At the bottom will be your car. I am very, very sorry if you don't like it, you can always change it to something you like and your prefer. I am not you and I never will be. (Unless it's possession) 😂😁

"(Y/N) Winchester. The one and only. What brings you here kiddo?"

I sat my duffel bag down on the bar table and sighed, sitting down on a stool. Edie slid me a swig of beer and I engulfed within a few seconds.

"Not much, besides visiting you and being sent away by dad again."

Edie sighed, this time giving both he and I a glass. He drank it, licking away the excess from his salt and pepper beard.

"He still makin ya hunt?"

"Yup. I have been for quite awhile Edie. He just doesn't know when to quit. If Mom was still here, and what would've been my little brother, were still here then maybe he would."

"You still gotta have some sense (Y/N), he lost a son and a lover, that's not something anyone needs or wants to go through."

"I know Edie, it's just, he has a son, and a daughter. And we can't even get him to quit so what's the point."

"True. Speaking of which, how long's it been since you've talked to your brother?"

"Ohh. Years? I don't know what or where he's at or doing. For all I know he could be... gone too."

"Now don't think like that, you two used to be close, I'm sure he wouldn't be."

"Maybe. I just hope he isn't, Edie, that's all."

Edie nodded, and went back to pouring glasses for other customers. He then turned back to me, eyes widened, and spoke at a gruff whisper.

"Well speak a' the devil. Guess who just walked in."

I turned around and saw Dad, his usual emotionless expression plastered on his face, and his rusty grimy clothes tattered with dirt and dried blood, probably from a just closed hunt. He walked in the door, everyone turning heads and whispering.

Dad was followed by a short and tall, dirty blonde haired, green eyed, man. He had a golden necklace, dirty and bloody leather jacket, and torn jeans. I knew exactly who he was.

"Dad? Why is he here? What happened?"

"Hunting that's what."

His gruff and cold voice echoed in my ears and it's the same voice I've heard for years. Not the sweet and calm one from when I was a kid. Well, if I was a kid.

"Hunting huh? Oh still the usual bitter John."

"I'll be bitter all I damn please. Till we find what killed Mary."

"Well I'd help ya but I got a bar to run. What about Singer, maybe the Harvelle's?"

"The Harvelle's own a roadhouse, and who knows what the hell Bobby's up to nowadays."

John spoke under grit teeth, taking another swig of beer. He wiped the excess of his mouth and sighed.

"That your boy?"
Edie asked, gesturing to Dean.

"Dean? Yup. The only boy and the youngest. Would've been the middle child, if Samuel was ever born. Dean, come over here! You should say hi to your sister y'know."

Dean groaned, sighing and slumping this way. He had a little limp and was holding his arm, wincing occasionally. I glanced at dad with a glare even though he didn't see me, and was too busy brooding.

I turned back around in my seat and was eye to eye with a guilt faced, sad expressioned Dean, who muttered a hello.

"Heya Dean."

He smiled, and then John yelled at him, calling him over. Dean got up, muttering a loud 'yes sir' them limped his way over. Edie and I exchanged sad looks.

"Dad, leave him alone."

He turned around, glaring at me, teeth grit and fists clenched. Slowly, he inches closer and we were face to face, eye to eye. I could even feel his breath on my face. Just then he raised his fist and punched me right across the face, nearly knocking me over.

Dean jumped, trying to run over here but Edie stopped him. I put my finger to my head, than spit out blood.

"You've got some nerve, don't you (Y/N)?"

He spat, and I returned the glare, like it never left my face in the first place.

"Oh and you haven't got any? Thinking it's okay to push us around? To drag us into all your bullshit? Give us orders? Why? Because you're still bitter, and self hating, and brooding over mom and what would've been Sam. To the point where you don't really give two shakes of a rats ass about your other  kids. You dragged me into this crap first. And now Dean too? He is limping. And  holding the gash on his shoulder. And you don't even look like you care. All you do is punish and punish when we do something wrong, but when we do something right, something good.  You don't listen. No good job, no that's my kids. I mean, come on. Dad's are supposed to teach you how to drive. Or ride a bike. Not shoot a gun, or escape a grave by burying their own kids alive. I had to teach myself everything. How to drive, to cook, and ride a bicycle. And then, I had to teach Dean everything too. Because we were here. And you were gone. Maybe you should've stayed gone. Then maybe you can finally quit it and be with Mom again."

Dad kept glaring at me, then yelled and pushed me into a wall. His eyes were bloodshot and angry, verging on tears.

"You do NOT talk about your mother like that! I taught you all those things to protect you! To keep you alive! You should be happy that you still are! I just. I didn't want to lose anything anymore!"

"Did you? Or were you just too obsessed?"

Dad let go, sighing, and then looking down at the floor. He groaned, running his hands through his hair.

"What am I gonna do with you (Y/N)? You don't listen, you don't have any damn sense. All you care about is- god I don't even know what. You're just too full of it."

I stayed silent, not even wanting to answer.

"Dad. I want you to tell me something. How long has Dean been with you? And you never told me? You told me he... You said he was dead. He died on a hunt. Why in the hell  is he here?"

Dean seemed to stare between Dad and I, like he was shocked, maybe even scared. He didn't reply. Just stayed silent. Completely guilty.

"Exactly. That's what I thought. You cheat, and you lie, and you don't care. Y'know what. If this is how it's gonna be with Mom gone, and no Sam whatsoever. Then... I'm out. I quit."

Dad looked back up, his expression showing that of a man who hurts. Dean was cowering in a corner, not wanting to say something to make either one of us yell.

"(Y/N) you walk out that door, you ain't coming back. You hear?"

"Yes sir."

He nodded, then I swung my bag over my shoulder, walking out the bar doors and sighing. Tears in all of our eyes.

I walked to my car, throwing my bags in the backseat, then climbing into the driver's seat. I could see Dean watching and looking at me through the window.

A part of me feels horrible, another feels fine. But it's what I had to do to.

(This is (or isn't) your car)

(Word count: 1279)