Chapter Nine
In an alley in New York City, surrounded by the smell of trash and a rancid something he couldn't describe, with icy wind feeling as though it were cutting his face, Dean Winchester felt like he was going to vomit.
He needed a cigarette worse than a werewolf needed a silver bullet to the heart. Or at least, it would, if there were werewolves anymore… Damn it.
"This is it."
Dean closed his eyes at the soft sound of his brother's fiancé's voice, then glanced over in time to see Sam's long arm reach out, fingers tracing over the words etched into stone in the side of the building. Peyton had tears in her eyes, and Dean reached out to brush his fingers along her shoulder before Sam looped his arm around her, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. Peyton shook her head, turning to face him, gripping his jacket in her hands.
"What if she's not here?"
"Honey—"
"We came all this way, and if she's not—or if we were wrong, I don't think—"
"Peyton, baby. Breathe."
Peyton leaned forward, resting her forehead against Sam's flannel-covered chest. The kid had always run hot, and he had his jacket open, the icy wind not bothering his furnace-like body. Dean shook his head, fingers itching for one of the cigarettes from the pack in his pocket. He glanced over, seeing Sam with his hand on the back of Peyton's head, gently scratching her scalp, holding her close.
"We have to give it a shot. You're right. We came all this way, and we're not giving up now."
"But what if she—"
"Peyton."
She lifted her head from his chest, and Sam gave her a soft smile, reaching up to brush a wayward curl off her forehead.
"Can't you feel her?"
Peyton let out a watery laugh.
"I can't feel anything anymore. I'm frozen."
Sam laughed, leaning down to kiss her lips, holding her chilled face between his warm hands. Peyton gave a quiet hum of appreciation, and Dean bit his tongue, hard, before he squared his shoulders and walked up the small front steps, knocking heavily on the door. He stepped back, smiling to himself when Peyton's hand slipped into his, and the door opened just enough for a teenage boy's head to poke out.
Faded bruises surrounded one of his eyes, skin discoloration all but disappeared. It might not even be noticeable, to someone who wasn't a Winchester. Growing up the way they had, bruises were a common occurrence, welcome even, when compared to some of the other injuries they'd suffered. Almost without thinking, Sam lifted his hands, gently rubbing his right wrist, while Dean absently rubbed at his chest. The boy raised an eyebrow, and Sam cleared his throat.
"We, uh … We're looking for someone. Maybe you could help us?"
The boy shook his head, voice deeper than they were expecting.
"We don't give out information like that. Sorry."
"Wait!"
The boy stopped just before the door was closed, and Peyton stepped forward, one hand holding the front of her belly.
"It's not one of you. The person we're looking for. She's not a kid or anything. She … She works here."
The boy tilted his head to the side, glancing back behind him as a soft voice was heard.
"Who's at the door?"
"Some people looking for someone. I think …"
"What?"
The boy looked forward, at Dean and Sam and Peyton, then ducked inside, whispering. A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal a tall redhead with wide blue eyes. Dean shared a glance with Sam, and the redhead cleared her throat, speaking shakily.
"Who are you looking for?"
Peyton met her eyes, then looked down as she reached into her purse. She pulled out her wallet, smiling softly as she ran her fingers over a picture, then pulled the picture out and handed it to the girl.
"We're looking for her. Have you … have you seen her?"
The girl's eyes went impossibly wider, and she looked back, at the boy peering over her shoulder, who was surrounding her from behind in a protective way. Sam smiled at that. He knew exactly how the boy was feeling, since Sam was currently in a similar position with Peyton. Dean stood beside them, rubbing his hands together. Peyton cleared her throat.
"Do you re—recognize her?"
The girl and the boy just stared at each other, speaking with their eyes, until a soft smile crossed her face. She nodded once, then turned back to face the three people outside the door.
"Please come inside. Let me just … I'll be right back."
She laid her hand against the boy's chest, and he lifted his hand to cover hers before she walked away. He stepped back, opening the door wider, and Dean stepped inside, eyes immediately scanning the room, finding the exits, the windows, any points of entry or weak spots. Peyton stepped in behind him, letting out a sigh at the feeling of warmth, and Sam rounded out their group, eyes scanning the room the same way Dean's had.
