#x ofc

﹏ .°˚.⋆ ☀︎ ⋆.˚°. ﹏

The party had been a great idea until it was a bad idea, hosted by a friend of a friend of Craigs. Kat had backed out at the last minute claiming a migraine, but Winnie had a feeling she didn’t want to deal with the 45 minute drive to and from La Jolla with Deran and Craig. 

Winnie was happy to join the guys, happy to drink and dance and laugh until the cows came home. Until she wasn’t. Until the only thing that would make her happy would be for someone to stop dropping anvils on her from a great height. 

“Am I dead?” She croaked as she swam back to consciousness, leaning on her elbow to blink down at the nest of blankets that was Deran. He had insisted she take his bed when the trio had stumbled into the Cody home in the early hours of the morning “I think I died, no human brain can handle this.” She rubbed her hands over her face. 

Groaning, Deran pulled himself into a sitting position “If you’re dead, I’m decomposing.” His spine made some horrible popping noises as he stretched.

“You know we can share the bed right?” Winnie said, looking at him pityingly, “No funny business, but it’s killing my back to see you on the floor.” She scooted over and patted the mattress. 

“No funny business, huh?” Deran asked, pulling himself onto the bed “My brain hurts too much to know if I should be offended” Sighing as he settled down next to her. 

“I mean, I can give you a pity handjob if you want?” Winnie offered blankly, adjusting the pillow under her head. 

“You make it sound so tempting.” 

They were silent for a few minutes, listening to the sound of birds outside the window. She had almost drifted off to sleep when he spoke again. 

“That’s not something you need to worry about” Deran said carefully, clearing his throat “It’s…I wouldn’t be interested” 

Winnie turned her head to look at the young blonde next to her “Okay” she said softly. 

“Shut up” he said, turning red and bumping her shoulder with his.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your thoughts are very loud.”

She rolled her eyes and the pair fell into silence again, regarding each other before Winnie said “Okay well in that case, spoon me.” Grabbing his arm she rolled over and pulled him with her, his arm settling loosely around her waist. 

“This is nice” he said, sleepily behind her “maybe I am interested after all.”

“Shut up, you can’t handle it.” She heard him laugh softly before they both drifted off to sleep,  snoozing in the early morning light. She couldn’t be sure how long they slept before the door to Deran’s room banged open at the same time the lights were turned on. 

“Oh my god, now I’m dead” Winnie announced, rolling onto her back and throwing an arm over her eyes at the intrusion. 

“Fuck man, can you knock next time?” Deran groaned from beside her. 

Winnie peeked out from under her arm, eyes stinging in the brightness. Pope was standing in the doorway, blankly looking between her and Deran in the bed. It had been a week since she’d first laid eyes on him, he was still insufferably cute while she was certain she looked like death warmed over. She let her arm fall back over her face and groaned. 

“Smurf said to get up and have breakfast.” 

“Okay we’re coming, jeez.” Deran grumbled and pushed the blankets off himself, Winnie burrowed deeper and groaned. “Wouldn’t kill you to close the door!” She heard him call after Pope. 

Pushing herself upright, Winnie swung her legs out of the bed and gave herself a minute for the room to stop spinning before reaching down for the jeans she’d kicked off before falling into bed the night before. 

“Here” Deran tossed a non-descript T-Shirt her way, pulling a white shirt over his own head.  

“Thanks” she said, pulling it over the top she'd worn out to the party. 

Stumbling to the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. She wiped at where her makeup had smeared around her eyes and pulled her hair out of her face. 

“Decent?” She asked, turning to Deran. “Good enough” he replied and she snorted. 

When they emerged from Deran’s room into the kitchen, they found Smurf cooking as if she was expecting a professional sports team for breakfast. She had plates of bacon, toast and hash browns piled on the counter. Pope was standing at the island slicing fruit. Before they could say their good mornings they were joined by Craig, his hair dripping wet. 

“You already showered?” Deran asked incredulously. Of the three of them, Craig was the one they had to physically drag out of the party last night. The fact that he was conscious let alone showered was a miracle. 

“Fuckin’ Pope threw water on me ‘cause I wouldn’t get up.” he mumbled, walking past them to get a cup of coffee.

“Thank you so much for letting me crash Smurf” Winnie smiled politely at the woman as she gingerly sat at the kitchen counter, her head still pounding though not as badly as before. 

“Anytime sweetie” she said, stirring the pan of scrambled eggs she was cooking at the stove before turning around to look at Pope “Have you met Winnie, baby?” 

Winnie was not hungover enough to miss the slight edge to her voice. She felt Deran tense up where he sat beside her and remembered Kat’s words ‘she’s real weird about Pope and girls’. 

Pope shrugged “Seen her around” he mumbled, keeping his eyes on the strawberries he was slicing with precision. 

“Nice to meet you.” She could play along, she was too hungover to deal with whatever reaction Smurf might have that made everyone so jumpy around the thought of her adult son talking to a girl. 

He looked up at her then and nodded, his face set in an unreadable expression that she was beginning to think might be his default. If he felt any type of way about their first interaction he did not let it show. Thankfully, Craig handed her and Deran a cup of coffee and she was able to focus on that instead of everyone suddenly staring at the pair of them.

“This is quite the spread.” She said, turning to look at Smurf. 

“Well with four boys, you learn it’s better to have food leftover than have them go hungry. You wouldn’t believe the fights they got into growing up.” She pulled the pan of scrambled eggs off the stove and emptied it into a platter. “Mind bringing this to the table?”

Winnie jumped up immediately “Of course!” She scooped up the platter as well as her coffee and made her way to the dining room where Craig was already sitting slumped at one end of the table. Deran grabbed the bacon and hashbrowns before following her. 

They settled into seats on one side of the table, Smurf following closely with a plate of toast in hand, she took her place at the head of the table. 

“Good morning.” Oh god, not this asshole Winnie thought as Baz came around the corner and greeted his family. He gave Smurf a chaste kiss on the lips that had alarm bells ringing in her head before his eyes landed on her and he gave her a smirk that had her skin crawling.

“Well if it isn’t Willow.” He drawled. 

“It isn't,” she said blandly. 

“Her name’s Winnie, dumbass.” Pope said, bumping his shoulder with his as he made his way to the table as well, bowl of sliced fruit in hand. 

“Could have sworn it was Willow.” He said, taking a seat at the table across from her. She had never been more grateful for Deran or his T-Shirt as she caught Baz checking her out. 

“Nope, always been Winnie.” She gave him a tight smile before taking a big sip of her coffee. 

With everyone gathered at the table they all began to eat, plates of food passed back and forth. Winnie, Deran and Craig dug in like they hadn't eaten in days.

“Must have been quite a party” Smurf remarked, seeing Craig reach for his fifth slice of bacon in as many minutes. 

He shrugged “It was that kid Hugos out in La Jolla, they've always got a good spread.”

“To put it lightly” Winnie chuckled, biting into a piece of toast while Deran snorted beside her. 

“How many Jell-O shots did you have in the end?” Craig asked, smiling wolfishly around the bacon he stuffed in his mouth. 

Scenes from the previous night flashed across her mind; endless trays of Jell-O shots, helping a girl she hadn’t met before use the ridiculously fancy foreign toilet in the ridiculously fancy bathroom, some sort of stuffed weasel that she carried around for the night until Deran took it from her. 

“Don't know, don't want to know.” 

“Bet you were popular with all the rich boys “ the words oozed out of Baz’s mouth like a cold slime as he eyed her over the edge of his coffee cup. 

She choked on her hash browns and Deran threw his fork down, leaning across the table to snap at his brother “Don't talk to her like that man.”

“It's a compliment, she's a pretty girl.” Smurf interjected sharply, not raising her eyes from her own plate. 

Bitch. The thought flashed across Winnie's mind and she bit her cheek, keep it together. 

“Hugo did ask about you,” Craig said, unhelpfully.

“Hugo with the double man bun? No thanks” she muttered, stabbing some eggs with her fork. 

“Hey, he's a good guy!” he protested and she and Deran snorted in sync. 

“Even I know that kids a total coke head” Pope said from next to Baz. 

“Only at parties”

“And I heard he has gonorrhea”

“Boys please, once you've made the sale stop selling” Winnie deadpanned. 

That got her a laugh from Craig and a dry chuckle out of Pope, she felt Smurf's attention snap to her oldest son. 

“Baby, I’m going to need you to drive to Riverside to pick up something once we’re done here.” It was an order and not a request. She waited until she saw Pope nod before turning to Winnie, pinning her with her gaze. “So honey, I feel like I really don’t know all that much about you. You moved in with Kat?” 

“Yes, we met working at the same diner back home. She had a roommate out here but she ended up moving out at the last minute and asked if I was interested.” 

“And your family, they don’t miss having you around?”

“We text pretty often, my brother is going to college this fall so he’s bearing the brunt of our parents' empty-nest syndrome and keeping them occupied.” Picking up her mug, Winnie went to take a sip but Smurf was undeterred. 

“That’s nice, just the one brother?” She asked and when Winnie nodded mid-sip she followed up with “What's his name?” 

“Fitz, well Fitzgerald” she said, rolling her eyes as she set the mug down “our parents were big on ‘timeless’ names.” She couldn’t be sure but she thought she heard Pope mutter ‘Grandpa name’ between bites of toast. 

“So you're Winifred then?” 

“Yeah, apparently Elizabeth and John were too common for our mom's liking.” 

“And what's he going to study?” 

“Jeez Smurf, you want his social too?” Deran asked, interjecting between the two women. Winnie reached under the table and squeezed his knee in silent appreciation. 

“I'm just curious about your new friend, baby” the smile that Smurf gave her youngest son did not reach her eyes. “What about boys- you leave a boyfriend brokenhearted back home?”

Did she grill all the girls their sons befriended this much or was she special? “He didn’t seem too upset when he was cheating on me” she responded more flippantly than she felt about the situation. 

“You do your best to raise them,” Smurf sighed, taking a sip of her own coffee “but boys will be boys.” She gave her sons a benevolent smile, the boys silently eating and watching the exchange between Winnie and their mother. 

Okay, now I’m pissed. Reaching for another piece of toast, she carefully spread some butter on the slice “Hmm, that’s exactly what his mom said to me.” she said pensively.

“Is that right?” 

