Who's afraid of little old me?
Taylor Swift
0:51———•—————————
𝑾𝒉𝒐'𝒔 𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒆?
𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆.

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝑶𝒇 𝑨 𝑴𝒂𝒏
𝑺𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 10 : 𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒅𝒆 22
𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒓

☆

Jovi Winchester stirred in her hospital bed, by hospital bed she meant one of the beds in the bunkers infirmary. The sterile smell of antiseptic mingling with the dull ache that throbbed through her body. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing the dimly lit room. The first thing she saw was her father, Dean Winchester, slumped in a chair beside her bed. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his normally strong, resolute face was etched with lines of fatigue and grief.

"Dad?" Jovi's voice was a hoarse whisper.

Dean's eyes snapped open, relief washing over his features. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, forcing a smile. He leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," she admitted, wincing as she shifted slightly. "But... alive."

Dean nodded, his expression softening with a mix of pride and sadness. "That's what matters."

Jovi's mind raced back to the events of the previous day. The fight. The blood. Charlie. Her chest tightened with guilt. "Charlie..." she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "Dad, I... I couldn't save her."

Dean's face fell, and he took a deep breath, struggling to maintain his composure. "Jovi, what happened to Charlie wasn't your fault." He didn't blame her, if he was going to blame anyone it would be Sam. He hadn't even spoken to his brother since they stitched Jovi up, he was still royally pissed off that his daughter was in a hospital bed because Sam decided to go rogue and drag Jovi with him

"But I could have been quicker, and stronger—" Jovi's voice cracked, and she bit her lip to stifle a sob.

Dean shook his head. "No, Jovi. This life... it's brutal. We all know the risks. Charlie knew them too. She was a fighter, and she wouldn't want you blaming yourself for what happened." Jovi turned her head away, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I just... I miss her so much."

Dean's hand found hers, his grip firm yet gentle. "We all do," he said softly. "But Charlie died fighting for something she believed in. For us. For you. And she'd want us to keep going, to keep fighting."

Jovi nodded, though the pain in her heart was still raw. "I just wish I could've done more. Dad, something weird happened while I was fighting Frankenstein" Dean's head tilted in concern and anticipation awaiting his daughters next words "what is it?"

Jovi sucked in a breath remembering the previous nights events, the blast that sent Eldon Styne through the wall "the guy threw Charlie across the room after h-he stabbed her and...I don't know what happened. I just broke, I screamed and this weird blue blast went off and it sent him through the wall" Dean's face visibly paled. His heart beat picking up, he knew this would happen one day he just wasn't sure if he could keep lying about it. Jovi looked at him with nervous eyes "Rowena said to me that I had unique abilities and that my memories had been altered, I thought she was lying but now I'm not so sure"

She was scared of herself, Dean could see that and he felt guilty. Which he knew he deserved but he couldn't bring himself to admit the truth, not right now not when he had so much going on already "she's a witch Jov, they lie. And whatever happened we'll figure it out, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about" he was worried, he just didn't want her to know that. He squeezed her hand once more before standing up "but what if she wasn't?" Dean faked a a calm expression shrugging it off "it's Rowena. Do you really want to believe her?" Jovi glanced down thinking it over before she looked up at her father "I guess not" she lied, look, she knew her father probably better than he knew himself at this point and she could tell he was lying, keeping something from her - she would figure out what happened on her own.

☆

The crackling of wood and the scent of fresh pine filled the cold morning air as Dean and Sam moved in near silence, their breaths visible in the chilled dawn. The brothers' faces were set in grim determination as they heaved the freshly cut logs over to the pyre they had built for Charlie. The pyre stood tall, a solemn monument to their fallen friend, with flames that would soon dance in a requiem for a life cut too short.

Jovi had argued fiercely with her dad, desperation lacing her voice as she insisted on helping, but Dean's eyes, hard and unyielding like the steel of a locked vault, shut her down with a brusque command. "You'll tear your stitches," he'd said, his voice a rough edge, not leaving room for argument. "I'll come get you when it's done." It was a promise that felt more like a dismissal, leaving Jovi simmering with frustration and a helplessness that gnawed at her insides.