Peyton motioned towards the couch, and the boy nodded, stepping aside so she could walk over, letting out a groan as she sank down, hand on her belly. Sam stepped over to her and she reached up, taking his hand and smiling.
"I'm good. Just a little tired. Lot of walking."
Sam nodded, squeezing her hand once. The boy cleared his throat, looking at all of them before catching Dean's eye. He nodded at him, crossing his muscled arms over his wide chest.
"If you don't mind my asking, how do you know her?"
Dean pursed his lips.
"If you don't mind me asking, how do you?"
The boy smiled, looking down.
"She lives here. Works here. Takes care of us. She … saved my life, if I'm completely honest."
No one said anything, but the boy smiled again.
"She took care of me, when I got the shit beat out of me. I wouldn't go to a hospital, even though I probably should have. She tried to make me, but I'm a stubborn son of a bitch, so …"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"She patched me up and stayed up all night looking out for me."
He looked over, meeting Dean's eyes again.
"I owe her. Not gonna let anything happen to her."
Dean nodded, a smirk on his face as he reached up to touch the chain around his neck. It was easy to feel protective of her, he knew from past experience. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he pushed that aside, stepping forward and holding out a hand.
"Dean."
The boy looked down at his hand, then gripped it with his own.
"Patrick."
They let go of their hands and Sam stepped forward, shaking Patrick's hand next.
"I'm Sam, and this is my fiancé, Peyton."
She waved from the couch, wincing once. Sam knelt beside her and she let out a laugh, gently pushing his shoulder.
"Fine. It's just kicking like crazy."
Sam's huge hands easily spanned her belly, and he sucked in a breath when a powerful kick landed against his palm.
"Holy cow."
Peyton laughed, pushing her hands through his hair, and Sam smiled up at her as he leaned forward, kissing her lips as his hand rested against their child. Dean cleared his throat, locking eyes with Patrick.
"Tell me what you know about her."
Patrick sighed, pushing a hand through his dark hair.
"Her name's Meredith."
"Actually, that's what we call her. Meredith."
They turned to see the redhead walk back into the room, a tall, lanky man behind her. She smiled at Dean, holding out a hand.
"Elise."
Dean nodded, shaking her hand once.
"Dean. That's Sam and Peyton."
They waved, and Elise smiled at them. She motioned behind her, to the man standing back and staring at Dean.
"This is Alex. He runs the place, and he'd like to speak with you."
Dean nodded, and Alex reached in his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He handed a card to Elise, tearing his eyes from their visitors.
"Take the boys down to the arcade. You know, down the street? Keep them there as long as you can."
"Alex—"
"Buy them snacks, but don't let them fill up, and don't go crazy, okay? This card doth not give you free reign. Use the power wisely."
Elise rolled her eyes, but tucked her hand in Patrick's, leading him out of the room. Alex cleared his throat, pushing a smile onto his face.
"Would you mind coming up to my office?"
Sam helped Peyton up from the couch, holding onto her elbows while she caught her breath and found her balance. She smiled up at him and followed Alex up the stairs. Halfway up, Sam stopped, turning back to face his brother, who had frozen at the bottom step.
"Dean? You coming?"
"It smells like her."
Sam raised an eyebrow, looking forward to Peyton, who nodded, continuing to follow Alex. Sam stepped back down, and Dean lifted his eyes, so full of pain and grief that Sam could barely stand to look at them. Sam swallowed, reaching out and putting his hand on Dean's shoulder.
"Come on, man. We can get through this."
"I don't know if I can."
"I do."
Dean met Sam's eyes, nodding slowly as Sam squeezed his shoulder.
"Let me shoulder this one, okay?"
"Sam—"
"No, I … You don't have to say anything, okay? Let me ask the questions, and you can sit back and soak it in."
"It's her, Sam. I know it is."
"Okay, then."
"What do you mean, 'okay'?"
"I mean, I believe you. If anyone would know when it came to her, it would be you."
Dean stared at the ground, and Sam squeezed his shoulder once more.
"Come on. Let's find out what your girl's been up to."
