Disclaimer: Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 2x6: "No Exit" belong to writer Matt Witten. The lyrics to "Hooked on a Feeling" belong to Mark James.
Tawny belongs to me.
Lips as sweet as candy,
Their taste stays on my mind.
Girl, you keep me thirsty for another cup of wine.
I got it bad for you girl, but I don't need a cure,
I'll just stay addicted, if I can endure
All the good love, when we're all alone
Keep it up girl, yeah you turn me on.
If Tawny sat down to calculate it, she probably would have found that she'd spent weeks waiting on the front porch, staring down the driveway, her stomach doing flips as she waited to hear the rumble of the Impala turning off of Route 29 onto their property. She would sit there, sometimes for hours, longing for her father. Once, when she was nine, she sat out there all night, fidgeting until she saw John pulling up, Bobby in the passenger's seat. There was even a worn spot in the old wood, starting out small and growing with her. Now, here she sat, fidgeting like she did when she was little, waiting to hear the familiar growl of the Impala. Only this time she wouldn't be throwing herself into Bobby's arms, burying her face in his vest; she'd be jumping on Dean, hugging him close. Hearing him on the phone wasn't enough; the words "I'm alright" never made it real. She had to hold him, to see with her own eyes he was still in one piece.
She heard Rummy's deep bark before she heard the car, but as soon as she did she stood, jumping down off of the raised part of the porch, her feet bare on the dusty driveway. Dean was grinning at her when he pulled up. She approached the car as he parked it, turning off the ignition as she fumbled with the handle. She finally pulled the door open, watching as Dean climbed out. He was barely standing when Tawny was in his arms, holding him tight.
"Did ya miss me or something?" he joked, but his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer. She breathed in his scent, leather and gunpowder and sweat and blood and Dean filling her lungs and making her head swim. She heard as Sam got out of the car, the door smacking shut, and she pulled away. Sam was grinning at her.
"S'cute," he said quietly. Tawny rolled her eyes and turned, practically sprinting around the front of the car, building up the momentum to jump into Sam's arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her bare feet hooking at his lower back, and she looped her arms around his shoulders, squeezing tightly.
"I missed you, Sammy!" she said, enthusiasm that wasn't entirely sarcastic in her voice. Sam laughed, hugging her back. She pulled away, her arms still around his shoulders, his holding her up.
"I heard about your hand," she said quietly, kissing the tip of his nose. "I'm sorry."
Sam shrugged. "Job hazard," he said simply, and Tawny nodded. She looked around at Dean, who had their bags in his hands.
"Okay, you guys are adorable. Can we please go in now? I'm freaking starving," he said, heading towards the door. Tawny rolled her eyes. It was something she found herself doing a lot around Dean. She moved to get down but Sam tightened his grip, holding her there as he started walking.
"Sam! Put me down!" she laughed, smacking his shoulder. He only grinned mischievously, quickly climbing the four steps onto the porch and getting the door open with one hand. He walked into the kitchen, where Dean was digging around in the fridge.
"Lookin' for something?" she asked as Sam set her down on the counter. Dean glanced up at her, a sour look on his face.
"Beer," he grunted.
"Dad went into town to pick some up. He should be back soon," she said, sliding off the counter. Dean closed the door with a huff. Tawny watched him, knowing that the two weeks on the road after they'd dropped her off had been hard on him. He'd called her when they'd picked up the two cases since what she called the Gordon Walker disaster, trying to keep her in the loop as much as possible. He would tell her about their day and then sneak off to the bathroom, wishing it was Tawny touching him, his breath harsh in the phone until he came.
Now, here he was, standing in the kitchen, looking all flushed and upset and downright needy, and Tawny was suddenly fed up with the secrecy.
"Hey, Sam," she said, turning to look at him. He was sitting at the kitchen table and he looked up at her, eyebrows raised. "Dean and I need to tell you something."
Dean looked at her, his eyes wide. She scoffed at him.
"Oh, come on. You know it's easier just to tell him," she said. Dean finally gave in, sitting at the table across from Sam. She smiled faintly.
"Uh, Dean and I – we're, uh," she stammered, trying to find the words. She looked at Dean for help.
"We're together," Dean said for her, looking at his brother. Sam looked between them. "Together, like… together," he asked stupidly, and Tawny nodded.
"Yeah, Sammy, like we-have-sex-when-you're-getting-a-pizza together," Dean said sharply, leaning back. Tawny shot him a look while Sam cleared his throat.
"Well," he finally said awkwardly. "That's… I'm happy for you guys," he finished, smiling up at Tawny. She smiled back and was about to sit when Dean stood and grabbed her hand.
"If you don't mind, Sam, I'm gonna go blow off some steam," he said bluntly, dragging Tawny out of the room.
"Smells good."
Tawny looked up from the pot of stew she was stirring and turned to look at Dean. He'd showered and changed into a fresh pair of jeans and shirt. When he came over to press a soft kiss to her mouth she noticed that he was also clean shaven. She leaned into the kiss, sighing happily before he pulled away.
"What's for dinner?" he asked softly, peering over her shoulder to look at the source of the wonderful smell.
"Beef stew and biscuits," she said, turning in his arms to pick up a spoon and take a bit. She blew on it to cool it a little before offering it to Dean. "Tell me if it needs more Tabasco. I can never tell."
Dean took it, watching her as she held her hand under his chin to catch any juices, and she smiled when he closed his eyes and groaned appreciatively.
"Oh, my God, that's good," he said, handing the spoon back. Tawny grinned widely. "Better be good, it's my mama's recipe," she replied, turning back to the pot.