Now, as they approached the pyre, Sam wrapped an arm around Jovi's waist, his own steps labored by a limp that mirrored the weariness in his soul. Every movement was a reminder of the toll this hunt had taken on them all. He'd apologized to her more than once on the short walk, his voice thick with guilt. "I'm so sorry, Jovi. Sorry for Charlie... for dragging you into this mess."

Jovi had only shaken her head, her voice soft but firm as she replied, "I knew what I was getting into, Uncle Sam." But her words did nothing to ease the ache in Sam's heart, and he looked away, not missing the sharp daggers Dean's eyes threw his way from afar. The silent rebuke made him drop his gaze, focusing on the ground instead of the silent fury in his brother's eyes.

When Dean carried Charlie's body to the pyre, wrapped in white like a warrior's shroud, the world seemed to hold its breath. The two brothers, who had fought side by side through heaven and hell, now lifted her onto the wooden structure with a reverence that belied the storm brewing between them. Dean took a step back, his face carved from stone, and moved to Jovi's side, steadying her with a hand as the flames began to take hold.

The fire crackled to life, a hungry beast consuming the wood and the cloth, and with it, a part of their hearts. The warmth from the flames reached out, but it did nothing to thaw the ice between the three of them.

Sam was the first to speak, breaking the thick silence that hung over them like a shroud. "Charlie... We're gonna miss you. You were the best. And I'm so sorry—"

Dean cut him off with a snap, his voice sharp as a whip. "Shut up. You got her killed. You don't get to apologize." His jade eyes blazed with a fury that rivaled the flames, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. The words were bitter, a poison that left Jovi feeling hollow as hot tears welled in her eyes, blurring the sight of Charlie's body turning to ash.

Sam's face crumpled, his eyes pleading as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "We were trying to help you." He looked at Dean with a sadness that made him look younger, almost vulnerable, like a wounded puppy seeking comfort. But Dean's gaze remained cold, unyielding.

"I didn't need help," Dean bit out, his voice a low growl. "I told you to leave it alone."

"What were we supposed to do, just... watch you die?" Sam's tone hardened, a rare defiance sparking in his eyes as he faced his brother. But Jovi could feel the tension, the weight of unsaid words pressing down on them all, and she tried to keep herself small, invisible, not wanting to get dragged into the crossfire.

"The Mark isn't gonna kill me," Dean stated, each word like a stone dropped into a well, sinking into the abyss. His voice was flat, devoid of hope, like he was already resigned to the darkness.

"Maybe not," Sam conceded, his tone softening again, trying to reach the brother he knew was still in there, buried beneath the rage. "But when it's done with you, you won't be you anymore. Dean, you and Jovi are all I've got. So of course, I was gonna fight for you, because that's what we do. And listen, I had a shot—"

"Yeah, you had a shot," Dean interrupted, his voice dripping with venom. "Jovi's injured, and Charlie's dead." His eyes flicked to Sam, hard and accusing. "Nice shot."

Jovi winced at the bitterness in her father's voice. "Dad, I'm fine," she tried to assure him, her voice small and fragile, a tremor betraying her fear. Her eyes pleaded with him to stop, to remember who he was. But Dean's gaze was unrelenting, his tone dismissive.

"Being stabbed isn't what I call fine, Jovi," he scoffed, his words lashing out at her, making her shrink into herself, feeling like a little kid being scolded by their parent. She averted her eyes, focusing on the flames that danced before her, feeling more like an outsider than ever.

Sam clenched his jaw, frustration and guilt warring within him. He took a breath, steadying himself before speaking again. "You think I'm—You think I'm ever gonna forgive myself for that?"

Dean's next words were like a hammer blow, cold and cruel. "You wanna know what I think? I think it should be you up there, not her."