Alex sat at his desk, mulling over the papers spread out in front of him. Sam and Peyton sat at the chairs in front of the desk, while Dean stood behind them, leaned up against the wall. Alex ran his hand over his chin, reading through the information, trying not to look at the pictures.
It scared him, to be completely honest. The fact that someone had gotten that close to her, to take pictures of her without any of them knowing. He was supposed to protect her. He'd promised to keep her safe, and she had basically been stalked for months. And he hadn't had a damn clue.
He shook his head, rubbing his mouth before lifting his eyes. The woman was on the edge of her seat, dark eyes full of worry, curly hair pulled back from her face. She had one hand gripped tightly in the tall man's beside her, and from all Alex could see, he was the rock of the group. The bearded man against the wall had a weight on his shoulders, grief in his eyes, and he couldn't stand still.
Alex cleared his throat, speaking as calmly as he could.
"You're her family."
He didn't pose it as a question, because it wasn't one. He could tell. The worry that surrounded these people, the hope and apprehension in their faces … He'd seen it before. He'd lived it before, and his world had come crumbling down.
Their outcome would be much better than his.
The woman nodded as tears filled her dark eyes. The hand that wasn't gripping the tall man's went to her swollen belly, gently rubbing it. She blinked, speaking softly.
"Yes. I'm her cousin. Sam is my fiancé, and that's—"
"His brother. I'm … I'm Sam's brother."
Sam and Peyton both turned around, eyes wide and mouths open. Dean met their gaze, slowly shaking his head once. Peyton stared at him, and Dean glanced down. Sam turned back, clearing his throat, speaking softly to Alex. Peyton took in a breath when she saw Dean fiddling with the ring on his finger.
Sam gently tapped Peyton's wrist, and she turned back around to face Alex. She shook her head, smiling gently.
"I'm sorry. What was that?"
Alex gave her a half-smile, clearing his throat once.
"I was just wondering what you could tell me about her."
Peyton smiled, glancing at Sam. He nodded at her, then turned to Alex.
"Actually, we'd like to hear your side first."
Alex nodded, leaning back in his chair, letting out a sigh.
"Six months ago, I went for a run in Central Park. Cliché, I know. But I like to take a break from the city, and the Park's the best place to do that. I went on a different route than I usually take, and when I did, I found this beautiful girl sleeping on one of the benches down by the Alice in Wonderland statue."
He looked down at his hands.
"She was shivering on the bench, and it was so hot outside. I knew she had to be sick, so I woke her up, asked her what her name was. And she … She couldn't tell me."
Peyton looked over to Sam, who took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. Alex continued on with his story.
"I asked her if she was okay, and she didn't know. She was so scared, and I just … I don't know, I couldn't stand to see her cry. I helped her up and grabbed a cab, took her to the nearest hospital. They put her through the wringer, test-wise, and all they could come up with was that she had amnesia."
Dean closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall.
"She was, quite literally, a Jane Doe. Not one single memory. Her name, her age, everything is a mystery. We determined that she had to be in her late twenties. I had a team checking Missing Persons cases, kidnappings, and they never found anything. We put out flyers and bulletins across the country. But nothing ever came of it."
Alex turned to glance out his window.
"She's smart. So kind. She'd do anything for anyone, takes care of all of us here."
"How did she …"
"End up here?"
Alex looked to Peyton, who nodded.
"I brought her home with me after the hospital released her. She'd been dehydrated and she's got an incredibly low body temperature. I couldn't just put her back out on the street. God only knows how long she'd been there before I found her. So, I brought her home with me. Well, after we picked up a few things."
Alex cleared his throat again.
"When we went to one of the stores, there was a section with different things with initials on them. She kept gravitating towards the things with M's on them, and she told me she thought her name might start with an 'M'. So, I named her Meredith."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"She fit in seamlessly with the kids who were here at the time. They all treated her like she was made of glass, tried different games to try and jog her memory. And she remembered something one day. I don't even remember what it was. But that night, I woke up to hear her screaming."
He closed his eyes, sitting up in his chair.
"She was convinced she was dying. She was crying and throwing up and she couldn't even open her eyes. Scared the shit out of me. I woke up one of the older kids, told them to watch the younger ones, and I got to the hospital as fast as I could. They did all kinds of tests again, thought she might be having an aneurysm or something."
