Not Good Sir, True

You’d cleared your entire section and found nothing. No EMF, no supposed ghost. And figuring Dean would’ve spotted an opportunity to get himself fed by now, you decided you were better heading toward Sam.

You found him near the funhouse, which seemed as stale as you’d imagine it. He had his head down, picking up trash as instructed with a subtle glance down every now and then that told you he was looking at the EMF reader in his pocket. Though as he looked away you figured he’d come up as empty as you had.

‘Missed a spot,’ you said, taking him off guard as you bounded up beside him, plucking the candy wrapper he’d not spotted up off the floor as you went.

‘What?’ he asked, looking in his own world until he realised it was you who was speaking and not a customer, ‘oh. Yeah, right.’

‘Are you okay?’ you asked.

‘Fine,’ Sam mumbled taking the offending plastic from your hand before he shoved it in the trash bag. He looked distracted and uncertain, but you brushed it off, asking, ‘so, did you find anything?’

‘No, not yet,’ he said, ‘you?’

‘Nah, nothing. And I’ve covered the entire side near the entrance,’ you said. Sam nodded.

‘Are you done around here?’ you asked. Sam hesitated, his eyes flicking to the fun house. You watched as he shifted uneasily, muttering, ‘no, not yet.’

‘Where’s left?’ you asked.

‘Funhouse.’

‘Okay, well, we can both do it. Might even be fun,’ you snorted, already moving towards it.

But as you moved away, you felt the absence of his footsteps behind you, and when you turned you found him still standing there, like he was rooted to the spot.

‘You coming?’

‘Yeah,’ Sam said, though his feet didn’t move. You frowned, stepping back toward him.

‘Everything okay?’ you asked.

‘Fine.’

‘Okay…so…’ you took another dramatic step back but again he didn’t budge. He just looked at you, as helpless as a six-foot-four, two-hundred-pound man possibly could.

‘Sam, what’s going on?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Sam.’

Sam just sighed, refusing to meet your eyes as he muttered, ‘I just have this…thing.’

‘What thing?’ you asked.

‘Just…promise you wont laugh?’ he asked, checking your face for a reaction. You suppressed a smile and nodded.

‘I hate clowns.’

‘Okay,’ you drawled softly, pushing down the amusement prickling inside you considering you’d seen this man take on ghosts, vampires, and demons without batting an eye. You looked towards the funhouse, the mouth of which was shaped like a clown’s face.

‘This whole case kinda has me on edge,’ he admitted quietly.

‘Well I can go on my own,’ you offered.

‘What if it’s in there?’

‘So?’

‘So you’ll need back up.’

‘Okay so back me up?’ you said. Sam dropped his gaze to the floor, and you sighed gently, ‘look, you either come in with me, or I go alone. Not seeing any other options here.’

‘Okay,’ Sam muttered.

You led the way to the funhouse, the pair of you depositing your trash paraphernalia around the back before you headed up the stairs. Sam stalled at the entrance, reluctant to enter through the ghoulish white mouth.

You waited. but he didn’t move.

‘You can hold my hand if you want,’ you said, offering it forward with a soft smile. Sam felt his heart speed up, but he cleared his throat and shook his head.

‘Nah I’m good,’ Sam lied, though mainly because he could feel his palms already sweating. You felt your face fall but forced a smile and nodded as you ducked through the curtain. Sam followed right on your heels.

As expected, it was dark inside, exhibits pinned every couple of yards in garish neon. A fake graveyard on one side. A pack of mechanical zombies on the other. You stepped forward, pulling your EMF reader out of your pocket.

Nothing.

‘Got anything?’ Sam asked, trying to keep his heart from hammering in his chest.

‘Nothing,’ you said.

‘Maybe it’s not haunting the carnival,’ he said, moving closer to you, enough to make the hairs stand up on the back of your neck.

‘Maybe not,’ you agreed. After all your vics had all died at home. Whatever it was could’ve followed them from outside the parking lot. You carried on walking, Sam practically glued to your shoulder as you thought on it.

‘But it goes after kids, right?’

‘Right,’ Sam replied.

‘So it has to find them somewhere. I mean probably not in here, kids aren’t gonna be more than two feet from their mom or dad walking through here so it’s probably out in the JESUS FUCKING CHRIST-’

You shrieked as a clown popped out from a spring-loaded board above you right in your face. You felt your heart hammering in your chest. Your breath coming in pants as you hit the thing out of the way once you realised it was just a cheap jump scare.

‘God, I hate these things,’ you said, turning to look at Sam. He was faring worse than you. He’d lost all colour in his face and was stock still. And you noticed his hand was clasped tight around yours, palms sweating and grip tight enough to turn your fingers white.

‘Come on,’ you said, but as you went to slip your hand out, he grabbed it tighter cementing his other around your wrist to keep the pair of you locked together. You paused, watching his pleading eyes and then nodded, giving his hand a squeeze before you gently led him through the maze.

Thankfully, the other pop ups were weak, buried in the attractions with dramatic ghost ooh and ahs that helped take the sting out of them because they were poorly timed.

Still, you’d never been as thankful to see daylight as you did when you got to the exit. Sam didn’t let go once you got outside, and you didn’t make him. You just led him back to where you’d dumped your stuff, allowing him to rest against the wooden wall where he finally let go. He let his head hit the wood, his eyes closing as he tried to calm himself down.

You watched him worriedly.

‘Are you okay?’ you asked after a minute. Sam nodded but didn’t say anything, he couldn’t get his words out. For a second you thought he might be having a panic attack and so without over thinking it you stepped forward. His eyes opened as you stepped into his space, but he couldn’t get his words out before you wrapped your arms around him, your head on his chest.

‘W-what are you doing?’ he asked quietly.

‘Grounding,’ you explained, your voice muffled against his polyester jacket, ‘read about it somewhere. Helps calm you down when you’re panicking.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah,’ you murmured. Sam hesitated for a fraction of a second, then slid his long arms around you, pulling you close.

You were right. His heart started slowing and his breath became more even. His palms had even stopped pumping sweat to allow him to touch you, his hands settling gently on your back. Though he wasn’t convinced it had anything to do with therapy techniques. As he leaned down, resting his chin on the top of your head he smiled.

That was until he heard a snort. When his eyes snapped open, he saw his brother coming towards him, a shit eating grin on his face that only widened as he pushed you off. You frowned but then spotted Dean, offering him a tight smile when he got close.

‘Aw isn’t that sweet,’ he teased, ‘what’s the matter Sammy? You look like you’ve seen a clown.’

‘And what have you done?’ you challenged, raising an eyebrow as you crossed your arms over your chest.

‘I, uh-’ Dean started, taken off guard by your tone.

‘Because we had the EMF readers so you can’t have done much else. Have you spoke to the workers?’

‘Well-’

‘Seen if there were witnesses? Got a list of the attractions the families went on? Or did you just eat funnel cake?’

‘Hang on a minute-’ Dean tried.

‘Thought so,’ you dismissed smoothly, looking at Sam, ‘c’mon Sammy. We’ve got actual work to do.’

Dean stood there looking flabbergasted as you brushed past him, Sam letting out a quiet snort as he fell into step right beside you. As you reached the end of the alleyway between the rides, you glanced back over your shoulder at Dean.

‘And grab the trash bags on wont you?’ you said, making his eyes flit to the bags resting against the wall, ‘you’re on litter duty.’

Dean scowled but bent down to grab them, completely oblivious as you slipped your hand in Sam’s and you headed on your way.

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supernatural/sam tags

The phone rang for a couple of beats, shrill in his ear until you picked up with a soft, ‘hey.’

‘Hey baby,’ he greeted, turning away from Sam, who was sitting on the other side of the room pretending he wasn’t listening. Dean cleared his throat, ‘so, um… bad news.’

‘What is it?’ you asked softly.

‘Case is gonna run a little longer than I thought. We were hoping to have it boxed off yesterday, but no such luck,’ he said.

‘Oh. That sucks,’ you said.

‘Yeah, but we’re trying. Be home as soon as I can,’ he promised.

‘Okay,’ you said quietly. Dean could hear it, the usual disappointment you pretended not to feel because you never wanted him to feel guilty. But there was something else behind it. Something he couldn’t quite pick out.

‘You okay, honey?’ he asked.

‘Yeah. Fine.’

Dean shifted, glancing at Sam who looked away again, though he could see the tug at the corner of his mouth that he got when Dean was being sweet. Dean rolled his eyes but pressed on, you were more important.

‘C’mon sweetheart,’ he said gently. You sounded hesitant, and then you let out a heavy sigh.

‘Oh Dean… I’ve just had such a bad day,’ you whimpered.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah, and I just thought it’d be fine because you’d be getting in soon and I could forget about it,’ you said. He could hear the tears mounting, the way they did whenever you got overwhelmed. He hated it. With him, frustration bubbled out in a flash of anger. With you, it came out in tears that broke his heart clean in two. Because whatever it was, he wanted to, needed to fix. And right now he couldn’t do that from God knows how many miles away.

‘Hey c’mon it’s alright,’ he coaxed softly, ‘don’t cry sweetheart.’

‘I’m sorry,’ you sniffed.

‘Don’t be,’ he dismissed, ‘anything I can do right now?’

‘No, I’ll be fine,’ you said, trying to steady your voice.

‘You sure?’ he asked sounding dubious. You shifted, and he heard the hesitation, ‘what is it?’

‘It’s just that…’

‘What, baby?’

‘Dean, I want you,’ you admitted quietly.

‘Well, I’ll be home as soon as I can-’

‘No honey,’ you said, ‘I want you.’

‘Oh.’

He heard you shift, could see the blush that no doubt spread across your cheeks. The needy way you pressed your thighs together whenever he made you wait longer than you both could bear. Granted, he was usually the one to initiate. He could never get enough of you. But sometimes, times like this when he was busy, you weren’t exactly forgotten but neglected.

And it was worse when you were blue or tired or just overwhelmed. You needed him there. To be engulfed by him, wrapped in his arms, tears kissed away until you had no thoughts but Dean.

‘Well, I’ll be there as soon as I can,’ he vowed, ‘promise.’

‘I know you will,’ you sniffed, ‘I love you.’

‘Love you too sweetheart,’ he said, before clicking the phone off.

Sam had thankfully checked out of listening once he’d realised Dean’s sweetness was no longer mockable and there was actual need behind it, but he looked up once the phone clicked off and found his brother pointing at him sternly.

‘You better figure this out,’ he said, threat in his eyes, ‘because I’m going home tonight.’

─────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────────

The room was quiet when Dean entered. A far cry from the chaos of the vamp nest they’d taken down just hours earlier, and a world away from the rumble of the Impala, where he’d blasted Motörhead for the last hundred miles to stay awake behind the wheel. Now there was nothing.

Well not nothing. He heard Sam moving down the hall toward his room. He could hear the hum of the bunker, that odd vibration thing you hated but he’d become accustomed to and could drown out. And then there was your breathing.

Soft and rhythmic where you’d fallen asleep curled up against the big comfy armchair you’d insisted on buying for the library so you could sit on him when you wanted to snuggle up and read something. Another thing Sam had mocked with a glance.

Dean bent down, ignoring his protesting bad knee as he held onto the arm with one hand whilst he nudged his knuckles against your jaw. Your eyelashes fluttered, your brows knitting together until you saw him. Then a smile came beaming onto your face as he murmured, ‘hi honey.’

‘You’re back,’ you smiled.

‘Couldn’t leave ya hanging, could i?’ he mused. As you sat up, he stood and stretched, then the dance the two of you had done a thousand times before played out. You rose up and he shuffled onto the seat, pulling you back onto his lap, your back against his chest, face turned to his as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

‘How are you baby?’ he asked quietly.

‘Fine,’ you said.

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah. Tuckered myself out crying,’ you admitted meekly.

‘Oh sweetheart,’ Dean sighed, ‘got yourself all worked up, huh?’

His hand moved lower dancing up under the old shirt of his you’d been wearing because it smelled like him. His large fingers splayed against the soft skin of your stomach, resting just above the waistband of your underwear.

‘Thought you weren’t gonna be back yet,’ you murmured.

‘Got you all sad again?’ he asked. You nodded.

‘Should’ve known I’d come back for my girl,’ he murmured, pressing a kiss to your jaw as his hand inched a little lower. But he didn’t go under, he moved over, fingers rubbing against the cotton of your panties and finding them damp with want.

‘You really missed me, huh, sweetheart?’

‘Always do,’ you said. You could feel him hard against your ass and he hissed softly when you shifted against him, your pussy already clenching around nothing.

‘You wanna tell me what happened?’ he asked, his voice low, ‘want me to make it better?’

You nodded.

‘Words, sweetheart,’ he reminded gently.

‘Please Dean,’ you whispered.

‘That’s my girl,’ he said, kissing your temple. It never failed to amaze you the ease in which he could do it. He moved your panties aside with a finger, teasing it through your lips and groaning at just how needy you were for him before he moved you slightly, adjusting himself until he was out, cock pressed against your bare pussy, sliding through your slick for a second before he sunk himself inside.

‘Dean,’ you whimpered, turning into him, letting him keep you full as his hand returned between your legs. He didn’t move. He never did when it was like this. It wasn’t about him.

‘C’mon sweetheart, tell me what happened,’ he murmured.

‘I don’t…’ you mumbled, overwhelmed by the feeling of him.

‘Can’t make it better if I don’t know, can I?’ he reasoned, circling his finger softly over your clit, holding back a groan as your walls tightened around him.

‘Okay,’ you mumbled, resting your head on his shoulder, ‘first was breakfast. When I got up, we’d run out of milk.’

‘So you didn’t eat anything huh?’ he asked. You could hear the frown in his voice. You knew you should, that he’d worry if you told him no, but you also knew he’d know you were lying if you said yes.

‘No,’ you muttered. Dean nodded, not saying anything.

‘So then I had to go to the market when I’d planned to do laundry,’ you said, whimpering when Dean sped up a little, callous fingertips rough against you.

‘M’sorry I wasn’t here. I would’ve gone for ya,’ he murmured.

‘I know,’ you said, ‘and then my car was out of gas.’

Another detour. Another deviation to the plan. Another thing forgotten as Dean place a scolding pat on you pussy.

‘Told ya to keep it topped up,’ he said, the endless reminders he’d tried to give you because he knew how it ruined your day forgotten again.

‘I know. I just forgot.’

‘Don’t worry sweetheart. Next time I leave, I’ll add it to my list for checkin’. Keep some gas cans in the garage so you don’t have to go outta your way,’ he promised.

‘Thank you,’ you murmured.

‘And then?’ he asked softly, nudging deeper inside you.

‘Then?’ you asked, your head fuzzy from how good Dean felt inside you, nudging against that spot every time he shifted a little. You loved him like this. No demands. No wants. Just ease. Grounding until you couldn’t think of anything else but him.

‘I know my girl’s particular,’ he started, ‘but she’s made of strong stuff. Must be more to it than that.’

‘I…’

‘Yeah?’

‘I got shouted at.’

Dean stilled completely, pulling back slightly so he could see your face. He could see tears glistening in your eyes at the memory, ‘you what?’

‘By some guy…at the store. I was all flustered after the morning and I parked in the wrong spot and when I came out-’

‘I’ll kill him.’

‘Dean,’ you said, cupping his jaw which had tightened. His eyes flaring with anger. He softened as he looked at you, ‘it doesn’t matter.’

Dean looked like he didn’t believe that.

‘You’re here. It’s better now,’ you promised, pressing your forehead against his and capturing his lips softly before rolling your hips against his. A low moan escaped you.

‘Yeah? Making you feel good sweetheart?’

‘Mm,’ you nodded.

‘Take what you need baby,’ he murmured. His fingers moved faster then, moving with the rhythm of your hips. His other hand was everywhere, palming at every inch skin flesh he could get to as his lips attacked your neck. You lay against him as the need that had been burning inside you all day finally found its release, melting away under his weight and touch.

‘Dean,’ you whimpered.

‘That’s it baby. M’here, I got you.’

You buried your face in his neck as your moans got loud enough to echo, stupid brick and wood everywhere. Dean just poured soft praise over you, telling you how good you were doing, how good you felt on his cock, how he was there, always would be whenever you needed him. It was enough to make you cry again, soft tears buried against the warm skin of his neck as you came around him, pulsing around his cock and soaking into his jeans.

When you were done, he didn’t say anything. He just moved your hair off your face and kissed the dampness on your cheeks away.

‘You okay baby?’ he murmured softly. You nodded. Too weak to say anything. Too exhausted from the day to think about anything else.

‘Let’s get you to bed,’ he said. Again you didn’t know how he did it but with effortless ease, he adjusted your clothes enough to cover you, gathered you up in his arms, and carried you down the hall to your room. Your bad day long forgotten.

─────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────────

supernatural/dean tags

Second had been the sleep. It wasn’t obvious. He showered and changed still but there was nothing much else. He didn’t start cleaning like he normally did. Didn’t sit and watch TV with you. He just muttered something about heading to bed and you didn’t see him until it was time to head out to his next shift.

The last straw was the shift. It was offhand, with no real thought behind it, but it was like lightning to your core.

‘What did you say?’ you asked. Jack hesitated, head turning wondering what you’d caught.

‘Uh, I don’t know…’

‘Robby asked you to cover?’ you pressed.