Nodding, she picked up her toast and took a bite before shrugging “Of course, I didn’t know at the time that she was the one pushing the other girl on him.”

“Really?” Smurf asked in what to Winnie felt like clear mock-outrage. 

“Oh yeah, turns out she didn’t like me as much as she let on.” Tilting her head to the side she took another bite of her toast, smiling as she chewed and rolling her eyes as if to say can you believe it? 

She could feel she was pushing her luck with her tone but frankly the more she spoke with her the less she cared what Smurf thought of her.  

The older woman smiled sickly sweet at her “I can’t imagine why baby” and Winnie felt her stomach twist. What was her problem?

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out, the number for Polly’s flashing across the screen. “Sorry this is work, let me just grab this quick.” Pushing back from the table she stepped outside to take the call, relishing in the slight morning breeze to calm her annoyance. 

“Hey Gabriel, what’s up?” Gabriel was the daytime manager at Polly’s, and the eponymous Polly’s grandson. He was in his late 50s and was the most mother-hen manager she had worked for. 

“Hey sweetheart, sorry to bother you. I know it’s your day off but Sofia just called out- her kids caught a stomach bug and it’s taking out their whole family. Any chance you can come in for a few hours this afternoon?”

“Yeah Gabe, I can make that work.” Rubbing her forehead, she cursed herself again for her inability to say No when people she liked and respected asked a favor. 

“Thank you honey, just come in anytime. Lupe will have a slice of cake saved for you.”

“You take such good care of me.” The older man chuckled before hanging up, thanking her again for her flexibility. 

Turning back around, she took a deep breath and asked whoever the patron saint of hangovers was to give her the strength to hold her tongue during the rest of this breakfast. 

﹏ .°˚.⋆ ☀︎ ⋆.˚°. ﹏

“Okay, regretting being so nice and picking up that shift now.” Winnie said, dropping onto one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. She had helped Smurf clear the table and bullied Deran and Craig into helping her clean up. The latter promptly disappeared as soon as they were done. “I’m exhausted.”

Smurf, Baz and Pope had all dispersed shortly after breakfast was over to discuss something. Luckily the remainder of the meal had passed in semi-pleasant if somewhat forced conversation, Smurf backing down from whatever hill she was trying to crucify Winnie on. 

“Yeah, you might need to give me an hour or two before I can drive.” Deran said from behind her, resting his head on the dining room table. 

“Ugh, I need to take the world's longest shower and a power nap before I feel human again. Let me see if Kat can come get me.” Winnie said, pulling out her phone to text her roommate and making a mental note to start really, seriously looking at used cars. 

“I can take you home” Pope’s voice startled the pair, neither had heard him silently enter the kitchen. He was looking around critically as if judging the quality of their clean up job.

She exchanged a look with Deran who simply raised his eyebrows. Turning back to Pope she said “Are you sure? Smurf said she needed you to pick something up, I don’t want to impose…” she trailed off. 

“It’s on the way, I can take you home.” He straightened a dish towel that was hanging from the oven door slightly crooked before turning to walk out. “I'll be by the car.”

“Well, guess Pope is giving you a ride” Deran said, smiling ruefully as he got up from the table. 

“Oh yeah, what happened to all the ‘stay away from Pope’ talk?” Winnie huffed, standing up and following him to his room to grab her purse and shoes. 

“You’re hungover now, so he’s in less danger” flopping onto his bed, Deran laughed at the exaggerated eye roll she gave him. “I’d keep the T-shirt on though, your party top might be distracting enough to cause an accident.”

“Shut up” she hissed in return, swatting at his leg before walking out of his room. 

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Andrew was standing perfectly still beside the passenger door of the jeep, watching as Winnie approached. She had kept on what he could only assume was one of Deran’s shirts and blinked owlishly at the bright sun before reaching into her purse and fishing around for some sunglasses before shoving them on her face. 

“Thanks” she mumbled, as he silently held the door open for her before making his way to the driver's side.

The pair drove in silence for a while, the radio playing softly. He could see her staring out of the window out of the corner of his eye. Her hair was pulled back but tendrils were already escaping and curling in the California humidity. 

Andrew tried not to think about the way she’d looked laying in Deran’s bed. Hair wild, jeans and shoes tossed to the side, the straps of her shirt slipping dangerously low. Deran's arms around her. He hadn’t expected to see her, she hadn’t been to the house in the last week and based on the way she’d behaved the first time they met, he was even more surprised to find her in his brother's bed. 

Clearing his throat Andrew said “I didn’t realize you and Deran were that close,” he glanced at her as they made a right turn. “Are you…together?” he asked carefully, eyes on the road again. 

“What? No” Winnie said, clearly surprised. She shook her head gently and raised her sunglasses, flipping down the visor on the passenger side to rub at her eyes “He actually slept on the floor until this morning, I felt bad when his back sounded like someone stepped on bubble wrap and made him get into the bed with me.”

“Oh.” Andrew ignored the way whatever part of him had been coiled tight since he first saw her in Deran’s bed loosened. 

“Yeah, why? Jealous?” He saw her flip the visor back up out of the corner of his eye, keeping her sunglasses on her head before turning to look at Pope. 

He shifted his grip on the steering wheel but kept his eyes on the road “No.” 

She huffed a laugh before reaching over to turn up the radio station a little, humming along to the song. 

“What is up with Baz by the way? Isn’t he married?” she asked suddenly. Clearly their interaction this morning was still on her mind. 

“Yeah.” His stomach turned sour at the mention of Baz and Cath, the disrespectful way that he behaved towards his wife always setting Andrew on edge. 

“Well someone should tell his wife that her husband is a creep,” She mumbled “No offence.”

“None taken” He said, pulling up into the apartment complex he knew she shared with Kat. He cut the engine but made no move to drive away. 

“You can always use my bed, I don’t sleep” he offered, fingers tapping against the gear shift while his eyes tracked one of the neighbors walking their dog past the car. 

“So you’d just what, watch me Edward Cullen-style?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

He frowned, “I don’t know who that is.”

She sighed at him and she sounded tired “Of course you don't, Pope” She reached down to grab her purse before unbuckling her seatbelt “Thanks for the ride.” 

“Anytime.” 

There was a beat of silence. 

“Pope?”

“Yeah?” He said roughly, turning to look at her fully for the first time since they’ve been alone together. She was looking at him with her head tilted to the side, an expectant look on her face. 

Fuck, did she still want him to kiss her? He could feel his face begin to heat. 

“Can you unlock the door?” The amusement in her tone was palpable. 

He cursed under his breath as he hit the unlock button, catching sight of his flushed face in the side mirror as he did so. He heard her laugh as she hopped out, tapping the hood twice as she rounded the car. Turning at the top step of the apartment building's entrance, she waved once more before walking in. Andrew sat in the car a moment longer, willing the flush on his cheeks to die down before driving away. 

﹏ .°˚.⋆ ☀︎ ⋆.˚°. ﹏

Winnie felt like she had just closed her eyes after her shower when her phone was buzzing again. Groaning, she looked at the time and found that she had managed to sleep for 43 minutes before her nap was rudely interrupted. 

“Hey Dad” she said, sitting up in her bed.

“Hi Sweetpea, how are you doing?”

“I’m good, I was just taking a little power nap before my shift” punching the pillows behind her into submission, she made herself comfortable against the headboard. 

“That’s good, how are you liking your new job?”

“It’s fine, I mean same stuff different menu, you know? But everyone has been really great so far, I like the team.”

“And how’s Kat doing?”

“Great! They actually just asked her to be the office administrator as well, the power of ordering supplies has gone to her head.” Winnie smiled as she remembered Kat coming home with a crown she’d had the summer intern make out of post-its for her to mark the occasion. 

“And your new friend, what was his name- Darren? Dylan? That still going good too?”

“De-ran, he’s good. Reminds me a lot of Fitz, which kinda sucks sometimes because it makes me miss him more.” She glanced over to her dresser where there was a picture of her and Fitz dressed as Wednesday and Pugley Adams from Halloween a few years ago. 

“He misses you too Sweetpea, we went to pick up some things for his dorm yesterday and he said it’s much harder without you making fun of his choices.” She heard her dad laugh and felt a pang of guilt at not being there. 

“He does have terrible taste.”

“None of it matches, your mom is returning some things today to make it cohesive.”

“Of course she is. How is everything going for you at work?”

“Same old same old for me. We did start getting those sparkling waters I like in the fridges at work so my motivation to go into the office has increased by about 10%”

They caught up for a few minutes on some of the local gossip, her Dad had a knack for charming the older ladies in town who had their nose in everyone's business. 

“I’d like to say that I can’t believe Lisa is pregnant again, but I swear at this point Nolan must just be looking at her to knock her up.” Winnie shook her head at hearing the news. They’d grown up together and been semi-friends in High School, Lisa marrying her boyfriend the day after graduation and giving birth to the first of their soon-to-be four babies in quick succession. 

“Knowing that this question will cramp my ‘Cool Dad’ cred, I did want to ask if you’ve met any boys there? If you…I mean a-are you being…safe?” he stammered out the end of his question and Winnie could feel his embarrassment through the phone.

“Dad, Please never ask me that again.” She covered her eyes with a hand, feeling her own face heat up in embarrassment. 

“That didn’t answer my question, young lady.”

“Oh my god, not young lady! We both know Mom’s better at being stern.”

“Well, when my only daughter moves away from home and becomes cagey about the boys she's seeing I become very stern. “ He tried and failed to keep an authoritative tone in his voice. 

Sighing, she dropped her hand from her eyes “I am not seeing anyone Dad, I’ve only been here a few weeks. I’ve just been busy working and hanging out with Deran and Kat.”

“And you expect me to believe you’ve met no one that caught your eye? The girl who told our postman she was going to marry him in first grade?” 

“A heartbreak I still carry to this day! ” She laughed, remembering her bewilderment when she was suddenly confronted with the reality of Postman John’s husband at a neighborhood party after what she considered a very heartfelt proposal. “There is this one guy, it’s nothing really…” She chewed on the side of her thumb, a habit she hadn’t been able to break when nervous.

“Talk to the expert, I’m singlehandedly responsible for 7 marriages as you well know. ” Winnie got her tendency for meddling in others' lives from her father, Arthur Fletcher never met someone with a crush that he couldn’t finagle into a long-term commitment.  

