A/N: I wanted to start with an Author's Note this time to warn everyone one last time that I am a new SPN fan and mention that some things throughout the story (because I'm a new fan and because this is a work of fiction and some things are tweaked for the story's purpose) may not be canon. Now, please enjoy this long, fluffy chapter. Thanks! The song mentioned later is 'Lulabelle' by Hanson.

The ride to Kure Beach was tense, to say the least. The only sound was the music blaring from the stereo. Every time Sam turned it down to start a conversation, Dean turned it back up without even moving his eyes from the road.

Once into the town, Sam navigated Dean towards an oceanfront hotel that was a little nicer than they would normally stay in. South bounced out of the backseat before anyone could say anything, and into the lobby.

"What is this?" Dean asked.

"She wanted to do something nice for us, for helping her – and I think probably to make up for not telling you about Dylan, and arguing with you about coming along."

Well, that was just perfect. How was he supposed to stay irritated with her when she was trying to make amends?

Sam climbed out of the passenger seat to retrieve their three bags from the trunk, along with a couple of weapons. Dean watched as South came back out from the lobby and pointed to one of the rooms just down the sidewalk before handing Sam a key. She sauntered over to the car; Dean got out, locking the door behind him.

"Thanks, I guess," he mumbled out. "Nicer than most places we crash at."

"I figured," South answered, not at all condescending or smart. "I'm sorry I've been such a pain in the ass. I just thought all of this part of my life was over, you know? Weird things happening, and the psychic stuff, and, well, you. I thought I was moving on, and then all that stuff started happening. It's not an excuse, so don't look at me that way. I just – I'm sorry. I'm glad to see you again, even if I don't act like it. Let's have a hell of a night tonight, and we'll finish this tomorrow. What do you say?"

"We should really take care of it tonight," Dean answered.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a few seconds. "Nothing's coming tonight, Dean. It's just the three of us."

She looked up at him with those tainted purple eyes, and he had the sudden urge to hold her. He ventured to reach out for her hand. South laced her fingers through his and swallowed hard.

"Let's go get some liquor," Dean finally smiled.

.&.

South couldn't help but laugh as Sam took another shot of tequila, wincing as the top-shelf, clear liquor slid down his throat.

"Shouldn't burn that much," Dean scoffed. "We got the good stuff."

Sam threw down the lime peel on the table and shook his head. "I'll never understand how you two can drink so much tequila."

"And I'll never understand how you can't," South returned. "Did we not teach you anything back in high school?"

Recovered from the shot, Sam waved his hands in the air. "All right, enough of my inability to shoot tequila. South, it's your turn."

"No abilities this time!" Dean warned with a playful smile.

South laughed as Sam poured more tequila than he should have into the glass, and she lined up a quarter. Yes, she had used her abilities somewhat, but promised not to anymore. They were getting elusive at this point anyway; South was a nephilim, yes, but she was a balanced nephilim. Her abilities and skills teetered extremely precariously on the line between mortal and fallen angel. After all the years of living purely mortal, and her fallen angel side only peeking through without summons from time to time, she found that balancing that line was something she had to learn all over again.

She let out a deep breath and bounced the quarter, but it missed completely. Groaning, she reached for the glass, took the shot, and then sucked the lime. She was pouring a shot for Dean when Sam started to gag.

"Oh Lord, he's gonna chunk," she said, praying he made it to the bathroom before he vomited.

"Sammy," Dean warned. "You gonna puke, you'd better head that way now!"

"I just need to go to bed – in the bathtub," Sam mumbled out as he stumbled to the bathroom.

Dean was up and out of his chair, helping his brother. After a couple of minutes and a shot by herself, South could hear the retching sounds coming from the bathroom. Dean came out to the small kitchen area, grabbed a bottle of water, then pulled a blanket and pillow from one of the beds. He disappeared into the bathroom again, and emerged a few minutes later, shaking his head.

"I love that kid, but he's gotta learn to hold his liquor."

South smiled in empathy. "He's like 50 feet tall. I don't know how he gets drunk at all."

"It's all in experience I guess," Dean replied, taking the shot South had started to pour before Sam got sick. "He'll be sleeping on the tile, I'm pretty sure."

South poured another shot and pushed it toward Dean. "Took one while you were helping him, so you've got to catch up."

Dean downed it, eyes on her the whole time. South could feel something warming in her stomach, and it wasn't the tequila. She needed fresh air.

"Come out to the patio with me," South prodded him. "I want to smell the ocean."

Dean obliged her without a word, opening the slider for her to pass through. She smiled at him as she walked by, a genuinely happy expression. Dean felt happier for it.

Once outside, South closed her eyes and let the ocean breeze blow through her hair and over her face. "I love the ocean. You know? Life seems so simple when I'm close to the ocean. Everything just makes sense and I can … I can breathe here, Dean. Really breathe."

How was he suddenly doing so much thinking before he spoke around her? He opened his mouth to tell her how alive she looked; how she had changed just since they stepped outside. But he could't keep pulling her to him. As much as he wanted to, it wasn't fair. She had a man, and if that man made her happy, that was all Dean needed to know.