‘Yeah…’

‘And you told him you couldn’t do it?’ you asked.

‘Yeah?’ Jack frowned, his brows knitting together.

‘Okay that’s it,’ you said, peeling yourself off the couch and heading towards him in the kitchen. Jack’s brows knit even tighter as you got into his personal space. He held out a hand, trying to fight you off, grabbing your wrist as you pressed a palm to his forehead.

‘What the-’

‘You’re sick,’ you declared.

‘I’m what-’

‘You’re sick,’ you reiterated.

‘I’m not sick,’ he scoffed.

‘Yes, you are,’ you said, dragging him towards the living room.

Jack let you push him down onto the couch, watching as you grabbed a blanket and draped it over his legs.

‘Babe I’m not-’

‘You want me to present my case?’ you asked, raising an eyebrow. Jack narrowed his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips as you walked away, headed to the kitchen to grab him a glass of water and some cold and flu medicine.

He watched as you came back and sat opposite him on the coffee table, setting the spoils in your lap as you said, ‘okay so, first symptom is you eating like you actually should.’

‘You complain when I don’t eat on shift-’

‘Next,’ you said, ignoring him, ‘you’ve been sleeping a lot. Something you only do when you’re fighting something off.’

‘Doctors need rest,’ he countered.

‘What are you resting for? You refused to pick up an extra shift,’ you reasoned. Jack leaned forward, placing his hands on your thighs.

‘So I wanna spend a day off with you, is that a crime?’ he mused.

‘You shouldn’t harass your doctors, Mr Abbott,’ you warned. Jack grinned.

‘You’re my doctor now?’

‘I am when you won’t see the signs for yourself,’ you said, ‘so, are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I need to go through the full symptom list?’

‘I’d like a full work up doc,’ he said softly.

‘Well your airway is fine with all that yapping you’re doing,’ you mused. Jack grinned.

‘Breathing?’ you asked.

‘Fine,’ he said.

‘Any shortness of breath?’ you asked.

‘Nope,’ he answered.

‘Did you take the elevator or the stairs today?’ you asked. Jack paused, and you raised an eyebrow.

‘Elevator,’ he admitted, catching your triumphant smile before you could get it out, ‘but I had Robby with me!’

‘Heart?’ you said, ignoring his excuses and reaching for his wrist. You could feel his pulse thrumming against your finger. You frowned, ‘it’s fast.’

‘Side effect of being around you,’ Jack quipped.

‘You’re hot too,’ you noted.

‘Now whose harassing who?’

‘I meant you’re warm, dumbass,’ you countered, pulling the blanket off his legs.

‘Not that hot,’ Jack whined.

‘If I check your scrubs, am I gonna find sweat patches?’

‘I work hard,’ Jack reasoned.

‘Not enough to sweat through your damn scrubs,’ you said, offering him the fever reducers. Jack looked at hem and then sighed, taking them and the glass of water from you. You watched him choke them down, gulping the water down because now he’d swallowed something his throat had started to feel like razor blades again.

‘How long have you felt like crap?’ you asked. Jack sighed softly.

‘Since Monday.’

‘You’ve worked four shifts this week!’ you gasped.

‘I felt well enough to work,’ he reasoned.

‘And if you got someone else sick?’ you asked. Jack pouted silently. Because he knew you were right.

‘When’s your next shift?’ you asked.

‘Sunday night,’ he said.

‘Okay fine, you’re resting till then,’ you said, ‘I’ll take the day off.’

‘No, not at all,’ Jack said, trying to stand up but you pushed him right back down, your glare stern.

‘I can work from home, and I can’t trust you to look after yourself,’ you explained.

‘I’ll relax. I promise,’ he said.

‘Until SWAT calls or you find something that needs fixing or cleaning or whatever it is you do when I’m not here,’ you said.

‘You’re gonna force me to sit still? Not very doctor-like,’ Jack mused with a smirk.

‘Good thing I’m not a doctor huh?’ you grinned.

So moving in together had been just as simple. You already spent all your time there, only going home when Robby came over to watch a game or you’d realised it had been more than a week since the last time that you’d seen your own living room. You’d only hung on because you still had a renter’s agreement you didn’t want to be a dick and leave your roommate hanging with half the rent missing. But then your lease had been up, and she’d got a job in Philly, so it had been something that you never really decided.

Jack had helped you move everything into his house. He’d even converted his spare room into a study/dressing room for you that you could decorate however you wanted because he was aware the house still screamed bachelor for the most part.

So the party had been your suggestion. A cementing of something.

Jack had been taken aback, but he was game for whatever you’d wanted, as always. You had gone a little overboard inviting everyone from work and combining it with the Fourth of July, meaning your entire downstairs was swathed in red, white, and blue. You’d worked your ass off catering and practically ransacked the liquor aisle at the grocery store.

Everything seemed to be going well. Everyone was fed. Everyone was decently buzzed.

You’d hit the sweet spot where the night shifters had finally made it, and no one had to race off just yet. And happy with your hard work, you retreated into the kitchen, under the guise of checking on desserts.

You were at the counter, just putting the finishing touches to the cake you’d made specially. Yellow sponge, vanilla frosting, blueberries, and strawberries, naturally. You’d just placed the last blueberry on it and took a sip of your wine, watching the hubbub out of the back window with a smile on your face.

You only pulled your attention from it when Robby appeared, offering you a smile and a questioning look.

‘Burger buns?’

‘Third cabinet from the left,’ you said. Robby nodded and moved around you, setting them on the counter a second later. You moved to grab him some butter, returning and placing it on the counter beside him as he grabbed a plate and set to work.

You’d just started slicing the strawberries getting ready to place them neatly on your cake. You could feel Robby watching you after every slice was buttered, eyes flitting to yours but not sticking when you looked over. Like he always did.

‘Place looks nice,’ he offered quietly after a while.

‘Yeah?’ you asked.

‘Yeah, you’ve decorated,’ he commented.

‘Not much. Just enough to tone down Jack’s whole ultra-masculine thing,’ you mused.

‘Mmm,’ was all he offered.

You went quiet, silently slicing for a second.

‘Are you ever gonna tell him?’

Your hand stilled, knife resting against the cutting board. You felt Robby’s eyes on you. Not the knife. On your face. Like he always did. Like you always pretended not to notice.

‘Robby,’ you sighed, placing the knife down.

‘Are you?’ he pressed.

‘What?’ you said, looking at him.

‘You know what,’ he said.

‘That we slept together?’  you said bluntly. Robby bristled.

‘That you fucked his best friend-’

‘Before I even knew him!’ you reasoned.

‘So?’

‘So, you think Jack’s told me everyone he’s ever slept with before?’ you scoffed, moving closer, your voice dropping, ‘you think that we know everything about each other-’

‘You should,’ Robby said scathingly.

‘In what world-’

But then Mel entered, looking between you two as you pulled apart quickly. You’d gotten closer than you’d anticipated but you plastered on a smile as you said, ‘are you okay?’

‘Um…bathroom?’ Mel asked.

‘Down the hall to the left,’ you said. Mel nodded and toddled off down the hall, and you went back to slicing. You could feel him still watching you, angrily buttering the rest of the buns until Mel returned, offering a nervous smile before she darted back outside.

‘He deserves to know,’ he said quietly.

‘Why? It didn’t mean anything,’ you reasoned.

‘Now you’re lying to yourself as well as Jack?’

You’d told yourself it hadn’t. It had barely been anything. You’d just moved to Pittsburgh and knew no one. A couple days before you’d started at PMTC you’d gone out trying to make friends or celebrate and had met him in a bar. He’d been celebrating too, a three-month sabbatical. You’d never asked where from. It was one night.

Or at least you’d thought so, one and done. Someone you’d never see again.

You’d met Jack and Jack had been easy. You’d started dating.

And then Robby had come back. Smack bang in the middle of your life. Jack’s best friend. Your boss.

And suddenly it hadn’t been as open and shut as you’d hoped. You didn’t know why he pulled at you. You’d never crossed the line after that. You loved Jack. But Robby just had this thing. This chaos that burned bright and stupid in your mind.

It made you do things like stare at his lips when he looked at you. As he moved closer you swallowed thickly, flitting your eyes north as you declared, ‘I’m not lying.’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘Sin of omission,’ you said, ‘not a lie.’

‘Same thing,’ he replied.

‘Says you.’

‘Says Jack I reckon.’

You swallowed again. Because that was the thing. You knew you could tell him, probably should tell him. You knew that he would want to know. But you knew it would change things. Not so much the sex, which had happened before you’d even met, and Jack was sensible enough to know that he couldn’t be mad at you for that.

But not saying anything? Having Robby over for so many game nights without a word? Working alongside him?

You weren’t sure that was going to be so easy to explain.

When you didn’t say anything, Robby scoffed, grabbed the plate full of burger buns, and headed for the back door.

‘Please don’t tell him,’ you murmured quietly. You didn’t want to beg. You’d spent the best part of a year pretending that none of this meant anything. It’s why you hadn’t chased Jack at first, you had just let things happen. You loved him deeply, but you’d always given yourself an out. You had never chased. You had pretended that the Robby shaped hole in your relationship, that he didn’t even know was there didn’t mean anything. But you knew you were on borrowed time. That if you didn’t tell him, Robby would.

‘If you don’t tell him I will,’ he promised.

‘I know,’ you whispered.

When he left, he was replaced by Dana and Princess, chasing more wine that you happily obliged with. You listened to the chatter as you started placing strawberries on your cake. You didn't let the smile slip for a second. You poured another glass and joined in with the chatter as if your whole world wasn't balancing on a knife-edge.

This was his mom.

Mary Winchester.

You didn’t know much about her. You’d learned things from Dean, seen how he idolised her. But Sam had nothing, never had. You’d just figured that having not much to go on would be a good starting point. But it wasn’t like that.

And it wasn’t that you didn’t get it. You did. She’d come back from the freakin’ dead and her babies weren’t babies anymore. They’d lived lives she never would have chosen for them. But her choices had led to that. They’d suffered the consequences of her actions and now they had her back. Sam had a mom for the first time in his life, and it was like she wanted nothing to do with them.

You knew it wasn’t simple. They weren’t kids. They didn’t need her to kiss their skinned knees or sit at home and bake cookies for them. But they needed something. Something she just didn’t seem to have in her to give.

And it was worse with Sam. Dean knew her at least, could forge this awkward and uneasy rapport with her. Sam was a stranger to her; one she didn’t seem to want to get to know.

It wasn’t easy. It hadn’t been when the two of you had gotten together, trying to convince him that his disbelief you actually wanted to stick around wasn’t warranted.

But he was trying more with Mary. Where he’d been apprehensive with you, he’d been more open with her.

And she…well, she was questionable.

You watched his face fall time and time again. Watched him stuff down the hurt. Watched him pretend it didn’t bother him that after thirty-three years, he had a mom and she needed space.

You held your tongue. And Sam noticed.

You’d just finished up dinner and were washing the plates at the sink, humming to yourself as the boys chattered behind you. You didn’t even hear Dean’s phone buzz until he was announcing it.

‘Mom’s taken another case up in Washington, she’ll probably be gone another week,’ Dean said a though it was nothing. Sam mumbled just as non-committally and then the two of them returned to their talk, like it bothered neither of them. But it settled under your skin like fire, prickling at you as you turned around. Sam noticed your face because you couldn’t quite tighten it to hide your irritation.

‘You okay?’ he asked. You smiled and nodded but didn’t say anything, keeping whatever might come out tight under lock and key seemingly the best route for all parties. It was easier to speak when you didn’t have to face him, something mumbled over your shoulder about getting ready for reading in bed though it would be hours until you felt sleepy.

Sam followed.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, standing hesitantly in the doorway, watching you pull his old clothes from the dresser to change into.

‘Fine.’

‘You sure?’ he frowned, ‘because you don’t look it.’

‘I’m just tired, Sam,’ you offered.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked, coming closer, getting in your way until you couldn’t move past him, ‘because I don’t think that’s it. I think you have a problem with my mom.’

Whatever your face did confirmed it. Sam’s face fell but he carried on, presenting his research to match his hypothesis. Because he just had to know, like always.

‘You get weird whenever she’s mentioned. Your jaw ticks like you’re keeping something in, I can see it,’ he said, ‘if you’ve got something to say-’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you’re not gonna like it,’ you said honestly.

‘You don’t like her.’

‘Sam,’ you sighed.

‘Just be honest!’

‘Fine! I hate your mom,’ you snapped.

It hit him like he’d been slapped and you immediately tried to back pedal.

‘No I don’t hate her,’ you started, ‘Sam…I didn’t mean that.’

‘Sounds like you did.’

‘Sam please-’

‘I’ll let you read,’ was all he replied before he darted from the room, the door closing quietly behind him making your heart sink.

That had been two weeks ago. And he hadn’t really spoken to you since. Not silent treatment exactly but every time you attempted to bring it up, he found a way to escape the conversation. Dean had asked what was wrong, but you didn’t dare tell him what the source of your issue was. Even when Mary had finally rocked back up, he’d pretended like everything was fine. You realised she didn’t know him well enough to think anything of the quiet between you. Unfortunately you knew he just needed space. Ironically, like mother like son you’d realised.

So, you’d given it him. You’d forced yourself to sit at family dinner and pretend. You’d eaten a meal Dean prepared because his mom had said she’d liked it once. You’d listened to her and Dean recount stories from being a kid, ones that Sam pretended didn’t hurt him though you could see the sadness sitting behind his eyes.

Then you’d tried to help clean up. Mary had started and you’d moved to help but Sam had stood up quickly taking the plate from your hand like she’d be able to feel the hate radiating off you despite having spent the last hour making pleasant conversation with her.

‘Sam, I got it.’

‘It’s fine I can do it,’ he insisted. But you didn’t let him; you followed her to the sink. You offered a polite smile as you arrived, offering to take over and let her dry, feeling the tension roll off Sam from across the room while Dean watched him with amusement. Mary’s eyes flicked between you two, only just picking up on whatever was happening.

‘Okay am I missing something?’ she asked.

‘No,’ you both said. Sam’s eyes on your back, yours fixed to the plate in your hands.

‘Are you two fighting?’

‘No,’ you both answered just as Dean said, ‘yes.’

You turned to glare at him and he shrugged.

‘Okay…’ Mary sighed, looking at you like you were the problem, ‘look it’s none of my business-’

‘No it’s not,’ you bit. Sam said your name tightly, warning, like you were a child. You scoffed, looking at him incredulously, ‘what? Do you really wanna get into this in front of your mom? Because I will. Happily.’

Sam looked at you like he was going to say something, then over at his mom watching expectantly, and then at Dean, who finally realised this wasn’t something simple. And then, he got up and left.

You didn’t say anything, you just turned around and kept washing, trying to ignore the watchful eye of Mary Winchester.

Neither of you felt good about it. Neither of you fought to change the subject because you never got near the subject. You barely spoke. Dean tried talking to you, but you told him to butt out. Mary rightfully sensed this was not a battle she’d win and avoided you, a feat that only made you roll your eyes because of course fighting for Sam was too much hard work.

You didn’t really speak at all until it happened. Until she’d been thrown out.

You’d watched it all unfold in silence. You’d watched Dean fight not to crumble, anger masking hurt like always. And you’d watched Sam lose the last chance he had at having a relationship with her. You’d watched him stay loyal to his brother and tell her to go.

You’d let them go. But as Mary gathered her things, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

‘You’ll regret this you know,’ you said, ‘those boys love you so much. And you’re pushing them away, why? Because they’re not what you wanted?  Because they’re not your babies anymore? They need you. You’re their mother.’

Mary stayed quiet.

‘Dean has this idea of you in his head. Perfect. Angelic. But Sam? He’s never had a mom. You’re a blank slate; you could’ve built anything off of that. Could’ve taken a damn interest in him. Do you know how special he is? How much he’s been through and all it’s done has make him kind. Loving. Gentle,’ you scoffed. Mary just looked at you.

‘No, course not,’ you huffed and then you left.

You didn’t go to the bedroom where you’d figured he’d be. You gave him space. You went to the kitchen. Pulled out a baking sheet and set to work. Something sweet for Dean who’d eat anything. Something Sam liked because he deserved softness right now. He deserved someone who knew him enough to know that he liked white choc chip over milk any day.

 ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’

You turned midway spooning cookie dough onto a baking sheet and then turned back to it, ‘if you’re looking for an apology, you’re not gonna get one.’

‘I can fight my own battles,’ Sam persisted, stepping into the kitchen.

‘Never said you couldn’t,’ you said, looking up at him, ‘just that you don’t have to.’

Sam watched you quietly.

‘You deserved someone who takes time to care about you Sam.’

‘And that’s you huh?’

‘If you’ll let me,’ you said. Sam smiled and then moved next to you, taking another spoon to help you put the cookies on the baking sheet.

‘Should’ve known you had that in you,’ he mused after a moment, ‘you spend too much time with Dean.’

‘Yeah, well,’ you murmured, looking up at him, ‘sometimes family isn’t about being what you are, but what they need.’

─────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────────

supernatural/sam tags

The minute you were silent, he couldn’t bear it. You’d known he was watching you. You’d known you were acting off but the thing was you had to hold your tongue. Because this wasn’t him leaving his clothes on the floor or forgetting to put the toilet seat down.