She'd never discussed her mother with Dean. She didn't even think he knew how Karen died, let alone the part John played in the entire debacle, which was odd considering that it was the whole reason they knew each other. Dean didn't press the issue, only put his hands on her hips and softly kissed the small bit of collarbone that her shirt didn't cover.
"Well, it's perfect," Dean murmured against her skin. Tawny smiled again, knowing that he'd say that about pretty much any home cooked food, but feeling a small elation at the honesty in his voice. "Need any help?" he offered, pulling away. Tawny laughed openly.
"You, cooking? Sorry, sweetheart, but that's like Sam under a hood or Daddy reading a fairytale." Dean didn't look hurt by her words, just laughed along with her. "But," she said quickly before he walked out, "if you really wanna help you can grab those cans of biscuits and put them on that cookie sheet." She pointed to the counter running along the opposite wall, where, sure enough, two cans of biscuits sat on top of an old bent cookie sheet. Dean grinned as he walked over to the counter.
"What, no homemade biscuits to go with your mama's stew?" he joked, unwrapping the first tube. Tawny turned, a retort on the tip of her tongue, when Bobby walked in.
"You kiddin'? The last time she decided she decided to bake something I chipped a tooth," he said, walking over to the fridge to grab a beer out of it. Dean grinned at her, but Tawny only shrugged. Bobby took a long pull from the bottle in his hands. "This girl sure can cook, but she definitely didn't get that baking gene her mama had."
Tawny stiffened. Bobby never talked about his wife, especially not in front of Dean. But if Dean was surprised, he didn't show it, he only laid the biscuits out carefully, carrying the tray over to Tawny, who put it in the oven.
Ten minutes later they were all gathered around the table, Sam with a book lying open at one hand. Tawny took a few bites, looking at each of them apprehensively before speaking.
"I want – I've decided to start hunting again," she finally blurted out, looking at each face carefully. Sam looked up confused, clearly so wrapped up in his book he thought he'd heard Tawny wrong; Dean looked surprised; but Bobby… Bobby looked proud and almost sad.
Sam was the first to say something.
"We're heading out in a few days if you want to come with us," he offered, looking over at Dean for approval. He looked at Tawny, who was watching him with a suspicious look on her face. "Did you guys already find another case?" she asked, wondering if Dean had been planning on keeping it a secret until the night before they left, like he usually did. But Sam shook his head, swallowing a bit of stew.
"No, we were just gonna head to the Roadhouse, see if Ellen and Jo have heard about anything," he said, and Tawny leaned back in her chair. She glanced back at Dean, who had settled a little, relief softening his features. He was off the hook. For now.
"Okay," she finally agreed, looking at her father. He had his eyes on his stew, pushing it around with his spoon. "What now, daddy?" she asked, quiet but gritty. Bobby looked up, thoroughly confused.
"What?"
Tawny sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "What nothing. You keep telling me to get back out there, hunt some more dirtbags, but right now you look like I just told you I'm marrying Dean," she said, clearly annoyed. Bobby laughed, like he knew she'd never even consider Dean to be more than a big brother type. If only he knew.
"You're right, baby. I'm sorry. You should start huntin' again. You're damn good at it," he said, raising another spoonful of stew to his mouth, then lowering it. "And you know I wouldn't have this look on my face if you said you were marrying Dean," he added, finally taking the bite. Tawny and Dean exchangedt looks. "You… You wouldn't?" she asked carefully, trying not to give too much away. Bobby chuckled.
"Hell no. If that boy so much as laid a hand on you, I'd shoot his dumb ass."
Dean's eyes widened, looking between first at Tawny, then at Sam. Bobby didn't seem to noticed, just asked for Sam to pass him the biscuits.
"Los Angeles, California."
Tawny looked curiously at Dean as she opened the back door of the Impala.
"What's in L.A.?" she asked as Dean shut the trunk, pausing to look at him. He walked past her, letting his hand drift over her lower back.
"A young girl's been kidnapped by an evil cult," he said, jingling his keys. She exchanged a look with Sam, somehow knowing exactly where this was going.
"Yeah?" Sam asked, taking the bait. "The girl got a name?"
Dean looked up. "Katie Holmes." Tawny rolled her eyes, moving to grab her bag. Sam chuckled.
"That's funny. And, for you, so bitchy," he jabbed. Dean opened his mouth to tell Sam off, but a loud crash and yelling from inside the Roadhouse distracted him.
"I'm going!" a girl yelled, and Tawny looked at Dean, eyebrows raised. She turned her head again as a woman yelled "Over my dead body!" and the girl quickly replied with "You're flipping out over nothing!"
"Of course, on the other hand," Dean said, looking between Tawny and Sam. "Catfight." He turned towards the building, Sam and Tawny following him to the door. The yelling got louder as they approached the building.
"I am your mother! I don't have to be reasonable!" one of them yelled, and Tawny supposed it was Ellen. She heard something slam. "You can't keep me here!" Jo screamed back.
"Oh, don't you bet on that, sweetie!" Ellen yelled back, followed by another slam. Dean opened the door and Jo's voice came through, clear as a bell. "What are you gonna do? You gonna chain me up in the basement?"
The trio walked in, but neither noticed. Tawny looked around and immediately loved the place. She'd been to a hundred bars, and they were all essentially the same, but each had its own personal charm. Like the women standing in the middle of the room arguing, for example. Ellen let out a sarcastic chuckle. "You know what, you've had worse ideas than that recently," she said, pulling a chair off of a table and setting it down.
"Hey, you don't wanna stay? Don't stay – go back to school!" she suggested, but Jo only glared. "I didn't belong there! I was a freak with a knife collection!" she said, hurt lacing her words. "Yeah, but gettin' yourself killed on some dusty back road – that's where you belong?" Ellen quickly countered. Jo paused, glancing at them over Ellen's shoulder. Tawny grinned nervously as Ellen turned.
