Dean saw a woman approach Sam where he sat at his designated table at the back of the bar, doing his homework. He tossed an apologetic smile to the regular he had been about to serve before he walked over to Sam. The regulars knew about Sam; knew not to approach him and that Dean would disappear at a moment's notice if Sam needed him.

"Are you here by yourself?" the woman asked as she sat down across from Sam. The boy shook his head and went back to his school work. He didn't like to talk to strangers.

Dean crossed his arms, frowning at the woman. "No, he's not here alone. But I would like to know why you approached him…"

She turned to face Dean with a frown of her own. "I was making sure someone hadn't left him here. A boy his age shouldn't be sitting alone in a bar!" she hissed angrily at him. "If you're going to have a child you should at least be able to provide the proper environment."

Dean snorted. "I know I've had a long day, but I could have sworn I didn't look old enough to be Sammy's father." He smiled reassuringly at Sam before turning back to the woman. "He's in my line of sight while I work at the bar, and I check on him as often as I can. It's not ideal, I know, but it's surely better than him being home alone while I earn enough money to keep a roof over his head and food in his belly."

She was about to make a retort when Sam choked on his soft drink. Dean was beside the boy in the blink of an eye. When Sam got control of himself again his face was pale and he hadn't taken his eyes off the woman's wrist. "Dean…" he whispered.

Dean followed Sam's eyes and tensed for a moment before he shook his head slightly at the boy and stood back up. "I appreciate your concern for Sam, but he's ok here." He guided her away from the boy.

Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure he was ok…" Dean nodded with a polite smile. "Can I ask…if you're not his dad, why are you taking care of him?"

His eyes clouded over with anger for a moment, but she could see it wasn't at her. "I'm his brother. Our mum died when Sam was a baby, and our dad…well, he's not fit to raise Sammy."

"I'm sorry about that. I'm Laurel, by the way. If you ever need someone to watch him…"

Dean was shaking his head before she could finish. "We've got our patterns that work well for us. And if I could ever afford a sitter I'd take the opportunity in a heartbeat. But I don't think that's likely. Thank you for your concern."

x x x

Laurel came back the next night and watched Dean intently until he got a chance to serve her. As he had told her the night before, he kept a close eye on Sam, and even managed to go to him every now and then. But that wasn't the reason for this visit to the bar. She had a question about something else.

She was surprised when Dean was more closed off to her than the night before. "Laurel, checking up on me and Sam?" his eyes were guarded and she realised he thought she was trying to find a reason to have Sam taken away from him.

She shook her head quickly. "No, not at all. I do have a question for you though…" he raised an eyebrow to show he was listening. "When Sam choked on his soft drink last night…he seemed kind of startled by my wrist. Do you know why?"

Dean was about to shake his head in denial when he saw Sam out of the corner of his eye. When Dean had approached Laurel, the boy had snuck over. "You're soul mate symbol…" Sam whispered.

Dean could see panic rising in her eyes. "Is not the same as his, don't worry – you're not fated to a kid." Laurel waited impatiently as Dean scowled at Sam and asked him to go back to his homework. When Sam was sitting back at his table and working contently on his work, Dean finally looked back at Laurel. "I don't know how he remembers it. Sammy must have only just been two years old when it happened…" someone called his name and he glanced over his shoulder for a moment. "Look, I finish in half an hour, and this isn't something to be discussed in bits and pieces. Will you wait until I finish?"

When Laurel nodded she noticed his shoulders relax. "If you like, Sammy would be happy for the company…" he left the offer open, not waiting for an answer before he walked away to continue serving drinks.

When Laurel sat opposite Sam he glanced up at her. "Did he tell you?" he was almost bouncing in his seat with excitement.

Laurel shook her head. "No, he said he will tell me after he finishes work." Sam nodded approvingly and went back to the novel he was now reading. "Do you know what it is that he's going to tell me?" a slight nod. "Would you tell me about it?" a quick headshake and a stern look over the top of his pages.

"If Dean is going to tell you in twenty-five minutes, why would I tell you? Besides, he knows more than I do."

x x x

Dean appeared quite suddenly beside Laurel and she realised the customers were gone and the place was locked up. She had been so engrossed in Sam's story that she didn't notice any of it. "I hope you finished your homework before you started on that novel Sammy…" there was a teasing smile tugging at his lips and Laurel got the feeling that he knew for a fact that Sam had finished his work.