This was his mom.

Mary Winchester.

The woman you’d heard so much about. The woman you’d learned to idolise through Dean’s words. You should’ve known she’d never compare.

And it wasn’t that you didn’t get it. You did. She’d come back from the freakin’ dead and her babies weren’t babies anymore. They’d lived lives she never would have chosen for them. But her choices had led to that. They’d suffered the consequences of her actions and now they had her, now Dean had her back, and it was like she wanted nothing to do with them.

You knew it wasn’t simple. They weren’t kids. They didn’t need her to kiss their skinned knees or sit at home and bake cookies for them. But they needed something. Something she just didn’t seem to have in her to give.

But the thing was, whatever that was – Dean had already had to give it his whole life. Mom. Dad. Brother. Soldier.

And now he just needed her to take the reins, just a little.

It wasn’t easy, you knew that. It hadn’t been when the two of you had gotten together, too used to doing everything himself that letting you in had been a chore. But he was trying more with Mary. More willing, more vulnerable.

And she…well she was questionable.

You watched his face fall time and time again. Watched him stuff down the hurt. Watched him pretend it didn’t bother him that after thirty-three years, he had his mom and she needed time.

You held your tongue. And Dean noticed.

You’d just finished up dinner and were washing the plates at the sink, humming to yourself as the boys chattered behind you. You didn’t even hear Dean’s phone buzz until he was announcing it.

‘Mom’s taken another case up in Washington, probably be gone another week,’ Dean said as though it was nothing. Sam mumbled just as non-committally and then the two of them returned to their talk, like it bothered neither of them. But it settled under your skin like fire, prickling at you as you turned around. Dean noticed your face because you couldn’t quite tighten it to hide your irritation.

‘You okay, baby?’ he asked. You smiled and nodded but didn’t say anything, keeping whatever might come out tight under lock and key seemingly the best route for all parties. It was easier to speak when you didn’t have to face him, something mumbled over your shoulder about getting ready for reading in bed though it would be hours until you felt sleepy.

Dean followed.

‘You okay?’ he asked, leaning against the doorframe, watching you pull his old clothes from the dresser to change into.

‘Fine.’

‘You sure?’ he frowned, ‘because you don’t look it.’

‘I’m just tired, Dean,’ you offered.

‘No, something’s off,’ he declared, ‘you’re acting like you always do when I mention Mom.’

Your hands stilled in the drawer for a moment, your breath catching just a touch, before you carried on.

‘Is there a problem?’ he asked, his voice low and already bubbling with irritation.

‘No.’

‘Why don’t I believe that?’

‘I just-’ you started but then you looked at him, arms folded, trying to look tough, though his eyes were already hurt and impossibly sad.

‘Just what?’

‘Dean,’ you sighed.

‘You got something to say?’

‘It’s nothing,’ you promised.

‘But?’ he asked, coming closer, forcing you to stop, sad eyes searching your face.

‘Dean just stop,’ you pleaded.

‘I’m a big boy sweetheart you don’t gotta-’

‘I hate your mom.’

It was blurted and the abruptness hit like a slap in the face would.

‘No, I don’t…’ you tried to backpedal as his eyes went wide, then sad, and then cold. His jaw ticked before he shook his head and turned away.

‘Dean I didn’t mean-’

But he was gone, the door slammed hard enough to rattle the stone around it.

That had been two weeks ago. And he hadn’t offered a word since. Sam had asked but you hadn’t the heart to tell him what was going on. Dean had offered nothing. Even when Mary had finally rocked back up and he’d gone on the offensive trying to convince her everything was fine, he still hadn’t offered you anything. Unfortunately you knew he just needed time. Ironically, like mother like son you’d realised.

So, you’d forced yourself to sit at family dinner and pretend. You’d eaten a meal he prepared because his mom had said she’d liked it once. You’d listened to her recount stories of being away, watched Dean beam like a little boy.

Then you’d tried to help clean up. Dean had practically snatched his mom’s plate out from under your grasp like she’d be able to feel the hate radiating off you despite having spent the last hour making pleasant conversation with her.

‘Dean,’ you griped.

‘I got it,’ he insisted. You didn’t let him, following him to the sink. You danced around one another, his jaw set, your eyes rolled. Sam very quiet.

Mary cleared her throat.

‘Okay am I missing something?’ she asked.

‘No,’ the pair of you lied.

‘Are you two fighting?’

‘No,’ you both answered just as Sam said, ‘yes.’

You and Dean glared at him.

‘Okay…’ Mary sighed, looking at you like you were the problem, ‘look it’s none of my business-’

‘No it’s not,’ you bit. Dean said your name tightly, scoldingly, like you were a child. You scoffed, looking up at him incredulously, ‘what? You really wanna get into this in front of your mom? Because I will. Happily.’

Dean looked at you like he was going to say something, then over at his mom watching expectantly, and then at Sam, who looked worried. Then he just turned around, angrily turning the faucet on.

‘Thought not,’ you huffed and then you stomped from the room. Your own cold front blowing in.

That was of course until it had happened. Until she’d left, no until she’d been thrown out. You’d watched it all unfold in silence. You’d watched Dean fight not to crumble. You’d watched Sam, desperate not to lose he last chance of a connection with her but too loyal to his brother, tell her to go.

You’d given Dean space. Time.

You’d let his words break your heart over and over again. And you’d known they weren’t your words. You knew this wasn’t a seed you’d planted. It never was your issue, he’d always known, you’d just touched that nerve before he was ready to deal with it.

It was quiet when you stepped in your room. Dean wasn’t in bed, He was on the floor, long legs stretched out in front of him, beer in hand.

‘Dean?’ you asked softly, watching from the doorway.

‘If you’ve come to say I told you so…’

‘I haven’t,’ you promised, feeling it was safe enough to creep in. He looked up at you and you offered a weak smile, which he returned faintly before you took a seat on the floor beside him. You looped your arm through his, resting your head on his shoulder.

You took a moment, trying to find the words. Words that wouldn’t hurt like he already was.

‘I don’t hate her, you know,’ you offered after a while, ‘I hate this.’

Dean stayed quiet.

‘I hate what she does to you. To Sam. I hate that I can’t fix it,’ you admitted, locking your gaze on where your hands met, dancing against one another’s, ‘I know she’s all you ever wanted.’

‘Baby,’ Dean said sadly. You pulled back to look at him, sad green eyes meeting yours again.

‘You don’t have to lie to me Dean. Family comes first. I know that,’ you said.

‘You’re my family too,’ he promised.

‘I know. And I know I should’ve said it better. I just didn’t know how to without hurting you,’ you said sadly.

‘Well, I guess that’s something,’ Dean murmured, ‘can’t say many people are too worried about that.’

You smiled sadly but forced it into something more upbeat.

‘Maybe she’s right, maybe some time and you’ll work through this,’ you offered gently.

‘Maybe,’ Dean said unconvincingly.

‘But for now you got me. And Sam.’

‘And I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

─────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────────

supernatural/dean tags

He was quick to define it of course. This was private. You didn’t go out on dates. You didn’t go wailing about how you come apart on Soldier Boy’s cock every night to the slop they call newspapers today.

He even had even implemented rules for your hookups. Neither of you bitched when you couldn’t come over. He didn’t do kisses and cuddles. You got what you both needed and then you went your separate ways.

Casual.

He couldn’t let you get attached.

And he wasn’t attached either. But he was nosy. He could hear you poking around in his bathroom, getting ready for work. Rushing.

No time for a shower or makeup because he’d had you pinned beneath him, lapping at you like a man devouring his last meal, a grin tugging at his face as you protested that you absolutely had to get ready for work right until he sucked on that spot that made your eyes roll back in your head, dumb and boneless, just how he liked you.

So when your phone buzzed on his nightstand, he was curious. If anything he was hoping that you might have a text or something that would mean you wouldn’t have to leave. His cock was still hard, but you didn’t have time for that, so he was waiting until you’d gone to sort himself out. If you didn’t have to leave, well, that suited him just fine.

He leant over lifting it up off the wood until it lit up. You had a raft of notifications, but the one that had just come through was from something called Tinder.

You matched with Jack! Say hi now.

Ben frowned, though he didn’t know why. Didn’t know what that feeling inside him was either, though it sat sourly in the pit of his stomach.

As you walked out of the bathroom, unfurling your hair from your shirt as you tied it up, he slung it on the nightstand and watched you. That thing bubbled inside him until it blurted out without warning, ‘what’s Tinder?’

‘What?’ you said, stilling just a fraction. He noticed. He always did.

‘Your phone buzzed,’ he said, jutting his chin in the direction of the offending item. You looked at it and the scooped it up, checking the notification but not opening it.

‘You matched with Jack,’ he said, letting the insinuation sit in the air around you.

‘Oh it’s just a socials app,’ you lied, throwing it in your bag without looking. Soldier boy hesitated. He didn’t know much about that stuff. He’d heard about it along with all the other stuff he didn’t have a grasp on yet. But he didn’t do social media, and he avoided the whole app thing like the plague, so the phone someone had given him after he broke his first one in half out of frustration mostly served as a paperweight. But Jack still sat bitterly on his tongue.

He didn’t say anything, just sat there bare-chested, jaw tight, cock still straining under the sheets in a way he wanted you to relieve right now, though there was something behind your eyes that meant he knew you wouldn’t.

‘I um… I should go,’ you said. Soldier Boy said nothing, just nodded, pretending to be deeply interested in rolling himself a joint as you slipped out quietly.

And after that he should have let it go. He wanted to. Not because he wasn’t curious but because these days his curiosity he had found often led him to needing people. The world didn’t work the way it used to. And he hated that.

He hated that he had to ask Hughie, of all people. Hughie who’d laughed in his face and then immediately gave him that panicked look pussies got when they knew they were in trouble if they didn’t answer him correctly. He’d asked if he was wanting to expand his dating pool. Soldier Boy’s heart sank.

And then he’d locked himself in his room. Sitting. Sulking.

Thinking of you.

Thinking of you and Jack.

And yet when you’d texted, the only reason he really kept the phone around, asking if he minded you coming over after work, he hadn’t said no.

He’d been quiet though. You’d noticed that. Jaw set, eyes absent of their usual warmth when he was teasing you for needing him again so soon after this morning. He’d normally make fun of you, ask if you’d been thinking of bouncing of his cock all day. He’d whisper sweet nothings on your ear, if sweet came in the form of ‘my needy girl’ and ‘bet you soaked through your damn office chair, huh princess?’

He’d still made you come apart. Still had you writhing as you rode him, still pounded you into the mattress, finishing inside you with a heavy grunt before sliding off, rolling over, grabbing his weed off the nightstand, and busying himself with rolling a joint so he didn’t have to look at you. You noticed it, figured he was in another one of his moods, and sighed.

Feeling none of the usual softness that you’d become accustomed to was coming your way you busied yourself with getting dressed. You pulled on your shirt, untucking the hair you were sure looked like a bird’s nest out of your collar. before you moved to grab your underwear and jeans. Soldier boy watched you, admiring the curve of your ass before it disappeared behind cotton and denim.

Off somewhere else. To someone else.

‘So,’ he said, clearing his throat. You looked over expectantly, ‘what are you doing later?’

‘Nothing much,’ you shrugged.

‘Hot date, huh?’ he grunted.

‘No,’ you frowned, your eyebrows pulling together which made you look cuter than it ought to, ‘why would you think that?’

‘Your app.’

‘My what?’ you said, before it dawned on you, ‘oh.’

Soldier Boy said nothing.

‘Is that a problem?’ you asked.

‘Why would it be a problem?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ you said, ‘you’re being weird.’

‘About you fucking other dudes?’ he scoffed, ‘why would I be weird?’

‘Ben,’ you sighed.

He looked away from you, the muscle in his jaw twitching with irritation. You moved around the bed, perched yourself on the edge of it. He still wouldn’t look at you.

‘Are you jealous?’ you asked, unable to take the amusement fully out of your voice because you knew that would make him look or rather glare at you.

‘Jealous?’ he baulked, ‘why the fuck would I be jealous?’

‘I don’t know, you tell me,’ you challenged. Ben scowled and you dropped your voice lower, ‘you were the one who said that this was casual, remember?’

‘It is.’

‘Okay so you fuck other girls, right?’

Ben didn’t say anything. Because he didn’t. He hadn’t for a long while. Since about three weeks into this thing.

Since you were too tired to go home and he’d been nice enough to let you stay, already breaking his own rules. When he’d woken up, you were wrapped around him, head on his chest, lips pouted out against his skin in a way that made you look like a fish. The cutest damn fish he’d ever seen.

‘I didn’t make a date…with Jack,’ you offered quietly, ‘we messaged, but he was-’

‘A limp-dick commie.’

‘Perfectly pleasant and polite,’ you corrected, raising a scolding eyebrow at him, ‘and didn’t use phrases like limp-dick commie because he’s not a thousand years old-‘

‘Watch it.’

You smiled wryly and saw a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. You sighed.

‘I just thought there was no harm in looking. That I should make the most of it, but you’d get bored eventually…that I should have options,’ you explained.

‘What am I, a fucking temp job?’

‘I don’t know what we are. You said you don’t do more than this,’ you said.

‘You do?’

‘I’m not stupid enough to think that when I’m fifty, I’ll wanna be going out of my mind wondering if you’re out there fucking some other woman,’ you said.

‘Are you jealous?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

Ben took a breath, searching your face.

‘Are you?’ you asked.

‘I’m not good at this.’

‘Evidently,’ you said.

‘I’ve not done the whole relationship thing,’ he started, the words feeling awkward between you.

‘Colour me surprised,’ you teased gently.

‘Not sure I’m a boyfriend material,’ he muttered.

‘You’re really selling it here,’ you joked, but when he stayed quiet, your expression softened, ‘Ben, I’m not asking you to marry me here.’

He let out a weak, quiet breath of a laugh.

‘So…what are you asking?’ he said after a minute, his voice smaller than you’d expected. Smaller than the man you found took up every inch of space, every corner of your mind, every facet of your life.

‘That we’re less casual?’

‘You don’t fuck any other guys?’

‘I didn’t fuck-’ you sighed when he raised an eyebrow, ‘okay, no other guys. That goes for you too.’

‘No other women. Got it.’

‘I meant you can’t fuck other guys,’ you teased.

‘Watch it,’ he mused. You leaned forward, allowing his hand to capture your chin, his calloused thumb rough against your skin.

‘So?’ you asked.

‘So,’ he said, ‘not casual huh?’

‘Not casual.’

─────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────────

soldier boys tags

Of course, he didn't look anything like that now on their drive to the retreat, fingers thrumming along the steering wheel to the sound of Bob Seger since she'd given him some control whilst she went through the casefile again, recapping what little they knew and checking that the online reservation she'd made since Dean had crashed out immediately once they stepped over the threshold of the motel room, was still set for today.

‘So, what have we got?’ Dean asked through a heavy yawn, the few hours of sleep they had managed to catch not doing much to keep him awake now he was back at the monotony of the wheel.

‘Um a couple, mid-thirties, died at a wellness retreat and spa just outside of Silver Springs, Nevada,’ Lainey said, scanning the newspaper report Sam had handed them the morning they'd left.

‘Does it say how?’ Dean asked.

‘No… just that the company regrets that the deaths occurred and admits no wrongdoing et cetera, et cetera,’ Lainey said, rolling her eyes at the blanket, blame shifting statement tacked at the end of the article.

‘Obviously,' Dean huffed, 'can’t admit anything that might be bad for business. How much did you say this scam runs again?’

‘A good chunk of change, but I’ve still got my Bela money, it’s fine,’ Lainey said, her voice deliberately airy trying to head off the threat of any more grumbling after the way he'd pouted over his breakfast when she first told him exactly how much a week's reservation had stung them.

‘Spending the best part of ten grand to go horseback riding,’ Dean huffed, shaking his head.

‘You’d look good on a horse,’ Lainey countered, looking over at him with a wry smile, ‘my little cowboy.’

‘You like cowboys?’ Dean smirked, his eyes flashing.

‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’ Lainey grinned.

She dropped her eyes back to the brochure Sam had printed off for them, her eyes trailing across the pages of cerulean pools and shiny-coated horses. Of laughing couples and food that didn't look microwaved.

‘You know it doesn’t look too bad,’ she said, skimming through the list of amenities, ‘they have a pool. Meals included.’

‘A bar?’ Dean asked hopefully.

‘Looks like,’ she hummed.

‘Awesome,’ he grinned. But as she read further into the manifesto—their loud commitment to rejuvenating broken marriages and creating stable futures of peace and harmony, all wrapped up in one handy package—Lainey felt a sudden realization dawn on her.

‘Oh, I know what this is! It's a divorce ranch!’ she exclaimed.

‘A what?’ Dean asked, his brow furrowing as he looked her way.

‘A divorce ranch. Basically, back in the day there were only a couple of states you could get a divorce in, less for no fault. Naturally, Nevada was one,’ she explained.

‘Bet you could get divorced and remarried in a weekend,’ Dean chuckled.

‘Probably, but to do that, you’d have to be a resident. So, people would pitch up at one of these ranches, live there for the waiting period and then file and go home. They were popular, Liz Taylor even used one,’ she explained.

‘So, what these wellness people have repurposed it? Don’t do away with your marriage, spend a wad of cash and save it instead?’ Dean asked.