"Guys, bad time," she said. Sam held up his hands. "Yes, ma'am," he said, and Dean chimed in. "Yeah, we rarely drink before ten anyway." The three turned to walk out, but Jo spoke up. "Wait. I wanna know what they think about this."
The door opened and a family walked in with matching Nebraska shirts. "Dinner and show," Tawny thought before she could help it. Ellen protested that she didn't care what they thought, but Jo persisted. The tourist man looked around nervously before asking "Are you guys open?" hesitantly. Ellen and Jo glared at him, yelling different answers at the same time. He grinned nervously and they turned. "We'll just check out the Arby's down the road," he suggested, and they left.
That's when the phone started ringing, and Jo stared at Ellen incredulously. She finally stalked around the bar, picking up the phone. Jo waited until she acknowledged the caller before holding out a folder to Dean. He stared at it.
"Three weeks ago, a young girl disappears from a Philadelphia apartment," she says. Dean stared at the folder for a moment, then looked up at her. "Take it. It won't bite," she urged. Dean raised his eyebrows.
"No, but your mom might." They stared at each other for a moment before Dean finally took it, flipping it open to thumb through the contents. "And this girl wasn't the first," Jo continued, eyes flicking to Tawny for a second, looking her over. "Over the past 80 years, six women have vanished – all from the same building, all young blondes. It only happens every decade or two, so cops never eyeball the pattern. So we're either dealing with one very old serial killer or –"
"Who put this together?" Dean interrupted, looking up at her. "Ash?"
Jo shifted uncomfortably. "I did it myself," she answered. Dean hummed what sounded like an approval, but Tawny wasn't sure. Sam looked at Tawny over Dean's shoulder. "I gotta admit, we hit the road for a lot less," he said. Before anyone could answer, Ellen walked over.
"Good. You like the case so much, you take it," she said to Sam before looking at Tawny. "Whose this?" she asked, nodding at Tawny. Dean looked up and cleared his throat. "Oh, uh—Tawny Singer, meet Ellen and Jo Harvelle," he said, waving between them. Ellen stuck out her hand, giving her a strained smile. Tawny shook it, trying to make her own smile look genuine. Ellen paused as she pulled away.
"Wait, you aren't Bobby Singer's daughter, are you?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. Tawny nodded. "One in the same," she said. Ellen laughed, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Well, now. John always did say you'd grow up beautiful," she said, and Tawny smiled faintly, looking over at Dean. He in turn looked back at Ellen.
"Dad told you about Tawny?" he asked, and Ellen nodded.
"Yeah, Bobby, too. He used to talk about you like you were his own. Even carried your picture in his wallet, said it was for good luck," Ellen said. For some reason that comment made tears sting her eyes. She'd always been close to John, but she didn't know how much he cared, and that hurt her. Jo took the silence as an opportunity.
"Mom!"
But Ellen only turned, tears in her eyes. "Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough. I won't lose you, too." She looked up at Dean, who looked at the ground, a look of almost-guilt on his face.
"I just won't."
The ride to Philadelphia was much more pleasant than the ride to Red Lodge had been. Tawny kicked off her shoes, tucking her legs up under her and even singing along to a few tracks that played through the speakers. Dean kept a hand on her thigh, his fingers tucked in the crevice behind her knee as he drove. Once they got there it was easy to sneak up to the girl's apartment and Sam worked the lock free.
When they walked in, Tawny glanced around, suddenly hating every motel room she'd ever stayed in. It was a nice apartment; open, with lots of natural light and clean lines. She glanced into the kitchen and saw that all of its appliances seemed brand new. She knew Dean would never go for a place like this, but she secretly longed for something this nice to come home to every day, instead of peeling wallpaper and the smell of booze that's seeped into the drywall.
"I feel kind of bad, snaking Jo's case," Sam suddenly said. Tawny set her bag down on the counter, pulling her EMF detector out of the side pocket. She flipped it on, watching as the brothers did the same.
"Well, maybe she put together a good file, but could you see her out here working one of these things? I don't think so," Dean replied, sweeping his own detector around. "You gettin' anything?"
Tawny looked up at Dean from the middle of the living room. "Nope," she said, turning back around. She heard Sam mutter "No, not yet", but then she heard the shrill tone of the detector. She turned to see Sam looking an opening in the wall, dabbing his finger at something. "What's that?"
As Tawny approached, she saw it looked like thick motor oil. By the time she made it over, Dean had picked up a bit on his middle finger and was smearing it on the pad of his thumb, feeling the texture.
"Holy crap," Sam said, and Tawny grabbed Dean's wrist, pulling his hand closer to look at it. "That's ectoplasm," Dean said, looking between the two of them.
"Oh, my god," Tawny said, her eyes widening as she stared at them. They both stared back, waiting for her supposed revelation. "I think I know what we're dealing with."
"What?" Sam asked, his eyebrows raised.
She lowered her voice, whispering dramatically. "It's the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man…"
Dean snorted, looking at her with an expression of pride. "And that's why I love you…" he said, bumping her hip with his. Sam only scoffed.
"Guys, I've only seen this stuff once or twice," he said seriously, looking between them. "I mean, to make this stuff, you have to be one majorly pissed-off spirit."
Tawny stared at him for a moment.
"Well, yeah, I'd be pissed off, too… if I were that damn fat," she said, not being able to keep the giggle from lifting the last few words. Dean all-out laughed, looking at her fondly, but she was looking at Sam, who had his I'm-trying-to-be-serious-so-will-you-please-just-cooperate expression plastered onto his handsome face. Tawny was sure he'd invented that look just for her. John once said that she was like a mix between the two of them; she was highly intelligent and good at finding information for a hunt, like Sam, but give her something to be sarcastic about and she ripped it to shreds, even outdoing Dean. There were times when Sam would start a debate with her, trying to goad her into an all-out argument, but all she would do was make jokes. Many of these times John and Bobby would be laughing so hard they were practically in tears, babbling about the look on Sam's face.