He shook his head.
"But everything was normal. She was so sick, hurting so bad, and they couldn't find anything wrong with her. She recovered from that, and two weeks later, it happened again. Same thing. CT scans were clean, bloodwork perfect. The only thing wrong is that her body temp is so low."
He let out a sigh, lifting his head.
"If she remembers anything, which she's been doing a lot of lately, the migraines hit. She can't handle light or sound or touch. All she can do is stay in the bed until it passes."
Alex blinked, looking from one of them to the other, then to the other.
"Six months I've had to sit back and watch while she's in pain, unable to help her. Six months."
He lifted his eyes to the bearded man standing against the wall, green eyes filled with pain.
"Where were you for the last six months?"
Dean stared at him, unable to look away or blink or breathe. Alex kept his eyes on him, until a soft voice spoke from one of the chairs.
"We didn't know."
Alex lifted his eyes to the sorrow-filled hazel eyes of the tall man, who, crouched down in his seat like that, suddenly seemed so small. Sam shook his head, voice rough.
"There was … an accident. One that no—no one could have survived. We thought … We thought she was dead."
"You didn't bother to look for her?"
Sam's eyes closed in pain for a moment, before he opened them again, tears swimming there.
"All evidence pointed to the fact that she was gone. There was not even a sliver of hope that she might have made it alive."
Sam shook his head, one tear slipping down his cheek.
"We didn't know."
Peyton reached over and took his hand, holding it tightly before looking to Alex again, tears slipping from her eyes as she gave him a sad smile.
"Her name is Melinda. She's twenty-eight years old, and she's my very best friend. She's from San Francisco, California, from a big family. She's got two brothers and six first cousins that she's very close to. The whole family is extremely close."
Alex smiled, glancing down at the photo in front of him, the one Peyton had given Elise earlier. Meredith—no. Melinda was smiling, long blonde hair down past her shoulders, blue eyes sparkling.
"That explains why she was so comfortable in this place. The kids running in and out, new ones showing up all the time. Everyone needing a warm bed, a good meal. She never flinched. I would freak out, think we didn't have enough room or … whatever, and she'd just smile, pat me on the back and tell me everything was going to be okay."
Alex blinked tears back from his own eyes, and Peyton swallowed. She watched him trace the picture with gentle fingers and she closed her eyes.
"You love her."
Alex lifted his head, locking eyes with the bearded man standing back against the wall. He blinked once, then spoke, his voice calm and confident.
"Yes. I do, very much."
The man nodded once, opening the door and walking out of the room. Sam stood up.
"Dean!"
Peyton grabbed his hand, shaking her head. Sam sighed, sitting back down and putting his head in his hands.
"Christ."
"Give him a minute."
"A minute? Peyton, how am I supposed to—"
"Can I ask what's going on here?"
Peyton and Sam turned to look at Alex, who had his eyebrows raised. Peyton smiled softly, then spoke.
"Can we figure it out first?"
Dean flicked the butt of his cigarette away and pulled another one out of the carton. He wasn't a chain smoker, but at the moment … He didn't know what else to do.
She was alive.
She had no idea who she was.
Which meant that she didn't know him.
It hurt.
Christ Almighty, it hurt like hell. Not to mention the bastard inside, who was in love with her.
Dean sighed, standing with the unlit cigarette in his mouth. He shook his head, pulling his lighter from his pocket and lighting up. He inhaled, holding the burn in his lungs before exhaling a stream of smoke.
So the guy wasn't really a bastard. No, he was a hero, and if Dean wasn't a lesser man, he'd thank him. He found her, saved her, took care of her when Dean couldn't. Is it really a surprise that he fell for her?
Not at all.
Dean took another drag from the cigarette, ignoring the biting wind that was blowing straight through his jacket, numbing his hands and his nose. He blew out a stream of smoke, watching it disappear as his thoughts were racing through his brain. One thing stuck out, though, and it was suddenly all he could think of.
She had no memory. Which meant that she didn't remember her life, or any part of her life. Not her family, not her education, and most definitely, not him. As painful as it was to think on, Dean couldn't help but smile.