‘Well, I guess you’d make more money that way, right? Most people don’t wanna get divorced, it's the last option. So why not give them a chance to cling to it, stick a couple of dollar signs on stuff to help. It's not a bad idea, I suppose,’ she shrugged.

‘Yeah, I guess,’ Dean said, blowing air through his lips, ‘so we’re gonna spend the week around miserable couples who hate each other.’

‘Looks like,’ Lainey said.

‘Then we got another problem,’ he said, glancing her way.

‘What’s that?’ Lainey said. She stayed focused on the papers in her lap until she felt the front of the car go completely quiet, waiting a beat before her eyes trailed up to meet his.

‘You’re gonna have to pretend you’re not head over heels in love with me,’ he said, a small, smug smirk twitching the side of his mouth upwards.

‘I have to pretend you’re a pain in my ass? Oh no, how will I manage that,’ Lainey said sarcastically.

‘Yeah, yeah. Just wait until you see me in a hat,’ Dean countered.

‘You gonna wear chaps too?’ she teased, swinging the folder closed and clambering across the seat towards him, Dean immediately let his hand drop from the wheel, sneaking it around her waist as she held herself up, hands on his shoulder.

‘Maybe,' Dean said, his eyes flicking from her to the road, catching hers as they darted down to his lips and murmured, 'well then, we have a problem then, don’t we?' 

┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄

'This the place?' Dean asked as the wooden sign for Harmony Ranch Wellness Retreat and Spa came into view. 

'Looks like,' Lainey said as he turned in and through the thick wooden gates that blocked the place off from the main road, not that there was much to hide from given it was the only place around for a good few miles. Yet Lainey could see why they would want privacy. Why they would choose to hide behind high walls and wooden gates. 

The place was nothing short of spectacular. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but the photos spread across the webpages and brochures hardly did it justice. As they cruised down the long and winding paved driveway Lainey looked around in awe. The main building was vast, descending into two or three sprawling wings that spread up to the edge of the property, all built from deep sandstone with elegant barrel-tile roofs. The surrounding grounds may have been gravel, but they were peppered with the lush green of potted plants, bursts of pink and yellow desert flowers flashing brilliantly amongst the cacti. But that wasn't what she was most interested in. Craning her neck, she watched the side of the building slope down toward a deep blue pool surrounded by pristine pool chairs and white umbrellas, right before the property tapered off into a cliff edge overlooking miles of nothing but rolling desert hills against a bright, piercing blue sky.

'Wow,' she breathed as Dean cut the engine. 

'Yeah. Beats a motel six that's for sure,' Dean agreed, though he looked up sharply as two fingers rapped on his window, forcing him to roll his window down only to be met by a man in a bright white polo shirt with the logo embossed on the chest.

'Checking in sir?' he asked, his voice bright and polished.

'Uh yeah,' Dean said, eying him warily. 

'Would you care to use our valet service?' he asked. Dean looked like he was about to say no, his jaw tightening at the mere suggestion, but Lainey nudged him hard in the ribs. She shot him a stern, warning look until he let out a heavy sigh, faked a tight smile, and grumbled, 'sure, why not.'

Lainey clambered out quickly, gathering her papers and shoving them into her purse as she made her way to the trunk. Dean grabbed their bags and then, with a very stern look on his face ordered, 'not a scratch, you hear me,' before dropping the keys into the valet's hand.

But as she headed for the glass doors at the entrance Dean didn't move. He stood frozen on the sidewalk, watching his baby rumble down the sweeping driveway up towards a lot overlooking the ridge, pure concern etched into every feature of his face. Lainey supressed a smile, tugging on his sleeve as she said, 'c'mon, she'll be fine.' 

The interior was just as grand as the grounds outside, boasting bright granite floors and ornate mosaic tile edged by rustic wooden beams and heavy sandstone. There were several intricate statues scattered around, and an unlit, double-sided fireplace allowed her to see straight through into what looked like a vast, high-end dining hall.

‘Good morning, how can I help you today?’ a voice called from behind the reception desk. Lainey's eyes swept left and found a pretty woman watching them. She had sharp, severe features, and pin-straight dark hair that had been pulled back into a flawless, tight bun, contrasting sharply with the crisp white button-down shirt she was wearing.

‘Oh, uh, we're looking to check in,' Lainey said, making her way forward, her hand tugging on the hem of her t-shirt self-consciously as the woman roved her eyes over Dean's well-worn jeans and flannel combo, 'we made a reservation online,'

'Name?’ she said, her tone every bit as crisp as her shirt.

‘McGraw,’ Lainey said smoothly.

‘Let me just get you up here on the system,' she said, offering her a tight, corporate smile before she looked down at her computer. Lainey nodded, waiting.

'McGraw really?' Dean muttered, tilting himself so that his voice travelled to her ears only.

'He always wears a hat, right?' Lainey whispered back, grinning as Dean offered a begrudging smirk and pulled back to pay attention to the woman who was now pulling papers up onto the top of the desk, her pen hovering around the sections she wanted them to look at.

'So, you’re booked in for the one-week package, correct? That includes a double room with access to all daily activities, sauna, gym, pool, and our stables,’ she explained, sweeping black ink under each bullet point.

‘And bar?’ Dean asked, casting his eyes down the page.

‘All meals are complimentary alongside our bar, yes,’ the woman, Olivia according to her shiny silver name tag, said, her tone dripping with a tight disapproval though she breezed onto mention, ‘we also have a cocktail hour from six to eight that you’re welcome to attend alongside our other current members,' within her next breath.

‘That’s sounds great, thank you,’ Lainey said.

‘And am I taking it that you would like to be included in our group therapy sessions? We have one every day after lunch,’ she explained, grabbing another leaflet to add to their growing pile of information. Dean looked at her, his eyes widening and his fingers locking around the hem of her shirt to stop her as she said, 'uh yeah, sure, why not.'

Lainey subtly elbowed him, keeping her eyes on Olivia who didn't seem to notice it from behind their marble barrier.

‘And how about one-to-one with one of our doctors?’ she asked, looking between them before she added, 'they are an additional cost.'

‘Uh, we haven’t discussed that yet,’ Dean said, determined not to get bogged down in either eye watering add-ons or more therapy than he could cope with.

‘Well, you can book with either of them during the course of your stay, but they do get filled up very quickly, so I’d encourage you to think about it,’ Olivia said tightly.

‘Do you recommend it?’ Lainey asked quietly.

‘If you wish to get the full experience, yes, we would recommend it,’ Olivia said, her gaze shifting heavily between them.

‘We’ll think about it,’ Dean insisted.

‘I really would recommend-’ she started.

‘Now, now, Olivia, we don’t want to scare our newbies off now, do we?’ a smooth voice interrupted, appearing from around the corner of the mosaic wall behind the desk. He was a middle-aged man, but undeniably handsome. He had thick, dark hair, deep olive skin that contrasted beautifully with his sharp, tailored dark suit, and a pair of deep green eyes that easily rivalled the intensity of Dean's.

‘Doctor Lorenzo Harmon, clinical psychologist and counsellor here at the ranch,' he said, moving around to offer a hand for Lainey to shake. 

‘Nice to meet you,’ Lainey said, shaking it quickly. But when he shifted his hand across towards Dean, he just stared at it, thoroughly unimpressed. Lorenzo simply smiled, his eyes tracking back to Lainey, ‘let me guess, this was your idea.’

‘It was both of ours, right honey?' Lainey said, leaning into him her foot pressing across the top of his boot until he let out a low grunt, his forced, tight smile matching hers as he grumbled, ‘yeah, we heard great things about this place.’

'We just thought a uh refresh was in order. No relationship is too healthy right?' Lainey said brightly.

‘Precisely, that's what my wife and I always say. I suppose it's like a wedding ring, every now and then it needs a good shine up,’ Lorenzo said smoothly, his eyes trailing down Lainey's arm curiously, hovering intently on the bare hand she had placed against Dean’s stomach. Dean noticed the look at once and stood up a little taller.

‘Well, hers is as shiny as a new penny ‘cause she's always forgettin' it. Right baby?' Dean said, looking down at her and watching her eyes flick to the emptiness on her hand that felt weighted as the doctor eyed it with suspicious green eyes.

'I just don't wanna lose it. There are so many activities here I was paranoid,' Lainey breezed offering the doctor a sheepish smile.

'Well, I can assure all of our activities are completely safe,' Lorenzo said, he stepped a fraction closer, his hand reaching out to touch her shoulder in a lingering, tender gesture.

Dean stiffened instantly, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. Lorenzo cast his eyes over him and smiled, pulling his hand from Lainey’s shoulder as he said, ‘now if you’ll excuse me, I must be getting on.’

The pair of them stood in silence, watching as he breezed effortlessly through the lobby, disappearing down a long, sunlit corridor and out of sight. The second he was gone, Lainey looked up at Dean, who raised his eyebrows high in a silent, loaded expression.

‘So,’ Olivia called, catching their attention, ‘would you like to book any activities?’

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The pawn stop they ended up at was only small, and the thick iron bars on the window didn’t give Lainey much hope they’d have what they needed but they pushed on anyway and were immediately pounced on by an overzealous, balding clerk, who hurried down the aisle behind the glass cabinets holding various items and greeted them with an enthusiastic, 'how can I help you folks today?' 

'We're looking for a wedding ring,' Dean said with ease, not noticing the way Lainey looked up at him.

'Congratulations,' the man smiled warmly, his eyes shifting over to her.

'Uh thanks,' Lainey said, offering a meek, slightly flustered smile as he beckoned them down towards the other end of the store, pulling long, flat wooden boxes off a shelf behind him. As Dean leant against the counter Lainey hovered close by, her fingers gripping at the edge of the glass. Her heart did a sudden, violent flip-flop when Dean looked up at her, offering an easy, adoring smile before turning his attention back to the man who laid out box after box and opened them up in front of her, gold and silver glinting under the fluorescents as he asked, ‘will you be needing a pair?’

'Uh, no, just the one,' Dean said, lifting his hand and showing the ring that he had now moved over to his left hand for the cover story. A brief flicker of disappointment crossed the man’s face at losing out on a double sale, but he covered it up in a millisecond, turning his full attention to Lainey as he pushed the boxes holding smaller sized rings towards her.

‘Well, I’ve got a few to choose from, we’ve got gold-'

'Silver,’ Lainey interjected quickly, a sudden blush colouring her cheeks as Dean looked up at her curiously.

‘To match yours,’ she shrugged.

'Silver it is,' the man agreed, pushing the box with mostly silver bands towards her. Lainey cast her eyes across the selection, looking for one that was thin and curved in the way Dean’s would look if it was just one band.

'That one,' she said, pointing to a modest ring nestled by the back of the dark foam. The man nodded and pulled it from the slot, handing it over to her and allowing her to slip it on her finger. It slid down easily and sat snugly at the base, not too tight and not too loose. Dean watched as she looked at it, spinning it gently around just to make sure it actually fit, and felt his heart thud against his ribs.

'You should get an engagement ring too,' Dean said, the words leaving his mouth before he had even had a chance to think about them.

'Doing things in reverse huh?' the man chuckled.

'Something like that,' Dean commented, though his eyes remained fixed on her, the way her big brown eyes went wide, a blush creeping up the side of her neck as she shook her head and protested, ‘Dean I don't need-’

'No, you should,’ Dean said quickly, standing up from where he’d been lounging to look down on her, a soft smile caught on the corner of his lips, ‘you said you were worried you were gonna lose it. Girls only say that about a big ol' rock, right?’

‘Right,’ she said, his logic feeling sound enough that it shouldn’t have made butterflies flutter inside her. They were just playing pretend, after all. It was just a stupid cover story. But it didn’t stop them, didn’t make her heart hammer any quieter as he grabbed one of the boxes, one flush with diamonds, emeralds, and no doubt a healthy amount of cubic zirconia, which was probably all they could realistically afford.

‘Pick one,' he encouraged, nudging the box closer. Lainey looked down, her eyes scanning the rows of jewellery without really taking any of them in, suddenly acutely aware of both Dean’s gaze and the man’s eyes on her.

'Can you give me a minute?' she asked the clerk politely. He hesitated, looking between them before he nodded and shuffled back down near the door. He kept his back to them, but she could see his eyes were trained on the TVs tucked behind the counter showing them in grainy, grey footage where they were standing.

Lainey swept her eyes along the box again, looking deeper this time. Some were old and tarnished. Some were new but gaudy. Some were too big and some weren’t worth the time it had taken to mine and set them. A few had intricate, horrible designs, or custom engravings that served as a harsh double reminder: one, that this wasn’t real, and two, that most of these rings had likely ended up here under pretty nefarious circumstances.

'You like any of them?' Dean said, watching every tiny flicker on her face. Lainey wasn’t holding out much hope, but then she noticed one down in the corner. It was a simple silver band, thin like the one she had already picked out, with what she presumed was a small diamond set in the middle, flanked by two gemstones she didn’t recognise, a soft green colour.

'This one’s pretty,' she said, pointing at where it sat.

'Yeah?' Dean asked, his voice dropping an octave.

'Yeah,' she said quietly. Dean leaned forward and pulled it out, taking her hand in his and sliding it down to where it stopped above the other band, tucking over it and sitting snuggly against her finger. Lainey looked up at him, her heart flip-flopping again.

'That one it is,' he smiled.

All in all it didn’t sting them for too much, though as she pulled out her wallet to pay from the stack of bills she still had over from Bela Dean stopped her, pulling out his wallet and settling up with a thank you and a nod before they headed back to the car.

And she knew it wasn’t real. That this didn’t mean anything other than strengthening their cover story as one of the ranch’s newest long suffering married couples, but she couldn’t help but keep glancing at it, the weight on her hand suddenly very noticeable even though she’d never been someone to stray away from wearing jewellery.

Maybe it was the weight of it being a real diamond, after all the handful of items they’d combed through in her jewellery box before they’d trawled all the way out here were just a bunch of cheap gemstones and plating that often rubbed down to whatever cheaper metal was sitting underneath. Or maybe it was the connotation. Long faded, buried flickers of white dresses and her on Bobby’s arm in some unrecognisable chapel somewhere reigniting with something on her finger. Or, truth be told, maybe it was just the way Dean had looked at her in there. With something behind his eyes that she couldn’t quite place, something that she shook off before the thought could settle too deeply inside her soul.

'You enjoying yourself there, J. Lo?’ Dean asked, catching her as she ran her thumb across the stones for the fifth time in a matter of minutes.

'Just thinking how this would look so much better at a nine-to-five,' she lied smoothly, holding her hand out in front of her and watching as it caught in the winter sunlight.

'Yeah?' Dean chuckled, though his voice sounded just a little unsure.

'Yeah. Can't wait to catch it on my shotgun,' she sighed, finally dropping her hand and sinking into the passenger seat, her feet appearing in his lap a second later.

'You have your nails done,' Dean challenged, the impracticality of both comparative in his opinion. It was something he’d never be able to get his head around, how she managed to do, well anything, when her nails were more decorative than practical. As evidenced by the sheer number of cans that he’d had to open and credit cards he’d had to pick up off counters over the years.

'They're short!' she protested.

'Longer than mine,' he countered.

'I thought you liked my nails,' she pouted, pulling her hand out to have another look at it. Only she wasn’t looking at her ring anymore, just the state of her nails which had suffered during their time away from home. Her acrylics where long grown out, bitten off when they started to catch in the line of the job and replaced by hasty home, or rather motel, paint jobs, the latest of which had started to chip off during all the cooking, cleaning and tree trimming she’d done at Bobby’s.

'I could do with a manicure actually, ooh so you think they've got something at the spa?' she asked, eyes widening excitedly as she remembered the brochure's long list of amenities.

'Aren't you supposed to be workin' the case there, princess?' Dean teased.

'Can't I do both?’ she challenged. Dean rolled his eyes.

'So, what do you think?’ he said, steering the conversation away from spas and pools and fun given they were on a countdown and technically here to work, ‘the doc's creepy right?'

'Definitely,' Lainey agreed, her thoughts trailing back to the way he’d eyed them. Unsure but knowing somehow. Hopefully just thinking that he was spotting a marriage on the rocks and a guaranteed counselling session given her missing wedding ring.

'You really think we're gonna have to do this therapy thing they got going,' Dean asked, his voice laced with genuine hesitation.

'Probably,’ Lainey sighed, a smile creeping onto her face when she saw his face drop, ‘why? Don't you wanna sit around in a circle, talk about your feelings, and sing kumbaya?' 

'Not particularly, no,' he grumbled.

'Well then we better poke around and do all the other stuff first, right?' she asked. Dean looked over at her, his brow furrowed as he asked, ‘like what?'

'How does a cocktail party sound?' she asked. Dean let out a long, defeated sigh.

‘Well, if we’re gonna spend two hours trapped in a room with a bunch of people who completely hate each other, I’m gonna need a stiff drink. So… fine, I guess. Cocktail hour it is.’

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Lainey had expected odd. She'd expected tight conversation, passive aggressive eye rolls, and the kind of exhausted huffs that only came when you had spent entirely too long in someone's company. She had expected petty bickering and to see people desperately trying to find anyone else they could cling to for a couple of hours instead of their partners.