Dean regained his composure, the grin fading from his face. "All right," he said seriously. "Let's go find this badass before he snags anymore girls."
They'd barely made it out into the hallway when two voices drifted around the corner. Dean pulled Tawny into a concave doorway, Sam following. Her face was close enough to Dean's back that his scent was practically attacking her, filling her lungs with everything Dean and making it hard for her to concentrate. As a female voice raved about the apartment she shoved her way in front of Dean, ignoring his scowl. Then they came around a corner and Tawny almost rolled her eyes. She stepped out, looking at Jo.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked, a little more harshly than she'd intended. But Jo looked up and smiled.
"There you are, sis," she said, heading over to where the trio was standing dumbstruck. She leaned up and pressed her cheek to Tawny's as she hugged her, whispering a harsh "Just go with it" in her ear before pulling away. She turned, snaking an arm around Tawny's waist, then Sam's.
"This is my sister Tawny, her husband Dean, and my boyfriend, Sam," she said, smiling at the landlord. Dean made a huff of protest but Tawny shot him a look, not entirely sure why she was so keen to play along. The landlord smiled at Tawny.
"Good to meet ya," he said, offering his hand. Tawny took it. "Quite a gal your sister is."
"Yeah, she's a pistol," Dean chuckled, squeezing Tawny's waist. He looked down at her, his eyes defying the bright look on his face. Jo looked up at Sam.
"So, did you check out the apartment?" she asked innocently. "The one for rent," she clarified when no one answered. Sam spoke up.
"Yeah. Yes, loved it… Great flow," he said quickly. The landlord's forehead creased in confusion. "How'd you get in?" he asked skeptically.
"Oh, it was open," Tawny said quickly, looking over at Jo. She nodded.
"Now, Ed," Jo asked, putting on her poker face. "When did the last tenant move out?"
The landlord, now identified as Ed, tilted his head in thought. "Uh, about a month ago," he answered. "Cut and run, too. Stiffed me for the rent."
Jo nodded. "Well, her loss, our gain, 'cause if Sammy loves it, it's good enough for me." She smiled up at Sam, who squeezed her to him roughly. "Oh, sweetie," he ground out, sarcasm dripping from his words. Jo's smiled faltered as she reached into her purse, pulling out a wad of cash and holding it out to Ed.
"We'll take it."
"I'll flip you for the sofa."
Tawny looked up from her disassembled shotgun to look at Jo. She was staring at Sam. He shrugged.
"Does your mother even know you're here?" Dean asked suddenly, looking up from his pistol. Jo smirked, an over-stuffed folder in her hand.
"I told her I was going to Vegas," she replied. Dean looked at her doubtfully. "You think she's gonna buy that?"
Jo stared at him with her eyebrows raised. "I'm not an idiot. I got Ash to lay a credit card trail all the way to the casinos."
Tawny looked up again, an eyebrow raised. "Well, at least you're determined," she said, grabbing a bottle of gun oil and soaking a cotton swab. She wiped down the barrel, rolling her eyes as Dean continued.
"You know, you shouldn't lie to your mom. You shouldn't be here either," he said. Jo looked over at Sam and Tawny before turning back to Dean.
"Well, I am, so untwist your boxers and deal with it," she snapped, and Dean shot her a scowl.
"Where'd you get all that money from, anyways?" Sam asked. Tawny looked up, as curious for the answer as Sam. "Yeah. That's a lot of cash for someone to carry around," she added. Jo looked at her.
"Working at the Roadhouse," she said simply, and Tawny scoffed. "Hunters don't tip that well," Dean said, almost like he was taking the words out of her mouth. He was doing that a lot lately, and it kind of scared Tawny.
"Well, they aren't that good at poker, either," she shot back. Dean looked at her, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but his cellphone rang, distracting him. He fished it out of his pocket, answering with a trite "Yeah". Tawny looked up when she heard a woman's voice on the other line.
"Oh, hi, Ellen," Dean said, looking at Jo. She circled the table, angry whispers were hissed, and Dean gave in. "I haven't seen her… Yeah, I'm sure… Absolutely…"
He hung up and Jo grinned up at him innocently. Dean only rolled his eyes, grabbing his and Tawny's bags and heading for the only bedroom.
"Hey," Jo shot, following him. "Why do you get the bedroom?"
Dean turned, slinging the duffle over his shoulder. "Tawny and I get the bedroom. For grown-up things," he patronized. Jo turned, her eyes wide.
"Wait, you two are…" she said, her hand waving between the two of them. Tawny blushed, going back to reattaching the butt of her gun. Dean chuckled.
"Yeah, so unless you wanna watch, we get the bedroom," he finished, turning and walking into it before Jo found words. She stood there for a second, looking at Tawny, who had finished and was clearing off the table. Jo walked over and picked up the folder, and they worked in silence to clear the table and then lay out everything Jo had. Tawny was actually impressed. Not only did she have current blueprints, but she had blueprints from the original layout of the building as well as neighboring buildings, maps of the city going back to the early 1900s, arrest records, and every other document Tawny could think of that would help. She, Jo and Sam sat down at the table, Tawny picking up a stack of pictures to flip through them.
Jo took out her knife flipping it in her hand as she looked at a blueprint. Dean walked out, standing behind Jo. "So, building history," he said quietly, pacing as Jo talked.
"This place was built in 1924. It was originally a warehouse, converted into apartments a few months ago."
