Three
"Sam!"
The sound of Dean's voice shouting his brother's name reverberated off the bunker's reinforced-steel walls. He waited at the top of the stairs as he cast a look over the balcony's railing. There was no sign of Sam in the operations room. The oval-shaped table sat in the center as neat as the day they'd left it.
He quickly descended the iron staircase. His heavy footsteps echoed loudly as his legs carried him over to stand at the library's vast threshold. Like the room behind him, this one showed no signs of his brother's presence. With a scowl etched deeply into the fine wrinkles of his forehead, Dean stormed off towards the end of the library, and into the maze-like halls.
He continued to call out to Sam as he wandered through the long passageways. He made a brief stop at the kitchen, pausing to glance inside of the room. Upon seeing that it was empty, he proceeded towards the sleeping quarters.
"Sam!" he bellowed. "Dammit. I know you hear me!"
By now, the elder Winchester's irritation had given way to anger. Before he knew it, he'd reached the familiar wooden door leading into his brother's bedroom. He didn't waste a second and barged right in.
At the foot of the queen-sized bed, Dean noticed an oversized duffel bag packed almost to the brim with clothes. He snapped his gaze over to the far end of the room where Sam was quietly rummaging through his dresser, and glared at the back of his head.
"Really, Sam? So, what, you get mad, take my Baby and friggin' leave my ass stranded? Not cool, man. Not cool."
Turning to face him, Sam cast his brother an indifferent look. He calmly walked back to his bed to stow away the folded shirts he held in his hands.
"How'd you make it home?"
Dean regarded him, incredulously. "You can't be serious. The hell's your problem?"
"My problem—" Sam said while neatly arranging his belongings. "—is how you think everything should be okay between us after what's happened."
"Sam—"
The younger Winchester halted his movements. "Don't." He whipped around. "Don't go there, Dean."
"The hell I won't." Determination blazing in his green eyes, Dean stepped further into the room. "I know what you're thinking, okay?"
"Really?" Sam shook his head as a humorless chuckle left his lips. "I'm not doing this with you right now."
"Doin' what, Sam? Talking about what's bothering you?"
"Yeah. Why don't you just go, alright?"
"No."
"Dean," Sam began to warn. "I mean it, go—"
Disregarding the seriousness behind his brother's words, he drew closer.
"Look at me, Sammy."
Sam hesitated. He dragged in a steady breath before lifting his gaze up from the floor to meet Dean's stare. The eldest brother could see the inner conflict in the other's eyes. Hardening his expression, he proceeded to speak.
"Listen. I know how jacked-up this is, alright? With Kevin dead and Gadreel falling off the map—"
"It's been a month," Sam stated somberly. "A whole month, and nothing. I...I can't live with myself, Dean. He was just a kid, and I—"
"It ain't your fault," Dean interjected. "That son of a bitch played us. No way in hell is Kevin's death on your hands."
A frown settled across Sam's face. "Us? He played you, Dean. None of this would've happened had you let me go. Hell, I was ready."
"Yeah? And what was I supposed to do? Let you die?"
"Yes."
The muscle in Dean's jaw twitched in anger. "You shut your mouth."
"Don't you get it, Dean? All this—" Sam waved his hand around for emphasis. "—it's your fault. Kevin, Gadreel. All of it. It's all on you."
"Don't you say that to me—"
"Had you not been selfish, he'd still be here."
"Selifsh?" Dean's eyes narrowed. "You're callin' me bringing you back from the brink of death selfish?"
"Tell me, Dean. Who'd you do it for?"
"What?"
Sam stepped forward. He fixed his brother a pointed look. "Who?" he asked again. "Who'd you bring me back for?"
A pause of silence fell over them. The younger Winchester held the other's gaze as anger swelled inside of him.
"You and I both know it wasn't for me. You brought me back solely because you're too afraid of being alone."
Dean clenched his fists at his sides. "That ain't true," he reproved.
"Oh, the hell it isn't!" Sam blared. "Everyone we've ever loved—mom, dad, Bobby—they're all gone. You couldn't live with the thought of being left here on your own. You didn't think about me. You thought about yourself—"
"Sam. So help me God, I'm about three seconds away from punching you in the face."
"Then go ahead. Do it. You know I'm right, Dean. You tricked me into being Gadreel's vessel, and because of that, I no longer trust you."
Dean's expression faltered. He let out a scoff of disbelief, his head shaking in refusal. "You don't mean that."