But there hadn't been any of that at the cocktail hour. Everyone had been remarkably warm. Friendly even. She'd watched hands being held and heads resting on shoulders. She'd heard endless, sickening boasts of 'my darling wife' and 'my lovely husband'. And it didn't seem to matter the age either, there were couples in their sixties and some the same age as her and Dean who seemed just as loved up as the rest of the party.

She couldn't even chalk it up to the cocktails as Dean, who had happily put four away given she wasn’t a big fan of pomegranate, had been no different from his usual self. He'd mingled, sure, but he never went far. His hand against the small of her back as he passed by, murmuring something only she could hear in her ear. His arm had rested on her shoulder when the good doc and his wife had introduced themselves once more though he had been a little more forthcoming when spoken to, whether that was because the alcohol had softened his edges or because Jenna Harmon was every bit as pretty as her husband, Lainey didn't know. 

But even a night of socialising and a good few hours of digging hadn't gathered much intel, at least not about the couple that had died most recently of which Lainey had found them to be the sixth couple to bite it. No, the function of the cocktail hour seemed to be to drive the hard sell, with each guest practically a walking billboard for the benefits of the place for the newest members of the gang. She'd heard about the Schafers, who were coming up to their sixth week, and had all but reversed every issue they had ever had in their forty years of marriage. She'd heard how the Andersons, three-week veterans, were now having more sex than they'd ever had, and how she shouldn't hold out on seeing them at the afternoon therapy sessions if she caught their drift. She'd listened to Simon, of the Johnsons, explain how four weeks of swimming, gym-ming, and horseback riding had all but cured him of his gambling addiction. He’d even proudly explained that it was cheaper staying here than what he'd been putting into the casinos though Lainey wasn't sure how long that miracle was going to last once he went back home to Vegas, where they had penny slots in the local grocery stores. 

And while she wanted to believe in the magic of it all, how they'd all magically reversed their problems with a few weeks of desert heat and outdoor activities she couldn't help but feel there was something off about this place. About the way the doctors floated around the place, feeding off warm smiles and muttered praise. There had to be more to it. It just needed a little digging. 

So, when she'd woken up early the next morning and spotted Lydia Schafer out by the pool, she'd left Dean snoozing off his cocktails and headed out. The water had been cold when she'd first stepped in, the small bikini she had brought with her, the only one she owned since she'd bought it years ago when Eli had convinced her to join him down in Florida for spring break, not doing much in the way of protecting her from the chill. But after a couple of brisk laps she warmed up, whether it was her muscles protesting or the sun moving up in the sky she didn't know, but she was able to give it enough of a try that it looked like she'd come out here for that.

She hadn't of course, and as she stepped out, grabbing her towel from the side of the pool she found Lydia watching her. Lainey pretended not to notice, sinking into a free lounge chair next to her though there were plenty of empty ones. As she wrapped her towel around her, fending off the incoming shiver as her body got used to being back out of the water, she felt the woman’s eyes trailing to her, her gaze off of her book and catching Lainey's as she looked up from rubbing the drips from her arms. Lainey offered her an easy, welcoming smile.

'It's a lovely day, isn't it?' Lydia said after a beat, her smile making her wrinkles grow around her eyes which made her look older but kinder somehow. 

'Oh definitely,' Lainey smiled, waiting to see if she’d bite, her brain spinning about how to navigate her into conversation if she went back to her book.

But she didn't. She watched Lainey curiously for a second before she slid her finger in between the pages of her book to keep her place, leaning up on her chaise lounge with an expression that was both curious and kind.

'How are you two settling in?' Lydia asked after a beat.

'Oh, fine thanks. Have you been here long?' Lainey said casually pulling her towel up over her shoulders to squeeze at the ends of her hair, like she hadn't been anticipating it but was happy to partake. Like she hadn't sensed the woman's penchant for gossip after she'd kept Dean pinned for most of the night. Like she hadn't watched her float around the dining room afterward, stopping at tables far away from where the two of them had tucked themselves in a back corner to watch, just so she could make conversation. Like Lainey hadn't felt eyes on her the moment she'd come outside, far more interested in new meat than the woman sitting alone up by the other side of the pool, her attention more often than not on the view down to the valley than the book in her hand. 

'We're on our fifth week. Nearly on the final stretch,' Lydia said proudly. 

'Have you enjoyed it?' Lainey asked casually.

'Oh definitely. It saved our marriage,' Lydia replied fondly.

'Really?' Lainey pressed, tilting her head.

'The Harmons are angels among us,' she smiled encouragingly, 'you'll see. I'm telling you, they work miracles.

'I hope so...but to be honest we were a little apprehensive about coming,' Lainey said, leaning forward, her face falling into something serious. Lydia frowned, immediately shuffling forward to place a hand on Lainey's knee. 

'It's hard to take a deep look at yourselves and your relationship,' she said understandingly. 

'Oh no it's not that...' Lainey insisted, dropping her voice to a confidential whisper, 'it's just that…we heard about the deaths.'

'Oh that,' Lydia said, pulling back, deflated.

'I was worried it was something to do with the activities,' Lainey lied, 'with all the hiking and horses or whatever. The article I saw wasn't really clear about what happened to that poor couple.'  

'Oh, they weren't a couple,' Lydia said easily, reaching down to grab her drink, a tall glass filled with a deep green sludge that made Lainey desperately hope there was real coffee available inside.

'They weren't?' she asked, throwing her a look of confusion.

'No,' Lydia sighed, shaking her head.

'But they died together?' Lainey questioned.

'No, of course not,' Lydia said, her eyes glinting with enthusiasm that she tried to tone down by looking forlorn, 'Shannon was found in the gym, and Mike was out in the stables.'

'And they didn't say how it happened?' Lainey frowned, pulling the towel down to sit around her waist now that she'd dried off, though it sat damp and uncomfortably around her hips.

'Heart attacks,' Lydia replied flatly.

'On the exact same day?' Lainey questioned.

‘They found Shannon at night, which was bad enough, but then the following morning, Mike was found just out cold in a horse stall. I mean, it's terribly unfortunate, I know, but holiday stress and what have you...' the older woman shrugged.

'Hard to see where the stress was in a place like this,’ Lainey murmured, continuing to press. Because she knew logically that it was never that simple. That your problems did not melt away after a few weeks without them. That therapy and home cooked meals and horseback riding wouldn't fix these people. But looking around, it really was hard not to believe that. It was easy to let your real problems feel miles away when you were stepping into a crisp, cool pool, sunbathing in the winter weather, or sipping cocktails on a back patio under the stars by a roaring fire pit.

'I know what you mean but some couples do better than others,' Lydia said, pulling her sharply back to reality. Away from relaxation. Away from days alone with Dean or the rock on her hand. Away from the encroaching new year and what that meant.

'They weren't doing well?' she frowned.

'Well, I'm not one to gossip, but Connor and Shannon seemed to be just biding their time. They got married not so long ago, young, you know. I think they just wanted to say they'd give it a fair shot before throwing in the towel,' she said.

'What about Mike?' Lainey asked.

‘Oh, he was trying. They were further along into the program, but Lori always seemed more into it than he was,' Lydia answered.

'Lori?' Lainey questioned.

'Mike's wife,' Lydia nodded. She turned her head slightly to gesture across the sprawling pool deck toward a lone woman sitting at the far end.

The woman had abandoned her book entirely, letting it rest unread at her feet as she stared blankly out at the desert scenery. Even from a distance, Lainey could tell she wasn't actually taking any of it in. The way she hugged her knees tightly to her chest, her eyes hollow and fixed on the horizon, speaking volumes.

'She stayed?' Lainey asked quietly.

'Yeah, but I suppose you would. I imagine it's hard going home knowing your husband won't be there again when you do,' Lydia said just as quiet.

'Yeah, you're right,' Lainey said, feeling her heart sink at the sentiment. Her mind flitted to Dean. To how hollow he'd looked watching Sam on that cabin floor. How nothing had felt right in her own home. Lainey forced it from her mind, forcing herself to focus in on Lydia's continued sympathies.

'That, and the Harmons foot the bill for the rest of her stay,' she explained in a low murmur, 'or so I heard. The full works, just to help her work through the grief, you know?'

'That's incredibly kind of them,' Lainey said, fighting like hell to keep the sarcasm from her voice. A massive, multi-million-dollar wrongful death lawsuit was no doubt the real reason behind their abject kindness. Lainey cleared her throat, moving over the details, 'and um... what about Shannon's husband?'

'Connor? Oh, he packed up and left the exact same day,' she said. Lainey was going to ask some more questions but then her husband ducked into view, his swim shorts and open shirt rustling in the light breeze as he came towards her.

'There you are sweetheart,' he said, nodding politely at Lainey before he sat down beside his wife. Lainey nodded and rose, offering a small smile and a, 'I'll leave you to it,' before she got up and trailed back inside. 

The bedroom was warm when she stepped back in, the bright desert sunlight from outside creeping just in past the blinds as she slid the patio door open and clicked it softly shut behind her. Dean was still in bed, facing away from the door with the sheets bunched up under his arms leaving his broad, bare shoulders poking out, his hair in disarray from where he’d made use of the space she’d vacated.

Lainey padded quietly across the room and peeled the covers back, sliding gently in behind him. When her hand planted itself around his waist, tucking under his arm, Dean stirred, turning his head just a fraction in sleepy recognition as she whispered, ‘hi,’ and pressed a soft kiss right against his bare shoulder blade.

'Hey,' he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and his hand locking over hers as she tucked her chin on his shoulder, pressing herself against him and making him shiver against the cold, 'why are you all wet?'

'Hazard of bein’ around you, isn’t it?' Lainey teased, her grin audible.

‘Hilarious,’ Dean mumbled sarcastically, pushing himself back until he rolled onto his back which allowed her to push herself on top of him, her damp bikini coming into view. Dean’s fingers instinctively found the side strings of her bottoms, twirling them idly as he looked up at her, the sleep-addled haze quickly lifting from his green eyes.

'I tried out the pool,' she said, resting her hands flat against his chest.

'And?' Dean asked, his voice rough.

'And I don't think we're gonna be able to enjoy it like the last one,' she mused, leaning down slightly, 'but I got some intel.'

'Hit me,' Dean yawned.

'The couple that died? Not together. Husband and wife from two separate couples. Both allegedly died of heart attacks on the same day in different parts of the building,' Lainey explained.

'Same time?' he asked, his eyes sharpening as his brain kicked into gear.

'Don't know yet. One was found at night the other in the morning so could be, but we'd need-'

'Time of death,' Dean finished for her, 'morgue visit?'

'You go, I'm gonna stay, see if I can talk to the widow,' Lainey said.

'She's still here?' Dean frowned.

'Wouldn't you be if the hotel coughed up a bunch of free shit for you?' Lainey said, raising an eyebrow.

'Yeah, suppose so,' Dean murmured, his finger still trailing against the skin of her thigh every time he twirled the string.

'And while you’re out, I’m gonna see if I can get my hands on the security cam footage around here,' she said.

'Good call,' Dean agreed. Lainey watched as he nestled his head back against the plush white pillow, fingers still twirling around the string on her bikini bottoms though his eyes had shut.

'Are you getting up?' she asked, a smirk playing on her lips.

'Mmm, give me a minute,' Dean hummed.

'Shame,' she said, clasping her hand around his. Dean’s eyes snapped open just in time to watch her pull away, the bikini string pulling tight against his finger before sliding loose from her hips as she slid off his lap. She flashed him a wicked grin over her shoulder, ‘I was gonna take a shower...’

Unsurprisingly enough, Dean was out of the bed before Lainey could even reach the bathroom door.

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Hunches. That was all they had to go on. Because granted, it was weird that the coroner had found that both victims had died of acute heart failure at the exact same time on the exact same day. And sure, it was odd that the pair of them had shared deep, angry red burn marks around their ring fingers that no one could explain. And sure, it was strange that the only people affected by this horrible tragedy seemed to be the only guests doing poorly in the programme.

But it didn’t mean anything. Not without evidence. Not without something concrete to tie the victims together. Lori, the grieving widow, hadn’t put forth anything useful, just a deep encompassing melancholy that had made Lainey sick to her stomach just orbiting her. And there wasn’t much prying she could do with the other guests without people asking questions. So, they needed something solid, like the security tapes. And given her first attempt at getting near them, when she had lied to Olivia about a scratch on the Impala and had asked to see the footage, had failed, they’d had to come up with another plan. Which was exactly how they had come to be sitting outside Dr Lorenzo’s office, awaiting their very first couples counselling session. The office which just so happened to be the room she had found out the security system lived in.

And though she wasn’t thrilled about the looming interrogation, Dean seemed to be buzzing with nerves. She could feel his leg bouncing against hers, his eyes fixed on the artwork across the room, some archaic style painting of a bunch of nude women she was sure he would have a deeper appreciation for if his brain could focus.

‘Breathe,’ she reminded him softly as she placed her hand onto his thigh to stop it bouncing. Dean's eyes met hers, and he offered a weak, tight smile and a nod.

‘We make this quick, yeah? In, distract and-’

 'Ah I wondered when we'd be seeing you,' Lorenzo’s velvet voice echoed across the room as he appeared at his office door. Lainey forced a bright smile and stood coming closer with Dean trailing a step behind her like a man headed for the gallows.

'Figured we'd give it a whirl,' she said, forcing her voice into something cheerful.

‘Excellent. We always find our first sessions really help break the ice,' Lorenzo said encouragingly, gesturing toward the room.

'Well let's get this show on the road,' Dean muttered, his voice tight.

'Of course. Lainey if you'll step through,' Lorenzo said, waving her through. Lainey hesitated but Dean spoke first, his brow furrowed as he asked, ‘what about me?' 

'You'll be with my wife,' Lorenzo said, gesturing to the door across from his as his Jenna appeared, a gracious smile on her face.

'Dean, isn't it?' she asked, beckoning him forward.

'That's me,' Dean nodded. But neither of them moved for a second, eyes locked in a silent conversation as they stood in the carpeted hallway before Lainey smiled and nodded encouragingly, the pair of them headed into their retrospective offices a second later.

‘Come in, take a seat,’ Lorenzo said as she entered, her eyes scanning the room. It was like she’d expected a suave, masculine office lined with dark wood bookshelves and a large roll top desk. Lainey could see books crammed on every shelf and tucked away at the back were four security cameras, each flicking every thirty seconds or so to a new and different angle of the property. She could see Lydia and Don in the gym. The Andersons in the bar, having no doubt worked up a thirst. She could even see Dean in the room across the hall though Jenna’s office looked more clinical, with him sitting on a flat-top examination table, a blood pressure cuff around his bicep.

‘Oh don’t mind that,’ Lorenzo said, mistaking her staring for wifely concern, as evidenced by the way he gestured for her to take a seat in one of the deep plum coloured leather arm chairs opposite his own and facing away from the screens, ‘he’s just going through our standard wellness check. We perform one on all of our couples before they begin active therapy.’

‘Why?’ Lainey asked, unsure what Dean’s resting heart rate meant for the stare of their fake marriage.

‘Healthy body, healthy mind. Healthy mind, healthy everything else,’ Lorenzo said smoothly, ‘you’ll swap once we’re done, and I’ll have a chat with him too. But you and I have to talk first.’

‘Right. Yeah, of course,’ Lainey said, moving forward to sink into her chair.

As Lorenzo took a seat opposite her and pulled a fresh legal pad from the coffee table in front of him, silence descended. Lainey now realised that when she’d asked to book them a couples session, insisting it be at some point today, they’d probably accounted for her having something to say or ask, but now the moment was here she couldn’t think of anything. Her mind was completely blank. Or rather, she didn’t want to dig into anything hard in case she happened to root around with things she wasn’t sure she wanted to think about. Fortunately, though none of that mattered because the second Lorenzo put his pen to the paper, the first question left his lips before she’d even had time to think of anything.

'So, how long have you and Dean been married?' he asked, pen poised at the ready against the yellow paper. Lainey shifted slightly in her chair.

'Eight months,' she said. The lie came out easily enough, but it wasn't perfect. Lorenzo’s eyebrows raised just a fraction, barely noticeable, but there, as was the way he forced his tone to stay as conversational as possible as he murmured, ‘wow. So, not very long at all.’

‘We’ve been together a long time,’ Lainey insisted quickly, ‘we grew up together.’

‘Childhood sweethearts. That’s romantic,’ he mused.

‘Uh yeah,’ Lainey agreed, her mind casting back to the boy she’d know. The boy she’d baited. The teenager she’d gotten on the last nerve of every day. Childhood friends hardly covered it let alone sweethearts. She just hoped Dean would think of that. That when he was tried and tested, their answers would hopefully match up and not hinder them.

‘So, what made you come to us? Most couples are still deep in that blissful honeymoon phase by month eight,’ the doctor said, his words gentle and asking though she could hear the accusatory undercurrent lining the base of it.

‘We are,’ Lainey insisted, faking a smile as a knot of nerves settled in, ‘sometimes you just need a tune up I guess.’

‘Ah, that’s understandable,’ he said, scribbling something down in his pad that she couldn’t see from her spot on the chair, ‘so how have those first few months been? Changing a dynamic you’ve been in for years can be incredibly difficult.’

‘It was,’ Lainey agreed, ‘it felt right though.’