"Yeah? What was here before 1924?" Dean asked. Tawny looked up and watched him, rolling her eyes at the way he was grilling Jo. "Nothing. An empty field," she answered. The knife was a blur in her hands.
"So," Sam pitched in, looking up from the pictures in his hand. "Most likely scenario – someone died bloody in the building, and now he's back and raising hell." Tawny nodded in agreement, looking at Jo.
"I already checked," she said. "In the past eighty-two years, zero violent deaths, unless you count a janitor who slipped on a wet floor." She pointed the knife over her shoulder at Dean and snapped "Would you sit down, please?"
He did, grinning at Sam as he sank into the only unoccupied chair. "So have you checked the police reports, county death records –"
"Obituaries, mortuary reports and seven other sources. I know what I'm doing," she countered, looking at him.
"I think the jury's still out on that one."
Tawny looked between Sam and Jo, waiting for someone to have an outburst. It came in the form of Dean telling Jo to put the knife down. She did, and Tawny figured it was some type of a peace offering to keep Dean from hauling her ass back to Nebraska.
"Okay," said Sam suddenly, obviously trying to dispel the tension that had filled the room. "So, uh, it's something else then. Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought a spirit with it."
"We gotta scan the whole building. Everywhere we can get to, right," Jo said, looking at Tawny. She nodded, hearing the question in what Jo meant as a statement. She looked at Dean, who in turn looked at Jo.
"Right, so, you and me—we'll take the top two floors," Dean said, standing. Jo followed suit, protesting.
"We'd move faster if we split up," she said, an edge to her voice. Dean shook his head, looking down at her. "Oh, this isn't negotiable."
Jo fell into pithy silence as they paired up, Sam and Tawny taking the bottom two floors, Dean and Jo taking the top two. She watched them closely as they walked out the door, an almost jealous feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. Sam walked up next to her, handing her an EMF detector. She took it, feeling a bit put off.
"He'd never do it, you know," Sam said suddenly. Tawny looked up at him, confused. "Cheat on you. He'd never do it – especially not with Jo," he continued, and Tawny rolled her eyes.
"Can we just get to work?" she asked tersely, walking over to the door and wrenching it open.
They ordered a pizza when they got back up to the apartment. Dean showed Tawny the piece of scalp they'd found, and she wrapped it in some plastic wrap before grabbing a pile of pictures, looking through them. She continued to look through everything Jo had collected; it was 11:30 by the time she'd finished. She excused herself to the bedroom to go to sleep, quietly telling them goodnight before retiring to the sweet seclusion behind a closed door. She'd just gotten her jeans off when the door opened again and Dean came in, quietly shutting it and twisting the lock on the knob.
Tawny didn't look at him as she grabbed a towel from her bag and headed towards the bathroom, flicking on the light. She walked over to the sink and brushed her teeth in silence, still avoiding Dean's eyes as he softly padded into the bathroom, his feet bare.
"Hey," he said quietly, walking up behind her. She bent as she rinsed her mouth out, drying her lips on the towel, not answering. Dean looked at her through the mirror, his concern obvious. She turned away from him, turning on the tap and sticking her fingers under the water, sitting on the edge of the tub as she waited for it to warm up. Dean followed her, sitting behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.
"What's wrong?" he murmured into her hair, pressing a few kisses into it softly. Tawny shook her head. "Nothing," she said, tensing when his fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt. Dean chuckled softly.
"Bullshit."
Tawny rolled her eyes and pulled out of his grasp, standing. She lifted her shirt over her head, tossing it to the corner of the bathroom as Dean turned on the shower. "C'mon, babe. We've already done this whole silent sulking thing, and it doesn't work. Talk to me," he pleaded, pulling off his own shirt. Tawny looked at him, not speaking. Then his eyes darkened and he tilted his head, understanding all at once why she was upset.
"You're worried about Jo," he said. It was more of a statement than a question. Tawny scoffed. "Don't be an idiot," she said, rolling her eyes. Dean walked towards her, his hands reaching out to rest lightly on her shoulders.
"Tawny, I – she's like a little sister," he assured, rubbing her upper arms. Tawny looked away, not believing a word he said. It was just the way Dean was: A heartbreaker. She mentally kicked herself for believing he could be in a monogamous relationship. His fingers brushed up her neck, stopping under her chin so he could gently tilt her face towards his. She looked up into his eyes, the brilliant green almost melting her resolve. But she was mad, dammit, and not even the gaze that usually had her heart fluttering could break through it.
"She does nothing for me," he whispered, lowering his lips to hers. When she didn't lean into the kiss he pulled away, the hand on her arm sliding down to grab her hand and pull it up, pressing it to his chest. "I'm yours," he said, crowding into her space so he was flush against her, their hands pressed solidly together. The hand on her chin ghosted around to grip the back of her neck lightly as he pulled her into another kiss. This time she gave in to it, trying to pour as much feeling into the gesture as possible. His tongue ran along the seam of her mouth and she granted him access, and it floated around hers as he pushed her back against the wall. It was cool against her back and she gasped at the drastic conflict of temperature. He guided her hand down, pressing it into his groin where she could feel him, hot and hard inside a cloth prison.
He pulled away and they both gasped for air, his cheeks pink. "I'm yours," he repeated against her lips, putting more pressure on her hand. "This is yours," he whispered. Her chest tightened and she let out a moan as she kissed him hard enough that their teeth smacked together, but the pain only heightened her arousal. Her free hand flew up to his chest, grasping the pendant around his neck to pull him impossibly closer, while the hand he held in his broke free. He groaned, disappointed at the sudden lack of pressure, but Tawny's hand was already working the button of his jeans loose. She pushed her hand into his jeans, her fingers expertly wrapping around his base, squeezing as she slid her hand to the head, twisting.
