Tell Me

A.N. Oh. Dear. God. I CANNOT believe how long it's taken me to update. I fail. Like…epically. I'm so sorry, lovelies, and I thank you for sticking by the story in my absence! Hopefully this update makes up for it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing…Seriously, if I owned Dean…well…let's just say things would be VERY different.


Victoria Davis couldn't help but slam the door to her Chevy Camaro, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder as she glared up at the house that her daughter had come to call home. The nerve of that…that…heathen. Did he really think he could just DEMAND that she stop everything and race over to the house, not even asking if she was in the middle of something?

Not that she had been. It was less than a day until her only daughter got married. The only thing she'd been in the middle of was a pity party with General Hospital and the hotel mini-bar. But then Dean had called, that weasel of a man that she would soon be forced to call son-in-law, his voice nearly quivering with anger and God knows what other emotion, telling her that if she knew what was good for her, she'd race over to Brooke's house right that second. And then he'd had the nerve to actually hang up on her before she could even utter a reply.

What a lunkhead.

Sighing, Victoria made her way up to the door, not even bothering to knock. He hadn't shown her any consideration, so why should she?

"Really, Dean, if you're going to go through all the trouble of rudely demanding my presence, the least you could do is-,"

Her words were cut short as soon as her eyes landed on the living room. She couldn't help the dread that plummeted in her stomach as she door closed behind her.

"Oh, Lord, who died?"

The room was somber, indeed. And crowded. Nathan Scott and that odd looking boy—Lips, Nose…oh she could never remember—were leaning against the kitchen counter, the latter looking rather devastated. Sam and Millicent were there as well, hands wrapped around each other as Bobby, the wearied old man that she had learned was a father figure to the young Winchester boys, stood stoically next to them, a worn out ball cap nearly covering his gaze. There were two women there as well, ones she didn't recognize, and she remembered Brooke mentioning friends of Dean's coming up for the wedding.

Victoria shifted uncomfortably on her feet, unsteady at the intensity of all of their gazes directed on hers, and she scoffed, shoving her hair out of her eyes as she came further into the room. "Well? What's everyone staring at?"


That single word stopped her in her tracks. Not necessarily the word itself. Though as foreign as it had been to her for the last two decades, give or take, she had come quite accustomed to hearing it over the past year, since she and Brooke had made amends. No, it was the TONE of her daughter's voice that made her falter, and she shifted her gaze to the couch across the room. She could feel the color drain from her face when she laid eyes on her daughter.

Brooke looked positively defeated. Her flawless face, always pale in complexion, seemed to be even whiter, if that was at all possible. Her hazel eyes were puffy and red, as if from hours of crying. Makeup ran in streaks down her face, mixed with what she couldn't only assume were tears, making her face shine slightly in the overhead lighting. Her long dark hair was knotted, tumbling in disarray around her shoulders.

Victoria had seen her daughter in some awful places over the years, but never had she seen her like this.

"Brooke," she implored, tossing her handbag onto the table at her side and taking a few quick steps into the room.

Her eyes traveled to Haley, who sat next to Brooke on the couch, her arms wrapped tightly around Brooke's shoulders. From the makeup smudges on the young girl's face, it was clear she too had been crying. She was staring at Brooke in such a broken hearted way, it made Victoria uneasier than she already was.

As she neared the couch, her eyes landed on the man sitting on the other end of the couch, his body turned towards Brooke in the most protective manner she had ever seen. One of Dean's hands was grasping Brooke's tightly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her clasped fingers, while his other was tangled in the mess of hair at the back of her neck. His head was tilted towards hers, so that his lips ghosted over the skin of her temple, even as it was turned slightly to send a devilish glare in her direction.

Something horrible had happened.

She stopped in front of the couch, crouching down in front of her daughter, and she couldn't help but fight back the tears she could feel pricking at the back of her eyes. "Brooke…" she whispered softly, reaching and running a hand down her daughter's face. "Sweetie, talk to me? What's wrong? What's happened?"

Brooke could only stare at her mother, her lips parting to reply but only a shaky sigh escaped. She shook her head, raising a hand to wipe at the fresh onslaught of tears that were now making their way down her face. Haley's arm instinctively tightened around her friend's shoulder in response.

Victoria could hear her heart pounding in her ears. "For the love of God, would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" she demanded, turning her head to stare at the other occupants of the room.

Sam cleared his throat from the kitchen, unwrapping his arm from around Millicent as he came towards them. "Victoria," he started, the uneasiness he always felt in her presence forgotten. "We need to ask you some questions. And it is very important that you give us the honest answers."

"What? What questions? I want to know what happened to my daughter? Why in God's name is she being cradled on a couch with tears running down her face? What the hell happened?"

"You happened."

Victoria whipped her gaze around to stare incredulously at Dean, his handsome face twisted into a angry expression. "I beg your pardon?" she demanded quietly, straightening to her full height even as he rose of the couch to do the same. He easily towered over her by a good 6 inches, but that still didn't stop her from glowering at him.