“Yeah and 3 of those ended in divorce!” 

“I’ve told you before Sweetpea, it’s a numbers game. Mike and Sabine are giving it another shot by the way, so we may be back to just 2 divorces.” She could hear the satisfaction in his voice, Mike and Sabine being a couple he had helped get together back in his own college days. “I’m just saying, I have a good eye for this.” 

She could hear clinking in the background which told her he was moving around their kitchen, likely pouring himself another cup of coffee. She could picture him walking into the living room to sit in his favorite chair. Homesickness clawed its way up her throat and she used his momentary distraction to swallow thickly, she only felt this homesick whenever she called home. One of the reasons she tried to stick to texting her parents updates. 

“So?” He asked, grunting softly as he settled into his chair. “Tell me about him!”

Sighing, she tried to think of how to explain Pope to her father “He’s Derans brother, older- not much. Kinda quiet, kinda…intense.”

“Don’t love older, definitely don’t like intense.”

“Not in a scary way! I don’t know, I don’t think we’ve even had an actual conversation. He’s just…real cute.” She thought back to the look on his face when he dropped her off, the blush creeping up his neck. 

“Cute huh? And you think he likes you?” She could hear the teasing tone in his voice. 

“God this is so pathetic, how am I gossiping about a boy with my dad right now?”

“Hey, there is nothing pathetic about having an involved father” He chided. 

“I don’t know.” She said again “I spent the night at their house last night after a party and it was kinda weird, we met last week but he pretended we hadn’t” she sighed, running a hand through her hair “Their mom is weird about him and girls apparently.” 

“Uh oh, boy-mom alert.”

“Dad, you have no idea. One of their brothers is like adopted or something- total creep by the way. He came over this morning and they kissed on the lips! Not like a full on makeout, it was a peck but still. Kinda weird.” 

“Some families do that.”

“I guess, I dunno. I get the feeling she doesn’t like to share their attention. I made some joke and Pope like barely laughed and she immediately started grilling me.”

“Okay, definitely weird.”

“Thank you! So what’s the verdict?”

“Alright, let me sit up for this,” She heard him grunt and set down his coffee “Ready Sweetpea?”

“Hit me with it.”

“Don’t rush things. You just got there so just get to know the guy as friends first, see if there’s something there. And if he’s mean to you, Fitz and I will hop on a plane and straighten him out. We’ll bring Postman John if we have to.”

“God, isn’t he like 70 now?” Winnie laughed. 

“And he would still hop on a plane to kick some butt for you! Listen Sweetpea, I gotta head out but make sure you check in on your mom for me?” 

“Of course, Love you dad, thanks for calling.”

“Love you more Win. Stay good!”

“Always!”

Hanging up she smiled at her phone, shooting her mom a quick text message asking if she’d be around tomorrow for a catch up call. As good as her Dad was at gossiping about boys, her mom was unmatched, and she needed to talk through this thing with Smurf with her. Flopping back onto the bed, she set herself an alarm for 20 minutes from now, determined to get one more quick nap in before having to start getting ready for work. 

﹏ .°˚.⋆ ☀︎ ⋆.˚°. ﹏

“That was weird right,” Craig asked Deran when they were lounging by the pool later that afternoon, lazily passing a joint between them “Smurf and Winnie?” his brother snorted in response. 

“Is it Pope?”

“When is it not with Smurf?” Deran rubbed at his temples, the headache from his hangover still lingering. 

“I told you I saw her follow him into the bathroom last week, did something happen there?”

“She says no but…”

“But?” Craig leaned over and handed his younger brother the joint. 

“I don’t know man, the energy was weird. I just grabbed her and made her leave him alone for the rest of the night.”

“He’s been okay right?” Craig said, scratching his face “Nothing crazy?”

“Seems like it.” Deran exhaled. 

“Speak of the devil.”

They watched as Pope walked through the house with duffle bags in hand, he dropped them on the dining room table before making his way to where his brothers were sitting outside.

“Hey how did dropping Winnie off go earlier, she seem alright?” Deran asked when he was close enough to hear them. 

“It was fine.”

“Oh shit, you drove her home?” Craig asked, raising his eyebrows before smirking at Pope “Does Smurf know that?”

“Shut up” Pope scoffed, dropping into one of the nearby chairs. 

“We were just talking about how weird she was being to her this morning, she say anything in the car?” Deran asked, handing the joint back to Craig.

“She said Baz is a creep.” 

“We were also talking about whatever happened between the two of you in the bathroom last week” Craig raised an eyebrow at Pope. 

“Nothing happened.” 

“Because you got caught?”

“Nothing happened,” he repeated sternly, "We all set for the job?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You guys heard of Edward Cullen?” 

﹏ .°˚.⋆ ☀︎ ⋆.˚°. ﹏

—

October 2027

The weather was slowly catching an autumn vibe, the sun held more down, but still it was warm in its glow. Monaco was alive with its usual buzz, same as the couple of newlyweds – The Wolffs, who managed to buy a house up the hills, a luxurious mansion with many rooms.

Toto didn’t want them to live in his good but old apartment, he wanted something fresh for them and after many visits and discussions, they decided to buy this one.

Today was the day he allowed Hadley to start to settle in the house, all the packages with their things being scattered all over the place. Delivery of furniture was there already a week ago and she could finally give their safe haven a family touch.

“Toto!” Hadley called out for him through the empty space of the hallway of the house. He was down in the living room, unpacking the boxes. Rushing upstairs, he got to the master bedroom, where the bed was already placed along with the mattress and there she stood in front of the huge mirror in the corner. His face softened at the sight, he walked to stand behind her, taking in her figure in the reflection of the mirror. “What is it, liebling?”

Hadley had a wide grin plastered on her face when she grabbed his hand, placing it on her swollen belly. “It’s kicking.”

Toto felt the kick through the stretched skin of hers, shooting her look of awe. She was on the verge of crying, feeling all the possible emotions.

It wasn’t planned at all. On their honeymoon in May, they travelled through Australia, because that’s where Hadley always wanted to go and who was Toto to decline her. Many nights they spent tangled in the sheets and she was being careless about her birth control pill.

Watching the second line appearing on the pregnancy test, Hadley audibly gasped in shock. Susie stood beside her, with her little one resting on her hip, her eyes widened.

“Hadley. Oh my god.”

“Holy fucking shit.”

“I thought you just caught some virus from travelling. But it appears you caught a way more serious thing.” Susie chuckled, squeezing her sister’s arm in reassurance.

Hadley just stood there, holding the test in her hands as if it was some fragile thing. A baby. A Wolff baby.

“You know what it means?” she turned to look at Susie.

“That you’re gonna be a mom?”

“That our kids will be siblings.” Hadley smiled amused, trying to brush it off with a joke.

Susie put one to one and giggled. “Oh well, that’s right.”

“Toto, we need to talk.” she called him while he was on his way home from the race weekend.

“What– what happened, love?” a dread filled his mind, chest tightening as he was on his way into the private jet.

“I can’t tell you over the phone. Have a safe flight.”

His mind was filled with many possible scenarios of what’s going wrong. Toto was genuinely scared.

Practically fleeting through the entrance door of their apartment, he called for her only to find her in the kitchen.

Hadley fought her stupid smile, trying to act all serious. “Hello, Toto.”

Toto stood there, breath caught in his throat. “Hi, darling. So, what’s the matter?”

She pointed to the small box on the counter. “Open it.”

Cocking his brow, he huffed, but took a step forward, to open the box with his shaky hands. Quickly unwrapping the ribbon, he got the lid off, rummaging through the decorative paper. Then his movements stopped, his face turned pale and he almost fainted.

“Hadley–”

She was beside him immediately, her arm around his waist. “So?”

Holding a small pair of baby shoes in his hands, he couldn't contain his emotions and whimpered. “Hadley…”

“Mhm.” she hummed with the sweetest smile.

“We… I…You… We’re gonna be parents.” he whispered as if he was scared that this moment would be over.

“Yes. Me and you. And our baby. I know it wasn’t planned, but… it was meant to be.” She looked up at him, to read his expression.

His arms wrapped around her figure, bringing her the closest she could be to his chest, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

“I’m so happy. So, so, so happy. Oh my god, we’re gonna have a baby. There will be a mini you here.” he took her cheeks into his hands, smiling widely. Hadley swore that she never saw him this over himself. And it was the best thing she had ever seen.

Toto rubbed her belly more, he loved the feeling underneath his touch. Hadley leaned against his chest, grinning happily. Her pregnancy was full of bliss from the beginning. No nausea, crazy cravings or anything else. It was like a reward after all the trouble she endured with Toto.

“Come on, we need to work our asses off, your kids are gonna arrive for dinner.” she poked into his side and he chuckled with an eye roll.

“You’re my wife for a while and you’re commanding me already…” he muttered in a joke and she grabbed the pillow, throwing it at him.

“You love it, Torger.” Hadley giggled, that pillow hitting his head.

Toto inhaled sharply, shooting her a look full of feigned disapproval. “Young lady. You’re in for a punishment.”

“You can’t. I’m pregnant with your child, remember?” she batted her eyelashes innocently.

–

January 2028

The house was quiet at night, only a dim light was illuminating the hallway from the bedroom. After a long day, Toto came home, quietly stepping inside the room, only to find Hadley snuggled against her breastfeeding pillow, while their newborn son was sleeping soundly in the crib next to the bed.

He took his time to take in the core moment, his beautiful wife and his healthy boy being happy.

Toto couldn’t even imagine he’d be this happy in life ever again. With Hadley everything was different, she rewrote everything he knew about women. Without even trying, she made him a better man. Because he wanted to. For her.

Placing a soft kiss on the forehead of his newborn son, he turned his attention to Hadley, sitting on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. She stirred from her sleep, maternal instincts kicking in.

“Shhh… it’s okay, it’s just me, liebling.” Toto whispered, caressing her cheek. Hadley lifted her sleepy gaze at him, her lips curling in a content smile.

Her hand reached for his, closing around his fingers and holding onto him. Looking down, he took in the wedding band on her finger, flutters of joy filling his chest at the memory of their wedding. Closing the gap between them, he kissed her temple.

“I love you.”

“Always and forever.” Hadley mumbled, falling asleep again.