The air seemed to freeze around them, time itself holding its breath as Jovi's eyes widened in shock. Her heart lurched at the venom in her father's voice, and the finality in his words. She had never heard Dean speak like that, not to Sam, not to the brother who had always been his anchor, his partner in every battle. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and the crackle of the fire seemed distant, drowned out by the echo of Dean's accusation.

Sam's breath caught in his throat, a small gasp escaping his lips as he stared at Dean, disbelief and pain etched into every line of his face. The firelight cast long shadows, distorting their features into something almost unrecognizable, and for a moment, they were strangers standing at the edge of a precipice, ready to fall.

"This thing, with you two and Cas, and the book, ends now," Dean continued, his voice hard and unyielding. "Shut it down before somebody else gets hurt. You understand me?"

Sam didn't respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the flames, the reality of his brother's words sinking in like a knife to the heart. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost defeated. "And what about you?"

Dean's eyes never left the fire, his expression set in grim determination. "Oh, I'm gonna find whoever did this. And I'm gonna rip apart everything and everyone that they ever loved. And then I'm gonna tear out their heart."

Jovi glanced up at her father, her heart heavy with fear and doubt. She wanted revenge too, wanted to make those who took Charlie from them pay. But there was something dark in Dean's voice, something that scared her. The Mark of Cain was a shadow over him, twisting his grief into something dangerous, something she didn't recognize.

"Is that you talking, or the Mark?" Sam asked, echoing her unspoken fears, his voice quiet but filled with an urgency that belied his calm demeanor.

Dean's eyes met his brother's, and for a moment, Jovi saw a flicker of something—remorse, maybe, or doubt. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by a cold resolve. "Does it matter?" he replied, the words landing like stones.

Sam stared at him, searching for the brother he knew, but finding only the darkness that had taken hold. Dean looked down at Jovi, his expression softening just slightly as he gently tapped her side. "Come on," he said, his voice gentler than before, but still laced with the same unyielding determination.

Jovi looked up at Sam, her eyes filled with unspoken words, a silent message that said, I don't blame you. Sam's lips tightened into a sad, understanding smile, but his eyes were filled with the same anguish that tore at her heart. She turned away, letting Dean guide her, his touch both a comfort and a reminder of the man he was becoming.

As they walked away from the pyre, the flames continued to burn, a flickering symbol of the loss they had suffered. The night closed in around them, and with each step, the distance between the brothers grew, as did the darkness that threatened to consume them all.

☆

The motel room was suffocating, a dimly lit prison wrapped in the heavy silence of unspoken resentment. The walls, stained with years of neglect, seemed to close in on Jovi as she sat on the bed, her back pressed against the stiff, unforgiving headboard. The air was thick with the lingering scent of stale cigarettes and cheap disinfectant, the kind of smell that clung to your clothes and your soul, refusing to let go.

Jovi's eyes tracked her father as he moved around the room, unpacking with a restless energy that betrayed his own unease. She sighed deeply, letting her head fall back against the headboard with a dull thud. "I still don't see why I'm here," she muttered, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.

Dean paused, his hands freezing mid-motion as he glanced up at her, frustration flaring in his eyes like sparks from a dying fire. "You need to ask?" His voice was rough, like gravel underfoot.

Jovi rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with defiance. "It's not like I'm going to be running anywhere anytime soon."

Dean's expression hardened, his frustration seeping through every line on his face. "You're already injured, Jovi. And how am I supposed to trust you won't run off again after you lied to me for days?" His voice was stern, the tone of a father who had seen too much, lost too much, and was teetering on the edge of losing even more. It wasn't the angry, sharp edge he reserved for Sam; it was different—softer, but laced with a deeper hurt.

"I'm sorry, okay? But we thought we were helping," Jovi mumbled, her voice faltering as guilt gnawed at her insides like a relentless tide.