"You heard me," Dean replied, one hand clenching into a fist at his side while the other stayed positioned on Brooke's shoulder as the young brunette shook her head slowly. "You happened. You and your constant lies. Your complete disregard for your own daughter's well being."

"Dean," Haley said from her place next to Brooke.

"What in God's name are you talking about? What lies, exactly, are you referring to, Dean? Tell me? What have I done to provoke your ire this time?"

Dean scoffed, taking a step towards the women, but Brooke's hand in his pulled him back, and he glanced behind at her.

"Dean, stop," she said softly, barely able to be heard, her voice was so hoarse.

"Yes, Dean," Victoria mocked, her arms crossed over her chest. "Stop. Stop yanking me around and tell me what the hell you've done to my daughter this time." She didn't miss the flash in his eyes, or the way the other men in the room seemed to take a step closer in precaution. "Don't think I've forgotten what you left behind last time. This—," she said, waving a finger in her daughter's direction. "Is oddly reminiscent."

"Mom," Brooke tried from her place on the couch, but Dean took another step towards Victoria, the anger clearly written on his face.

"Listen here, you cantankerous old bitch," he spat, every pent up frustration and annoyance he had ever felt for the woman bubbling to the surface as he fought down the fear and anger over their current situation.

"Dean, stop," Brooke said more forcibly this time, finally struggling to her feet and wrapping an arm around his chest, pulling him back a step or two. She used her other hand to turn his face towards hers, and she stared at him. "Just stop."

Dean's jaw visibly clenched, and he ran a hand down his face, nodding as he moved to step behind his fiancée.

Brooke sighed, turning to her mother, whose face softened when their eyes met.

"Brooke, you're starting to scare me. Please. What. Happened?"

Taking a breath, Brooke wrapped her arms around her torso, her lips quivering as she raised her chin. "Daddy."

Victoria frowned. "Your father? All of this is about your father? What, about him not being here? Brooke, I warned you when you invited him that the odds of him showing up were slim to none."

"Is that because I'm not his?"

She faltered at her daughter's words. "What?"

"Am I his?" Brooke repeated, her voice cracking slightly, leading Dean to turn around and wrap an arm around her waist.


"Mom, I know this sounds crazy. But please, I need you to really think about this."

Victoria threw her arms up in the air. "Think about what? I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. I was never unfaithful to your father, Brooke, that was his role in our marriage. What in God's name would even possess you to ask such a thing?"

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "'Possess.' That's an appropriate choice of words there, Victoria," he said, stepping close to her again. "Listen. I know you and I have had our differences. And personally, I would like nothing more than to shove you in front of a freaking bus right now, but we need answers, and we need them now."

Something in the tone of his voice made Victoria hesitate, and she let her gaze slide between him and her daughter, who as looking up at her with an utterly heartbroken expression. It was that same expression she'd had when she was 4 years old, and walked into the middle of Esmerelda, their nanny, putting the presents under the tree on Christmas morning. Her entire belief in Santa shattered all because she needed a drink of water in the early morning hours. She'd come to her then, in her pigtailed, foot-pajama-ed childhood, and implored her. "Grow up, Brooke," is what she had muttered from under the heavy blankets of her bed. Not her proudest motherhood moment.

"What answers?"

Sam stepped forward again, always the more rational of the two brothers, and came to a stop next to her. "Victoria…before you got pregnant with Brooke. Was there anything off about your husband?"

"What do you mean?" she frowned, even as she felt her fingernails dig into the palms of her hands.

"Was there anything different about him? Did his personality change overnight? Or did he develop any new habits or routines, ones that he'd never practiced before?"

Victoria hesitated, her mind recalling the week leading up to Brooke's conception all those years ago. She could feel that familiar cold sweat affected her skin, the same she'd had when she had stood in the kitchen and stared at the man who had looked so much like her husband. "I don't understand…what does that have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with everything, Mom," Brooke said next to her. "Please. I can see it in your face." She stepped towards her mother, reaching out and grasping her hand in her own. "Just think about it, Mom."

Victoria sighed, wrapping her fingers around her daughter's as she ran a hand through her hair. "I suppose so," she said softly, shaking her head. "He was a bit withdrawn. He started smoking cigars." She curled her lip in disgust. "It was odd, because he detested them. And the way he looked at me…when he mentioned having children one day…"

"What about later, Victoria?" Sam asked. "Did you notice anything about his eyes?"

She froze, raising her eyes to meet the young man's from across the room. "His eyes? What…what would be wrong with his eyes?"

"Were they black?" Dean asked quietly from behind her.

Victoria turned to him, her face seeming to almost crumble at his question, and she heard Brooke's sharp intake of breath as she raised a hand to cover her mouth. "Well…it was just a trick of light," she lied, unable to fully admit the horror she had felt when she looked up at the man she had married, and saw those terrifying black orbs staring back at her. She had pushed the thought away then, because when she blinked, his blue eyes were back. "People's eyes don't just completely change like that. I don't understand what any of this has to do with Brooke or Ted."