—

© All stories and written content created by me is not allowed to be used without my permission. If you wish to share, quote, or use any portion of my stories, please contact me directly.

—

Our Original Cast: Ava Salazar Shannon Lizt Tessa Jackson Rosie Hernandez Mina Devi Siobhan O'Connell Maria Morales Jenna Marks Evie Morgan Emilia "Minnie" Clark Carrie Lee Celia Kaye Harmony Trace Irini Mylona Maya Schneider

Master List: The Crone and the Siren (Dana Evans) The Seer and the Sun (Trinity Santos) The Fox and the Angel (Dennis Whitaker) The Witch and the Dryad (Cassie McKay) The Phoenix and the Firestarter (Frank Langdon) The Vampire and the Artist (Michael Robinavitch) The Wolf and the Witch (Jack Abbot) The Vampire and the Succubus (Samira Mohan) The Fae and the Empath (Melissa King) The Demigod and the Witch (John Shen) The Valkyrie and the Nereid (Emery Walsh) The Valkyrie and the Demigod (Yolanda Garcia) The Djinn and the Hellhound (Baran Al-Hashimi) The Scientist and the Shark (Brendon Park)

All fics will be posted on Ao3 and timelines will be cross posted.

Across from him, Sam Winchester flipped another page, already halfway down a margin of cramped handwriting. “You’re skipping the annotation. Bobby’s note says—”

“—yeah, yeah, ‘context matters,’” Dean cut in, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Everything matters. I get it. Still doesn’t help.”

He leaned back in his chair, letting it tip onto two legs, gaze drifting without thought toward the front window. Habit, maybe. Or instinct.

That’s when he saw her.

She was just coming up the pathway from the road, boots crunching lightly over gravel, duffel slung over one shoulder like she’d done it a hundred times before. Older, sure—taller somehow, hair longer, posture different. The sharp edges of childhood smoothed by years and distance.

But it was her.

Dean’s chair thudded back down onto all four legs.

For a split second, his mind refused to catch up. Years peeled away instead—sunburned afternoons, grease-stained hands, laughter echoing through Bobby’s yard. His chest tightened, sudden and sharp, and his heart kicked hard against his ribs like it had just recognized something it never stopped looking for.

Sam glanced up, following Dean’s line of sight. “You okay?”

Dean didn’t answer right away. He just watched as she reached the porch, paused, and lifted a hand to knock—familiar as breathing.

“Yeah,” he said finally, voice rougher than he meant it to be.

Sam’s eyes flicked back to him, curious now. “Who is that?”

Dean swallowed.

“My childhood friend,” he said. And when Sam looked back out the window, Dean nodded once, slow and certain. “Yeah. That’s her.”

The knock came—solid, unhesitating.

And just like that, the room wasn’t the same anymore.

Then:

The first time Natalie Guimet ever beat Dean Winchester at anything, it was because she cheated.

He was eight. She was seven. Bobby’s garage floor was scattered with mismatched tools, and the game—if you could call it that—was who could cross the space without touching the cracks in the concrete.

Dean had longer legs. That should’ve been enough.

Natalie waited until he was halfway across, then hopped—deliberately—onto a crack, spun around, and stuck her tongue out at him. “You lose.”

“That’s not how the game works!” Dean protested.

Bobby, watching from the doorway with a beer in hand, snorted. “House rules.”

Natalie grinned, victorious, and Dean stared at her for a long moment before breaking into a smile of his own—wide and unguarded, the kind that came easy back then.

“Well,” he said, already scheming. “Rematch.”

Then:

They were eleven and twelve and convinced that boredom was a personal insult.

It started with a ladder.

Bobby had left it propped against the side of the house after fixing a gutter, the metal rungs catching the sun. Dean spotted it first, eyes lighting with the same expression he got right before something went wrong.

“You won’t,” he said casually, nodding toward the roof.

Natalie followed his gaze, squinting. “Won’t what?”

“Climb it. Walk all the way across. Touch the chimney.”

She crossed her arms. “That’s stupid.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed immediately. “That’s why you won’t.”

She stared at him for a long beat, weighing the challenge like a coin in her palm. Then she shrugged, stepped forward, and grabbed the ladder.

Dean’s mouth fell open. “Hey—wait, that’s not—”

She climbed fast, nimble and unafraid, sneakers clanging softly against metal. When she reached the top, she turned, balanced easily, and planted one hand on her hip.

“You were saying?”

Dean scowled. “Doesn’t count unless you walk it.”

Natalie rolled her eyes but did it anyway, arms stretched wide as she crossed the slanted roofline. When she reached the chimney, she slapped it with her palm and whooped.

“Your turn.”

Dean didn’t hesitate. He never did.

He scrambled up after her, heart pounding—not from fear, but from the electricity of being seen. When he reached the top, he went one better: climbed onto the chimney itself, boots scraping, arms windmilling.

Natalie gasped. “Dean! That’s not—”

“I win,” he said, grinning down at her.

She narrowed her eyes. “Oh no. You don’t win yet.”

She pointed to the yard. “Jump.”

Dean looked down. It wasn’t that high. Probably.

“You’re insane.”

“You climbed the chimney,” she shot back. “Don’t chicken out now.”

He hesitated just long enough for her to smirk.

“Fine,” he muttered, crouching. “But when Bobby kills us, I’m blaming you.”

He jumped. Landed hard. Rolled. Popped up laughing, breathless and triumphant.

Natalie clapped once, sharp and delighted. “Okay. Okay. New dare.”

She climbed down, eyes already alive with ideas. “Loser has to drink Bobby’s coffee.”

Dean froze. “That’s not a dare. That’s a death wish.”

She grinned. “Scared?”

He groaned. “You’re evil.”

“And you’re playing,” she said, already moving toward the house.

They never did drink the coffee. Bobby caught them mid-argument, took one look at the ladder, the chimney, and their scraped elbows, and launched into a lecture that lasted ten full minutes.

They stood side by side the whole time, shoulders touching, biting back laughter.

Later—much later—Dean would forget a lot of things about being that age.

But he never forgot this: With Natalie there, the world felt bigger than the hunt. And for a little while, that was enough.

Now:

Sam noticed it because he was used to noticing Dean.

Not the big things—the swagger, the sarcasm, the way Dean filled a room by sheer force of presence. Sam noticed the small shifts. The way Dean’s jaw tightened when he was bracing for a fight. The way his shoulders loosened after a job went right. The subtle tells that lived underneath the noise.

So when Dean went still—really still—Sam caught it immediately.

The knock came again, firmer this time. Hand on wood. Ordinary. But Dean hadn’t moved. He wasn’t smirking, wasn’t making a crack, wasn’t already halfway to the door like he usually was when company showed up unannounced. His gaze stayed fixed on the window, posture locked, breath shallow.

Sam studied him, curiosity edging into something quieter.

He’d heard the name before. Natalie. Not often, not in a way Dean ever lingered on, but enough that it had lodged somewhere in Sam’s memory. A childhood constant. Bobby’s place. Summers and long stretches between hunts. Dean had mentioned her the way he mentioned old cars or half-remembered towns—casually, but with a familiarity that suggested permanence.

Sam had met her once. Maybe twice. Years ago. She’d been older than him then, sharper around the edges, quick with a grin that matched Dean’s energy beat for beat. She hadn’t treated him like a kid, which Sam had appreciated more than he’d admitted at the time.

And now—standing here, watching Dean—Sam wondered.

Dean’s hand flexed at his side, fingers curling once before he stilled them. His mouth parted like he might say something, then didn’t. There was a softness there Sam didn’t see often anymore, especially not since they’d found each other again, since the world had snapped back into hunts and blood and unfinished business.

It was like time had slowed around him.

Sam thought of the stories Dean had told, usually late at night, usually unprompted. Natalie daring him into stupid stunts. Natalie stealing Bobby’s food. Natalie calling him out when he got too big for his own skin. Dean had laughed when he talked about her—but it hadn’t been the careless laugh he used on strangers. It had been warmer. Easier.

The knock came a third time.

Dean finally blinked.

Something settled behind his eyes then—not resolve exactly, but recognition. Like he’d already crossed a line just by seeing her again.

Sam didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask. He just watched his brother take a breath that went deeper than the last few, straighten slightly, and move toward the door.

And as Dean’s hand closed around the knob, Sam had the strangest thought: Some things don’t disappear when you grow up.

They just wait.

The door opened.

And whatever Dean Winchester had been before that moment—hunter, brother, soldier—shifted, just a fraction, as Natalie Guimet stood on the threshold and the past stepped quietly into the room.

Then:

They were twelve and eleven and sitting cross-legged on the linoleum floor of Bobby’s kitchen, backs against the cabinets, a jar of salsa between them like contraband.

Natalie unscrewed the lid and leaned in, inhaling appreciatively. “Smell that?”

Dean squinted at it. “It smells… angry.”

She grinned. “It smells good.”

“That is not a normal smell for food.”

She dipped a tortilla chip, scooping up a generous amount, then held it out toward him. “C’mon. One bite.”

Dean eyed it like it might move. “What’s in it?”

“Tomatoes. Onions. Cilantro. Jalapeños.”

“Yeah, see, that last one?” He pointed. “That’s where you lost me.”

Natalie rolled her eyes. “You eat bacon cheeseburgers like it’s a food group. You can handle a little spice.”

He scoffed. “I can handle American food.”

She leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “You scared?”

“No.”

“Chicken?”

“No.”

She smiled sweetly. “Dean Winchester. Afraid of salsa.”

His jaw tightened. “I am not.”

“Prove it.”

He grabbed the chip from her hand and took a bite—too big, because of course he did. Chewed once. Twice.

His expression didn’t change right away.

Natalie waited.

Then his eyes widened.

“Oh,” he said faintly.

She brightened. “There it is.”

“It’s fine,” he insisted quickly, swallowing. “It’s—it’s got a kick, but—”

He coughed.

Natalie laughed, delighted. “That’s nothing! That’s barely spicy.”

Dean’s ears turned red. He reached blindly for the glass beside him and took a huge gulp.

Natalie’s laughter cut off. “No—Dean—don’t—”

Too late.

He choked, sputtering now, face flushing as the heat spread instead of eased. “Why is it worse?!” he croaked.

“Water spreads it!” she said, laughing again despite herself. “You’re supposed to use milk!”