She didn’t insist. She didn’t need to. because that part wasn’t a lie. Even if they hadn’t got married their transition had been a natural progression. They had just gone from friends to more rather than girlfriend to wife. But as silence lingered in the air, it made her voice feel shakier than it had sounded when it first came out. Lainey watched his deep green eyes look up at her from under long thick lashes. When she didn’t offer any more details, he gestured with his pen, as if waiting for her to fill in a massive blank. Lainey stammered a defensive, ‘what?’

‘But?’ Lorenzo prompted softly. And Lainey hadn’t expected a reply, but the real answer seemed to form entirely without her permission, without warning, sprouting legs and kicking its way out before she could stop it.

‘But it’s not been easy,’ she admitted, her shoulders dropping, ‘we’ve…um, Dean he um, he lost people…’

‘Family?’ Lorenzo asked, sitting up a bit straighter as his interest piqued. Lainey sank down in her chair.

‘Yeah…his dad…nearly his brother,’ she said, her voice feeling thicker at the thought of it, ‘car accident.’

Lainey braced herself for the usual spiel. Condolences that she’d have to bite her tongue to accept. Generic concern for Dean, for the boys in general. 'How is he holding ups?' and some adlib about grief that never felt like it fit right. Stages or techniques or piss poor advice that made you wish words were actual, physical objects so you could choke the idiot who dared offer them to you. But he didn’t do any of that. He just looked at her, his eyes roving intently over her face as he said, ‘that must’ve been incredibly hard for you.’

Lainey had been planning to stick to the script. To say that yes grief was hard, but they were muddling through it. Yeah, Dean sold his soul, but so what? They had each other and they would find something. But the words died on her tongue, her brow furrowing as she stammered, ‘uh, yeah… it has been.’

Lorenzo said nothing, merely watching her reaction. Lainey shifted uncomfortably, tucking her hands nervously underneath her to stop her from picking her nails in case he noticed that and found her nerves suspicious given she’d signed up for this. But the dam had cracked, and the words kept coming without her permission.

‘Dean,’ she started, his name forcing its way out around a clearing of her throat, 'he um, he lost himself for a while… he had to do what he had to do to save his brother, but it wasn’t easy on him...’

‘And what about you?’ Lorenzo asked gently. Lainey blinked.

‘What about me?’ Lainey said, her brow furrowed. Lorenzo shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

‘Supporting a partner through profound, traumatic loss is a massive challenge in itself. That’s without any added external pressure,’ he said.

‘Well, it has been hard, but it’s…it’s for family, right?’ Lainey reasoned, dropping her gaze to her lap. Lorenzo let out a soft, noncommittal, ‘hmm.’

‘What?’ she asked, unable to resist biting though she knew she probably should keep her mouth shut. In fact, for a split second the idea of Bobby working as a shrink flashed through her mind for a second and amused her.

‘You don’t seem sold about that whole family dynamic,’ he observed honestly. When Lainey swallowed thickly, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, ‘you didn’t get on with his side of the family, huh?’

Lainey fought down the defensive, snarky comment building inside her chest and replaced it with a casual shrug.

‘No, we get along great. Not me and his dad, exactly, but me and his brother Sam are incredibly close. We’re family. It’s... it’s kinda all we have, you know?’ she said.

‘They’re close then,’ Lorenzo commented, his pen tracing neatly against the paper again.

‘Extremely,’ Lainey agreed. Again, his face fell into that thing that Bobby’s did when he had something he wanted to say but didn’t want to start an argument. And it worked just as well, her jaw tightening as he muttered, ‘what?’

‘It can be incredibly difficult, finding your footing in a dynamic like that,’ Lorenzo said.

‘I’m not, I mean I don’t have any intention of getting between them,’ Lainey insisted fiercely. Because that was the truth. That had always been the truth. When they were kids. When they were teenagers. Even when she’d come on the road with them, she had done so to help not hinder. Because she’d seen them lost in a sea of grief and wanted to keep them afloat. She had never meant to get in the way or force anyone to choose sides.

‘But you and Dean are supposed to be a family now. Your own family. That’s how marriage works, but people often forget that,’ Lorenzo commented. Lainey felt her heart stop for a beat. She could see his point if they were normal people. If they were the Schafers or the Andersons. Normal people grew up, got married and created their own little insulated worlds. They didn’t depend on each other like the Winchesters did. Relying on someone to cook thanksgiving dinner or remember a birthday card wasn’t the same as needing to know someone had your back when you were facing death and destruction. She got that.

She did.

‘Dean, his family situation is different. We don’t have…regular lives. We don’t have people; we just have each other and…’

‘And?’ Lorenzo challenged.

‘And Dean is great,’ she said defensively, her voice rising, ‘he’s sweet and loving and kind. And family is his most important thing, he thinks about other people more than himself.’

‘And you wish he wouldn’t,’ Lorenzo said.

His words cut her down to silence. Lainey felt the air leave her lungs completely. She wanted to fire back a resounding no. She wanted to tell him that she didn’t feel that way at all, that Dean had a duty he couldn't run away from. It wasn’t fair, but she had known exactly what she was getting into before she ever let herself fall for him. He hadn’t tricked her. She had walked into this life with her eyes wide open. It wasn’t that she wanted to be selfishly chosen over everything else; she just deeply wished he would do a little more choosing of himself.

‘He doesn’t see what we see, he doesn’t believe in him like I do. I just wish he’d would that’s all,’ she said, hoping the words sounded justified.

‘For his sake? Or yours?’ Lorenzo retorted.

‘What?’

‘This thing he did for his brother, has it impacted you?’ Lorenzo asked. Lainey fort a snort and an eye roll, opting for the safer choice of a soft shrugged, ‘I guess.’

‘And you wish, just once, he would have picked you over Sam,’ Lorenzo said.

Lainey stalled, the words hanging like lead in between them. Did she?

She’d spent months telling herself no. She’d told herself she had always known the boys were a package deal, that she’d made her peace with the reality of it. She told herself she just wanted Dean to value his own life for once, to stop running off to do stupid, reckless, suicidal shit. But was that really all it was? Or did a dark, hidden part of her just desperately want him to pick her? For his actions to support the words he always offered her.

‘Maybe,’ she said, her voice deathly quiet.

‘Have you told him that?’ Lorenzo asked. Lainey was going to reply but before she could an alarm sounded, forcing its way under the door in short, urgent bursts. Lorenzo was on his feet in a split second and Lainey instinctively rose to follow, but he held up a sharp hand, gesturing for her to stay put as he headed for the door with a muttered, ‘excuse me.’

Lainey watched and waited until the door clicked softly closed and then she was up, out of her seat and at the camera station, her eyes trailing down the rack of CDs each marked with several different dates. Lainey found one from a few days before the deaths and tucked it safely in the back of her jeans before she grabbed a couple of the others and rejigged the stack so that there was no obvious gap. Then she darted back to her seat and waited. Lorenzo appeared a couple of minutes later, the door swinging open as he beckoned her through.

When he led her back out into the waiting room Dean was sitting on one of the chairs, an ice pack pressed to his head and a weak, dazed smile on his face as she rushed towards him, overflowing with concern she knew was likely unwarranted as she gasped, ‘oh my god, baby, what happened?’

‘He passed out getting his blood drawn,’ Jenny said, looking down on Dean disapprovingly as he gave her a sheepish smile.

‘Really?’ Lainey cooed.

‘Yeah,’ he said, offering Lainey a sheepish, pathetic grin.

‘Let’s get you back to the room,’ Lainey said, playing along perfectly as she gently peeled the ice pack from his forehead and handed it back to Lorenzo.

‘Don’t you want to finish your session?’ he asked.

‘Can we reschedule?’ she asked. The doctors shared a look and then nodded, ‘of course.’

‘Thanks, Doctor,’ Lainey said thankfully. She nestled her hand firmly under Dean’s armpit, hauling him up from the chair with a gentle tug, ‘c’mon, you big lug. Let’s go.’  

Dean allowed himself to be dragged to his feet and led out of the room, his hand resting on the small of her back and perfectly covering the distinct, square outline of the stolen disc hidden beneath the fabric of her shirt.

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‘What if this isn’t anything but two pissed off spouses?’ Dean asked. He was laid flat across the mattress, Lainey’s computer still on the bed in front of him where he kept scrolling through the footage they’d found. It hadn’t been much, but they had seen the two victims making the most of the ranch’s extra-curriculars with people who were very much not their spouses. Lainey looked at him in the mirror, her hand hovering in mid-air as she paused in between coats of mascara. Dean flopped onto his back, ‘like what if they found out about the two of ‘em bumping uglies and just whacked them?’

‘And managed to cause a time skip in the tape where Shannon was alive and working out and then dead?’ Lainey questioned, raising an eyebrow at the glass.

‘Hmm, yeah true,’ Dean sighed, rubbing his face wearily.

‘They both dropped dead at the same time, immediately after cheating on their partners. I just think whatever did it was intent on not letting the company down too. Split ‘em up, hide the evidence,’ Lainey said, returning to her makeup.

‘Sounds witchy,’ Dean said.

‘Yeah, I know,’ Lainey grumbled. Her detest for witches had not quite dimmed yet even if Ruby, a former witch, had managed to save her life from that horrible hex bag. She could still taste blood in her throat if she thought about it too long. Could still see the look of paralysing fear on Dean’s face. Lainey pushed the thought from her head.

‘I say we sweep the room whilst the widows at dinner, look for hex bags or sulphur,’ Dean said, rolling himself back over.

‘Sounds good to me,’ Lainey agreed.

He was quiet for a moment, his chin resting on his hands, content to just sit and watch each brush stroke. But she could hear him thinking. She always could. Dean was hardly ever quiet. Not in the way she was accustomed to with Bobby’s only speak if you got something to say attitude and Sam’s inherently quiet, thoughtful existence. But it wasn’t that he was necessarily loud. He was just present. She felt the exact moment he was near, and the heavy absence of him even more so. It was evident in the way he’d instinctively grab her a fresh beer just as she’d finished the last, twisting the cap off without her even having to ask. It was in the way he constantly touched her whenever he got close enough—his hand settling on the small of her back, or his arm draping casually over the back of her chair without a second thought. It was in the way he’d just sit and watch her in quiet moments like this, demanding absolutely nothing, just staying still so he didn’t distract her.

Which was why she noticed when he was in his head. When he was thinking, like he was planning the words more carefully than he normally would.

‘Hey, you never said how your session went,’ Dean said, mustering an air of evenness, his eyes locked on her reflection in the mirror.

‘Uh, fine. Why?’ Lainey said, dropping her gaze to her scattered pile of lip sticks and glosses like she was consumed by choosing the perfect shade.

‘Did they do the whole nine with to you too? Blood draw and vitals?’ Dean asked.

‘Never got around to it,’ Lainey said.

‘Probably a good thing,’ he murmured.

‘Did you really pass out?’

‘Nah, but I sold the hell out of it,’ Dean grinned, sliding himself forward until he was up off the bed. Lainey didn’t watch him. Her gazed fixed on herself in the mirror as she pulled a lip liner out and uncapped it. Dean stood behind her, watching her in the mirror.

‘So, if you didn’t have blood what did they do?’ he asked.

‘Just talked,’ Lainey mumbled through a pouted mouth.

‘About me?’ Dean asked, a cocky edge lining his words.

‘No about the weather,’ Lainey teased. Dean rolled his eyes but then moved to sit by her, his legs astride the bench seat in a way that forced her to shuffle up. Lainey shifted to give him room.

‘What did you say?’ he asked curiously.

‘The usual. Told him you were a giant pain in my ass but hot, so I can’t complain,’ she said, still teasing though her mind flitted to the conversation, to Lorenzo’s expert dance through the minefield of her head before he detonated something that had been sitting in pieces in her mind ever since, ‘what do you think? I just gave him a bunch of backstory about us being childhood sweethearts.’

‘Us two?’ Dean snorted, leaning closer, his hand on the bench behind her as his eyes fixed on her face. Lainey smiled softly.

‘I didn’t hate you,’ she said.

‘Didn’t like me either,’ he countered.

‘You were easy to bait,’ Lainey said, her voice dropping to something softer, ‘I liked it.’

‘Yeah?’ Dean said, a slow, familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

‘You noticed me,’ Lainey admitted, looking up at him through her lashes, ‘you always did.’

‘Kinda hard not to,’ Dean said, though as he leant in to kiss her there was a sharp knock at the door forcing him to pull back with an eyeroll. Lainey turned back to her makeup, swiping her lips in a deep pink colour and blotting them as he came back, a note on crisp cream, logo embossed paper, in his hand.

‘What’s that?’ Lainey frowned as Dean turned it around to show her, her eyes scanning the paper before she looked up at him and asked, ‘what the hells a recommitment ceremony?’

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Lainey hadn’t seen the library before, but it was just as opulent as the rest of the resort. Only where everywhere else boasted cool, minimalist desert aesthetics this was all heavy, dark wood and stone. Intricate statues and bizarre trinkets nestled themselves between thick, heavy, leather-bound tomes on the shelves and there was massive iron candelabras dotted around the space, casting the entire room in a low, heavy, flickering glow.

And absolutely everyone on the resort was present. Couples lined each row of the neatly arranged wooden chairs and even the staff were in attendance, stationed rigidly by the door in their crisp white polo shirts. Olivia’s sharp, disapproving eyes landed squarely on them the moment they appeared in the doorway, her subtle glare pushing them forward into the last two empty seats at the back of the room.

To Lainey's immense relief, it was Lydia Schafer sitting on the back row, and she warmly patted the empty seat next to her for Lainey to sink into. Dean quickly took the seat on the aisle right beside her and not a moment too soon because the second he did Dr Lorenzo appeared into view from the chair he’d been occupying up front. Lainey craned her neck to watch him but only for a minute because the second he stood up music started, a soft classical piece that bounced off the tile. Another couple appeared at the door a second later, slowly walking down the makeshift aisle until they were standing in front of the good doctor.

Lorenzo gestured with a hand and the heavy doors were pushed closed with a resonating thud and then manned by Olivia, who clocked Lainey’s nosiness and scowled, making her look back around quickly.

‘As always, thank you all for coming,’ Lorenzo started, his deep velvety voice filling the echoing space easily, ‘and thank you to Laura and Paul for choosing to not only recommit to one another here, at Harmony Ranch, but for the rest of your lives together.’

As he started into a sweeping speech, starting with the creation of marriage and its absolute sanctity Lainey shifted closer to Lydia, dropping a dark curtain of hair over her shoulder to hide from Dr Jenna who was up front, eyes scanning the crowd in the same predatory way Olivia was.

‘What is this?’ she asked in a harsh whisper. Lydia looked around cautiously, making sure no eyes were on them before she replied, ‘a recommitment ceremony, dear.’

‘No, I know that,’ Lainey said, pushing a smile forward, ‘but what is it?’

‘Oh,’ Lydia tittered, her hand going to Lainey’s knee so she could lean in closer to explain, ‘once your induction week has finished the Harmons ask if you would like to carry on in your journey. If you agree you get to do a recommitment ceremony, committing yourself back to each other.’

‘Right,’ Lainey said, a sudden uneasy knot forming in her stomach, ‘and that’s mandatory?’

‘Oh no, of course not. I mean everyone signs the contract if you’re gonna stay, insurance purposes and all that,’ Lydia explained, ‘but this bit is just a bit of fun. Me and Don loved it; it was like a second wedding.’ 

‘Yeah, it looks…beautiful,’ Lainey lied, pulling back to sit up straight in her chair. Her eyes flitted to Dean and he glanced at her, his hand finding her thigh and confirming he’d heard everything and felt just as off about the whole thing.

And the feeling didn’t leave not when she listened to what Lorenzo was asking. How the tone he used was that he had used on her, sharp and disarming. She could feel it stirring up something in her, all the mess he’d made talking about Dean, about choices and love. She wondered if he’d done it to them, made them realise things they had been hiding behind until they were forced to face it. She wondered if they felt as disjointed as she did, if the urge to cling to something, to each other, felt just as overwhelming. It must have, after all Lainey had only had half a dose of it. Dean none at all. And they seemed to be the only ones staying reasonably even and levelheaded.

But she could see why these people where in so deep. Why six weeks to a lifetime of a commitment felt doable after days of being broken down and rebuilt by fun activities and time together. It was designed to make you remember why you were here in the first place. And even though she and Dean were actively working a case, Lainey couldn’t deny that the past couple of days had felt dangerously good. Easier, somehow, without the crushing weight of their real-world reality constantly knocking at the door.

‘So, Laura,’ Lorenzo said, offering her a radiant smile. Laura shifted, beaming up at her husband as the doctor asked, ‘do you choose to recommit to loving, honouring, and cherishing your spouse going forth in your marriage?’

‘I do,’ Laura nodded eagerly.

‘And do you Paul?’ he asked, turning his gaze to the groom.

‘I do,’ Paul nodded, squeezing his bride’s hands once more.

‘And do you choose to recommit to your love of one another and prioritise your marriage over all else? No matter what choices lay in your path, no matter the consequences of your actions,’ Lorenzo asked, his voice dropping to something low, rhythmic.

‘We do,’ they both nodded, oblivious, and gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes.

‘You see that,’ Dean muttered out of the corner of his mouth. Lainey had to push up to see what he could, Jenna now at her husband’s side with a red string in her manicured hands.