The moan he let out was almost pornographic and a generous glob of precome spurted into her palm, which she quickly used to slick up his head. He pulled away, moaning again when the tip of her thumb pressed into the cleft under it, a movement she knew he loved, and buried his face in her neck. "Fuck, Tawny," he pleaded, and she moaned, her panties soaking through. His right hand found the wall, bracing him as he leaned onto it, the hand on the back of Tawny's neck moving down to find the clasp of her bra. He quickly snapped it open, pulling it off of her shoulder to get at a breast. He pinched the nipple and Tawny let out a low whine, her grip on him tightening enough to draw out another spurt of creamy precome. She pulled her hand out of his pants, roughly pushing them down his thighs and letting gravity do the rest while she did the same with her own underwear.
Dean's lips found hers again as he reached down and grabbed the back of her thighs, pulling her legs up. She in turn reached up to grasp his shoulders, pulling herself up until her legs were wrapped around his waist and their eyes were level. He leaned into her, using one arm to support her as the other dropped down to grasp his leaking cock. He rubbed it lazily and moaned, brushing his lips against Tawny's as he guided the head to her own moist entrance. Once flesh met flesh he thrust his hips, sliding into her with ease. Her head fell back and she moaned, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of his shoulders as his hand smacked against the wall, using it for support as he rolled his hips, but the angle wasn't right, so he wrapped an arm around her back, kneeling on the tile floor, still buried inside of her.
He swung her around, laying them both down onto the floor as steam began filling the room. "What do you need?" he asked softly, and Tawny looked up at him. His pupils were completely blown and he looked strung out and needy and all she wanted to do was lick his red, swollen lips. "You," she whispered, her hands cupping each side of his neck, her thumbs teasing the sensitive skin just behind his ears. "Just you."
He leaned down and kissed her, tenderly. Well, as tenderly as was allowed for Dean, but it was enough for Tawny. He started thrusting again, drawing another moan from Tawny. She arched her back and cried out as the waves of an orgasm hit, clenching around the organ that filled her like no other could, not even Sam. He didn't last much longer than her, thrusting six, seven, eight times before he was coming, too, her second orgasm milking him dry before he collapsed on her, softening inside of her warmth. After a minute or two of labored breathing he pushed himself off, pulling out of her with a filthy squish.
"You gotta get jealous more often," he breathed, kissing her softly before pulling her up with him. She glared, but leaned into his arms, craving his embrace. He pressed a few soft kissed to her temple before pulling back. "C'mon, before the hot water runs out," he said, pulling her into the shower.
The next morning Tawny woke before Dean. They hadn't bothered getting dressed, which was a good thing since Dean woke up around three with a raging hard-on. His chest was pressed up against her back, one arm under her neck and the other around her waist, and the heat was almost too much, but Tawny couldn't bring herself to move. It was rare that they got to just lay in bed, soaking up one another. But then Tawny remembered Sam and Jo were in the living room and the moment ended too soon. She sighed, gently lifting Dean's arm from her waist so she could slide out of the bed. She walked into the bathroom and relieved herself, quickly brushing her teeth before grabbing the button up Dean had discarded the night before and her jeans. She walked back into the bedroom and pulled a fresh pair of panties and bra from her duffle, quickly pulling them on.
She opened the door as she finished buttoning the top and walked out, shutting it softly behind her. Jo was sitting at the table, looking like she hadn't slept at all. She looked up at Tawny when she heard the door close and watched as Tawny padded across the room in bare feet.
"Morning," she said quietly. Jo only nodded. Tawny glanced at the couch, seeing a rumpled blanket and pillow, but no Sam. "Did Sasquatch go on a coffee run?" Tawny asked, pointing lazily at the couch. Jo nodded again.
"How much sleep did you get? You look like hell," she asked, pulling up a chair and sitting at the table across from Jo. Jo looked up. "I didn't," she said, flipping the same old knife in her hand. "I've just been going over everything."
Tawny looked at the knife in her hand. A three inch blade wouldn't do you much good against anything bigger than a Yorkie, so she made a snap decision and got up, going over to the bag she had left on the kitchen counter and grabbing a knife out of it. John had given it to her for Christmas when she was eighteen, and Tawny had always loved it. The blade was at least nine inches long, and three inches wide at its widest part and solid iron. The handle was also iron, shaped then painted to look like a horse's hoof. She'd been obsessed with horses then. Her initials, TLS, were etched into the bottom of the hoof. She pulled it out of its leather sheath, walking over to Jo and flipping it in her hand, expertly catching the flat of the blade between her fingers. She offered it to the blonde, who took it and looked up at her curiously.
"What's this for?" she asked. Tawny looked at Jo's knife then back up at her. "It'll work a hell of a lot better than that pigstick you've been twirling around," she said. Jo looked down, then held out her knife. Tawny took it, noticing instantly that it had some weight to it. She turned it in her fingers, pausing when she saw WAH etched into the side. She assumed Jo saw her pause because she said quietly "William Anthony Harvelle" and Tawny suddenly felt ice drop to the pit of her stomach. It was her father's. She handed the knife back.
"I'm sorry. My mistake," she replied softly, taking back her own knife. She sat and looked at it, seeing her eyes reflected in the blade. They looked tired.
"What do you-" Jo started, but paused, unsure. Tawny looked up, silently urging her to finish. "I know about your mom, that she died when you were little. What do you remember about her?"
Tawny stared at her for a moment, taken aback. She'd never had to sit down and have "Girl Time". Usually her feelings were hidden away, like letters in a lock box. She realized it was nice to have a woman to talk to for once.