Dean stopped what he was doing, the weight of his attention suddenly bearing down on her like a storm about to break. He stepped closer, his face etched with a mixture of fear and anger, emotions that clashed and tangled until they were indistinguishable. "Jov, sorry isn't gonna cut it. Do you understand how scared I was, seeing you lying there covered in blood, barely breathing? You could've been killed, and if I lost you..." His voice broke slightly, and he looked away for a moment, the words hanging heavy in the air. "If I lost you, I would've lost my shit."

Jovi's heart twisted, guilt wrapping around her like a suffocating blanket. She had already felt bad, but hearing the raw fear in her father's voice made it unbearable. Dean stepped closer still, kneeling in front of her so their eyes met, his anger giving way to something softer, though no less intense.

"You might think you're ready for anything, but you're still my kid," he said, his voice low, filled with a love so fierce it almost hurt to hear. "And I can't lose you. Not like this. You gotta understand that." The air between them thickened, charged with the weight of all the things they never said, all the fears they both carried like invisible scars.

Jovi sighed, her gaze dropping to her worn-out boots, the leather scuffed and faded, much like her spirit. "You've saved me time and time again. I-I just wanted to save you for once."

Dean's heart clenched at her words. She was so much like him, always ready to throw herself into the fire if it meant protecting the people she loved. But that wasn't her role—it was his. It had always been his. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on her knee, grounding her in the moment, pulling her back from the edge of her guilt.

"Jovi," he said softly, his voice like a tether in the storm. "It's not your job to protect me. You're the kid; I'm the parent. I'm supposed to protect you."

Jovi's eyes welled up, her vision blurring as she bit down on her lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. "But, Dad, you always put yourself on the line. Every time. I just... I don't think I can handle losing you again."

Dean's expression softened, his own heart breaking at the sight of his daughter in so much pain. He reached up, gently brushing a tear from her cheek with the rough pad of his thumb, his touch as tender as the words he spoke. "I know, sweetheart. And I get it, I really do. But the thing is, Jovi, I do what I do because I love you more than anything in this world. I'd walk through hell a thousand times over if it meant keeping you safe."

Jovi nodded, the tears spilling over now, running down her cheeks like rivers carving through stone. Dean gently pushed a strand of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear, his own voice thick with emotion as he added, "I'm not going anywhere, okay? And I need you to promise me something too."

Jovi blinked, her vision still watery as she met his gaze. "What?"

"Promise me you'll let me take care of you. That you'll trust me to protect you, even when it's hard. Even when you think you can handle it on your own. 'Cause, Jovi, I can't do this without you. But I also can't do it if I'm constantly worried about losing you. So, please... just trust me."

Jovi swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in, wrapping around her like a protective cloak. She nodded slowly, the movement tentative but sincere. "Okay, Dad. I promise."

Dean let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, relief washing over him like a wave as he stood up and sat beside her on the bed. He pulled her into a tight embrace, his hand cradling the back of her head as he whispered, "I love you, Jovi. More than you'll ever know."

"I love you too," she whispered back, clinging to him as if he might disappear if she let go. The world outside that dingy motel room faded away, leaving only the two of them, father and daughter, holding onto each other like lifelines. For a moment, the weight of the world felt a little lighter, the burden of their lives a little easier to bear.

But even as Jovi made that promise, a part of her mind was already turning over possibilities, searching for a way to remove the Mark from her father. She had promised to let him protect her, but that didn't mean she would stop trying to save him. As Dean held her close, she felt a warmth spread through her that she hadn't felt in a long time—a warmth that came not just from his embrace, but from the resolve she felt hardening in her heart. She might not have to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, but she would still find a way to save her dad, no matter what it took.

☆

Jovi stared out of the window of the Baby, as her father navigated the backroads, following a lead from one of his hunter friends. The car's rumble was a familiar lullaby, and she absentmindedly tapped her finger against her leg, syncing with the beat of the classic rock that hummed softly through the speakers. The world outside was a blur of trees and shadows, the afternoon sun casting long, golden fingers across the road. They turned a corner, the tires crunching against loose gravel, when the sudden wail of a siren split the air, red and blue lights