𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐬 ▫️ 𝘋𝘌𝘈𝘕 𝘞𝘐𝘕𝘊𝘏𝘌𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙 ¹

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

BUGS [PART ONE]
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"Right. Um...I'm gonna go talk to Larry. Okay, honey?"
—
"You're terrible."

• • •

Juliet sighs, her breathing being seen in puffs of smoke. She pulls the jacket she's wearing tighter over her frame as the bite in the air nips at her skin. She sits on the bonnet of Baby with Sam next to her, who's reading a news paper article. He thinks he might've caught them a case.

The huntress looks up at the pitch black sky, it's nightime in Oklahoma. She smiles as the stars and moon reflects in her eyes. It's a cold night but the sky is still as beautiful as ever.

Juliet looks behind her shoulder, smiling softly as she can see Harlow asleep in the back, she can't blame the kid, if she could sleep right now she would, but sleep hasn't been coming easy to her lately. She keeps thinking about John, where he is, what he's doing, if he's hurt and recently she's been asking herself if John even cares about them. Her conclusion? No. Because if he did then he would be here with them and not be so hellbent on getting revenge. She understands, if it were Dean who died, she could picture herself being like John with getting revenge but she wouldn't do it alone. If anything, Sam and Dean have a right to get that same revenge, too. It didn't just kill John's wife, it killed Sam and Dean's mother.

If the werewolf that killed her parents was still kicking, she would hunt it down to the ends of the earth. She sadly never got to meet her parents, but she's heard stories of how Joseph and Lydia Sullivan were the best hunters to ever live, how they come a very close second to the Winchesters'.

When she was old enough, John had told Juliet about his two best friend's and also how they passed. She assumes that it's because their death didn't affect him like Mary's did.

They had left Juliet in the care of John and Mary for the night as they had tracked down a werewolf nearby and had planned to kill it. They had promised Mary and John that they would be back the next morning to pick their little girl up.

The next morning came, but they didn't.

All she got as a goodbye was a measly kiss on her head and two meaningless "love you's" from them both and that was it, she never got to hug her mother or father, watch them grow old or go to them for advice on things in life. She never had a mother to go to, to speak about boy problems or to help her through her first period. She never had a father to teach her baseball or to take her to prom and she'll never have a father to dance with her at her wedding.

The closest thing she'll ever have to a father is Bobby, and she can say for sure that he's one hundred percent more of a father to her than John has and can ever be and she knows that he won't admit it but she's Bobby's favorite. He doesn't have to say it for her to know, she just knows. She'll have to ask Dean if they can stop by Bobby's at some point, say their hello's and catch up. It would be nice t—