for putting blame unto herself).
Sam was gentle and affectionate when he coddled her, but not in the same sense as her twin. Dean's arms held her just so, his warm exhalations fanning across her face just right there.
Makayla didn't believe in telepathy- but there were some times, and just some, where she didn't have any other explanation for how she and her brother could be so attuned to one another. How even when she was so unbelievably angered at him, her heart swelled as she thought about him. How even from across the room, when he was seemingly sound asleep, she knew that he was beating himself up.
...
Dean was beating himself up.
His dreams were plagued with thoughts of his sister drowning in a river under a bridge, just out of arm's reach.
He has jolted from his nightmare at around 3 a.m., shirtless body coated in sweat and one of the pillows gripped tightly to his chest.
The other half of the bed was still vacant.
With a sigh, he turned on his back, the mattress squeaking at the slightest shift.
He glanced over at his siblings, who were sound asleep and huddled together on the other bed, Makayla's hair trailing along Sam's shoulder.
He didn't know what he was feeling. Jealousy wasn't the word- he was glad his two favorite people in the world were safe together. It was more... longing. Yearning. Like he was literally missing a piece of himself.
How could he possibly be missing her when she was only an arm's length away?
Yet, still, just out of reach...
...
After hours and hours of tossing and turning, Makayla finally surrendered her struggle at 5 a.m., vouching for a coffee from the diner across the street as an antidote to her exhaustion.
She gently crept from the bed, sliding carefully from under Sam's arms, and tiptoed into the bathroom with her duffel bag, a yawn escaping her lips.
After changing out of Dean's flannel and into one of the few outfits that were her own- an olive-colored turtleneck, her leather jacket, jeans and her hiking boots- Makayla brushed her teeth and pulled her hair back messily before slowly exiting the bathroom, careful not to disturb her brothers' rest.
She grabbed the notepad off of the bedside table along with the pen.
off to get some breakfast from the diner across the street
don't miss me too much
- mj x
She set the note back down, grabbing a couple bills from Dean's wallet and shoving a small pistol in the waistband of her pants.
As she walked to the door, she hesitated, turning back to look at the sleeping forms of her brothers. Dean was on the side farthest from the door, curled into himself, a pillow hugged tightly to his chest.
The sight of him made pain from her stitches spread to her toes.
The door clicked shut behind her.
The morning air was dewy and cool, sending a startling chill down her spine. Her drowsiness was whisked away by the breeze, her boots clacking across the worn asphalt.
The world was quiet, then, as if everyone but her was asleep.
Blue neon lights from the sign above the diner door glowed in the distance, and Makayla swore she could smell coffee all the way from across the street.
But when her eyes strayed, she froze.
Someone was pointing at her.
The sheriff and his deputy.
Shit.
With surprising agility, she turned her back on the pair as she whipped her cell phone from her back pocket and dialed Sam's phone number.
Pick up, pick up, pick up.
"This is Sam Winchester, sorry I couldn't get to the phone, please leave a message-"
"Excuse me, Marshal."
The voice of the sheriff spoke accusingly, and Makayla snapped the phone shut with finality.
"Damn."
She whispered under her breath, clenching her jaw.
After regaining her composure, she forced a sweet smile on her face as she turned to face them.
"Problem, officers?"
She questioned, biting her lip.
The deputy blushed, but the sheriff just scoffed.
"Where the hell are your partners?"
Makayla laughed airily.
"Oh, I don't have partners, gentlemen. I'm a no-strings-attached kind of gal, if you know what I mean."
She stepped forward, and the younger deputy cleared his throat. The sheriff stared her down with authority, and with a sinking in her gut, she knew she was trapped.
"Impersonating federal officers, false credit card information from the damn motel... you still wanna play cute with me?"
Makayla bit her lip again, looking down at the floor.
She prayed Dean could literally hear her thoughts.
Get out of the damn room.
With a small forced giggle, she glanced up at the sheriff.
"You think I'm cute?"
Growling, the man latched onto her shoulders and whipped her around so her back was to him, slamming his cuffs onto her wrists with unprecedented force.
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can, and will, be held against you."
He leaned forward.
"How's that sound, sweetheart?"
Her kittenish act was dropped, as she knew she could use no more groveling.
With narrowed eyes, she glowered.
"It would sound a hell of a lot better if your breath wasn't in my ear."
The sheriff huffed in disgust, gripping her wrists tightly.