“I don’t have milk!” he gasped, eyes watering.

She scrambled up, grabbed the carton from the fridge, and shoved it into his hands. He drank like his life depended on it, milk sloshing down his chin.

When he finally stopped, breathing hard, she was doubled over with laughter, clutching the counter.

“You’re evil,” he said hoarsely.

She wiped her eyes. “You did it to yourself.”

He glared at the salsa jar like it had personally betrayed him. “That stuff is a weapon.”

“Please,” she said, still grinning. “That wasn’t even the spicy one.”

He stared at her. “There’s a spicier one?”

She nodded cheerfully.

Dean leaned back against the cabinet, defeated. “I hate you.”

She bumped his shoulder with hers. “No, you don’t.”

He huffed, a reluctant smile tugging at his mouth despite himself. “Next dare’s mine.”

Her eyes lit up. “Bring it on.”

And for a while, the only thing Dean Winchester had to survive was a mouthful of salsa and the sound of Natalie Guimet laughing beside him.

Now:

Dean opened the door.

For a half second, Natalie just looked at him.

Not blankly. Not confused exactly. Just… recalibrating. Like she’d expected Bobby’s gruff silhouette to fill the frame, or maybe nothing at all, and instead found a stranger who felt almost familiar in the bones.

Dean felt it too—that infinitesimal pause where recognition lagged behind instinct.

Then her eyes sharpened.

Her gaze swept his face, caught on the shape of his mouth, the tilt of his brow, the way he filled the doorway like he always had. The years folded in on themselves all at once.

“Dean?” she said, disbelief softening her voice.

His name sounded different coming from her. Not careful. Not guarded. Just… easy.

“Hey,” he breathed, and it came out quieter than he meant it to.

Natalie’s face lit up, the change immediate and unguarded. She smiled wide, stepping forward without hesitation, like the distance between them had never existed at all. “Oh my God. Look at you.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well. You should see the other guy.”

She laughed—actually laughed—and the sound hit him square in the chest. “I can’t believe it’s you. I mean, I knew Bobby said you and Sam were back together, but—” She stopped herself, eyes flicking over him again, softer now. “It’s really you.”

He nodded once, unable to stop the grin pulling at his mouth. “Guess so.”

She dropped her duffel just inside the doorway and reached for him without thinking, arms wrapping around his shoulders in a hug that felt practiced, remembered. Dean froze for exactly half a heartbeat before his arms came up around her, solid and certain.

It fit.

When they pulled back, they were both smiling like idiots.

“You still eat like crap?” she asked.

He scoffed. “You still try to poison people with salsa?”

“Only people I like.”

“Figures.”

They slipped sideways into conversation without effort—voices overlapping, cadence falling back into something worn smooth by years. She asked about the car. He asked about Nova Scotia. She teased him about his jacket. He noticed the scar at her wrist and didn’t ask. She noticed the tension at his shoulders and didn’t comment.

Time stretched. Curled in on itself.

Behind them, a chair creaked.

Dean blinked, finally aware of the rest of the room.

“Oh—uh,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Sam. Sorry.”

Sam Winchester stood by the table, arms crossed loosely, watching with open curiosity and something like quiet amusement.

Natalie turned, eyes widening again—but this time with recognition already primed. “Sam. Wow. You got tall.”

Sam smiled, polite and warm. “Yeah. That happens.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “Guess we kinda… forgot where we were.”

Natalie grinned, unapologetic. “Bobby’s house does that.”

Dean couldn’t argue with that.

And as the door swung shut behind her, sealing the three of them inside, it struck him—soft and startling—that some things didn’t need catching up.

They just… resumed.

Now:

Natalie turned fully to Sam, her smile softening into something familiar and genuine. “It’s really good to see you again,” she said. “It’s been a while.”

Sam shrugged lightly, returning the smile. “Yeah. It has.”

She tilted her head, studying him for a second. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about you.”

Sam huffed a quiet laugh. “All good ones, I’m sure.”

Natalie laughed outright. “Oh, absolutely.”

Dean snorted. “Liar.”

She shot him an easy look over her shoulder. “I said good, not flattering.”

Sam chuckled, the tension in the room easing another notch. “It’s nice to meet you again,” he said. “Feels like it’s been… a lifetime.”

“Tell me about it,” Natalie replied. “Life kind of does that.”

Sam hesitated, then added, “I’ve heard stories about you, too.”

Dean straightened immediately. “Careful.”

Natalie’s eyebrows shot up, delighted. “Oh? I’m fascinated already.”

“I’m serious,” Dean warned.

She waved him off. “I’m sure they’re all good ones.”

Sam’s mouth twitched. “I mean… define good.”

Natalie grinned. “Oh, please. I’m positive I could return the favor. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of material. Dean’s done some truly questionable things.”

Dean shot her a look. “You’re both on thin ice.”

Sam’s grin widened. “Like the time he had to reroute the alternator on the Impala with a coat hanger and duct tape?”

Natalie gasped, hand flying to her chest. “He did what?”

“It was temporary,” Dean said defensively.

“That’s sacrilege,” she said, horrified. “Do you have any idea how bad that is for her?”

“Her?” Sam echoed.

Natalie turned on him, deadly serious. “Baby.”

Dean groaned. “Oh, come on.”

“She’s a classic,” Natalie continued, shaking her head. “You can’t just—just mistreat her like that.”

Sam laughed. “She yelled at him for days.”

Natalie shot Dean a triumphant look. “As she should.”

Dean threw his hands up. “This is exactly why I warned you.”

Natalie laughed again, bright and unrestrained, and for a moment the house felt warmer—like something old and good had slid neatly back into place.

Then:

They were eight and nine and camping in Bobby Singer’s junkyard like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The tent was a half-broken thing Bobby had dragged out of the shed, patched with duct tape and optimism. It leaned slightly to the left, one pole bent just enough that the canvas sagged. Dean had declared it “good enough,” which Natalie accepted with a solemn nod, because that was how things worked.

They lay on their backs inside it now, the zipper cracked open so they could see the stars. The junkyard stretched around them—rusted car frames and scattered parts rising like strange metal beasts in the dark. Crickets chirped. Somewhere far off, an owl hooted.

Natalie held a flashlight under her chin, shining it upward. “Bobby says the stars are different everywhere,” she said. “Like they change depending on where you stand.”

Dean frowned, considering that. “That’s dumb.”

She turned the light toward him. “Why?”

“They’re stars,” he said. “They’re way up there. They don’t care where we are.”

She hummed, thoughtful. “Maybe. But I think they do.”

He squinted at her. “Why?”

“Because everything else does.”

He didn’t have an answer for that.

A breeze rattled the tent, making the canvas flutter. Dean stiffened, heart jumping. Natalie noticed immediately.

“Relax,” she said. “It’s just the wind.”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “I know.”

She shifted closer, shoulder brushing his. “Bobby said there aren’t any ghosts in the junkyard. Just raccoons.”

Dean made a face. “Raccoons are worse.”

She laughed quietly, then pointed the flashlight back toward the opening. “Look. That one looks like a bear.”

Dean followed her finger. “That’s not a bear. That’s a car.”

“No, the stars,” she insisted.

He sighed but looked anyway. After a moment, he nodded. “Okay. Maybe a bear.”

They lay there in silence for a while, the kind that didn’t feel heavy. Just full.

“Hey, Dean?” she asked eventually.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we’ll always know each other?”

The question caught him off guard. He stared up at the stars, then shrugged. “Probably.”

She smiled, satisfied. “Good.”

The wind rustled the tent again. This time, Dean didn’t jump.

Outside, the junkyard stood watch—silent, solid, familiar. And inside the tent, two kids drifted toward sleep, believing, without question, that some places and some people were permanent.

For a little while, they were right.

Now:

Natalie’s gaze drifted from Dean to Sam—and then past them, to the table.

The spread of books was unmistakable. Thick spines cracked with age, loose pages weighed down by mugs and scraps of paper, symbols scrawled in margins in handwriting she half-recognized. Lore. Research. The kind of mess you didn’t make unless something had teeth.

Her expression shifted—not alarmed, not excited. Just attentive.

“So,” she said lightly, hooking her thumb toward the table. “What’re you hunting?”

Dean opened his mouth automatically—then hesitated. A flicker of something crossed his face, old muscle memory colliding with the fact that this was Natalie. Not someone to protect by omission. Not someone to scare. Just… someone who knew.

Sam answered instead, tone even. “Spirit case. Maybe. We’re still narrowing it down.”

Natalie nodded, stepping farther into the room, eyes scanning the pages without touching. “Local?”

“Couple counties over,” Dean said. “Farmhouse. Family says things went sideways after the well dried up.”

She hummed, thoughtful. “That tracks.”

Dean looked at her. “With what?”

“Ground disturbance,” she said. “Water shifts mess with a lot of things. You check old property lines?”

Sam blinked. “We were just—yeah. We were getting to that.”

Natalie smiled faintly, a familiar glint in her eye. “Just saying. Spirits don’t like change.”

Dean snorted. “Join the club.”

She reached for one of the books then—paused, glanced at him first.

“Mind?”

He shook his head. “Be my guest.”

She flipped through the pages with practiced ease, not rushing, not tentative either. Like someone who’d done this before but didn’t feel the need to prove it.

Sam watched her for a moment, then asked, “You still hunting up north?”

“Not full-time,” she said, not looking up. “Long enough to get tired of it.”

Dean caught the way her shoulders tightened just a little.

He didn’t push.

Instead, he leaned against the table, arms crossed, watching her in that quiet way he always had—like the world narrowed when she was in it.

Outside, the light shifted. Inside, the books lay open between them, old and familiar and waiting.

And for the first time since she’d walked through the door, Dean thought—not for the last time—that this wasn’t just a visit.

This was a return.

Then:

The phone buzzed against Natalie’s thigh as she steered the car down a narrow stretch of highway, dusk bleeding into night at the edges of the trees. She glanced at the screen, saw Dean’s name, and pulled onto the shoulder without thinking.

She killed the engine, rolled the window down, and answered.

“Hey,” she said.

There was a breath on the other end. Then, “So. I did something stupid.”

Natalie leaned back against the seat, eyes on the darkening sky. “Okay.”

“That’s it?” Dean asked. “No judgment?”

“I’m listening.”