"For the first time, I actually do. I don't trust you, Dean, and to tell you the truth, I don't think I'll ever be able to see past all this."
"What are you trying to say, Sam?" Dean eyed his brother questioningly.
"I'm saying..." Sam paused. He swallowed hard, then expelled a burdened sigh. "I'm saying I can't forgive you."
The impact of Sam's word had felt like a hard blow to the face. Dean stared at his brother, jaw set into a hard line. He'd been thrown aback by the honesty in his voice.
"So that's it then?" he spoke, sounding resigned. "You're just gonna leave?"
"I'm gonna go after Gadreel."
"What?" Dean's eyes widened. "That dude's gone off the rails. He'll kill you first chance he gets."
"I know."
"Dammit, Sam. This is suicide—"
"Look," Sam cut in. "I've already made up my mind about it. I'm gonna find him and put an end to all this. For my sake, I have to."
Dean looked upon him in panic. "You can't go at it alone. Let me come with you; we'll gank that son of a bitch together."
"No. I have to do this alone." Sam stepped away to sweep up his duffel bag into his hands. He threw the strap over his shoulder, adjusting his jacket before brushing past Dean on his way to the door.
"Sam! Come on, don't do this, man."
He stopped just inside the doorway of his bedroom.
"You need me. You need me and you know it."
Slowly, Sam turned his head to steal a final glance at his brother. He surveyed the look of desperation in his eyes and shook his head as he reached a hand into the left pocket of his jacket.
"I don't need you." Fishing out the Impala's shiny set of keys, he gently tossed them onto the desk. "Not anymore."
Dean stood frozen in place. As he watched his brother disappear down the hall, his chest swelled with a variety of emotions he couldn't fully decipher. He didn't know how long he stood there for, but when his feet finally carried him out of the room, he quietly made his way through the bunker.
When he stepped into the library, he noticed the rest of Sam's belongings—like his laptop and tablet—were gone. He looked around. He approached one of the tables, his hands reaching to steady himself as they gripped the back of a chair. Dean bowed his head.
"You stupid, ungrateful son of a bitch."
His fingers locked around the chair. He clenched his jaw as he held onto it with white-knuckled force. A steady trembling rocked his entire being. He breathed in as a surge of heat gathered in his chest. The pit in his stomach seemed to further expand with his bubbling rage, and it was taking him everything not to snap.
Luckily, something happened that momentarily distracted him. The sound of the iron door leading out of the bunker creaked open. He snapped his head up, expecting to see his brother returning.
The soft patter of steady footsteps reached his ears before the figure of a woman appeared on the staircase. He watched her descend, her eyes casting a curious look around her surroundings. She reached the final landing, fixing him a warm smile as her eyes met his.
"Hey."
"Hey," Dean gruffly acknowledged.
"Sorry to barge in like this. You were taking a while, and I just couldn't help myself. I had to see what this place was all about." Slowly, she circled the operations room. "I gotta say, Winchester. I'm jealous."
Alaine studied all the outdated equipment around her. There was a glint of excitement in her eyes as she swept her hands along the switchboard operator.
"Man, this is so cool. How old is this? I wonder if it even runs anymore."
"It doesn't."
Alaine turned to glance at Dean. She cast him an expectant look, urging him to explain.
"None of this stuff works. This place is more like a museum if you ask me."
"That's a bummer."
Dean studied her. She continued to move around the room. She stopped at the oval table in the center to inspect the giant world map displayed across it. She leaned forward, her fingers moving to tuck her hair behind her ear.
"Whoa. This is seriously awesome. How long have you been living here?"
"Close to a year now."
Alaine picked up one of the ancient tomes sitting on the table. She turned it around in her hands before delving into its pages. "I'm sure there has to be some crazy story behind you guys finding this place."
"Listen, Alaine..." She met his gaze again, forcing him to let out a heavy sigh. He moved from his place inside of the library to join her in the adjoining room. "I hate to sound like a dick, but now ain't a good time. I know you wanted the grand tour and all..."
"Oh. I take it things didn't go too well with Sam?"
Dean's expression hardened. "I'd rather not talk about it."
Alaine nodded in understanding. She fixed him a small smile in hopes of masking her disappointment. "I get it. You want me to go."
For some strange, unknown reason, the thought of Alaine leaving didn't sit right with him. Probably because that wasn't what he wanted at all.