The pair followed as the deputy opened the back door, the officer shoving her inward and almost smacking her head against the ceiling.
"Hey, watch it. Precious cargo."
She articulated sarcastically, and the man slammed the door shut.
With her cuffed wrists and thumping heart, she cast a look back at the motel.
Go, boys. Go.
...
His arms were empty when he woke up.
"Oh, so you're finally awake."
Sam chuckled to himself as the older man sat up clumsily, rubbing his eyes with his left hand.
"What'd I miss?"
His voice was gravelly and thick, still sounding of sleep. Dean's eyes observed the room, before panic struck him and completely overrode his drowsiness.
"Where's Mak?"
Sam shook his head.
"Calm down. She ran across the street to get some breakfast. She'll be back soon."
Dean relaxed, just slightly, and slid from the warmth of his bed to pull a t-shirt over his head.
"I think I'll go catch up with her."
Dean mumbled and buttoned up his green flannel, making Sam's eyes shoot to his face.
"Think that's a good idea?"
He questioned slowly, if not uneasily.
"Don't care. I'm sick of her givin' me the cold shoulder. That girl'll hold a grudge 'til the day she dies."
Dean grumbled.
"Besides, you're a blanket hog. She probably slept like shit."
Sam mocked offense, his eyebrows furrowing.
"Hey!"
Dean waved him off, sliding his leather jacket over his shoulders. He grabbed his wallet.
"Hey! The damn ankle-biter stole my cash!"
Sam laughed.
"Of course she did."
Dean scowled at no one in particular, shoving the wallet in his back pocket and grabbing his cell phone.
"Want anything?"
When Sam shrugged, the older brother took this as a sign to leave.
"Well, call me if you change your mind."
Dean advised as he stepped out the door.
...
"So, is your Daddy a criminal too, huh?"
Makayla fumed, but remained quiet. She hated cops- even when it wasn't her that was cuffed to the backseat.
"The motel manager said he'd checked a room out before you and your 'brothers' had arrived. Is it the family business, Pamela? If that's even your real name-"
"Shut the hell up about my family. This isn't about them. This is about me."
"Well, I'll be damned."
The officer muttered, completely ignoring Makayla. Her brows furrowed as she followed his gaze through the barred off window between them to see Dean walking out of the motel room, only twenty feet from the parked car she was currently sitting in.
"Fuck."
She whispered, her blood running cold.
Both officers exited the car with sly purpose, and the girl could feel her heart progressively accelerating.
She watched as Dean paused, noticing his pursuers, and whipped his phone from his pocket.
He muttered some words into it before the cops were on his back. She prayed that Sammy could make a safe escape.
Makayla could only imagine what snarky shit Dean would say to the two officers after he hung up the phone. They seemed to get agitated fairly quickly, as only about ten seconds into the conversation, the sheriff grabbed him by the neck and slammed him onto the hood of the car, cuffing Dean's hands behind his back.
Makayla squeezed her eyes shut at the sight, even though she knew Dean was smirking cheekily. He'd never get over his pride.
She kept her gaze straight ahead when the back door on the other side was opened and a body was shoved in next to her.
"Hello, Pamela."
Dean muttered, his voice easygoing. She smiled at him, but there were daggers shooting from her gaze.
"Crazy coincidence seeing you here, Hector."
...
"You gonna give us your real names?"
Makayla stared at the wooden desk in front of her, her fists clenched at her sides. Her wrists were raw from the handcuffs, and she was thankful they had been taken off. Her and Dean now sat opposite the sheriff in his office.
"Told you already, it's Nugent. Ted and Caroline Nugent."
Dean smirked, and Makayla bit her lip.
The cop let silence fill the air before he spoke again.
"I'm not sure the two of you know just how much trouble you're in here."
Makayla looked at him.
"Are we talking, like, minor inconvenience kinda trouble, or pleadin' for mercy kinda trouble?"
She asked, and she heard Dean snigger from beside her.
The officer's glare was petrifying.
"You have the pictures of ten using persons taped to your motel wall."
This made the girl's nonchalant smile fade, and her eyes flicked to her twin. His gaze was in his lap.
"Right alongside a whole bunch of Satanic mumbo-jumbo. You two are now, officially, suspects."
"Yeah, that makes a hell of a lot of sense, since the first one happened in '82, when we were three."
Dean mumbled, and the sheriff was growing more agitated by the second.