The words came out of him in a rush after that—uneven, tangled. He told her about Cassie. About how it hadn’t been casual, not even close. How it had felt easy and real in a way that made him believe, just for a second, that maybe this could be something he didn’t have to leave behind.

He told her how he’d said it out loud. All of it. Monsters. Hunting. The truth he never gave anyone.

“She didn’t believe me,” he said quietly. “Thought I was messing with her. Or crazy.” A pause. “She walked.”

Natalie closed her eyes. She could hear it in his voice—the fracture beneath the bravado, the disbelief that wanting something had cost him again.

“I don’t know what I expected,” Dean went on. “I just wanted her to know me. And now I’m sitting here wondering if I torched the whole thing for no reason.”

He went quiet. The line hummed softly between them.

“Was I stupid?” he asked at last.

Natalie didn’t answer right away. She let the silence sit, felt the weight of the road and the hunt still ahead of her, the miles she’d put between herself and anything that felt like home.

“No,” she said, steady and sure. “You weren’t.”

Dean exhaled. “You didn’t even think about it.”

“Because I don’t have to,” she said. “You told the truth. That’s not stupid. That’s… you.”

A huff of a laugh. “Didn’t do me much good.”

“That doesn’t make it wrong,” Natalie replied. “It just means it hurt.”

Another pause—this one different. Less raw.

“You loved her,” she said gently.

“Yeah,” Dean admitted. “I think I did.”

Natalie looked out at the stars beginning to prick through the sky. “Then you didn’t mess up. You did the only thing you could live with.”

He was quiet for a moment longer, and she could almost feel him nodding on the other end.

“Thanks,” he said. “For answering.”

“Always,” she said.

They hung up not long after. Natalie stayed there for a beat, phone resting in her palm, ache settling deep and familiar—not for herself, but for the boy she’d grown up with, who kept choosing honesty even when it cost him everything.

She started the car, merged back onto the road, and drove on toward her hunt—carrying Dean’s truth with her like she always had.

Now:

Natalie leaned over the table, one hand braced on the edge as she scanned the open books again. She didn’t rush. Just let her eyes move, tracing margins, following arrows, taking in the way Bobby’s notes braided together in that half-chaotic, half-brilliant way of his.

Dean watched her from where he’d settled against the counter, arms crossed. Sam stood closer, notebook in hand, already anticipating the moment she’d say something.

She stopped on a page Dean had already cursed at twice.

“Hang on,” she said quietly.

Sam perked up. “What?”

She tapped a finger against a paragraph written in cramped Latin. “This reference here—everyone reads it as burial rites. Salt, iron, the usual.” Her finger slid down to a smaller notation beneath it. “But this isn’t about burial. It’s about containment.”

Dean frowned. “That’s… not how it reads.”

“That’s how it’s usually translated,” Natalie agreed. “But look at the verb tense. It’s not ‘laid to rest.’ It’s ‘bound.’”

Sam leaned in, eyes narrowing as he reread it. “Huh.”

Natalie flipped the page back, then forward again, tracing a path between two separate sections. “And this symbol—see how it shows up twice? Everyone assumes it’s protective. But paired with water displacement?” She shook her head. “It’s reactive. Like a pressure valve.”

Dean straightened. “You’re saying the well drying up didn’t wake it.”

“It trapped it,” she said. “And when the family tried to dig deeper, they broke the seal.”

Silence settled over the table as the idea landed.

Sam’s mouth curved into a slow, impressed smile. “Okay. Yeah. That… that actually lines up with the timeline.”

Dean blew out a breath. “Son of a—” He stopped himself, then grinned at her. “How did we miss that?”

Natalie shrugged, faintly sheepish. “You were looking for how to kill it. Not how it started.”

Sam nodded, already flipping pages, scribbling notes. “If it’s bound to the original water source, then destroying it outright might not even work.”

“Exactly,” she said. “You’d have to reestablish the boundary first. Then finish it.”

Dean stared at the table for a second longer before looking back up at her. There was something in his expression—pride, surprise, a flicker of something warmer—that he didn’t bother to hide.

“Guess you didn’t forget how to do this,” he said.

Natalie met his gaze, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “Some things stick.”

Sam cleared his throat lightly. “So… you sticking around long enough to help us not screw this up?”

She hesitated only a beat. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Dean’s smile widened, easy and genuine.

And just like that, the hunt shifted—not louder, not faster—but steadier. Like something that had been missing had quietly slid back into place.

The screen door creaked, then banged shut with familiar force.

“Glad to hear it.”

All three of them turned as Bobby Singer stepped inside, jacket slung over one shoulder, boots tracking in dust like he owned the place—which, of course, he did. He took in the scene in one sweeping glance: books spread across the table, notes stacked haphazardly, a chair tipped just enough to be a tripping hazard.

His mouth twitched.

“These two idjits wrecked my library,” he went on, jerking his thumb toward Dean and Sam. “Need someone to clean it up.”

Natalie laughed, the sound bright and easy. “Looks about right.”

Dean spluttered. “Hey—”

Sam cut in at the same time. “We were being careful!”

Bobby didn’t even look at them. He just dropped his keys on the counter and shrugged out of his jacket, already moving toward the kitchen. “Uh-huh. That’s what you said last time. And the time before that.”

“We put things back,” Dean insisted.

“Eventually,” Bobby said. “Usually wrong.”

Natalie shook her head, still smiling, and started gathering a loose stack of pages. “I’ll help. You label your margins like a madman, you know that?”

Bobby snorted. “Takes one to know one.”

Dean exchanged a look with Sam—half offense, half resignation.

“This is unbelievable,” Dean muttered.

Sam shrugged. “He’s not wrong.”

Bobby paused at the doorway, finally glancing back at the brothers. “You two can protest all you want. Ain’t changin’ facts.”

Then he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the three of them amid the wreckage—books, notes, and something old and familiar settling comfortably back into place.

Tag List: @kmc1989, @ozwriterchick, @mandee7, @deans-baby-momma, @foxyjwls007

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Chapter 1

When Wade came home with the Wolverine, it didn’t truly shock Goslyn but that’s how they acted since it was obvious that was what Wade expected. Goslyn didn’t really care. Finding out he is an alternate universe Wolverine doesn’t surprise them. They were more curious about the AU Wolverine than anything and Wade absolutely loved their universe’s Wolverine, so why not?

When Wade informed his partner that he invited Logan to live with them, Goslyn rolled with it. It’s the fucking Wolverine. Why not? So, it was up to them to give boundaries.

After dinner, they set down ground rules for living with them and Logan easily agreed, finding them common sense more than anything. Goslyn advised roommate expectations which is a laminated legal-sized paper with daily and weekly tasks that are assigned in a rotating schedule each to all who live there. Logan was glad that he could help out while Wade worked with the TVA to figure out Logan’s identity and finances in this universe.

Logan was given a room of his own. Goslyn gave him a set of travel size toiletries for the night. He was thankful and wiped up. Wade had laid out clothes in the bathroom, lending his biggest clothes that he had for Logan to sleep in and wear.

They were a bit tight but comfortable otherwise. Goslyn giggled at Logan coming out in a Hello Kitty shirt.

Wade remained still, tensing slightly as he saw Logan in his clothes and mentally wolf whistled while keeping his face neutral.

“Wade, you ass; give the man one of your hoodies,” they chuckled while looking at Logan.

Wade was plastered to Goslyn’s side on the couch as they rubbed his bald scalp, whined lowly and got up, heading into their shared bedroom.

“He does that sometimes,” Goslyn explained sympathetically about their boyfriend. “Wade is a big flirt with a big heart; he doesn’t think he is a good person but he is. He cares deeply for all his friends and loved ones. You moving in means you are too now. Be careful with him and he will be careful with you. Just ask and he will give you the world.” Goslyn smiled at Logan. Logan was shocked at the vulnerability and sincerity Goslyn spoke. Needing to process it, he gave a single nod and remained silent. Goslyn walked over to him, stood on their tip toes and gave a quick peck to Logan’s cheek. “Thanks, peanut.” They quickly returned to their seat on the couch as if nothing happened.

Wade came out and handed Logan a navy blue, baggie hoodie before heading back to the couch and cuddling back up to Goslyn who didn’t fight when Wade picked them up to set them on his lap. Logan saw Goslyn quietly smile before pecking a few quick kisses to Wade’s cheek as he wrapped his arms around their smaller frame and buried his face in their dark strawberry blonde hair. They return to rubbing Wade’s scalp, wrapped their a around his shoulder and continued to read their book.

Logan took off the shirt, tossing it at Wade with a smirk before putting on the hoodie. He noticed Goslyn’s face turning pink. Wade sputtered with a pout, grabbing the shirt off of him before directly ogling Logan’s fat tits and covering Goslyn’s eyes. Logan rolled his eyes at them. Goslyn snorted and pushed Wade’s hand out of the way. “No fair. Why can I see the hot shirtless guy?”

Wade glares at them. “He isn’t just a hot shirtless guy, baby. He’s got his man tits all out. No one can ignore their glory.” Goslyn busted out laughing at Wade’s poetic compliment of Logan’s pecs. Logan hoped to hide his heated cheeks due to the strong worded praise.

Once Goslyn could calm down enough, rubbing their nose against Wade’s before addressing Logan. “Logan, the bed is made up in the other room with fresh sheets and a blanket. If anything smells or feels weird, let me know. I’ll see what I can do,” they informed him, trying to find something else so the boys don’t end up fighting.

“I’m sure it’s fine, darlin’,” he thanked. “Though I think I am gonna hit the sack.”

“Ok, honey badger. Sleep well and don’t let the bed bugs bite!” Wade called as Logan walked to the bedroom, ignoring Wade. “There are no actual bed bugs!” Goslyn made sure to add.

Goslyn giggled and smacked Wade’s bare arm. “You dork.” Lean f forward and rubbing their nose against his. “I missed you.”

Wade rubs his nose back against theirs. “I missed you too, Gossie-bug.” Goslyn giggles at the nickname.

In the middle of the night, Goslyn awakens to rapid breathing, high pitched whines, and hesitant grunts. They looked around their room, checking on Wade first. He does have nightmares but not as often as he used to. They hear a stuttered inhale, and get out of bed towards the noise. Walking out of the room, they head over to Logan’s and listen at his closed door.