"To be honest, I don't remember that much about her. I was two when she died, so…" she drifted off, tears suddenly stinging her eyes. She looked back at the blade in her hands, leaning back in the chair and propping her elbows up on the table. "I remember her voice," she finally said, sniffing. "I remember her singing me to sleep."
"What did she sing you?" Jo asked. Tawny laughed sadly. The answer was too ironic.
"The Prayer of Saint Francis," she replied. She wiped her nose on her sleeve, finally looking back up at Jo. "What about your dad?" she asked. Jo smiled.
"I was still in pigtails when my dad died, but… I remember him coming home from a hunt. He'd burst through that door like—like Steve McQueen or something," she let out a sad laugh before continuing. "And he'd sweep me up in his arms, and I'd breathe in that old leather jacket of his. And my mom – who was sour and pissed from the minute he left – she started smiling again. And we were… we were a family."
"You wanna know why I want to do the job?" she asked, looking up at Tawny. Tawny shook her head. "For him. It's my way of being close to him. Now, tell me what's wrong with that?" she asked innocently. It put a funny feeling in Tawny's chest. "Nothing," she murmured, sliding her knife back into its protective case. She looked back up to see the bedroom door opening and Dean walked out, completely dressed, his lips still swollen from sleep. She had a flash of the night before and looked down, blushing. Jo, on the other hand, spoke.
"Morning, princess. How'd you sleep on that big, soft bed?" she asked, and Dean chuckled. "Wonderfully. It was especially nice around three. Right, babe?" he jabbed, pulling a chair up across from Jo. Tawny glared, but lifted her feet up to rest on his thigh. He put a hand on them, then narrowed his eyes at her.
"Why don't I ever get to wear any of your clothes?" he asked, his whine almost sounding genuine. Tawny smiled. "'Cause your boobs'd stretch 'em out, Pamela," she joked, and Jo laughed. Then the front door opened and Sam walked in, empty handed. Dean looked up, disappointed. "Where's the coffee?" he asked, and Tawny looked at him, unable to remember if one of them had mentioned exactly where Sam was. She guessed he was just so used to Sam being the early riser, so he automatically assumed he'd be the one to get the coffee every morning.
"There are cops outside," Sam replied, looking between them. "Another girl disappeared."
"A hundred and fifty-seven names?"
Sam stared at the list Ash had sent them like it was a monster he'd never come up against. Tawny looked over his shoulder as she tied her hair up, bunching it into a messy bun. Dean stood next to her.
"We gotta narrow that down," he stated obviously. "Or else we're gonna be digging up a hell of a lot of stiffs."
Tawny squinted at the screen as Sam scrolled, and one name jumped out at her. "Holy shit," she said, leaning over Sam's shoulder.
"Herman Webster Mudgett?" she said, and Sam highlighted the name. "Yeah?" Jo asked, and Dean looked at her. "Wait, wasn't that H.H. Holmes' real name?" Sam asked, turning to look at her. Tawny nodded.
"You gotta be kidding me," Dean said, nudging Sam out of the chair so he could sit down at the computer. His hands flew over the keyboard and he was silent for a few minutes as he read.
"Yep. Holmes was executed at Moyamensing May 7, 1896," Dean finally confirmed, looking around at Tawny. Sam sighed, a little grin on his face.
"H. H. Holmes himself," he said, looking between Dean and Tawny. "Come on. I mean, what are the odds?"
Jo looked up curiously. "Who is this guy?" she asked, and Tawny straightened.
"The term 'Multi-murderer' – they coined it to describe Holmes," she said, shoving her hand in her pockets. "He was America's first serial killer. He confessed to 27 murderers, but some put the toll at over a hundred. And, his victim flavor of choice? Pretty, petite blondes. He, uh, he used chloroform to kill his victims. At his place, cops found human remains – bone fragments and long locks of bloody blonde hair."
Dean looked up.
"Chloroform. That's what I smelled in the hallway last night. Boy, he sure knew how to pick 'em," he said, looking at the screen. Suddenly he looked up at Tawny.
"Wait, how do you know all that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Tawny shrugged.
"I watch the History Channel. Why?" she said, tilting her head. Now it was Dean's turn to shrug.
"I dunno. It's kinda hot in that my-girlfriend-watches-shows-about-serial-killers kinky way," he joked. Tawny stared at him. He'd called her his girlfriend, which is something she'd never thought about until now. She just couldn't see herself calling Dean her boyfriend. It didn't seem enough to describe what they had.
Jo looked at Tawny. "So, we just find the bones, salt them, and burn them, right?" But Tawny shook her head.
"It's not that easy. His body is buried in town, but it's encased in a couple of tons of concrete."
"What? Why?" Jo asked. Tawny grinned.
"The story goes that he didn't want anybody mutilating his corpse, 'cause, you know, it's what he used to do," she said. Jo shuddered. Sam spoke up.
"You know," he chuckled. "We might have an even bigger problem than that."
Jo raised her eyebrows. "How does this get bigger?" she asked.
"Holmes built an apartment building in Chicago," he said, and Tawny groaned.
"Yeah," she said, taking over. "They called it the Murder Castle. The whole place was a death factory." She picked up a stack of pictures from the printer, handing them to Jo. "They had trapdoors, acid vats, quicklime pits. He built these secret chambers… inside the walls. He'd lock his victims in, keep them alive for days. Some, he'd suffocate, others, he'd let starve to death."
"So, Theresa could still be alive. She could be inside these walls," she said with wide eyes. Dean stood.
"We need sledgehammers, crowbars," he said, grabbing his jacket. "We gotta smash these walls anywhere thick enough to hide a girl."
Tawny nodded, but she wasn't too hopeful they'd find anything more than a broken, bloody corpse.