Sam nodded. "Of course I did! I finished my work, and even got ahead on some of it." The boy was practically bursting with pride when his older brother grinned at him.

"I know it's out of the usual, but I'm going to talk to Laurel before we head home, if that's ok with you Sammy." The boy nodded eagerly, picking his novel back up to show he was more than happy for that.

Dean lead Laurel to a table out of Sam's hearing and sat down opposite her. "Sam was shocked by your mark, because it is a match for the one I used to have." He started slowly, eyes glued firmly to the table.

Laurel frowned, not understanding. The marks didn't change. They were there from birth through to death, and they never changed. If someone was wounded so badly that the mark was unrecognisable, it would come back again on top of the scar tissue.

"I was six when I realised that it meant something, something important. Unfortunately, I didn't know exactly what. If I had known what they were, I would have known not to ask." He glanced across the bar to make sure Sam was still at his table. "I was anxious to know what it meant, so I asked dad as soon as he got home from a job."

He put his hands on top of the table, clenching and unclenching his fists. Laurel reached out slowly, and took his right hand in hers. When he didn't pull away from her touch, she flipped his hand over to see the inside of his wrist. The skin where his mark should have been was a large area of scar tissue. There was no mark.

Laurel trailed her finger tips over it in wonder. "I thought the mark came back on top of scar tissue…" she whispered.

Dean nodded. "It does. Unless someone cuts it off and then pours acid into the wound. The acid eats through the memory of the mark so it can't come back. He knew that when he did it."

Tears welled up in Laurel's eyes as she tore her gaze from his wrist and forced herself to meet his eyes. "Oh Dean, I am so sorry." Someone tapped on the glass of the front door. Dean was standing before Laurel even realised what the noise was.

He opened the door and allowed Laurel's father to step through. "Laurel, what are you doing here so late?"

"Dad, this is Dean, he's my-"

"Maintenance guy." Dean stuck his hand out for her father to shake. "Nice to meet you sir, I've heard good things about you from the guys who drink here…"

Quentin nodded, glancing down at Dean's wrist. It was habit to check any young man, given that he had two grown daughters who were yet to meet their soul mates. "And I've heard that you keep the guys in check. You prevent a lot of work from coming our way, me and the guys appreciate that." He'd never seen someone without a mark, but he figured it would be rude to comment.

"I need to talk to Dean about a few more things dad; I'll see you for lunch tomorrow ok?" Laurel interrupted calmly.

x x x

"Why wouldn't you let me tell him who you are to me?" Laurel asked as soon as the door shut behind her father.

"I would be honoured to be your partner Laurel, but that would not be fair on you. You think the story about my mark is bad…that's the least of my baggage. And besides, your dad is a cop – what do you think he would do when he found out a guy with no mark is claiming to be your soul mate? I told you about it because you have a right to know, but you shouldn't be burdened with me and my past."

Laurel watched him closely for a moment, gauging whether or not he was telling her the truth. "Don't you have any photos of you from when you were a kid? From when you had the mark?"

Dean started to shake his head when Sam interrupted. "Uncle Bobby might have one. He had a camera one summer we stayed there…remember Dean?"

"I'll give Bobby a call and see what he says. But that's not going to change the other thing Laurel." She could see disappointment in his eyes. He would have loved to be in her life, but thought it better for her that he stay out of it.

"You can work through anything Dean, if you can find someone to talk about it with. You could talk to me if you like." Laurel offered quietly.

Dean shook his head quickly, his muscles tensing and she could see in his eyes how uncomfortable he was with the idea of talking about his past with her. "The things that follow me around…they're not things for you to know about."

"You could talk to her dad. He's a police man, he'd have things he doesn't tell people too." Sam piped up again.

Laurel smiled down at Sam with a smile; no matter how bad Dean thought he was he couldn't be too bad if he was doing such a good job raising Sam on his own. "Dean will figure that part out Sam. In the meantime, he and I are going to be friends." She kissed Dean on the cheek. "Dean, I will see you tomorrow after I finish work. Thank you for telling me."

x x x

"This better be damn important." A gruff voice answered the phone. The tone and words would put others off, but it filled Dean with a great sense of belonging. Bobby had been in the background of his whole life. Supporting and helping out wherever he could.

"Bobby, it's Dean…and I think it's reasonably important." He glanced down at Sam who was skipping along beside him in excitement. "Listen, I met a girl today."

"Good for you, what's it to do with me?" Bobby asked grumpily. He didn't like his favourite tv show to be interrupted.