She was free.
This was her chance. She could go and do whatever she wanted, be whomever she wanted to be, and have not one single thing holding her back.
She wouldn't have Dean holding her back.
He put his cigarette in his mouth, reaching for his left hand, turning the ring on his finger. He slipped it off, smiling at the white circle around his finger, the tan line the ring had left behind. It hurt, to take it off after all this time.
He'd spent their first anniversary alone. Just a few weeks after the battle in the cemetery (if you could even call it a battle), Dean spent the day literally crying into his beer. Jenny had sat with him at P3, because she knew what it was like to be married for a short time, only to lose your spouse. All day long, they'd cried and shared stories, drank most of the bar's supply of liquor.
Dean sighed, taking one last drag from his cigarette before dropping it and crushing it beneath his heel. He glanced up, to see his brother standing before him. He slipped his hands in his pockets, nodding once to Sam, who sighed.
"We need to talk."
"No kidding."
Sam snorted, shaking his head. Sam crossed his arms over his chest.
"That's the answer we were looking for. She hasn't looked for us because she …"
"She doesn't remember us."
Dean walked over until he could lean against the building, propping his foot up. Sam followed him over, leaning beside him. Dean let out a sigh, holding his wedding ring up between his thumb and forefinger. He looked over and saw the confusion on Sam's face.
"She doesn't remember us, Sam. Anything we've gone through in the past six, seven years. She doesn't … She doesn't remember me, Sam. She doesn't know me."
Sam stood up from the wall, shaking his head.
"Dean, what are you … what are you getting at here?"
Dean blew out a slow breath, placing his ring in his hand and holding it out to Sam.
"She doesn't know me."
"She's married to you, Dean."
"Not that she knows of."
"I don't understand what you're—"
Dean slid the ring in his pocket, then pushed off the wall.
"Hear me out?"
Sam nodded, and Dean rubbed a hand over his beard.
"I lost her. For six months, I could barely breathe without her. And now, she's alive. She's been alive, and she's … Fuck, she's thriving, Sam."
Dean let out a laugh, shaking his head.
"All this time, I've barely been able to keep my head above water, and she's saving kids from the streets. She's mothering all these children, and I'm the reason she never got to have a baby. I'm a fucking mess and she's … this place's dream come true."
He turned to face his brother, shaking his head again.
"How can I take her away from that?"
"Dean."
The shocked expression on Sam's face was too much for Dean to handle. He turned and started walking down the alley, and Sam jogged to catch up with him.
"Wait, wait. Dean, stop."
He finally did, and Sam walked to stand in front of him, shaking his head.
"Am I hearing this right? You want to … what? Pretend you don't know her because she doesn't know you?"
Dean sighed, dragging his hand over his face.
"She doesn't remember anything. She won't remember being married to me. Why would I tell her that?"
"Because she's your wife! Because she was so damn happy when you two got married!"
"She doesn't remember me, Sam! She doesn't remember getting married. She's happy here. She's got a job and a purpose and a life here. How am I supposed to yank her away from this and shove her back in a family that she doesn't know? How am I supposed to take her away from—from him and tell her, 'Oh, he might love you, but you're mine. Sorry.'"
Sam held out his hands, and Dean kicked a soda can on the ground.
"This is so fucking complicated. This morning, I was just hoping she was alive. Now? I … I don't even know."
Sam held his hand over his mouth for a moment, then cleared his throat. Dean looked over to him and Sam let his hand fall, lifting his shoulders and dropping them.
"I don't even know what to tell you right now."
Dean blew out his breath and turned away from his brother.
"However …"
Dean stopped and Sam walked to catch up to him.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe she doesn't know you or us or any of her family. Maybe this life is the only one she knows."
"What 'maybe,' Sam? Did you not hear the guy?"
"That's just it, Dean. I did hear 'the guy.' Who I didn't hear was Mel."
Dean stopped, and Sam went on.
"We haven't seen her yet, Dean. We've taken Alex's word on everything, and since when did we ever just take anyone's word without checking it out for ourselves? That's not who we are."