Brooke let out a strangled sob, and she tore away from Dean's touch, turning around and racing down the hallway towards her bedroom. The door slammed behind her, and everyone in the room seemed to flinch with the way it echoed through the solemn house.

Dean sighed, running his hands down his face, and Victoria stared at him in confusion. Stared at all of them in confusion. Why did it seem like they were all clued into something crucial while she remained in the dark.

Dean shook his head, and spinning on his heel, strode down the hallway after his fiancée, stopping for a brief second next to Sam. "Explain it to her, Sammy," he said softly, looking back to toss another glare in the direction of his future mother-in-law. "Explain everything to her."

Sam nodded while Dean continued on towards the bedroom. He sighed, walking further into the living room and stopping next to Victoria. "Victoria…why don't you sit down?"


He didn't knock.

Whether it was from fear that she would tell him to leave or because he knew she wouldn't, he wasn't sure. He just knew that the love of his life was in tremendous pain, and he couldn't handle the idea of not being with her at that moment.

She was sitting on the edge of their bed, a pillow clutched tightly to her chest. Her legs were tucked up underneath her, her small frame hunched inwards, making her appear so much more fragile than he knew she really was.

He was silent as he made his way into the room, stopping when he reached the foot of the bed. He just stood there, staring down at her, his heart breaking at the sheer devastation that was clearly written on her face. He reached out and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

Brooke sighed, looking up at him, a half smile on her face. "I guess it's a good thing we can't have kids, huh?"

Dean frowned, finally sitting next to her while wrapping an arm gently around her back. "Baby…"

She closed her eyes, biting her lip as she shook her head. "Wouldn't want to pass on that demon gene, right?"

"Hey," Dean said, raising his arm to wrap around her shoulders and turn her slightly towards him. "I don't want to hear any talk like that. Alright? Not a damn word."

Brooke sobbed, tossing the pillow behind her as she shrugged out of his grip. "Dean, just stop," she said, swiping at the tears covering her cheeks as she forced herself to her feet. She crossed to the other side of the bedroom, running a hand through her hair as she turned to face him. "Do you even understand what this means? What I am?"

"You're Brooke," Dean said, standing to his feet but making no move to come closer to her. "Okay? That's what you are. Brooke Davis. The girl I love."

She barked out a harsh laugh. "The GIRL you LOVE…is a DEMON, Dean. The blood running through my veins is that of one of those things you have spent your whole life ridding the world of. I'm tainted!"

"Enough!" Dean yelled, crossing the room and pulling her into his arms, his hands gripping her shoulders tightly. "Just stop it, Brooke." She thrashed against him, but he just tightened his grip, vaguely aware that he might leave fingerprints on her ivory skin. "Stop!"

"WHY?" she screamed, tears freely falling down her face now as she gripped his shirt tightly in her hands. "Isn't this how it's supposed to be? Demons and hunters?"

"You're not a demon!"

"Then what am I?"


They both froze at his outburst, Dean stunned at how he let his fear and anger lash out at her, and he loosed his hold on her shoulders. He sighed, shaking his head as his hands traveled up to her face, cradling it gently as his thumbs wiped at the tears he found there. "I don't know," he admitted softly, leaning down until he was peering into her eyes intently. "Brooke, I am just at a loss here as you are. But, in God's name, you have to believe me when I say that this doesn't change a damn thing. Okay?" She sighed, her eyes closing as one of her hands came up to wrap around his. "You are still Brooke to me. That gorgeous brunette with the amazing smile that made me crash my car a million years ago. That same girl that makes me fall in love with here again and again, every single day. What's coursing through your veins right now…it doesn't mean crap to me."

"But what if it means I'm something evil?" she whispered brokenly.

"It doesn't. You don't have it in you, Brooke. Trust me. You're the most honest, faithful, GOOD person I have ever come across."

She blinked up at him, shifting on her feet. "But…"

"But, nothing, Davis," he interrupted, leaning forward until their foreheads touched gently. "You are still the girl of my dreams. Whatever is happening, or whatever is going to happen, we are going to get through. Do you hear me? This little…revelation? It doesn't change squat. I'm still going to marry you. You and I are going live long, happy lives together. We'll start a family, and we'll look back on this whole nightmare and we're just going to shake our heads at how insane we reacted to something so pointless. We're going to get through this. Do you understand?"

She was silent in his arms, and he pulled away, lifted her chin with his hand.

"Do you understand me?" he asked again when her eyes met his.

Brooke nodded after a moment, releasing a shaky breath before she looked up at him again. "This is why, isn't it? This is why he never wanted me?"

Dean shook his head, pulling her against his chest and cradling her close as he felt her body get overtaken by sobs.

"Sshh," he said as he pressed a kiss into her hair, his arms stroking her back comfortingly as they rocked slowly side to side. "It's going to be okay, baby. I promise."


Gaah! Finally, an update, right? I am soooo sorry for how long it's taken, my lovelies! I promise-seriously, SERIOULSY promise—that this time it won't be as long a wait!