She set the bottle of tequila on the table and leaned in for a closer look.
"Wendigo?"
"No, I got this from a werewolf, actually," Sam said, holding his shirt open to show her four thin scars, parallel to one another on his neck and shoulder.
"Here's mine," Sophie said, lifting the hem of her shirt to show him a similar scar pattern on her side.
"Looks like he tried to gut you."
"Firm grip, is all," she muttered, but he didn't hear her.
"Is that a tattoo?"
... ...
Dean pulled his dad's journal from his duffel and held it out to her.
"What's that for?"
He shrugged. "Peace-offering. I thought you might like to put it in your database."
Ace took it in her hands and began flipping pages.
"Wow," she breathed. "He was thorough, wasn't he? This could take me awhile to enter."
"We'll come back."
... ...
"Wow," he said, putting her bra strap back in place. "That's pretty elaborate."
"It started out as just a few flowers between my shoulder blades. Then, after hunts, I would add another flower, or a vine, and it just grew into what you see today. What about you?"
"I have a pentagram here," he said, opening his shirt further to point to a small tattoo under his collarbone. "Dean has one, too."
"Bet those strait-laced Stanford kids didn't know what to think about that."
"I didn't have it then. Kind of wish, now, that I would have. It might have saved me some trouble awhile back."
She lifted an eyebrow.
"Sam Winchester? Possessed?"
"Once. That's were I got this," he pointed to circular scar on his arm.
"Looks like someone didn't want to let you go."
"No, they didn't."
... ...
"How's your Dad?"
"Retired and living it up in the Appalachians," she laughed. "If you can believe that."
Dean smiled, "What is this 'retirement' you speak of? You mean he quit."
"I mean, my mom about skinned him after he lost a fight with a poltergeist. It tore him up pretty good. He's just not as young as he used to be. Then she got sick." His face fell and he started to apologize, but she stopped him. "No, she's fine now, but she always liked the mountains and Dad promised."
They were quiet for a moment.
"It's kind of disillusioning, isn't it? My dad dying; your dad retiring. Guys like them … I thought were indestructible."
She nodded and closed the journal.
"I heard about your Dad, Dean, and I'm sorry."
... ...
"Holy …" Sam gasped, running his index finger along a jagged scar on her calf and ankle. "You're lucky he didn't get your Achilles tendon."
"I know. It still hurt like a bitch, but what can you do? Ace had to carry me the mile and a half back to the car." Sophie thought for a moment. "She was pretty pissed."
Sam smiled and nodded. "Sounds familiar."
"So, come on, Winchester. One-up me."
"Aw, hell, Sophie, I could beat that in my sleep. Check this out." He threw back another shot and pulled his shirt over his head, turning to show her a crooked scar running diagonally through the middle of his back.
"May I?" she asked and he nodded. She touched it gingerly and could feel the roughness of it. Its length was about a hand-span. "It healed incredibly well."
"Actually, I died from it," he confided, facing her. She started to say something but he stopped her. "It's a long story, but it suffices to say, Dean fixed it."
"You boys just can't stay dead, can you?"
"I guess you could say that it's just not our style."
... ...
"You can have this room, if you want," she offered, flipping the light switch. "First come, first served."
There was the sound of a glass bottle falling over and the muted thwump of someone falling heavily onto the sofa as Dean checked out his accommodations.
"I may have gotten the room first," he said, giving his hostess a wry smile and wink, "but I think Sammy's getting served first."
Ace returned the smile and shook her head. "My mistake."
She turned to head back to her own room.
"Amelia," he called, standing in the doorway.
She stopped at the use of her real name and looked back at him. "Yeah?"
"Thanks for the room."
... ...
Dean stretched and went to the door. He paused and leaned on the doorjamb to yawn and to try and remember which door he needed. It was dark, but there was a light on under the first door across the hall. The door opened and a shaft of light washed over him. When his eyes adjusted, he saw Sophie exit, wrapped in a towel and followed by a cloud of steam. He made for the vacated bathroom as she disappeared behind her bedroom door.
He was stopped at the threshold.
"Dude, could you knock?" Sam wanted to know only just managing to wrap the towel around himself before Dean appeared in the doorway.
Dean blinked and looked down the hallway and then back at his brother, still groggy.
"Jeez," said Sam, sounding irritated, but Dean caught the small smile he gave him as he pushed past and followed Sophie into her bedroom.
The elder Winchester remained in the doorway and waited a few moments.
Finally, he called, "Anybody else?"
... ...
She didn't hear it when he shuffled into the kitchen the next morning. One minute, she was flipping pancakes by herself and the next, there was a forehead resting on her shoulder.
"Oh, good morning," she said, surprised.
"You're making pancakes," said Dean without moving.
"Yes, I am," she confirmed.
"No one has made me pancakes … in a really long time."
There was a light prickling on her shoulder and she knew that his chin had taken the place of his forehead.
"Sophie is a 'pancakes-the-morning-after' kind of person," Ace told him. "Sorry, but I need to get a plate out of that cabinet."
Dean stood straight.
"Can I help?"
"Not if you want to get 'em while they're hot."
She put three pancakes on a plate and motioned for him to sit down. He saw the butter and syrup on the table and opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when she set a jar of peanut butter in front of him. Dean smiled.
"You remembered."
"Sometimes."
"Am I eating alone?"
She glanced down the hallway and didn't see any movement. "I haven't heard them moving around yet."
Dean looked at her. "I didn't mean them."
Turning off the burners, she took another three pancakes that were already off the griddle and sat across from him.
"I got a call this morning from a friend of mine that lives near Forks."
"Oh?" he said, swallowing. "One of your … special friends?"
"No," she said, avoiding his eyes and working up a nonchalant tone. "He's another hunter."
"And?"
"There may yet be a job for you there. It seems that there's a girl that has fallen in with Edward Cullen."
"He told me had a girlfriend," Dean recalled, and wished he hadn't.
Ace frowned. "When did he tell you that?"
"The other night. Nevermind."
She eyed him suspiciously. "Well, anyway. He says the Black boy keeps a very close eye on her."
"Maybe she doesn't know what they are."
Ace sucked her teeth. "I think she does."
Dean's lip curled. "And she's still his girlfriend?"
The girl shrugged.
"Do you have milk?" he asked.
"Yes. Just a second." She retrieved the milk and poured two glasses. "Some think she wants to turn," she said as she set one glass in front of him and reclaimed her seat.
"Into a vampire?" Dean made a face. "What is with kids these days?"
There was a series of thuds before Sophie's door swung open and Sam bolted into the bathroom. Dean looked down the hallway.
"Sammy? Pancakes and peanut butter," he called.
There was a groaned reply and the bathroom door slammed shut.
He smiled and drank his milk.
"Could I trouble you for another?"
Ace set her empty plate in the sink and turned the burners on under the griddle.
"Good morning," Sophie greeted sleepily, moseying down the hallway in a purple silken robe. She took a place at the table and said, "Where'd Sam go?"
The toilet flushed.