"I know you've got partners. One of 'em's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. So tell me, Dean."
Makayla startled at this, her jaw dropping slightly. No matter how angry she still was with him, no matter how bad he'd hurt her, the shock caused her hand to instinctually reach for her brother's. He gripped it like it was his lifeline.
A thick leather-bound book was slammed on the table in front of them, and it was difficult for Makayla to hide her reaction.
Dad's journal.
The girl reached forward and shifted through the pages, her father's handwriting scrawled right alongside all the newspaper clippings and hastily-made sketches. Her heart sank.
"You recognize it, Makayla?"
She didn't respond. Dean took the book from her and began examining it himself. They shared an uneasy glance.
"I thought those might be your names. See, I leafed through it... or what little I could make out- I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy."
Makayla growled lowly, fed up with the man's blatant disrespect.
The man ripped the book from Dean's grasp.
"I came across this, too."
The officer flipped to a page near the end. It was blank except for 10 letters.
DEAN 35-111.
The writing seemed messier than the rest, written in more of a haste. It terrified her.
"You two are stayin' right damn here until you tell me what the fuck this means."
The twins looked at each other.
"It's his high school locker combination."
Makayla blurted out without hesitation, cueing a small smile from Dean.
The man stood with such abrupt frustration, Makayla flinched.
"We gonna do this all damn night, you two?! Because I'm not messing' around here. You are not moving from those seats until you explain to me who the hell you two really are."
Makayla turned her head towards the window, only to see the sun setting in the sky.
Where is Sammy?
She forced a smile, however, looking at Dean.
"Oh, Dean, I'm quaking in my boots."
She faked despair, but was surprised as the deputy rushed into the room with panic on his face.
"We just got a 911, shots fired over at Whiteford Road."
The sheriff growled, throwing the notebook back onto the table.
"You two better behave yourselves or you'll be living the rest of your life behind bars."
He yanked Mak's right arm and Dean's left, handcuffing them both to the table.
"I'll be right back. I damn hope you two learn to cooperate."
The door slammed shut behind him and Mak released a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.
"Where's Sam?"
Was the first thing she asked once they were alone, and Dean sighed.
"Hopefully fucking up the ghost bitch. Dad figured it out- she's a Woman in White."
"Sam told me."
She told quietly, and Dean looked down.
"We need to get out."
She was right, Dean knew, and his eyes lit up when he noticed the paperclip on top of their father's notebook.
...
"Makayla Jaimes Winchester, car hot-wirer extraordinaire."
As she drove the two of them to the bridge, she shook her head at Dean's comment.
"That's the best you can do?"
She asked with a breathy laugh, and he shrugged.
"Hey. I'm trying my best, here."
The car was eerily silent, then, and Dean sighed.
Come on. Make this right.
"I didn't mean what I said last night, you know."
Makayla tensed visibly, but shook her head. They had to have this conversation eventually.
"Yeah, I know."
"I don't think you do."
Dean pushed, and as she glanced at her, he could see her eyes turn glassy.
"I was angry and I said it impulsively and I didn't mean it. At all."
"I know that, Dean, I really do."
She insisted, although they both knew she was lying.
"And I should've told you about Sammy. I just... I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to see you upset because you know how much I hate that, I mean, I really, really hate that, so I tried to prolong it and I shouldn't have because you should've had a say in the decision, too, because, well, you're smart and capable and-"
"Dean."
With a smile, Makayla interrupted his tangent and he inhaled sharply.
"It's okay."
"Yeah, I just- what I'm trying to say is... I'm just, I'm really-"
"Yeah. Me too."
And she was sorry. For holding the grudge, for freaking out in the river, for going off on him in her hypothermic state.
But it was okay. It always was okay. It didn't matter what happened between them, it didn't matter how much anger they burned, it didn't matter that John had always loved Dean more- because at the end of the day, the love the twins had for each other was strong enough to heal any wound, no matter how deeply engraved.
"I missed you."
Dean admitted, a smirk on his face, and Makayla looked at him in disgust.
"God, that was so girly."
"We're gonna pretend I didn't say that."
__________
The tires squealed against the asphalt as Makayla slammed on the brakes; they spotted the familiar black car parked in front of an abandoned house, so she quickly shifted into park before throwing her door open. Dean followed suit and the two of them raced over towards the vehicle only to find the ghost of Constance Welch on top of their younger brother, her fingers piercing his chest.