"I guess we'll have to rain-check on that home-cooked dinner too. Damn, I was really looking forward to seeing you slave over a hot stove."
Reluctantly, she set the book back down. She noticed there was a pen sitting on the table near a stack of papers. She thought for a moment.
"Alaine, wait. I—"
"How about I leave you my number? Whenever you get out of this funk you're in, you give me a call."
Dean watched her scribble down a set of numbers across a sheet of paper. She wrote her name next to it in the finest handwriting he'd ever seen, topping it off with a little smiley face. She then capped the pen, and turned to look at him.
"It was really good seeing you again, Dean." A meaningful smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.
"Alaine—"
She took notice of the change in his rugged voice. He stepped forward, hands at his sides as an emotion she couldn't quite figure out danced around in his gaze.
"Don't go."
"I thought you wanted me to leave."
A slow smile crept along his lips. "I never said that."
Alaine blinked. "Really? I jumped the gun, didn't I?"
"Always with the assumptions. Looks like someone hasn't changed."
A wide grin broke out on her face. She whacked him over the shoulder and laughed. "Yeah, and you're still a pain in the ass."
"Can't say you're wrong."
"Alright, Winchester. Now that we've established that you do want my company, does that mean I get my tour now?"
"Not necessarily." Dean smiled. "There's something I want to ask you, just don't take it the wrong way."
"Okay, like that doesn't sound the least bit suspicious."
"Hear me out. It's something I've been mullin' over since we left Tennessee."
Alaine regarded him apprehensively. "I'm listening."
Again, the unknown emotion she'd seen in his eyes moments earlier flickered across his features once more. It was just for a fleeting moment. She studied him curiously as he brought himself to say whatever it was he had circling around in his mind.
"Alright. I'm just gonna come out with it...I think you should move in."
Alaine's pulse came to a screeching halt. "I'm sorry. What?"
"I was thinking about how you were tellin' me you had no place to go, and how you've been bouncin' around for years. I know how tough it is not having a real roof over your head. This place...it ain't much, but there's a bunch of empty rooms with beds in 'em. You could, I don't know...settle in, make this place your home for as long as you want."
"Dean..." Alaine paused to study the sincerity in his eyes. She'd spoken a little about her life while they'd been driving down to Kansas. She didn't tell him much, but the little she revealed was enough to earn his pity. That was the last thing she wanted. "I don't know."
"Listen, if it's me you're worried about—"
"No. No, that's not it."
"I know this is a lot to process. Hell, now that I think about it, I kinda feel stupid for even asking."
She smiled. "Don't. I appreciate the gesture."
Dean's expression shifted into something more serious. "You probably think I'm crazy, don't you?"
"I've always thought you were a little nutty."
"Yeah, thanks."
Alaine sighed. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket and rocked back on her heels. She cast another look around her, taking into consideration the offer Dean just placed before her. There was no way she could pass this up, pity or not.
"You know, I can't say the idea of living here doesn't excite me. This place...it's like a hunter's dream come to life."
"So, is that a yes?"
Alaine had already made up her mind. She smiled at Dean. "I guess I do need a more permanent place to stay, and it's not like we're strangers."
"Smart girl."
"But before anything, we're gonna have to set some ground rules. I am a woman after all, and don't think for a second that I haven't heard the tales of your many escapades. Your name has a habit of getting around a lot."
Dean raised up his hands in defense. "Don't worry. I'll be on my best behavior."
Dean hadn't cooked dinner like Alaine had hoped. It had already been late, and by the time she'd been finished dragging in her belongings from her car and setting herself up in one of of the bedrooms, it was well past midnight. She'd been given a brief tour and was shown to the kitchen, shower rooms, and surprisingly the gun range before Dean disappeared out of the bunker on a food run.
She'd taken the time to shower and change into more comfortable clothes before deciding to further explore her new home. She wandered aimlessly through the halls, peeking past every closed door she came across. She was amazed at how big the bunker was, and how many cool things laid hidden within it. She found an archives room with hundreds of files and books written by a group of scholars called the Men of Letters. Dean had given her a brief rundown on their history, and how he and Sam were something called legacies. He'd seemed so excited to talk about it.
After an hour or so, Alaine found herself in the kitchen. There'd been a few dishes sitting in the sink that she decided to do Dean the favor of washing. She also took care of cleaning out the fridge of old take-out cartons and expired food.