He leaned forward on the wooden rail of the patio. "So this Dylan kid – how did you meet him?"

"You really want to talk about this?"

Hell, no. "Sure, let's hear it."

She slid onto the rail, balancing carefully, her feet dangling on the sand side of the patio. "Thatcher's. He came through town on his way back to base from training or a leave back home – I can't remember – and it was nothing out of the ordinary, except I knew he was going to be important. The next weekend, he came back. Then he started coming through during the week. Finally, he asked me on a date, and that was that."

She looked so happy. "And he's good to you? Treats you right?"

"No, you don't need to kick his ass," South smirked. "I'll be right back."

She squirmed through the slider; Dean turned to lean against the rail in an effort to watch her. She peeked in on Sam before finding a spare sheet in the closet and grabbing a bottle of tequila. He chuckled to himself as she took a swig while she fought to open the slider again.

"Come on, let's sit on the sand," South beckoned.

Dean didn't say anything, simply followed her onto the beach. He helped her spread the sheet out not too far from the patio, then commandeered the tequila for himself.

"Liquor hog," he sneered.

"Jackass."

He laughed, handed the bottle back over to her, and leaned back on one elbow. "You really love Dylan?"

"Oh, wow." South took a deep breath and a gulp of tequila, the set the bottle in the sand. "I mean, we've been together for a couple of years, and yeah – yeah, I love him. Not like – I don't know. Not like I thought I would love the man I would marry."

He wanted to ask her how sure she was about the seemingly imminent marriage, but he was already killing her buzz. He could tell. He didn't want to broach on their past, that wouldn't help either. Still, they had some good memories, there had to be something eh could bring up without irritating her.

"Hey, do you remember that first hunt I took you on?" he started.

South snorted. "The one we thwarted from the fathers and barely made it out alive from?"

"That's the one," Dean grinned. "I was trying to impress you, and you ended up impressing me. I had no idea you knew that much about any of it until you bound that ghost back to its grave."

"Well, no bones or remains of any kind, what else were we supposed to do?" South smiled, tried not to be cocky. "Never would have been alive to finish the binding chant if you and Sam hadn't acted so fast with the salt rounds."

They laughed about it together, remembering their clumsy save, and the harsh grounding that followed after from their parents. A month of nothing but school, chores, and staring at the ceiling had been well worth the satisfaction they all felt at the beginning of their relationship. He snuck her down to the tent rom at the Mosely's house that same night and kissed her for the first time.

Guilt shot through him when he thought about the last time he had kissed her, when she hadn't even known it was the last time. He had been so unfair to her, and Lord knows he hadn't wanted to leave. But, Sam was right. He was afraid he would pick her over the job – and not just in his heart. That tender balancing act she performed every day between her mortal and angel heritage could give out one day, and rebellion would be her only purpose. He would have to hunt her then, and end the evil that controlled her. He could stand neither the idea of ending her, nor the idea of letting her hurt anyone. At that point, it became easier to distance himself from her.

Yes, like she had said that first night, he had humiliated her. The whole school knew that Dean Winchester was supposed to escort her to her senior prom, with some elaborate plan to spoil her all the way from pictures to dinner to the dance to after-prom. But when the night came, she was all dressed up, and Dean was around the corner in the Impala, watching for the fall-out. There were a lot of tears, and to this day he didn't know if she went to that dance.

"You're a million miles away," South said softly, pulling him from his thoughts.

"I was just thinking – well, wondering, you know, if you, uh, went to your senior prom."

South sat up straight and finished off the tequila. She pulled her knees to her chest and nodded. "I did. After I re-did my make-up and pulled myself together, I made a couple of calls. My dad dropped me off with Marissa and those girls. We weren't close, but I had a decent time."

"You looked beautiful."

She frowned back at him.

"I was around the corner. I know, it's the chickenshit thing to do, but – I wanted to see you, even if I knew it was over by then."

South swallowed hard. "I don't want to know why. Not right now. I mean, if that's where you were going with that."

Dean sat up and reached out to wipe her tears. "I'm sorry, South."

"Me, too," she replied. "For being mad for so long. You ready to head back inside?"

"Yeah, sounds good. We should get some rest before tomorrow."

He helped her gather the sheet and shake it out, and they made way back up to the patio, where South dropped the sheet in a fold-out chair.

She turned to him just before they went inside. "What if we just call a permanent truce on all that shit, Dean? What's done is done. We can't go back and change it, and we can't change where we are now. But we can be friends again. This was nice tonight, just talking and catching up. I wanted to be able to look forward to it happening again. Let's just wipe the slate clean and start over. Please?"

Dean smiled. "Sounds good to me, but I think I'm getting the better end of the deal."

South laughed and held her hand out to him. "All right then. Dean Winchester – gosh, it's been almost eleven years. How the hell are you? It's so good to see you again!"

"It's good to see you too, South," Dean returned, gently shaking her hand.