With practiced, elegant movements, she looped the cord around Paul’s left ring finger, pulling it terrifyingly tight before moving over to repeat the exact same motion on Laura's hand. A tie. An anchor and more importantly, the deep shade of red that had appeared on both victim’s fingers when they had wound up in the morgue. When whatever tie to their spouses had been broken.

Lainey looked up at Dean, who raised his eyebrows high in a stark, dangerous expression. But before they could communicate anything more, the entire crowd rose to its feet in rapturous, deafening applause, forcing the two hunters to stand along with them, clapping for the people who’d just walked themselves into a trap.

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Unsurprisingly Lainey and Dean didn’t go to the cocktail hour, nor did they spend the night in the dining room congratulating the happy couple. They just slipped back to their room, poring over whatever scarce information they could find. But it wasn’t easy. And as the sun set and the hotel started to wind down, doors slamming down the corridor as couples retreated back to their rooms, she could feel Dean growing bored. It made her miss Sam, though the moment Dean suggested they call him or Bobby for help, she shot him down though she didn’t know why. He would almost definitely be able to, but there was something in Dean’s words that touched on one of those fragile pieces Lorenzo had hacked off the walls of her heart. It meant she didn’t get into bed until past two and when she finally did give up and slide in beside Dean, he was already asleep. Still flat out or not he curled himself up around her instinctively and Lainey let herself be pulled in because even though she was sure they had what they needed, it could wait until tomorrow.

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God. Or rather Gods.

The word always felt funny in her mouth. It had never quite felt real though she supposed she never really sat down or thought about it for too long.

It was too big of a thing to wrap her head around. And it was never an easy topic to bring up given the contention that faith seemed to be with the boys. Sam believed, Dean didn’t, and she lay somewhere in the middle. Somewhere where proof was needed but hope still pulled rank. She rationalised that if there was a hell there must be a heaven. For every demon, an angel. But they had yet to show their face. And it was hard to believe in something that refused to help, especially when you needed them to.

In some ways it was easier to think of gods this way, as small supernatural creatures instead of this all-knowing entity. It was easier to picture that it was little orchestrators of chaos, like a trickster, running around with their own petty agendas and biases. Causing havoc for whatever righteous cause they saw fit. And these two, Hera and Hymen, or the Harmons as they were now known, seemed to be no different.

From what Lainey could tell they were old world, the energy they once got from being worshipped and prayed to, back when people saw the fate of their marriage as something out of their control, a distant memory. It wasn’t a surprise; the institution of marriage had changed somewhat over the millennia. Whether for the worse or better she wasn’t always sure, but she was certain that drunk bachelors getting wed to opportunistic strippers on their first night in Vegas was hardly what these two had in mind when they were looking for a devout congregation.

But that made them weaker, more vulnerable, and from what Lainey had read - able to be killed. They just needed a few things first. A bronze dagger wasn’t an issue; she’d snagged a beautifully hand crafted one years ago in a poker game with Pastor Jim and his buddies, and it now sat somewhere in the Impala’s trunk. But it didn’t mean much, not unless they could douse it in the blood of a true believer. And considering neither her nor Dean were a candidate it meant a little extra legwork.

‘Did you get it?’ Lainey asked, as Dean took a seat beside her at their tiny table for two at lunch, her eyes flicking to the waiter that past behind him.

‘Yeah, here sweetheart,’ Dean said, glancing over his shoulder before handing over the small, toiletry bag she’d ‘misplaced’ in the back of the car. Her hand clasped around it, feeling the pointed sharp edge of the bronze dagger beneath her grip.

‘Thanks honey,’ she said, placing it on the table beside her. Dean looked around, casting glances at the still loved up couples who dined with them. Now that the waiter was gone, absolutely no one was within earshot, leaving them entirely free to talk business.

‘You get the other thing?’ he asked, leaning in.

‘No,’ she said. The lie had been on the tip of her tongue, some excuse about Dean having left something in Jenna’s office when he’d passed out, asking if she could she just pop in and sweep the room to see if she could find it. She was certain if she get rid of Olivia for long enough they could get their hands on a sample, which from what she could tell  from the hours she’d spent going over the security tape again were still stored in a tiny fridge in Jenna’s office, ‘and they’re booked solid all day. I checked.’

‘So, how’re gonna get in there?’ Dean asked, only just noticing the plate she’d made up for him from the lunch buffet. He grabbed his fork and shovelled a heaped forkful of pasta into his mouth, continuing with a mumbled, ‘fire alarm?’

‘Something tells me the doctors don’t exactly follow the standard safety rules everyone else does,’ Lainey said dryly, taking a sip of her drink, ‘but you’re right. We need them together, away from their offices. I mean, getting rid of everyone else in the resort wouldn’t hurt either, to be honest.’

‘Everyone was at that ceremony,’ Dean reasoned, another heaped forkful going in.

‘Yeah, but when’s the next one of those gonna be?’ Lainey reasoned.

‘Tonight,’ Dean said, looking smug when Lainey furrowed her brow in surprise, ‘hey I know things.’

‘How?’ she chuckled.

‘Turns out Olivia can be helpful when she wants to be,’ Dean said, smirking as Lainey scowled at him, ‘I asked her about it when I got the keys for the car lot to get your, uh, toiletries. She said they’re having another tonight. The Coopers, checked a few days before us into one of the dead couple’s rooms, got it at a massive discount.’

‘Okay, well that’s something,’ Lainey nodded, her mind immediately racing to formulate a plan.

‘But we gotta work fast,’ he said, finally coming up for breath and taking a sip of water.

‘How come?’ Lainey asked.

‘Because that’s the Coopers,’ Dean said, subtly tilting his chin toward a couple engaged in a heated discussion four tables down. Lainey watched as the husband leaned over the table, angry, tight whispers hissing from his lips. It only caused his wife’s forced, painted-on smile to tighten painfully as the waiter passed by their table again. The exact second the staff member was out of sight, the woman muttered a harsh retort, stood up abruptly, and strode out of the dining hall, angrily shoving past a busboy on her way out.

‘So, if they commit…’

‘They might not last till morning,’ Dean agreed grimly.

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The day agonisingly passed slowly and only started to speed up the exact second there was another sharp knock on the door, which Dean opened and found yet another note declaring they came to the library once more. And though they were prepared this time, the bronze dagger tucked securely in the waistband of Dean’s slacks, Lainey still felt her stomach knotting tightly as they headed down the hall towards the library.

Since they were not the last ones here this time it gave them a chance to mingle, a calculated opportunity to be noticed before they slipped out whilst everyone was busy. And Lainey was starting to make an impression already, as she took a glass of champagne from a waiter in passing and downed half of it in one gulp, trying to soothe her nerves. Dean narrowed his eye at her eagerness, and he watched her scout around the room, eyes casting over Olivia at the door, before she looked up at him, her voice a low whisper, ‘okay, so how are we doing this? Something tells me they might notice us both missing.’

‘I’ll go,’ Dean volunteered immediately. Just like he always did. Just like he always would the second there was even a hint of danger afoot. Lainey felt those nerves knot even tighter, a flicker of Lorenzo’s gaze in his as she looked up at him.

‘No, I will,’ she said, pressing a hand to his chest when he opened his mouth to protest, ‘just say I’m in the bathroom or something.’

‘Baby,’ Dean started but she shook her head defiantly, tucking her purse tighter up her shoulder.

‘I’ll be fine. Just your eye on Peg and Al over there,’ she insisted, leaning up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

And then she was gone, deftly ducking through the crowd and slipping right past Olivia with a muttered, apology. Dean watched her go and sighed before finding himself a seat right at the back of the room before rest of the crowd could filter into their rows. He checked his watch and told himself he shouldn’t worry. All she had to do was get in, get the blood, and get out. They would deal with the Harmons later.

So, Dean sat there. Watching. Waiting. He smiled politely at Lydia who took a seat near him but left a gap for Lainey. He watched as other couples filtered in and sat down. He watched how the atmosphere changed, how the love and admiration that buoyed the feelings of yesterday seemed absent. The Coopers acting like they were headed for the gallows instead of a lifetime of rejuvenated happiness. And most importantly he noticed how it wasn’t Lorenzo speaking this time. There was no suave, tugging charm. No deliberately disarming smile, not that it was likely to work on the Coopers. But where had Jenna taken his place, he didn’t take hers. He wasn’t on hand to tie the string, whatever magic they used relying solely on her.

He was the only one missing.

Him and Lainey.

Dean felt a sudden cold panic spread through his chest, his eyes flitting to the closed doors. There was no getting out now, not without making a scene. He could feel the dagger pressing against his spine and it was taking all his strength not to grab it and use it. Without the blood, without a thought until he could get to her, and make sure she was okay. The second the crowd started clapping he was up, making some excuse for Olivia to open the door for him before the not so happy couple could even trail out of the room. He walked quickly, boots pounding against tile as he headed down the other end of the resort in search of their offices. He’d made it to the corridor, the waiting room just beyond a pair of frosted glass doors when he heard it: the district, sharp, clicking of heels on tile behind him. Dean spun on his heel.

‘Dean,’ Jenna said, her smile utterly devoid of any warmth.

‘Dr Harmon,’ Dean said.

‘Where are you going? You know the party is that way, don’t you?’ she asked, gesturing down the hall like a strict schoolteacher directing a misbehaving child. Like it was not an option but an order.

‘Uh, yeah,’ Dean breezed, ‘I’m just looking for my wife. She headed to the bathroom.’

‘Well, she’s probably at the ones by reception,’ she said, taking a slow, predatory step closer.

‘I wouldn’t bet on it. She’s got this stomach thing she’s gets embarrassed if people hear,’ Dean lied smoothly.

‘Your room then,’ Jenna said, inching closer.

‘I really think I should check-’

‘No,’ Jenna said darkly, ‘you really shouldn’t.’

And then he was nowhere near her, flung down the hall where his head hit the tile floor with a crack. The cold sole of Jenna’s heel coming at his face was the last thing he remember before he passed out.

┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄

‘Ah, there you both are,’ Lorenzo said as Jenna appeared at the door, Dean sagging groggily in her vice-like grip as she held him up by the armpit.

‘Dean?’ Lainey asked, desperately trying to twist around from the plastic chair she was currently tied to. She had almost had it. She’d made it into the clinical office, found the keys for the fridge tucked in the office drawer and she had even been right about the blood samples, half used vials stacked neatly on the top shelf. She’d opted for Lydia’s not for any other reason than she seemed like the most devout. And they needed all the help they could get.

But the second she had reached for the doorknob to escape; the trap had sprung. Lorenzo had been standing right outside the door, a mocking tut on his lips as he made a snide comment about how he’d fully expected Dean to be the troublemaker. It hadn’t taken much for him to overpower her; her semi-formal dress was far too tight, and her heels left her entirely uneven on her feet because they had planning to be able to do it when they were more prepared. But she’d been trying to stop Dean being reckless and, in the end, she had been just as bad. And that was how she ended up here—arms bound tightly behind her back and legs tied to the chair with heavy plastic zip ties as they dragged Dean over and began doing the exact same to him.

‘Dean,’ she called again as his hands brushed against hers, the sharp ratcheting sound of zip ties sounding though the room.

‘Dean wake up,’ she insisted, earning a groggy hum in response. When his eyes finally fluttered open, the sight of Jenna on her knees in front of him pulled him to reality quickly. He felt the restraints against his wrists, her hand pulling tight on the bindings on his legs before ghosting down one until she found the knife buried down inside his boot. Jenna rolled her eyes and offered it to Lorenzo who chuckled and dropped it into onto an empty metal table with a clang before looking back and finding Dean now fully awake.

‘Ah, finally, I thought you were going to miss the main event,’ Lorenzo mused.

‘Miss all the fun? Nah, we’re partiers. Right baby?’ Dean said, trying to make his head less fuzzy. To stop seeing two of the smug bastard.

‘Oh absolutely,’ Lainey said sarcastically, pulling him firmly out of head, as did the way Jenna started to circle them, her hand tracing down Lainey’s face, tilting her chin upwards as she inspected her.

‘Aren’t they just precious?’ she teased, chuckling darkly as Lainey violently yanked her head away from her touch, ‘you’re hunters, that’s what you are.’

‘Yeah, and you’re gods, right?’ Lainey sneered, ‘from Greece? Have to say I’d have thought you would be a lot more impressive than this.’

‘Yeah, me too, though I suppose when you’re not one of the big rollers some backwards ranch in Reno sounds about right. What was it again Hera and, Hymen? No wonder you changed your name,’ Dean mocked earning a snort from Lainey that made them both scowl, Lorenzo’s finger appearing in his unbothered face a moment later.

‘You should show us some respect,’ he said angrily.

‘Oh yeah sure,’ Dean said, rolling his eyes dramatically, ‘have to say doc, I’m struggling to find the love and harmony in the room for that right now.’

‘That’s reserved for our long-term guests,’ Jenna answered coldly.

‘Until you murder them,’ Lainey said. Jenna merely glared at her, moving to her husband forcing Lainey to have crane her neck.

‘We didn’t kill anyone,’ Jenna insisted, her hand settling on her husband’s chest and her voice sounding as though she actually felt bad about it. Lorenzo held his hand over hers.

‘They killed themselves,’ Lorenzo explained, his eyes never leaving his wife. Lainey felt Dean’s hands move, tapping at hers. She reached back, her hand brushing against the hilt of the bronze knife in his waistband ‘they committed to their spouses and then-’

‘Started screwin’ around in your gym, yeah we saw the tape,’ Dean interrupted loudly, deliberately drawing all of their attention directly onto him.

Lainey paused, keeping her eyes locked onto the gods, her face perfectly blank while her fingers worked blindly behind her back. She carefully swivelled the bronze blade out from Dean's waistband, angling the sharp metal edge just enough to hook her zip ties against it.

‘So, you see why the spell took them,’ Lorenzo said.

‘Spell?’ Dean questioned, keeping the conversation going. He leaned forward, keeping his eyes trained on them so they wouldn't notice Lainey’s elbows inching ever so slowly up and down against the blade.

‘Blood work, old magic of course,’ Jenna explained, ‘a soul tie. You bind yourself to the one you love, and it generates energy.’

‘Energy you feed on,’ Lainey commented, trying to keep her tone angry. To keep interacting so they didn’t forget she was there, so they didn’t think she was up to something.

‘We take it in turns,’ Jenna shrugged, ‘you two were about to be Lorenzos.’

‘That reminds me sweetheart. You never did get that pesky blood draw,’ Lorenzo said, moving to pick Dean’s discarded knife up off the side. Lainey stilled as he came towards her, ducking out of Dean’s line of sight and making him try and bend to see what was going on.

‘Lainey what’s going on?’ Dean shouted, his voice angry, ‘hey! What are you-’

‘What are you doing?’ Lainey breathed, her heart hammering against her ribs as Lorenzo leaned in close, a devilish glint in his eyes as he trailed the flat of the cold steel down the bare skin of her arm.

‘I think we’ll go old school for this,’ he beamed.

‘What are you, don’t you touch her,’ Dean roared, the frame of the chair shaking as he threw his weight against it, trying to break free, ‘you touch her I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch!’

‘Do you hear how they talk to us?’ Jenna said angrily, looking down on Dean with disgust. ‘we are gods!’

‘You’ll be fucking nothing if you hurt her,’ Dean warned, his voice instantly drowned out as a sharp, agonizing whine cut through the room. Lainey tried so hard to bite the sound back, burying her face in her shoulder as the cold blade sliced deep into her forearm. She didn’t look down; she didn’t need to in order to feel her hot blood pumping out of the wound, trickling down her skin in heavy gushes as Lorenzo held a clean glass vial underneath the cut to catch the flow.

‘Lainey…baby, are you okay?’ Dean asked, his voice suddenly sounding breathless and terrified as he fought blindly against his ties.

‘M’fine,’ Lainey lied, breathing through the sting of the cut.

‘See? That wasn’t so bad now was it,’ Lorenzo said, swapping the knife for a cotton ball he grabbed off the side and pressed to her arm while he simultaneously he held up the vial and showed her the deep crimson liquid sloshing inside it, ‘a little respect gets you a long way.’

‘Go to hell,’ Lainey spat, hocking a glob of spit in his face. Lorenzo’s smile vanished, his jaw tightening as he wiped his cheek. But before he could strike her, Jenna pushed forward furiously. Her hands wrapped violently around Lainey’s biceps, her fingers squeezing directly down onto the fresh wound, forcing the deep crimson river running down her arm to flow even quicker.

‘You need to learn some damn respect!’ she growled, bare teeth glinting in the low lighting, ‘you don’t know who you’re messing with. We were worshiped by millions! People used to take marriage seriously. Take soul binding seriously, now it’s nothing but a piece of paper. A big fat nothing. No thanks, no power, just blatant disrespect.’

‘Cheating, arguing, giving up at the first sign of trouble. It’s diabolical.’ Lorenzo agreed, his voice dripping with disgust.

‘It’s life,’ Dean snapped from his chair, ‘get over it.’

‘We did, we changed to fit with the times,’ Jenna said, regaining her composure as she pulled back and let go of Lainey’s aching arm, ‘we weren’t hurting anyone.’

‘You killed two people,’ Dean growled, ‘and dozens more before them.’