By the time Dean returned, Alaine had settled herself into one of the leather chairs in the library. She had her legs thrown over the armrest while she read through the pages of a book on Pagan gods. She'd heard when the bunker's door slammed shut, and peaked hear head out from around the chair to glance into the operations room.
"Alaine? You out here?"
She watched Dean come down the stairs. In his hands he held several grocery bags. Setting her book down, she clambered out of her seat and rushed out to meet him halfway.
"I'm here. Come, let me help you with those. You look like you're about to keel over."
Alaine strutted over to Dean. He stopped at the bottom landing, turning to cast a glance her way. He froze, his eyes falling to her chosen attire. She was wearing black sleep shorts. The thin, cotton material hugged the wide expanse of her hips, and displayed to his full view the silky, tanned skin of her thick thighs. Although there was nothing really special about what she was wearing, Dean couldn't deny that she looked absolutely breathtaking.
He took a moment to compose himself. He cleared his throat and plastered a smile to his face as she drew close.
"Uh, thanks. I could really use a hand."
"No problem."
Outstrecthing his right arm, Dean held out the groceries for her to take. She approached, and carefully pried them out of his grasp. As she stood before him, his six-foot frame towering over her relatively smaller one, Dean was smacked with a mind-numbing fragrance that wafted into his nose.
It was the most intoxicating thing he'd ever smelled. It was a well-blended combination of lavender and sandalwood that seemed to cling to her skin. He wasn't sure if it was a perfume, or some kind of lotion, but whatever it was, it managed to put him under its spell.
"Hey, earth to Dean. You there?"
Dean blinked, snapping himself back into focus. "Sorry. What'd you say?"
"I was asking you if you'd like me to put the groceries away."
Alaine eyed him curiously. He'd seemed a bit flustered from her perspective, which sounded absolutely ridiculous when she thought about it. Dean Winchester? Nervous? She observed the hunter's eyes quickly dart away from her face, as if an attempt to look at anything else but her. He cleared his throat once again.
"Sure. You can do that. I, uh...I'm gonna go take a shower and hit the sack. Today's been a real long day."
"Okay."
He fixed her a sidelong glance, smiling awkwardly. "Okay."
Without another word, Dean sauntered off towards the kitchen to deposit the remaining bags of groceries before heading to his bedroom.
About an hour later, Alaine found herself walking the halls. She'd finished up stocking the fridge with all of the food Dean had purchased, and was ready to head off to bed. As she wandered down the corridor, she noticed the door to his bedroom had been left slightly ajar. She decided to stop by to stay goodnight before going to her room. Quietly, she approached. She wasn't sure if he'd fallen asleep, so she carefully peeked through the crack in the door.
The light from the overhead lamp cast a yellow glow. It covered Dean's relaxed features in delicate shadows that accentuated the sharp angles of his face. He was resting over his bed, his back propped up against a pillow. His fingers were laced together over his torso. He was staring up at the ceiling, a pair of headphones sitting on his head.
Alaine figured he'd showered like he had said. He no longer wore the flannel and jeans from today, but instead a plain black t-shirt and a pair of matching boxer-briefs. His long, bowed legs were outstretched on the mattress, his skin pulled taut over the strong muscles of his thighs. From where she stood, she was greatful she hadn't gotten an eyeful of his nether region. It was a bit dark, so the only thing she could make out with clarity was his face.
Raising a hand, she pushed the door open a bit. The movement had caught his attention from across the room, prompting his gaze to snap over to where Alaine now stood just inside the doorway. She smiled warmly as he pulled the headphones down to rest around his neck.
"Hey. Did you need something?"
Alaine shook her head. "No. I was on my way to bed when I noticed your door was open. I just wanted to check in on you, and say goodnight."
"Oh." Dean returned her smile with one of his own. "Alright. Goodnight then."
"Night." She turned to leave, but paused. "You know," she said, glancing over at him. "I'm really glad we ran into each other. I've been on my own for so long. Having a friend again...feels pretty refreshing. Thanks for letting me stay here, Dean. I honestly appreciate it."
"You went out of your way to drive sixteen hours just to bring me back home. I thought offering you a place to stay would be better than a tour, or a one-time meal."
Alaine chuckled. "You got that right. Best thing about it is, I can now force you to cook for me whenever I want."
"Oh, you don't gotta force me, sweetheart. It'll be my pleasure. I mean, it's the least I can do."
"Looks like you haven't changed a bit, Winchester." She smiled. "Get some shut-eye, I'll see you in the morning."