Their eyes met over the handshake, and that was all it took. In a matter of a few seconds, South's back was against the slider. Dean's hands were holding her face, and her arms were pulling him closer. The kiss was not as urgent as one would have expected it to be, but there was certainly and eagerness behind it.

For South, kissing Dean was like the ocean. Life was even simpler, those few loose ends came together, and her lungs felt as though they were taking in air for the first time. It was an ease and contentment she had not experienced for far too long.

Dean felt like he was coming home. A future he had never been concerned with much before started to take shape in his mind; images so crisp they might as well have been reality.

South in one of his flannel shirts and a pair of jeans. She was barefoot and coming out to meet him on the front porch of an American-dream house. It was fall, with red and orange and yellow leaves falling from trees in the late afternoon sun. Then, children's cries could be heard from inside the house: one gleefully called him Daddy, and the other was a much younger cry, the kind that belonged to an infant. A little girl with curly brown pigtails and brilliant purple eyes came out to the porch, and Dean swept her up in his arms while South excused herself to check on their son.

He hadn't noticed her forehead against his or the parting of their mouths until South went nearly limp in his arms.

"South," he pleaded. "South, come on, answer me."

A lazy smile spread across her lips. "Sorry. That one took a lot out of me."

Dean rolled his eyes and half-carried, half-walked her to where she could sit on the bed. He went to get her a glass of water and kneeled in front of her while she drank the whole thing down.

"Between the tequila and your little mind trick outside, I really think you've outdone yourself," he told her while he checked her for any signs of anything other than perfect health.

"I'm fine," she promised. "And that little mind trick was both of us, buddy."

"Both of us?"

She tapped her temple. "If I tip a little more to that non-mortal side, I can take my thoughts and your thoughts and manipulate reality."

"Hence why it seemed so real," Dean surmised, taking a seat next to her.

She nodded, once. The light-headedness from her "mind trick" had passed, but the tequila she was still feeling the full effects of. She let out a deep sigh and set her chin on his shoulder.

"Dance with me," she whispered.

Dean laughed and put an arm around her. "You are either more drunk or more out of it than I ever thought you could be."

South shook her head and wriggled out from under his arm. "Come on, Dean. You stood me up, and therefore, you owe me."

Well, she had him there. Admitting defeat, he pulled her from the bed with him. He put one hand on her hip, and she placed one arm over his shoulder. Their free hands joined, and he swayed them back and forth.

Beauty queen that you are
Put you down for the missing star

Take your picture for all the world to see
Lulabelle's leaving the ball
No more reason to stay
People to see but everyone here knows your name
From the light on your face and the frame that hangs in the hall
Where lovely girls go
Lulabelle goes
Lulabelle knows

It was a little known fact – meaning only her parents and the Winchesters ever knew – that her first name was, in fact, Lulabelle. Southern, her mother's maiden name and her middle name, had turned into South before she was even born. South laughed softly as she looked up at him. The song was actually kind of sad, but since he had heard it, he had sang to her many times.

"I had almost forgotten about that song," she confessed. "Almost."

"Yeah? Not me. Sam caught me singing it to myself while I shaved the other day."

She laughed. Dean Winchester was not easily embarrassed, but this, she knew, had embarrassed him. Showing vulnerability wasn't his best quality, either. South couldn't help herself; she went up on tiptoe to kiss him again.

The dancing stopped and everything got quiet. Dean embraced her around the shoulders, feeling her hair fall over his hands. It was amazing, having her close again. But, his mind, hellbent on ruining everything, reminded him that she was drunk, and not his.

"South," he whispered, taking a step back. "We shouldn't be doing this."

South had the decency not to look surprised that he said that. And, really, she wasn't. "I'm not under any delusions here. I know that we can't just – and I can't just –" Damn it, why couldn't she finish a sentence? "It's so stupid, so out of character for me. I just thought, after the kiss on the patio, maybe we would have this one last night and then we could finally move on with our lives."

"What about Dylan?"

Her eyes teared up again, effectively breaking his heart. "I have so far to go with him. Yes, he says he wants to marry me, and I love him and I know he'd be good for me. But he doesn't know what you know. He doesn't know about my parents and my background. He doesn't know that my name is Lulabelle. He doesn't know – there's a lot, it seems like."

Dean took a deep breath and studied her carefully. "All right. I'll give you these next couple of days. Tonight and tomorrow, but whenever we're back in town, that's it. This is our closure, South."

She nodded and hooked her pinky with his. "Closure. I promise."

"Me too," he replied, slinking closer to her. Before he could kiss her again, he stepped back and held up his index finger. "This could get loud, I better make sure the bathroom door is shut. Don't want to wake up Sam."

South laughed as he ran off to the bathroom and then came back to her. He tickled her sides as they backed up to the bed. She laughed even harder and reached out to pinch her sides.

Doing them both a favor, she changed reality, just a bit, just for the night. This was exactly where they were supposed to be, and tonight would lead to other nights that would lead to the future Dean had seen earlier. She worried about overexerting herself again, but found that that small reality was the easiest illusion she had ever put out there.