‘They were regretful casualties who were warned of the consequences,’ Lorenzo said, smiling as he picked the knife up again, ‘just like you two.’

He leaned in then, the knife pressing to Dean’s arm, Lainey’s blood already cold and sticky against the blade. Dean grunted as it sliced through his skin, hot fresh blood trickling down his arm and mixing with hers. But before Lorenzo could grab another vial there was a scream.

Not Dean. Not Lainey. Not even anyone close by.

Everyone paused, heads snapping toward the door, listening for movement though everyone was far away from this side of the ranch. Then came another scream.

Dean let out a rough, breathless chuckle.

‘Looks like you should’ve picked a couple who liked each other,’ he mocked. Jenna marched furiously toward the door just as a sharp, frantic rap rattled the wood. She pulled it open an inch, keeping Dean and Lainey hidden behind Lorenzo’s tall frame as he stepped up behind his wife.

‘Doctors, we need you quick!’ Olivia said frantically from the other side of the door, ‘the Coopers…they’ve both collapsed!’

‘We’ll be right there,’ Jenna said, her voice tight.

‘They’re not breathing!’ Olivia pressed, her panic palpable.

‘One of us should stay here,’ Lorenzo murmured, his voice low and his hand holding his wife in place. He cast a sharp glance back at Dean, who sat up straighter, glaring right back at him to hide the slow, shallow strokes of Lainey’s moving hands behind his back.

‘We both need to go. They’ve already ruined enough, we’ll deal with them later,’ Jenna insisted. Lorenzo hesitated and then followed her out, the door clicking quietly shut. Lainey listened intently until their footsteps hurried down the hall, her wrist moving with furious speed against the bronze blade until her plastic ties suddenly snapped in half.

‘You got it?’ Dean asked.

‘Yeah, just about. Hang on,’ she said, grabbing it fully from his pants and leaning down to cut herself free.

‘Get it covered in blood,’ Dean insisted, ‘something tells me they won’t stay gone forever.’

Lainey nodded quickly and rushed over to her discarded purse on the counter. Her fingers scrambled inside until she found the stolen sample vial, uncapping it with frantic hands. The blood inside Lydia's vial was thick, unlike the fresh fluid still pumping from Dean's arm, moving almost like a heavy jelly until she tipped it down over the ancient bronze blade. Lainey pushed her fingers through it, coating the blade with a wince.

‘This is gross,’ she grimaced.

‘Yeah, well as long as-’ Dean started but he stopped short as the door swung violently open, her name shouted before she could even turn around. Lorenzo bodied her, slamming her hard across the metal table before she could get a shot off. Dean heard the knife clatter and Lainey’s knees hit the floor, but he couldn’t see anything. He didn’t see how she spun herself around, driving her pointed heel into Lorenzo’s chest as he staggered over her recovering from the impact. He didn’t see how that only spurred him on. How when he lunged again, she scrambled to her feet, her fist headed for his face only for him to catch it, brutally turning her arm back on itself and pinning her against the wall. Lainey grunted, her cheek cold against the tile.

‘And here you said Dean was the reckless one,’ Lorenzo breathed in her ear.

‘He is,’ she panted, ‘I’m the smart one.’

And then she drove her heel cleanly into his foot, slamming her free elbow backward into his stomach. Lorenzo inhaled sharply, his grasp loosening just enough that she could spin around, her foot hooking around his knee and toppling him backwards onto the floor. In a flash, she was over him, retrieving the dripping bronze knife and pointing it directly at his throat as he tried to scramble away.

‘Okay fine!’ he said, raising a hand in defeat, ‘we’ll let you go.’

‘Too late,’ she said angrily, her heel stabbing into his calf hard enough to cut skin and eliciting a pathetic whimper.

‘Just let us go,’ he begged.

‘No,’ Lainey said.

‘I can give you anything you want,’ Lorenzo insisted, his voice rising in desperation.

‘Like you did all those poor couples?’ she sneered.

‘They weren’t true!’ he insisted, ‘I can see the two of you are! Your love-’

‘Whatever,’ Lainey muttered, raising the blade as her heart squeezed at the words.

‘I could save him you know,’ Lorenzo said, panic in his eyes. Lainey hesitated, the knife freezing mid-air. So did Dean, the frantic scrubbing he had been doing on the other discarded knife now abandoned.

‘Lainey,’ Dean called out, his voice sharp when he heard her falter.

‘You’re lying,’ Lainey said, her voice thready and thin.

‘You think we didn’t know?’ Lorenzo laughed, breathless and mocking, ‘this business runs off souls. And his… well, his is completely MIA. But yours...’

‘Lainey don’t listen to him!’ Dean said angrily. But the words didn’t register. Nothing did. Like her fragile faith in something higher that bubbled up from time to time, the desperate, blinding hope of saving Dean from his impending fate pushed its way straight through her defences.

‘How?’ she said.

‘You commit to one another. Not some sham wedding, a true soul tie,’ Lorenzo said, slowly moving upwards. When Lainey moved the dagger closer, he stalled, ‘a tether that keeps him right here. Connected entirely to your soul until the day you die.’

‘What do you want?’ she asked.

‘Lainey!’ Dean growled.

‘Let us go,’ Lorenzo bargained quickly, ‘we’ll tie your souls together, and then when we’re done, poof… it’ll be like we never existed.’

Lainey could feel herself thinking about it. She was always of the assumption that if something seemed too good to be true it probably was. But they had tied people together. The souls had died because one had broken the promise. Surely if Dean’s soul were tied to something else, tied to her, it would work. Or at least buy them time.

‘So, what do you say?’ Lorenzo asked softly, his hand reaching out for the knife in her hand. But before either of them could do anything he fell forward, down onto it, until the hilt was buried deep in his chest, deep crimson running down Lainey’s hand as he looked up at her, startled and silent. Then he was gone, pulled back by Dean just as quickly and discarded on the ground.

Lainey watched him fall. Heard the soft gasp as Jenna reappeared at the doorway. Felt the weight of Dean’s hand as he took the knife from her, moving too quickly, quicker than she could get across the room. In the end Lainey wasn’t even sure Dean had been the one to kill her. He may have buried the knife in her chest, but the tie had been broken the minute the light had dimmed in Lorenzo’s eyes. Lainey knew that from dark red marks that had already appeared on their ring fingers before either of them were cold.

The only thing Lainey could focus on was Dean. He appeared right in front of her, completely blocking the carnage out of her line of sight. His large hands cupped her face, forcing her to look directly into his worried eyes.

‘You okay?’ he asked, his voice rough.

‘Yeah,’ she said weakly.

‘He was lying, Lainey. There wasn’t any saving me, you know that, right?’ Dean insisted, his eyes searching hers desperately. Lainey looked at him. But she didn’t see him. Not really. She saw Lorenzo’s face, not the one on the floor already cold and pale. Not menacing look he had been when he’d sliced her arm open. Knowing. That she’d try, that Dean wouldn’t.

‘Yeah,’ she mumbled hollowly, her voice barely a whisper though she forced it into something stronger when he frowned, ‘yeah, I know.’

Dean nodded tightly and pulled her into him. She buried her face deep into his chest a moment later, settling into his warmth as that familiar, heavy knot returned to the pit of her stomach.

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Safe to say, they had gotten out of Harmony Ranch pretty damn quickly after that. Two people dead, an ambulance already on its way, and the looming certainty that someone would eventually discover what was left of the Harmons made the pair of them eager to hit the road before anyone could start asking questions. Lainey didn’t really think about any of it. She just moved on autopilot, like she was expected to. Bodies locked away in the room, surfaces wiped down like they were never there. Both knives were stashed in her purse, something she was sure would cause stains that would never come out no matter how much she scrubbed. Security cams were wiped and turned off, and the lock to the car lot was shot off so that baby could finally roar down the highway.

And then they’d just driven. No real direction in mind. No stopping until they started to flag, pulling over to the side of the road and finally settling down in the back together. Her head had rested flat against Dean’s chest, his fingers tracing slow, comforting patterns through her hair.

It was early when she woke, the sun just starting to peek out over the horizon, warming the rolling desert she found surrounding them when as she clambered out and stretched.

It was beautiful out here. The way the sun shone just behind the jagged rockfaces casting the sky in a golden glow. The way the wind blew gently through sand and brush. Lainey watched it as she brushed her teeth, rinsing and spitting with the last bottle of water they had. They’d have to stop at the next town. Get supplies. Get back on the road.

Away from gods and sacrifices. Away from being reckless. Away from that look in Dean’s eye and that pit in her stomach.

‘Mornin’,’ Dean murmured as he clambered out, brushing the sleep from his eyes.

‘Morning,’ Lainey answered softly. She leaned in, allowing him to press a warm kiss against her cheek before he headed straight to the trunk. Their movements became almost like a dance after that. Dean brushed his teeth. Lainey changed in the back seat. Lainey tossed him a wet wipe to clean up the residual sweat and grime from the night before, and Dean automatically found her hairbrush for her. It was quiet, rhythmic. But the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it was easy. Worn in.

Lainey was waiting for him in the front seat, the distinct metallic clinking of his belt buckle signalling he was nearly ready. She ran her fingers through her hair, but she paused when she found her something snag in the strands.

It was only then she remembered she was still wearing the ring.

She hadn’t even thought about it. Not even when she’d been frantically scrubbing the blood, Lorenzo’s, hers, and Dean’s, from her skin. The metal had somehow just become a part of her hand. Until now, the chill of a new morning bringing with it the cold reality washed over her, reminding her that none of it was real. Dean hadn’t actually asked her to marry him. They had just been playing a part. They were just pretending.

She leant forward, popping the glove compartment open for their box of IDs so she could stuff them back in there, so she could forget about them, but as she ruffled her hand through the wealth of laminated cards, she found she couldn’t find the ring box. So, she shoved the box back inside and climbed out, headed to the trunk and her bag. Dean appeared right next to her just as she was elbow-deep in her duffel, watching her with a curious brow raised.

‘Did you keep hold of the ring box?’ she asked, without looking up.

‘Yeah, it’s in my duffle,’ Dean said, watching as she moved across to unzip his bag, ‘why?’

‘I’m gonna put them back. Put the box with IDs…I mean it’s not a bad idea to keep hold onto it,’ she said.

‘Yeah, good idea,’ Dean said, his mind ticking as she continued digging through his gear, ‘although…you could just wear it.’

‘Oh yeah, what am I gonna wear a wedding ring for,’ Lainey laughed softly and only stopping when she pulled up and found his face one hundred per cent serious. Lainey felt her heart stop, ‘Dean.’

‘Oh, come on. Is it such a crazy idea?’ Dean asked, his voice dropping into something incredibly soft.

‘Yes,’ Lainey breathed.

‘Is it?’ Dean asked, reaching to pull her closer, pushing the hair off her shoulder, ‘I mean we’re like what, two hours from Vegas?’

‘Logistics isn’t what I’m thinking about Dean,’ Lainey whispered, her breath hitching.

 ‘So, what is it then?’ he asked, watching her closely.

Lainey hesitated. She could hardly hear him over the sound of her thudding heart, the sound of her brain whirring even louder. Because isn’t that what she wanted?

Proof he loved her, she knew he did. Proof he wanted her; she knew that too. But this was different. More than just words. Actions.

Reckless maybe. But different.

‘Lainey, I love you,’ Dean said, his rough hand coming up to gently cradle the side of her cheek. His eyes were entirely locked onto hers, stripped of all his usual bravado, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone as much as I love you, and I meant every single word of it when I said I want to spend the rest of my life showing you that.’

‘Dean,’ Lainey whispered, her hand catching on his wrist.

‘So, what do you say sweetheart, will you marry me?’

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Why wait another minute, for something we should'a done yesterday? I know a little church, with a preacher who could hook us up right away, Love don't need a reason, baby, I don't see how I could love you anymore than I do today, So why wait?

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tags (dean/spn/lainey)

What he missed was the quiet. He’d have thought that taking them out on a deer hunt would’ve slowed their roll a little. They both knew the lay of the land; he’d taught them well enough. But they couldn’t help themselves. Dean bragged about bagging a buck for sure this time, Sam snorted and told him he was full of crap, and the bickering that followed last well over twenty minutes as the three of them trudged deep into the woodland. By the time it got to who could shoot a deer from the furthest away, Bobby had had enough. He’d already spotted a few sets of tracks, fur caught on a bush they’d passed headed west, probably up near the small lake he knew was that way. Females, no doubt. Nothing fancy, but enough to pick from and enough to fill his freezer for a good couple of months.

‘See that?’ he asked, stopping in his tracks causing Dean, who hadn’t been looking, to walk right into his arm instead of the freshly disturbed mud.

‘Looks like they’re headed west,’ Bobby said, ‘reckon you’ll be able to find ‘em on your own?’

‘Yes sir,’ Dean grinned, brimming with excitement as he looked back at his brother, ‘c’mon Sammy.’

‘Actually Sam can come with me. We’ll meet back at the car when we’re done,’ Bobby said. Dean’s face fell for a second, no doubt depressed at the idea of not being able to show off, ‘unless you need help?’

‘Nah I got it,’ Dean promised, and then he started off west alone.

Bobby set off in the opposite direction, trailed by Sam who at least waited until his brother was out of earshot before he asked, ‘why don’t you want me to go with him?’

Bobby smiled wryly, ‘you’ll see.’

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Bobby had been right about the movements. The herd he’d been tracking had moved upstream meaning a couple of bucks were destined to be around. He’d shown Sam how to hide himself, even let him line up the shot though he’d handed the rifle to Bobby to go through with it, like he always did. Bobby never shouted at him for that. Soft soul that he was Bobby knew he wasn’t a coward. Bobby never minded doing the dirty work for them, even if they weren’t his kids.

And of course Dean hadn’t caught a thing.

Bobby had been waiting at the car as promised, the buck that he and Sam had lugged back through the trees sitting pretty in the back of his old trailer, when Dean had emerged from the trees empty handed.

‘No buck, huh?’ Bobby asked, arms crossed and eyebrow raised as Dean got closer trying to stay assured and tough.

‘Not one for miles,’ Dean scoffed, ‘just herd of females. Coulda killed a dozen of ‘em.’

‘Yeah?’ Bobby asked. Dean nodded, ‘then why ain’t one here?’

As Sam snorted from where he’d been reading in the passenger seat, Dean’s face fell into a scowl as he muttered something that made Bobby’s mouth twitch in a smirk as he followed him to get it. Dean’s sour mood lasted all the way home, but he was finally quiet at least. They separated when they got back to the house. Sam went upstairs to read. Dean went to shower and change, and Bobby set to work on carving, right away before he’d even sat down, just like his daddy had taught him.

Dean caught him halfway through. Still quiet. Still petulant. He sat on an upturned crate, watching the older man work in silence. Bobby looked over at him, rubbing sweat from under the rim of his cap before he said, ‘come hold this leg, would ya?’

Dean hesitated, like he was deciding if that were an order, like it would’ve been with his dad (with Bobby’s dad it would’ve bene a threat), or a request he could politely decline. Bobby sighed and reached over into the cooler beside him, pulling an ice-cold beer from it which he offered over the carcass laid out on the tarp in front of him. Dean looked at it like that too was a trick before Bobby thrust it closer and he was forced to snap it up. He followed instructions then, moving to hold the large hind leg steady like as he was told.

‘Something on your mind?’ Bobby huffed after neither of them had spoken for a while, the only thing to be heard the slicing of sinewy meat.

‘No, not really.’

‘You know, my daddy used to say if you’ve got something to say you should do it like you’re Browning,’ Bobby said, not looking up as he hooked the blade deeper against joint. When he did, Dean looked clueless.

‘Shoot straight,’ Bobby explained, ‘though he also told me that a gun’s like a woman, it’s all how you hold her. And how he handled a woman was how you get yourself a accidental discharge.’

Dean hesitated, took a sip of his beer for confidence before he blurted, ‘you knew right? That I’d not get anything.’

Bobby glanced at him.

‘That’s why you took Sam, because you needed someone to help you carry,’ Dean insisted, trying to sound sure of himself even through the sting in his voice, ‘you knew I’d mess up.’

Bobby looked at him, eyes narrowing before he pulled back, busying himself on wiping the blade on the rag tucked into his belt.

‘You think this was one big old bet at your expense because you’re you?’ Bobby asked.

Dean just looked at him, jaw set but eyes sad. Bobby sighed a laugh, ‘son, I knew you wouldn’t get anything because you’re a teenage boy. Not cause you’re you.’

Dean just looked at him, like the possibility of him not being a fuck up had ever registered in his mind.

‘You know I might not look like it, but I was one once too,’ Bobby said, ‘and I learned. Next time you’ll be quiet. You’ll focus. Hell, I trusted you with a beer, didn’t I? I wouldn’t have done that last deer season.’

‘Yeah, I suppose,’ Dean murmured, the tension leaving his shoulders.

‘We’ll make a hunter of you yet,’ Bobby promised, standing up and stretching out the ache in his back. He glanced towards the house, thinking of Sam no doubt curled up on the chair in his study.

‘Maybe you’ll even pull the trigger,’ Bobby said, with a wry smile. Dean shook his head, a triumphant grin spreading across his face, ‘I knew he didn’t do it!’

‘Yeah well, give him time. He’ll catch up,’ Bobby promised.

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inspired by this (credit @caitlin1996)

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supernatural tags