"She's got the same mark that I had when I was a kid. Sammy thought you might have a photo of me from before…" he had learned long ago not to mention what his father had done to him. Bobby felt that he it was his fault, that he had failed Dean somehow, even though he wasn't even there when it happened and he was the one who took him to the hospital after.

Bobby's shoulders relaxed, a weight lifting that he hadn't realised he'd been carrying for so long. "Of course I do boy. I even know exactly where it is. I'll send it through to your phone shortly." He paused a moment, not entirely sure if he was about to overstep his bounds. The boys called him Uncle, but they all knew he was more of a father. Still, some things were not to be discussed, especially with Dean. "Is she good enough for you?"

"Bobby, we're friends, for now. Until we figure out if she wants to jump into a relationship with…well, me and my past." Dean grumbled. Emotional discussions were so not his thing.

Bobby flopped into his lounge. "So she believes you already, about your mark. So who is the photo for?" He knew Dean was more than capable of taking care of himself, but he was still overly protective of the young man. If Dean felt he was unworthy, which was most often the likely outcome, he would let others walk all over him without a word.

"For me, for when I tell her dad. When the local barman starts claiming soul mates with your lawyer daughter, despite having no mark, you're going to be suspicious." Dean answered calmly.

Bobby choked on his beer. "She's a lawyer, this girl of yours? Life's cruel huh?" he chuckled softly.

Dean rolled his eyes. Trust Bobby to tease him about this. "She's not a prosecutor Bobby, she works for a non-profit. She helps battered wives and homeless kids, that sort of stuff."

'Well, she's definitely worthy of you then. I know you don't want to talk about it anymore boy, so I'll leave you to it. I'll send the photo through soon." He paused for a second. "And Dean, if you need to talk, you call me – about anything you hear? If she needs to meet family, I am your family."

In the past he had found Dean fighting for survival against some of the most horrific circumstances without ever having said a word about it. Whenever he thought it was necessary, Bobby reminded the young man that he had family, family that cared and would help no matter what.

Dean cleared his throat, he never had been able to grow comfortable with expressions of love. Unless they were directed toward Sammy, but that was different. "Thanks Bobby, that means a lot. I'll talk to you later, yeah?"

x x x

The next day, Quentin found Dean standing outside his office when he got to work. "Dean…what can I do for you?"

Dean waited until Quentin sat behind his desk before sitting himself. He looked worried. "First off, I want you to know that I'm not laying claim to anything, ok? I told Laurel last night and now I'm telling you, because I think you both have a right to know." He took a deep breath. "I had a soul mark when I was a kid. The same as Laurel's." he unlocked his phone and slid it across Quentin's desk, when the detective glanced down he saw a younger version of Dean, and his mark. The young man wasn't lying.

Quentin stared at the photo, shocked that the weariness and horrors that he saw in Dean's adult eyes had been there when he was a kid. "Your marks are the same, so why do you say you're not laying claim to anything?"

Dean grit his teeth for a moment before looking away from Quentin. "I've got baggage you wouldn't believe Quentin, and none of it has any business being anywhere near your daughter. That and I work in a bar."

Quentin stared at Dean for a minute, trying to figure him out. Dean and Sam had moved to town eight months ago. He didn't know any other young men who would be willing to take on full responsibility of a teenage sibling, let alone fight for it like he had heard Dean did. Since he started working in the bar he knew there were less police call outs to that area, and no issues with public drunkenness. He made coffee for the police doing their rounds, and had often helped them out with helpful information. For all intents and purposes Dean was more than an upstanding citizen. So this baggage he spoke of had to be considerable.

"Your baggage…is it anything that I can help you figure out?" he saw Dean tense slightly and realised why. "It will be just between you and I. Nothing you tell me will get back to Laurel, unless you ask me to. I won't try to convince you to act on the soul marks, but I will try to help you get perspective."

Dean blinked, and Quentin was learning that that was Dean's version of shock. "You want me to marry Laurel? I come here and tell you I have baggage to the eyeballs and you want me to go with your daughter? You lot are crazy!" he shook his head in wonder.

"You've already told Laurel about the mark? What did she say?" Quentin was curious. His daughter was one of the most understanding and accepting people he knew.

"I didn't have the photo then, I had to call Bobby to get it. She believed me, right off the bat. Just because Sam stared at her mark and I told her mine was like that." He shook his head, still not able to understand it. "You really should talk to your daughters about trusting people too quickly."