Chapter Three

"Stacey! Stacey, god dammit, wake up!"

It took all of my strength to open my eyes. A splitting headache greeted me when I tried to sit up and I cried out in pain. "Whoa! Hold still, sweetie." Morgan held my shoulders down, keeping me from moving.

"What happened?" I asked, wincing from the rush of pain from moving my jaw.

"Your agent was possessed." Dean spoke quietly, sitting back on his haunches.

"Possessed?" Henriksen repeated in disbelief. "Possessed by what?"

"A demon, Victor." Dean answered.

"Where is he?"

"He didn't survive the exorcism." Sam said apologetically.

"He was my best agent! He's the one who told me you two were coming to Quantico!" Henriksen yelled.

"Owen's dead?" I sat up straight in shock, ignoring the flash of pain.

"Sometimes, the exorcisms don't work. The demon refused to let him go." Dean explained. "When that happens, they usually die."

"This is what you two do, then?" Hotch asked, shaking slightly as he sank down into a chair.

"Why were you two coming here, anyway?" Henriksen said suddenly.

"We read about a couple weird deaths around here and wanted to check it out." Sam began.

"Of course, we weren't expecting to be ambushed by Victor in the diner a couple days ago." Dean added.

An odd silence fell over the room. "They're going to have to stay in town, preferably in your custody while I figure out what to do about them and their warrants." Henriksen broke the tension.

"They can stay with me." I offered.

"You need to get checked by a doctor." Hotch said sternly. "Not worrying about the Winchesters."

"Look, you're going to make me stay home tomorrow, anyways. And this is nothing a drink and a couple aspirin can't handle. No doctor needed."

"Morgan, drive them to her house then."

"Whoa. I can drive. No way in hell I'm leaving my baby here unsupervised for three days." I protested.

"Anastasia-" Hotch started.

"No. I'll be fine. See you guys Monday." I grabbed my jacket and purse.

Dean and Sam followed me to the parking lot, straight to my sleek black 1969 Chevy Corvette Stingray. Dean whistled appreciatively. "Nice ride."

"Thanks. I bought her for five hundred-frame only."

"Who restored her?" He asked as we sped onto the highway.

"I did." I answered. "It took me a year and lots of blood, sweat, and tears, but I got her done."

When we pulled up to my house, I noticed my best friend, Lucas Blake, wasn't home yet. It was probably for the best though, as he could be a little crazy. I unlocked the front door and let the brothers in. "Nice place." Sam said, looking around.

"Thanks." I heard the purr of Lucas's Porsche pull up. "Guest room's all the way down the hall, last door on your left. Bathroom's next to it."

"Awesome." Dean and Sam headed to the room.

The door opened again and Lucas's smooth voice filtered into the kitchen. "Stacey, I need alcohol!"

I poured him a glass of red wine and handed it to him, sitting down in my recliner. "Bad day, Luke?" I asked as he kissed me on the cheek.

"It was horrible." He sighed dramatically as Dean and Sam came back to the living room. Lucas's grey eyes scanned Sam quickly and his lips curled up in a happy smirk. "Is it my birthday, dearie?"

"Down boy." I grinned. "Sam, Dean, this is Luke, my best friend and roommate. Luke, this is Sam and Dean Winchester. They'll be staying with us for a few days."

He turned to me, his eyes lit up mischievously. "Is this the same Dean you talked to for over three years after that night at Julian's?"

Dean smirked. "You talked about me?"

"Don't you two need some sleep or something?"

"Actually, yeah. Come on, Sammy. We have to talk."

As soon as the guest door shut, Lucas plopped down on the couch, listening as I filled him in on everything that's happened. "Holy shit." He breathed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. They just have to stay here until Henriksen decides what to do." Dean and Sam sat down, a disgruntled expression on Dean's face. "Problem?"

"Yeah. Victor still has my car keys." He grumbled.

"Can't you pick the lock like you did with the handcuffs?"

"Uh, no. I'm not scratching up my baby."

"Alright, then." I shook my head. "Pizza?"

Lucas smiled happily. "I already did. Two large supreme and one medium pepperoni. Think that's enough?"

I nodded. Sam turned his gaze to Dean. "So, how exactly do you two know each other?"

"We met at a bar about four years ago, right before you came back and we ended up sleeping together."

"That's it?" Sam scoffed. "I figured it was more than that. You talked to her for a while."

"Speaking of, what gives?" I asked. "You stopped texting or calling about-"

"Eight months ago." Dean finished. "Yeah. I, uh, didn't have a phone where I went."

