"Hello?" The voice sounded much younger than she expected, and she clenched her jaw for a second.

"I need to speak with John Winchester," she said, holding the phone up with her shoulder while wiping the sweat and dirt off her brow.

"He can't come to the phone. Can I help you?"

"No," she replied without a pause. "I need John. Tell him Arielle is calling."

"Well sorry to be the one to break this to you, lady, but John died more than two years ago," the voice said. The only change in her demeanor was the widening of her eyes. "Who is this?"

The girl stood as a nurse entered the room. Her gaze went to the bleeding slash on her arm. "I'm his daughter."

It wasn't hard to spot the two men in the restaurant. The tense postures easily gave them away. Approaching the table, she noted the silver cutlery and the strategically placed glass of water. Arielle took a seat, placing her backpack on the floor. "Dean, right?" she asked the dark-haired man.

She received a wide-eyed stare as the other cleared his throat. "Yes, and I'm Sam," he introduced himself as Arielle grabbed the glass of water. Both pair of eyes watched as she set it to her lips and took a big drink. Some of the strain on their shoulders melted off. "Uh, we- we worked with John for a long time."

"Mechanics, huh," she said with a slight nod, setting down the glass she knew was filled with holy water. "How'd he die?"

"On the job," Sam answered, slightly shifting in his seat.

"A car fell on him," Dean added. Arielle would've rolled her eyes had not Denise, the waitress, interrupted.

"Hey sweetie. How are you holding up?" she asked, her eyes full of worry. Arielle and Denise had grown up together, though neither considered themselves to be close friends. Now, though, with the look the other girl was giving her, many would've considered otherwise.

"The usual, please," Arielle said, giving her a waning smile. Denise placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, eying the boys warily before walking away.

Sam cleared his throat again. "So, when's the last time you saw John?" he asked after taking a sip of water from his own glass.

"Three years. After my 16th birthday," she answered, grabbing her own glass once again and taking a drink. "I didn't know who else to call. My mother is missing."

The younger brother blinked. "Really? I'm, I'm so sorry. For how long?"

"It's tragic, really," Dean interrupted, earning a glare from Sam. "But if you're John's kid, how come we've never heard of you?"

"My father didn't know I existed until I was twelve," Arielle stated flatly. "How come if you worked with John for such a long time, I've never heard of you?"

"Why would he speak about his job to you?" Dean asked, taken aback.

"I asked," she said, her tone impatient now. "Just how I asked mom about him. She never talked about my father and for my 12th birthday I told her the only thing I wanted was to know about him. Nothing else. That's how I knew she bandaged him up in '89. Hunting accident." She caught the knowing glance between them, but she continued as if she hadn't. "After she told me the story, I asked her to let me call him."

Denise came and placed a plate before Arielle, causing her to look away from the two men. "Here you go, hun. Let me know if you need anything else, 'kay?" Arielle nodded a thanks as she grabbed the napkin, purposely missing the cutlery set by the men. Even with the commotion in the restaurant, her keen ear picked up the cocking of a gun.

"Do you mind?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Please, dig in," Dean said, a fake smile on his face. Arielle reflected it before grabbing a salt shaker, pouring some on her hand then sprinkling it on her food. The features of the two men slackened a bit more.

"I remember his voice, the way it cracked when I told him who I was," she said, a ghost of a smile wanting to surface. Her fingers wrapped around the cutlery and she gave the knife a twirl along with aiming a smirk at Dean before starting in on her food. "He was on a job, but he dropped everything. He drove all night to see me."

A movement caught her eye, Dean shifting his right arm. The gun was put away and she felt a bit at ease herself now. "He tried swinging by, every other month. He called almost every weekend. He managed to be here when a senior asked me to the prom when I was a freshman," she said, a small chuckle escaping her lips. "Scared the hell out of Alex while I was getting him a drink, I'm sure. Idiot barely even managed to hold my hand that night. One night, he took me out to drive the Impala, and -"

Dean slammed a hand on the table. Arielle remained unfazed, placing a piece of broccoli in her mouth and chewing slowly. "Oh this is crap," he said. "You know what, you're lying." Arielle took the napkin and wiped her lips as Sam gave the curious spectator a reassuring smile.

"In some things, yes, but not what you think. John Winchester is my father. I lied about not knowing who you were, though. I know exactly who you are. I did my research. You're my half-brothers."

"Look, lady," Dean started again after a quick recovery. "I don't know if you're a hunter or what kind of game you're playing here."

"No game. And I'm not a professional hunter either. Even with the constant visits, dad only took me to three or four jobs, just to get the feel of the basics," Arielle corrected before taking another sip of water. She tapped her chin afterwards. "Oh. Right. I knew dad wasn't a mechanic. I forgot to clear that up."

"I'm out of here. Come on, Sam," Dean said through gritted teeth as he shoved his chair back. Setting her napkin beside her plate, the blonde caught Dean's gaze, her green eyes pinning him down before speaking.

"I can prove it."