She nodded, a line of tension folding between her eyebrows. "I'll start at the very beginning, and Dean? Please don't make fun of me. I promise I'll be objective and as precise as I can be."

"Ok, hey, you got it." He lifted his right hand in a pledge. "This car's a snark-free zone for the duration."

It was Sam who said a soft thank you, and somehow that seemed eerie.

June gazed out between them through the windshield and Dean was struck by the resemblance to Cas' thousand-yard stare.

"When I first saw you, you were simply two humans I felt I had to protect, helpless prey for that were-wolf. When you killed him like that—well, it dawned on me that you were Hunters instead of plain vanilla yahoos with guns. I mean, who else goes around with clips of silver bullets?"

Dean chuffed a breath, but for once he didn't load any scorn in it. Plain vanilla they had never been. Yahoos? Well, matter of opinion there.

"It wasn't until Sam poured that holy water over my back and started talking to me, though, that something really weird started happening."

Her voice took on a stressed edge, and Dean glanced at her in the mirror. The line of tension between her eyes deepened and doubled.

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you why it happened or even precisely what it was that happened. It was like, the more we spoke to each other, the longer we were close together, the more I liked him and trusted him and I didn't know why I was doing that and it really scared me."

She drew a deep breath and when she spoke again her voice was rushed. "It was like I was two people. Normal Me, who knew that it was crazy to trust strangers like you two in a situation like that, and Bizarro Me who was willing to do whatever it took to convince you to take me with you, just so I could stay close to Sam. I didn't do it on purpose, Dean! I swear to the Father I didn't do any of this on purpose!"

Sam reached over the seat to touch her. "It's ok, June. It was like that for me, too. Instant, irrational simpatico. I don't think you started it, and I know I didn't. It just happened, like opposite magnets snapping together when they get close enough."

She lifted his hand and rubbed her cheek against it, careful of his scabbed over wounds. He smiled at her and when she released his hand, he gave a lock of her hair an affectionate tug.

Dean's eyes narrowed, watching that. Intimate as lovers, and he knew for certain exactly how intimate they, well, hadn't been. To all normal appearances, any way. Normal… yeah, like that had ever happened for a Winchester, concerning anything in the dictionary.

"After that," she went on as Sam leaned back in the front seat, "It got even worse. Well, honestly, for me it got a whole heck of a lot better, but I know you don't see it that way, Dean. Every hour, sometimes every minute that passed, I was more and more aware of Sam. Physically, at first. Then the emotions started coming through."

"Like I told you," Sam nodded to Dean. "As if she were another body part."

"So, her experience is pretty much mirrored by yours?" Dean asked him.

"Yes, except that I can manipulate her physically, and I don't think she can do the same to me."

"I can't," she agreed. "Trust me, if I could, your hands wouldn't look like you've bitch-slapped a cheese grater."

"So when I was out in the woods, you felt all that?"

"Every merry methed-out moment. Yes Sam. Thanks heaps."

Sam sort of wilted for a second or two, then his expression cleared.

Balm of June, Dean suspected. "Is all this still growing stronger?"

June shook her head, a motion exactly synched with Sam's. Weird, weirder weirdest.

"Gotta admit," Sam said, "What's already linked up between us is amazing. I can't imagine how bonding's going to improve on it. What's your tradition? What do your people say happens?"

"And how does it happen?" Dean added. "We're not going to have to slaughter goats or god forbid some hapless virgin are we? 'Cause goats we can do but virgins are pretty damn thin on the ground these days."

She giggled. He couldn't decide whether to feel complimented or hope she didn't make it a habit.

"No virgins. Sorry Dean. No goats either, well, unless you want to celebrate with a barbeque. Yum."

"Maybe when we have time to dig a pit and do it right," Sam smiled.

"Ok," she said, leaning forward to rest her chin on her forearms, folded on the seatback between them. "This is all tradition and religious dogma from here, so take it with a grain of salt. From what Castiel said, as hard as we tried, it wound up being just a big, revered game of telephone. Anyway, there's all this rigmarole attached to it, but the gist seems to be that Sam and I have to be willing, and within the grace period. Meh, what's called the Introspection Time, but whatever. When we decide to seal the deal, we touch each other and, oh heck, this is gonna freak you right out, Dean, but it's said we 'release our oneness,' whatever that means."

She sighed. "Apparently then the heavens open and angels sing and we see at least the hem of Father's garment and feel eternal bliss and taste manna, so your mileage may vary at that point."

"Wow. Do your people use hallucinogens in worship?" Sam asked.

June giggled again. "Sorry, no. Which makes all that sound even more woo-woo bonkers, huh?"

Dean shrugged. "Good trip, bad trip, what's coming through loud and clear is that it's one with no return ticket."

"Any mention of side effects? Drawbacks?" Sam asked.

"Things that can go horribly, horribly wrong?" Dean added.

She obviously was searching her memory banks with all due diligence.

"No," she said after a few long moments, with a shake of her head. "Not that I've ever heard of. The only thing close to a drawback is that we'll be increasingly uncomfortable the farther and longer we're separated from one another. So if we do this, you're both kinda stuck with me. No dumping me off behind a white picket fence somewhere. Or a razor wire one."

Sam turned to look at her again, his face solemn and Dean knew exactly what he was going to ask, as if he was the one plugged into his brother's emotions.

"What happens when one of us dies?"

"Honestly, I don't know. All I have to offer is tradition." She matched Sam's somber tone. Dean's shoulders tightened.

"If you're the survivor," she went on, "I assume you'll grieve, but it's said that the mercy of the closeness for the Hunter is that no matter how pleasant the connection, it's not equally painful when the bond is severed. In fact, it's said that being opened to one Hound makes it easier to accept another if you're bereft."

Dean felt the knot in the middle of his back ease, though he suspected Sam would take that loss a lot harder than June seemed to predict.

"What about for you? What if I go first?" Sam asked.

"Odds are, I'll die shortly after you."

"Suicide?" Sam blurted, aghast.

"Maybe. Some did, it's said. Most though, it sounds like they simply… gave up. Laid down on their Hunter's ashes and never got up again. Some suggest it's biological, we simply can't survive solo once we've been practically a symbiote."

"That doesn't frighten you?"

June shrugged. "Everything living dies, Sam. I've already experienced more than I ever dreamed I'd be honored to know. I'm content with that price tag."

"That's a fatalistic outlook."

"I prefer to call it pragmatism," she replied. "Acceptance of reality."

Sam blew out a sigh. Silence stretched dark and heavy in the car. Enough of that.

"What about me, Strongheart? What'll you do if I croak?" Dean risked a glance over his shoulder at her to give her a wicked grin.

She ruffled his hair and squeezed the back of his neck like a hug. "You? I'll cry my eyes out over your body till you start to stink too bad then I'll salt and burn you and throw a huge wake around your funeral pyre and drink till I can't remember my own name for three days after."

"I can live with that," he chuckled. "Or uh, not. You know what I mean."

This time he got a full-on laugh and she pulled Sam into it right along with her.