"And where was that? The Congo?"

He chuckled. "It was about as hot."

When the pizza arrived, conversation ceased. "Where are we sleeping?" Sam asked, swallowing the last bite.

"You can always sleep with me." Lucas said, winking at Sam.

I slapped his arm. "Either both of you in the guest room or one of you can sleep on the couch."

"Thanks, Agent." Sam got to his feet. "Mind if I take a shower?"

"Not at all. Make yourself at home, Sam."

He ducked into the hallway, closing the bathroom door behind him. "You got an extra bathroom?" Dean yawned, stretching.

"Yeah. Down the short hall behind us in my room. Door's open."

Thirty minutes later, Lucas was in his room and Sam was passed on in the guest room. "Guess I'm on the couch then." Dean said jokingly. "Sam takes up the whole bed."

I chuckled, working on my report. "If you're not okay with that, I can sleep in here."

"No can do."

"Okay, okay. Need a blanket or pillow?"

Dean shook his head. "I'll be alright." He paused. "I'm really glad we met again, even though it was under these sucky circumstances."

"Me too."

He kissed my cheek. "Night, darling."

"Good night, Dean."

On Sunday afternoon, my last full day with the Winchesters, Sam was already looking for another case and Dean and I were outside in the pool. "What's after this for you?" I asked curiously.

He shrugged. "Back to normal, I guess."

"Are you going to keep in touch this time?" I realized we were almost touching and I moved to back up, but Dean's rough hands landed gently on my hips, stopping me.

"Do you want me to?" He asked quietly, not breaking eye contact with me.

"Yes." I moved my arms from my side to around his neck. "Yes, I do."

He grinned, touching his forehead to mine. "Good. So, since this is hopefully my last night, can we…"

"Not until Henriksen makes a decision, Dean." I said regretfully.

"You have visitors!" Sam yelled from inside.

Dean and I grabbed towels and wrapped them around our waists. "Hotch! What are you and Henriksen doing here?" I asked, surprised to see them.

"You and your brother are cleared of all charges." Henriksen said suddenly, speaking to Dean. "And, since we couldn't find your car, here's the key."

"Well, well. Looks like you proved me wrong, Victor." Dean placed the key on the table behind him. "Thanks, Agent."

Hotch and Henriksen shook hands with the Winchesters. "Good luck with whatever it is you two do." Hotch said politely.

"Stay safe." Henriksen added. "You need anything, don't hesitate to call."

"Thanks again, agents."

Sam went back to his laptop and Dean left to go find his car. I dove back into the pool, getting five laps in before I heard a smooth running car pulled into the driveway. Dean then rejoined me in the water. "Now, where were we, darling?"

"I was turning you down." I said cheekily, swimming away.

"Too bad." He caught up with me. "I guess I'll go get Sam and we'll leave."

I grabbed his arm. "One more night won't hurt."

"Maybe not."

Later that night, Dean was stretched out on my bed beside me. He smelled the same as before-leather, musk, whiskey, and something uniquely Dean. "I'm glad you're not a psychopath."

He rolled his eyes. "I'd say I'm glad you're not a fed, but-"

"Oh shut up." I straddled his waist, lacing our fingers together. "You better not stop talking to me this time."

"I have a better idea." He reversed our positions, brushing his lips against mine. "How about you come with me and Sam for a couple weeks?"

"Will Sam care?"

"He'll be fine with it." Dean assured me. "Now stop talking, darling."

"Dammit, Dean!" Sam almost yelled the next morning. "She's not going!"

Sam's loud voice woke me up and I stumbled out of bed, wondering what was going on.

"Sam, stop being stupid. She's going with us. Go get your bags."

"She's a civilian!" Sam argued. "She could get herself or us hurt!"

"Do you have a problem with me going?" I asked, moving in between Sam and Dean.

"This job isn't for everyone, Agent."

"Neither is mine, Sam."

After I let Hotch know I was taking two weeks of my vacation time, I packed a duffel bag and locked my Corvette in the garage. "You ready, darling?"

"Yeah."

He tossed our bags into the trunk of the sleek black 1967 Chevy Impala and I climbed in, sitting between the brothers. "Welcome to greasy diners, shitty motel rooms, and living nightmares. Think you can handle it?"

"I'm pretty sure I can, Dean."

He rested his hand on my knee. "Good. Get ready for the most fun you've ever had."

Sam scoffed, scooting toward the window. I sighed. This was going to be a long two weeks.