“N-no,” Logan whispers as if in pain. Goslyn being Goslyn walks through Logan’s door, not wanting to disturb Logan, and makes sure they remain invisible. Slowly, they approach him, making sure he is not injured somehow. As far as they can tell, he isn’t. They corporealize and touch his arm, shaking it weakly. “Logan?” They whisper.

All they get from him is more grunts and hitched breathing. They lean over him, able to see him clearly in the dark. He is covered in sweat and trembling. They can smell the bitter, acrid scent of fear in his sweat. “Poor baby,” they quietly coo.

Petting his hair, they lean down. “Logan, it’s just a bad dream sweetheart. Wake up.” When their other hand rests on his left shoulder, he immediately sits up,

still between sleep and awake. His claws come out and he yells, punching them into Goslyn’s chest with a grunt. After a few more seconds, Logan realizes what he’s done and retracts them, tears falling down his face freely. “I’m- ‘m sorry”

Goslyn tries to comfort him, petting his hair, “I’m fine, Logan. Really. They’re just clothes.” They cup his cheeks, bending down slightly to meet his gaze and place a lingering kiss on his forehead.

Logan examines their chest and sniffs the air. No smell of blood means no injury. “How?” His sleep-rough voice rasps in question.

“I’m…a shadow…and light,” they explain as if that answers everything.

Logan scowls with a raised brow and deep furrow between his brows. They giggle. They look at the lamp, reach out their hand towards it and take the lamplight into their hand. Closing their fist, the room falls back to darkness. The darkness around them comes alive and Goslyn disappears from the bed.

“Where’d you go?” Logan inquired, looking around the room.

“Darkness is just the absence of light, sweetie,” Goslyn apprised but their voice seems to be coming from all around him. “And I can make darkness and light whatever I want them to be.”

“Oh,” Logan exhaled, beginning to understand.

Goslyn walked out of a dark corner with a smile towards the bed and “took out” a broadsword. They held it out to him with both hands. “It has the same properties and more as a regular broadsword.” Logan took the weapon, examining it. It doesn’t have a smell but he can feel its weight and its sharp.

“Try with your claws,” Goslyn encouraged. Logan frowned at them. “Go on.” He protracted his claws and swiped at the blade of the sword. They easily went through causing the blade to fall apart and disappear, returning to darkness.

“I can do a lot with it. I can go anywhere there are shadows and darkness. I’m still getting the hang of light. I should be able to do the same with light but it’s hit or miss right now.”

They snapped their fingers and the lamplight returned. Logan looks at the lampshade seeing the brightness from within with wide eyes. After a few seconds of silence, Goslyn walks around the bed and crawls in on the other side under the blanket.

“What are you doing?” Logan queries, feeling uneasy.

Goslyn paused their movements. “I’m getting in to cuddle you to help you get back to sleep, silly. Is that okay?”

“Won’t Wade be mad that his girl is in bed with another man?” Logan questioned, brow raised and scowling at them.

“No, he won’t. And for the record, my pronouns are they/them, but Wade does call me his girlfriend in addition to his partner,” they apprised. Scooting closer, Goslyn put their hand on his bicep. “Now, I’m my own person as Wade is his own. We trust each other. I need you to trust Wade and me to know what is and isn’t ok with our relationship. Can you do that?” Goslyn leaned forward with their brows raised high.

“Y-yeah, I can,” Logan agreed, the tension easing some from his shoulders.

Goslyn smiled and continued to move on the bed, next to him. “Scoot down a bit for me, sweetie,” they gently commanded when next to him, wanting to hold him. Logan wiggled down a bit as Goslyn wrapped their arms around him, directing his head on their shoulder. They began to card their fingers in his hair and their other hand carding through his thick chest hair. “You’re very soft,” Goslyn observed with a smile. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Thanks.” Logan held himself, worried about his weight being too much.

After a minute and Logan not relaxing, Goslyn quietly commented, “I’m stronger than I look, Logan. Your adamantium-plated skeleton isn’t going to be an issue for me. Please try to relax. I’m happy to give you a back massage if that would help more.”

“I’ll, uh, try,” he slowly agreed. He scooted a bit closer to them, fully turned on his side and laid his head on their right breast. He laid his arm across their waist and made himself relax. Goslyn placed a kiss into his hair before snapping their fingers and the lamplight went out.

“Wade will be jealous of me because I got to snuggle up with you and he didn’t,” they informed cheekily. LWe’re both very touch-oriented people. It isn’t personal. It’s just one of the ways we show our affection towards our friends and family,” they educated.

“Ok,” Logan quietly accepted, filing it away for later; certain it will come back to bite him in the ass.

It sort of did the next morning.

Wade woke up the next morning to a cold, empty bed and frowning. “Goslyn?” He questioned sleepily out loud. Getting out of bed, he went to the bathroom to do his morning ablutions before continuing his search. He looked into the kitchen, living room, their office, and finally in Logan’s room.

Slowly opening Logan’s bedroom door, he sees Logan and Goslyn entangled. Wade gasps dramatically, hand on his chest. Logan jerks awake at the noise. His motion disturbs Goslyn who begins to awaken. “How dare you cuddle up with the Wolverine before me?” He pointed an accusing finger at Goslyn. Logan surprised Wade was upset at them and not him. Goslyn was right.

Goslyn quirked a sleepy brow and looked extremely unamused. Sighing heavily, they whispered in Logan’s ear. “You’re gonna have to give him a hug or something to get him to shut up.”

“No,” Logan quietly informed, still hesitant to come between them. Goslyn frowns and grunts with a displeased huff at his refusal. “Please?”

“No,” Logan stated matter-of-factly.

What Logan didn’t say is he takes a while to warm up to physical affection and he was not there yet. Women were easier to accept physical affection from than men for him.

They roll their eyes and sit up to deal with their boyfriend. “He had a nightmare, mister potato head,” Goslyn pouted, rubbing an eye.

Logan snorted at the endearment from Goslyn to Wade before getting a smack in the back his head from them that actually moved his head.

Before Wade could say anything else, Goslyn continued. “Logan is our friend and roommate. I did what I do for you and Dopinder and Peter and Ness whenever they spend the night. I’m not going to treat him any differently.” Wade pouted, pushing his lower lip out at them, leaning in the doorframe in the Hello Kitty t-shirt Logan had worn and now with matching booty shorts.

“Would some kisses help you feel better?” Goslyn softly proposes.

Wade pretends to think about it, looking away and tapping his cheek. “No,” he pouts his denial.

“Then I’m going back to sleep because that’s all I got right now. It’s too early,” Goslyn complains and lays back down next to Logan. They cuddle up against him and close their eyes.

“Hey, Darkness! It’s 7:30 in the morning.” Wade points at the window which is black. “You’ve stolen the light again, sleepy bunloaf,“ Wade pointed out.

Opening their eyes, they sit back up and purse their lips at him in thought. Keeping eye contact as if having a staring contest. A sudden knowing smile appears on their round feminine face. “Go walk your dog, Papa,” Goslyn commands just in time for Mary Puppins to bark, woken by the commotion. They duck down to hide their giggle against Logan’s bicep.

“You got me this time, coppah,” Wade submits with a cheesy 1940’s mob-like voice before turning around and picking up Mary to play with her.

Logan can feel their grin against his arm and looks over at them with a raised brow. They don’t see him but snicker suddenly. “He’s so funny.”

Ah, Logan thinks to himself. His humor. Laughter is a good medicine for many things. He shifts slightly towards them, drawing their attention to look up at him. They inform, “I’m gonna go back to sleep. Cuddle some more?”

Logan smiles and nods. He sees their dynamic is, surprisingly, healthy and honest if this argument (?) is anything to go by.

“Sure,” he easily agrees. Goslyn smiles. “I’m the big spoon. Roll over, peanut.” That’s the first time they’ve called him the same endearment as Wade. Oh, boy. He obliges and feels Goslyn scoot up, their head on his pillow. They push an arm under his arm, wrapping around his pecs letting their hand lay loose. They throw a leg over his hip, causing him to chuckle. He settles back and relaxes a bit back on them. “There we go. All comfy,” they state matter-of-factly. “You good?” They ask.

“Yeah,” Logan advises. “All good.” Goslyn squeezes him before relaxing against him.

Goslyn falls back asleep while Logan remains awake. After their breath evens out, body fully relaxed, and remains for a few minutes, Logan carefully rolls over, keeping Goslyn’s arm wrapped around him, enjoying the comfort and safety. He feels a bit overwhelmed at their easy affection and reminding Wade of such. Wade didn’t yell or attack him. He just accepted Goslyn’s words and reminded him of past actions. It was strange to see—was it a fight? They easily resolved it without much issue. Goslyn even tried to offer him some affection. He chuckles quietly at Wade’s reaction to their offer. Logan knows he would have easily taken it.

He looks over Goslyn’s face, seeing subtle laugh lines, brown freckles covering their whole face, brown eyelashes, and pale pink lips. Their face is round, hair falling in their face. Wade is very lucky to have such a kind, compassionate, and beautiful partner.

John hadn’t taken his boots off.  He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his thighs, fingers locked so tight his knuckles had turned white. His skin still tingled, like his veins were wired wrong. Like the echo of that moment was still reverberating inside him, trying to replay itself in every heartbeat.

He hadn’t told anyone.  Couldn’t. What would he even say?

Yeah, I found her hiding in the dark, terrified, lit up like a live fuse. She looked at me, and suddenly my whole damn body forgot how to think. I just… touched her. And then I couldn’t stop.

John clenched his jaw. Hard. The memory bit down on him.

He wasn’t that guy. He’d spent a lot of time proving he wasn’t., Even when things got violent, it had always been about control, his control. Discipline. Strength.  But whatever the hell had happened down there, it hadn’t been strength.  It had been… something else. Primal. Instinctual. Out of his hands from the second it started.

And God help him, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The way she’d looked at him. Like she’d seen something in him. Like she’d known exactly what he needed.

That soft, dazed touch to his face. Her breath hitched. The way her whole body arched toward him like it was meant to fit there. She was drugged. Wired. Still amped from whatever the hell they did to her.

And you touched her like she was yours to take.

His hands curled tighter.

You didn’t take anything, he told himself. You stopped. She passed out. You pulled away.