Mak was quick, but Dean was quicker. They both whipped pistols seemingly out of nowhere, firing several shots of rock salt each towards the enemy until the bitch finally disappeared.
Makayla ran towards the window and Dean countinued to survey their surroundings.
"You okay, Sammy?"
He let out a small groan, and she peered at him through the now-shattered window in concern.
Constance appeared beside him suddenly, her face distorted and disgustingly gory. Makayla startled and stumbled backwards, reaching for the gun in her waistband only to find it empty.
"Dean!"
She yelled, but she was thrown back by the spirit and slammed into the stolen car, red hot pain shooting up her spine.
Two shots rang out of the darkness, and an audible curse was emitted from Dean's lips as he ran out of ammo, too.
As her vision recovered, Makayla was surprised to see Sam step on the gas, straight towards the house.
Makayla's pain was overwhelmed with shock as she forced herself to her feet, her gun in hand as Dean ran alongside her. They trekked through the wreckage of the collapsed wall, avoiding rubble as they struggled to reach the passenger side of the car. Her heart was a bass drum inside of her chest.
"Sam! Are you okay?!"
Dean called, kicking shrapnel with his feet as he peered in the window.
Makayla sighed in relief as she heard Sam's voice through the sound of rushing wind.
"I... I think..."
Dean ripped open the door as the sister made her way through the wreckage towards him.
"Can you move?"
The eldest asked, and Sam groaned.
"Yeah, help me?"
Dean offered his hand and Sam reached for it, allowing his brother to pull him from the vehicle. He stood and brushed himself off, blood trickling from his right temple.
After Makayla's initial relief at his safety, her solace was replaced with angered terror.
"What are you, crazy?! Do you have a death wish or something?! That was suicidal, Sammy!"
He offered her a sheepish smile, opening his mouth to defend himself... a wooden hutch was suddenly hurled towards the three of them, swiping the breath from their lungs and pinning them all to the side of the car.
Makayla's eyes met the form of the female ghost, smirking at the trapped trio with satisfaction. She felt Sam struggle beside her.
Suddenly, water began to flood down the staircase, splashing all around and startling the spirit. Constance's gaze filled with fear as she turned towards the source, only to find a boy and a girl standing at the top of the stairs, staring down at her.
"You've come home to us, Mommy."
They spoke monotonously in unison, abruptly reappearing beside her. They wrapped their small arms around her waist, and she let a blood-curdling scream escape her lips; with a flash of light, they were all gone.
Makayla stumbled forward as Dean pushed the dresser away, regaining her balance with a harsh cough. She sucked in three huge gulps of air before looking towards her brothers.
"Everyone okay?"
She queried worriedly, and the two boys nodded.
It was silent for a few beats. Mak kicked a rock with her left foot.
"So I guess this is where she drowned the kids."
Dean implied matter-of-factly.
The youngest nodded.
"That's why she couldn't go home. She was too scared to face them."
"You found her weak spot. Smart move, Sammy. Real smart."
Makayla nodded in approval, her gaze somewhere in the distance.
The hunt was over- and they were no closer to finding their Dad.
When she heard her brothers begin to move, she followed suit.
"Shotgun, if the car isn't fucked up to hell."
She grumbled, and Sam laughed.
However, Dean was unamused.
"Sammy. If you screwed my car-"
He paused just as he was about to slide into his seat.
"-I'll kill you."
...
The soft hum of the engine was rather comforting as Dean sped down the barren highway, surpassing the speed limit by at least 30 miles per hour.
Their father's journal was situated in her crossed legs, opened to the crinkled page that only read DEAN 35-111. In the back seat, Sam had a road map sprawled along his lap, a flashlight in hand as he tracked the coordinates.
"Blackwater Ridge, Colorado."
His voice interrupted the silence, and Makayla looked back at him. His eyes were concentrated on the paper.
"That's where Dad went."
"Charming. How far?"
Dean asked. Makayla shifted in her seat, sliding her feet up on the dashboard. Dean glared and she stuck out her tongue.
"Probably about 600 miles."
Sammy announced and Mak bit her lip in concentration. Dean had always found that habit of hers rather endearing.
"If we drive fast and take chances, we could probably be there by sunrise."
She suggested, and Dean raised his hand for a fist-bump. She tapped her knuckles against his without second thought.
Sam looked the duo uneasily through the rearview mirror.