Tawny was still trying to calm herself down, even as the stood in an open field, guarding the newly found hole in the ground. Tawny had called it her own personal doorway to hell. If there was one thing she couldn't handle it was small spaces. She knew exactly why, too. When she was six or seven John had brought Sam and Dean to the house while he went on a hunt. It was early June and absolutely beautiful outside, so she and Sam were out in the woods behind the house playing Hide-and-Seek. They'd been playing for hours, slowly working their way deeper into the woods. It had come upon Tawny's turn to hide so she ran off, not noticing a small sink-hole in the earth. She stepped on it, falling six feet underground. She wasn't physically injured, but she was unequivocally terrified. She yelled herself hoarse, but she wasn't found until well past night fall. She remembered crying in relief when she saw Dean's face poke over the side of the hole, calling out to Bobby before turning back to her, whispering reassurances. If she had to, she'd guess that's when her crush on Dean started.
So, no, the time she had to spend in the tunnels wasn't exactly peachy.
"So," Sam said, and she turned, her arms crossed over her chest. But he was looking at Jo. "Is this job as glamorous as you thought it would be?"
She laughed. "Well, except for all the pee-your-pants terror, yeah," she replied. "But that Theresa girl's gonna get to live a life 'cause of us. It's worth it, isn't it?" She looked at Tawny, but Tawny couldn't bring herself to breathe steadily, let alone speak. So Sam answered instead.
"Yeah. Yeah, it is," he answered. Jo looked at the hole then looked up.
"Hey, what if somebody finds that sewer down there or a storm washes the salt away?" she asked. Sam looked at her.
"Both very fine points," he said. "Which is why we're waiting here."
Tawny looked at him, confused. "Waiting for what?" Jo asked, and that's when a loud beeping started and Tawny turned, seeing a cement truck backing into the field.
"For that," Sam stated, grinning. Sam guided Dean and signaled for him to stop, and Tawny shook her head, grinning broadly as he walked around the back of the truck while Sam set it up over the hole. "You ripped off a cement truck?" Tawny asked, finally finding words. Dean shrugged.
"I'll give it back," he said, flipping a switch on the back of the truck. Tawny watched the grey semi-solid mixture flow, shaking her head again. Dean walked up behind her, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his chest. "Well, that ought to keep him down there till hell freezes over."
Tawny had been forced to sit through dozens of awkward silences, but the ride back to the Roadhouse was probably the worst. Ellen had been quiet for far too long and Tawny knew that couldn't mean anything good. They'd been on the road for close to an hour when Dean spoke.
"Well, you –" he chuckled, looking at Ellen. "You really weren't kidding about flying out, were you?"
Tawny looked at them nervously from the back seat before glancing at Tawny, who raised her eyebrows. Ellen didn't answer, so Dean changed tactics. He leaned towards the radio. "How about we listen to some music?" he suggested, flipping it on. A few chords rang out before Ellen leaned forward, turning it back off.
He looked at Tawny through the rearview mirror, and she raised her eyebrows. "This is gonna be a long drive," he muttered.
He wasn't wrong; the drive was painfully long, seeming twice the length of the already lengthy twenty hours. They finally made it to the Roadhouse around noon the next day, Sam, Dean and Tawny stretching as Ellen marched around the Impala, grabbing Jo's bag in one hand and her arm in the other, practically dragging her into the building. Sam, Dean and Tawny followed, and Tawny wasn't sure she could take the argument that was guaranteed to happen.
"Ellen…" Dean said as soon as they were inside. "It was my fault. Okay? I lied to you, and I'm sorry. But Jo did good out there. I think her dad would be proud."
Tawny expected Ellen to forgive him, but instead she looked at him, sorrow in her eyes and resentment in her voice. "Don't you dare say that – not you. I need a moment with my daughter – alone."
The three of them walked out of the Roadhouse, Sam and Tawny sitting on the hood as Dean leaned against the driver's door. A few minutes of silence passed before the door opened and Jo stormed out, slamming it behind her. She looked up at Dean and pointedly turned away from him. Dean followed, though.
"That bad, huh?" he asked.
"Not right now," she said quickly, and Tawny could hear the tears threatening to fall in her voice. She slowly slid off the hood, walking up behind Dean. He reached out, touching Jo's arm, but she slapped it away. "Get off me!" she yelled, and Tawny stopped a few feet behind Dean.
"Sorry," he said roughly. "I'll see you around." He made it to Tawny's side and Jo spoke.
"Dean…" she said, her voice wavering. He turned back to look at her. "It turns out my dad had a partner on his last hunt. Funny, he usually worked alone. This guy did, too. But I guess my father figured he could trust him. A mistake. The guy screwed up, got my dad killed."
Dean looked at her, confused. "What does this have to –"
"It was your father, Dean," she spat. Tawny's breath caught in her throat and she suddenly felt like throwing up. It all made sense.
"What?" Dean asked quietly. Jo shook her head.
"Why do you think John never came back, never told you about us? 'Cause he couldn't look my mom in the eye after that – that's why."
"Jo—" Dean started, but she interrupted him.
"Just – just get outta here. Please, just leave," she said, turning and walking off. Tawny watched her go, suddenly feeling guilty as sin. She'd acted like Jo was just some kid with no clue what was at stake, but now she knew different. Dean turned, his own guilt reflected in his eyes.
"Give her time, baby," she whispered, rubbing his arm. "Just give her time."
He looked up at the sky and nodded. "Yeah," he said gruffly, then turned and walked toward the Impala. They piled in and Dean started the ignition, shifting the car into drive.
"Where are we going?" Sam asked, and Dean shrugged and put his hand on Tawny's knee like that's where it belonged.
"Anywhere but here."