The energy, whatever it was, had exploded out of her, tossed him like a ragdoll, and burned the breath from his lungs. He’d come to on the concrete, coughing blood, heart pounding like he’d run five miles. And there was only one thing he could think of.

Where is she? Is she breathing? Did I hurt her?

That was the worst part. Not the energy. Not the burn. The fear that whatever he was, whatever part of him that lit up when she touched him, might’ve broken her.

He hadn’t even asked her name. Now she was up in medbay. And he was sitting down here, heart still hammering, wondering what it meant that he wanted to go see her. That he wanted to feel it again. The weight. The pull. The way she’d made him forget all the noise.

You’re not that guy, he reminded himself again.

But when he finally lay down, boots still on, fists clenched tight… he dreamed of her fingers again. Reaching for him like he was the only thing that could steady the storm.

“So… nobody saw the EMP coming?” Bucky asked 

“The blast destroyed every bit of electronics within two miles,” Ava said.

“That’s not the kind of failure you get from a generator hiccup. Something killed the lights and everyone inside, but left one girl breathing.” Yelena huffed.

“Yeah. Her,” John said tightly.  He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. He hadn’t since they got back. His jaw kept clenching as he tried to avoid the things he was feeling.

“And you found her alone?”  Ava asked.

“Yeah. Hiding in the sublevel supply crawl space. She… passed out when I tried to get her out.,” he said carefully.

“Passed out. Just like that?”  Yelena’s brow pinched in obvious skepticism.  John shrugged with too much force.

“You weren’t there. She was crashing hard from something. Sedatives, maybe. She was barely conscious.”

“Any idea why she was there?”

“Her energy signature was off the charts. I couldn’t get near her without feeling like I was going to phase out. Whatever she was doing there… someone was trying to build something. Or contain it.”  Ava said quietly.

Yelena flipped through the thin paper file in front of her.

“Those scientists didn’t just stumble into this. Somebody paid for it,” Bucky said certainly.

“Someone high up,”  Yelena said quietly.  They all knew who she meant.  Valentina.

“Alright, until we know more, she stays locked down. No interviews. No transfers. No exposure. She’s not a prisoner, but she’s not clear to leave either,”  Bucky said rubbing his hand down his face.

“What if she wakes up and is hostile?”  Ava asked seriously.

“We’ll deal with that then.  The guard rotates every six hours. She’s never alone. Not even for five minutes.”  Bucky said as he looked directly at John.  “You’re on first watch.”

John nodded stiffly as his eyes flickered toward the table edge.  “Yeah. Fine.”

“If she wakes up and panics… we need someone soft, not just armed,”  Yelena said as an afterthought.

“That’s you?” Ava teased.

“I’ve babysat bombs before.” Yelena tossed back at her.  Bucky raised his hand to calm the group.

“You three rotate. Eyes on her until we figure out what they did to her and what the hell she did to that building.”  The room fell silent.

The room was dim but calm. Soft beeping from vitals. A cold fluorescent hum. The world felt paused.  Ava wassitting in a rolling chair, boots propped up against the wall. She was chewing something, gum or maybe a toothpick, and scrolling through her phone.

“You lost again, or just sleepwalking?” She asks without looking up at Bob.  Bob doesn't look at her. His eyes stay on the girl, a young woman, still unconscious, hooked up to a monitor. Her wrists were free, but the cuffs lay on the counter like a quiet warning.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted a break.”  He says nervously.  Ava eyes him. Shrugs.

“Fine. But just for fifteen. You’re not babysitting, you’re just the warm body by the bed.” She said as she stood and slung her jacket back over her shoulders.  “Don’t talk to her. Don’t touch anything. If she twitches, call it in.”

“Right.”

There is silence after Ava leaves.  Bob stands still for a long minute, then sinks into the chair, arms crossed. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest.

She jolts suddenly, gasping for air and coughing.  Bob’s on his feet in a second, startled.

Her fingers curled against the sheets, and her eyes flew open, wild and unfocused. The monitor beeps from an unseen surge. She yanked herself upright so fast the IV line jerked, and Bob instinctively moved forward to soothe her.

“Hey, hey! It’s okay! You're safe, you're not in danger.” He said quickly holding his hands up.

 “Where am I? Where- who-?” Her panicked questions tumble from her lips faster than she can think.

“My name’s Bob. You’re in a medical bay. With people who are trying to help you. You were unconscious.  We took you out of the facility.  What’s your name?”

“Lily,” she says like she is uncertain. “What facility?”  She’s breathing fast, looking around, defensive. She’s scared. Her hands are already pressing back against the mattress, ready to push off, ready to run.

“We found you alone. Do you remember anything?” He’s trying to keep calm for her, but a small panic is creeping up his back.  Just a little warning telling him to run.

“No. I—I was…”  She touched her temple. Winced.  “I don’t know what happened. Where are the doctors?”

“There were no survivors. You were the only one we found.” He explained before realizing he probably shouldn’t have.  It freezes her. Her eyes snap back up at him, wide with shock.

“You're lying.” She denies it if it could change things.

 “I’m not. Look, you don’t have to believe me. But I need to call the others. You’re not alone anymore, alright?”  Bob steps back, slowly, and presses the intercom panel beside the bed. Lily doesn't answer. She doesn't move either.

“She’s awake.” He said.  “I need the team down here. Now.”  There is a crackle of acknowledgment that comes through. Lily’s eyes haven’t left him.

“Who are you?” Her question isn’t asking what his name is.

“Just someone who didn’t want you waking up alone.” He said after a minute.  She doesn’t respond. Her hands fall back to her lap. Her body is stiff, defensive. Like she’s waiting for the catch.  Outside the medbay, footsteps are coming up fast.

Bucky enters first, sharp-eyed, scanning. His stance goes tight when he sees Lily sitting upright, wide awake, and clearly alert.  Behind him are Yelena, Ava, and Alexi. John follows behind the rest of them stepping in more slowly, expression unreadable.

“How long’s she been up?” Bucky asked looking over at Bob.

“Couple minutes. She’s stable. Alert. Not aggressive.” He adds the last like it will defuse the tension in the room.

“That can change real quick,”  Ava said before taking a calming breath. Lily tenses at the new faces. Her back presses to the headboard. She doesn’t speak.

 “You’re not a prisoner. You’re under observation until we know what happened to you—and what happened back at the facility,”  Bucky explains clearly.  He knows what it’s like to be confused and lost. 

“The facility… the power went out. I don’t remember anything after that.” Her voice is flat, measured, but not cold. It sounds like someone trying to sound stronger than they feel and Bob feels that pain echo through him.

“We didn't find anyone else. No survivors. The power grid was cooked like it had taken a direct hit. Like EMP-level.” Ava tried to explain.  Lily looks down at her hands. Her knuckles are scraped. Like she fought her way out of something.

 “You remember your name?” Alexi asked trying to provide some level of comfort.

“Lily Calder.” She hesitates. “I turned eighteen two weeks ago.” She adds quietly.  That sits heavy for a beat. It reframes the room. She’s barely more than a girl.

“Lily… you said the power just went out. Before the blackout, were you being held? Or were you there willingly?” Bucky asked

“I didn’t ask to be there.” She shook her head quickly but she didn’t elaborate. Her fingers pull at the edge of her shirt, twisting it. Everyone in the room registers that, Bob especially. His chest tightens.

“You remember what they were doing to you?” Yelena asked gently.

 “Some of it. Not all. They kept saying it wasn’t ready. That I wasn’t ready. They didn’t let me leave.”  She looks up suddenly emotion rolling off of her in waves.  “Did I kill them?”

The team goes still.

“We don’t know. No bodies were found intact. The facility was destroyed from the inside out. It could’ve been an overload. Containment breach. Could’ve been someone else.” It's the truth and he knows she needed to hear that.

“We’re not accusing you. But we do need to know what you’re capable of.” Ava responds firmly. 

“I don’t know what I am.” Lily blinks fast, trying to hold back tears.

“Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”  Bob says softly.  He’s not sure why he chose those words, but he feels better, calmer, after he says them and Lily looks more at ease.  Bucky gives him a small glance—curious but not reprimanding.

“No interrogations. No pressure.” He says that to her.  “She stays in med until we’re sure her vitals are stable and she’s not a threat, to herself or anyone else. We keep the rotation. Someone with her at all times.” The rest is for the team.

“Like guarding a bomb we don’t know how to disarm,” Alexi mutters as the team disperses from the room.

“Exactly,” Yelena says over her shoulder.

“You don’t have to talk unless you want to. But you’re safe here. That’s a promise.” Bucky says after a moment.  She nods slowly.

“Can I have water?”  She asked quietly.  Bob moved before anyone else. Reached the counter and passed her a paper cup without saying a word.

She looks at him like she’s trying to figure something out. “Thank you.”

“You want to explain what the hell she was doing in that place?” He asked breaking the silence.

“What do you expect me to say?” She laughs.

“I want you to tell me why a kid was wired into an underground lab that’s off the books and full of dead scientists.” His gaze is cold.

“The site was flagged for illegal research months ago. We sent a team to assess, your team, Barnes. If you’d gotten there earlier, maybe we’d be having a different conversation.” The obvious deflection lands flatly with him.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You funded that facility.” His hands move to rest on his hips.

“I oversee hundreds of budgets. That doesn’t mean I sign off on what lunatics do behind closed doors.”  She was getting defensive now.

“You knew she was there.”

“No. I didn’t.” Her smile finally slips.

“Then why are you so interested?” he asks hoping to corner her.

“Because we found a survivor. Because everyone else is dead. Because Bob Reynolds is pacing around the tower like his skin’s inside-out,” she motions to the monitor.  Bob hasn’t left the medlab since Lily woke up.  “And now we’ve got a girl in the medlab who set off an EMP large enough to knock out two miles of surveillance.”  She stands, smoothing her jacket.  “That’s not something I can ignore.”

“She’s not going back into a cage,” Bucky growled.

“No one said she was,” Valentina said loosely.

“Then what are you saying?” He was surprised by how things were going.  Valentina stops at the door. She turns her head just slightly, just enough to glance at him over her shoulder.

“Keep Bob away from her.”

“Why?” Bucky asked, frowning.

Her expression doesn’t change. “No reason.” She shrugged before exiting the building without another word.

Bucky remains, jaw tight, staring at the closed door with the creeping feeling that something has just shifted beneath his feet.