"Uh, guys..."
He started quietly, and the girl looked back at him to find his brows furrowed.
Her heart sank.
"You... you're not staying, are you?"
Sam sighed.
"My interview is in less than 10 hours. I gotta be there."
Makayla looked down at her calloused hands, and then at Dean. His knuckles were white as they gripped the wheel.
"Yeah, yeah whatever. We'll take you home."
The flashlight clicked off in Sam's hands, casting the car into darkness.
...
Vulpecula. Delphinus. Cassiopeia.
The stars were winking at her as the car pulled in front of the apartment complex, the weight of the sky feeling like it was on her shoulders alone.
Cygnus. Andromeda. Musca.
The constellations were supposed to provide her with comfort and stability; tonight, they only filled her with dread. Oh, how big was the universe, and how insignificant she was. So small and meaningless.
Puppis. Hercules. Ophiuchus.
They sat in the parking lot for far too long. The only sound was the full hum of the air conditioner.
She listened to the sound of Dean and Sam's breathing.
The youngest's voice broke through the silence.
"So... call me when you find him?"
Makayla couldn't force herself to answer. Dean simply nodded.
Sam sighed, but tried again.
"And maybe- maybe I can meet up with you two later, huh?"
"Yeah, all right. Sure."
Dean mumbled out, and as hard as she tried to prevent it, Mak felt tears fill her eyes.
With a sigh, Sam slipped out of the car door quietly, his duffel in his hand. He patted the car's hood twice, a sad smile sent to his sister.
"Sam?"
She called out suddenly, her window rolling down. He paused, turning back.
"Hey, we- we made a hell of a team back there, the three of us, huh?"
A small grin cracked his face, and she couldn't help but share one back, even if the crinkling of her lips did force a tear to fall from her left eye.
"Be safe, you two."
He reminded, and that was the moment Makayla knew that he was gone for good.
...
Only five minutes had passed, and her heart ached.
"You think he'll be okay, Dean?"
She asked genuinely, and she felt him tense beside her.
"Yeah, of course. He always has been."
His words were simple and held a sense of finality.
She sighed. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.
Another minute passed. They were halfway through "Immigrant's Song" by Led Zeppelin when the sound abruptly cut out. Makayla flinched.
"Dean, what-"
She paused. The watch on his left wrist has stopped ticking.
"Sam."
She whispered suddenly, dread sinking in her stomach.
Dean didn't ask questions. He just turned the car around.
...
The familiar smell of ash corroded away at her lungs as she began to panic.
She lifted her leg and kicked the door in before Dean could even try the knob.
"Sammy!"
She shrieked, following closely behind her older brother. The air was cloudy with smoke.
"Sam!"
A muffled shout elicited from a door at the end of the hall and the twins ran towards the sound of the commotion.
Dean threw open the door, and the sight ahead made Makayla raise a hand to her mouth in hopes of silencing her scream.
Jess was pinned to the ceiling, fire spreading rapidly all around her.
The Winchester sister stumbled back at the familiarity of the scene, her head beginning to spin.
A hand yanked against the girl's wrist, and she was finally ripped away from her stupor. She followed her twin out of the home blindly, her eyes full of salty tears and images that could never be unseen.
The next thing she knew, she was gasping for breath as the fresh cold night air smacked her in the face, her left wrist gripped tightly in Dean's hand. She yanked it away as she watched Sam struggle in his brother's arms, sobs escaping his lips.
"Jess!"
He yelled one last time, just as a fire truck pulled into the parking lot.
Makayla felt her heart break, and she ran to Sam as he collapsed in her arms, his face buried in her shoulder.
If they hadn't come to get Sammy in the first place...
Oh, god, what had she done...
...
She stood impossibly close to Dean as they observed the firemen and police officers rushing about the scene.
She shifted closer when she saw the body bag being wheeled on a stretcher towards an ambulance.
He pressed his shoulder against hers, a wordless reassurance that sent warmth down her body.
She felt sick.
Makayla turned back towards the Impala, her eyes to the ground. When she looked up, she saw Sammy peering down into the trunk, cocking a shotgun in his right hand.
The sight made her slightly uneasy.
She approached him from behind, slowly, as she gently rested one of her small hands on his shoulder.
He tensed.
"Sam?"
She asked warily, and she was startled by the mask of rage that overtook his face when he turned to her.
"We have work to do."