Sam stood in front of his brother, glancing around, huddling in his jacket at the sudden, biting wind.
"I want to see her and get the story straight from her. I want her to look me in the eye and act like it's the first time she's ever met me. Then I'll believe what Alex said. But Dean, he also said she gets headaches from remembering things. Who's to say the things she remembers aren't us?"
Dean let out a slow, shaky breath, looking up at Sam.
"I don't know if I can do it, Sammy. When she—"
"If, Dean."
Dean closed his eyes.
"If she doesn't know me, I … I don't know if I can handle it. I'm barely hanging on as it is."
"I know. But I'm here, and there's nothing else I can say to you right now. Other than …"
Sam smiled, laying his hands on Dean's shoulders.
"This could be your chance, Dean."
"My chance for what?"
Sam's smile widened.
"To do it all over again. To make her fall in love with you, to treat her the way you think she should have been treated the first time. No one ever gets a chance like this, Dean. You can't … you can't just pass it up because you think you're not good enough for her. I mean, yeah. It's a crap situation to be in, but …"
Sam closed his eyes, opening them again a few seconds later, eyes full of hope.
"We thought we'd lost her. That we'd never get to see her again. You never thought you'd get to see her, but Dean … She's here. She's alive. So don't treat it like the Mel you knew is gone. Don't force-feed her memories and try to get her to be who she was. Learn who she is now, adapt, and make her fall in love with you again."
Dean stared at the soda can he'd kicked a few minutes ago, and Sam smiled.
"Do you know what I'd give to go back? To find Peyton sooner and to treat her the way she should have been treated from the beginning? No Ruby, no demon blood, no apocalypse. Just me, finding the girl I'm supposed to be with and not fucking it up."
Sam stepped forward again, laying his hands on Dean's shoulders, squeezing once.
"This is your chance, Dean. To be the man you keep wishing you could be, but don't understand that you are. She doesn't remember the bad, so you can fill her life with nothing but good."
Dean sighed, shaking his head once. Sam had a point. Sam had a damn good point, and he'd be an idiot to not to take the advice. Dean nodded once, then met his brother's eyes.
"If she's with that … Alex guy, I'm stepping back. I don't want to ruin anything else for her."
Sam nodded.
"That's respectable, but I feel the need to point out that she's married to you, Dean."
Dean closed his eyes and sighed.
"I don't want to tell her that."
"Dean."
"No, I don't … if I'm going to go along with what you said, to give it another chance and do it right this time, I don't want her to feel obligated in any way. I don't want her with me just because some stupid piece of paper says she has to be."
Sam had a bad feeling about this. But when Dean grabbed his jacket, those emerald eyes full of pain and the tiniest spark of hope …
"Please, Sammy. Don't tell her, and don't let anyone else tell her either."
"Okay, okay. We … we won't tell. I'd like to make it known that I do not agree with this, but … I'll back your play."
Dean nodded, letting out a long breath. Sam patted his back, then moved to stand beside him. He pulled his jacket closer around him.
"Come on. Peyton's probably wondering where we are."
Dean nodded again, the tiniest smile on his face. He kicked the can once more, then slid his hands in his pockets. He stopped, looking up at Sam.
"You go ahead. I just … need a second."
Sam nodded slowly.
"I'll wait for you at the end of the alley."
Dean nodded, and Sam walked ahead, hands in his pockets, long legs eating up the ground. Dean snorted and shook his head, then turned away, where Sam would only be able to see his back, should he turn around. Dean reached into his pocket, pulling his wedding ring out and staring at it. The gold circle gleamed in the little bit of sunlight, and Dean smiled. It hurt his heart to see the ring, to remember the day she'd given it to him.
But it was different now. The hurt was not so bad, but the anticipation was killing him. He reached shaky hands up and undid the chain from around his neck, slipping his ring onto it, smiling when the metal gave an almost-silent clink against the other "charms" on his necklace. He fixed the chain under his shirt, giving it a touch as he closed his eyes.
He opened them again, turning and walking to the end of the alley, meeting up with his brother and walking back to the place they'd meandered away from.
There were more people in the house when Sam and Dean walked inside. Voices filled the kitchen, distinctly female. Sam started to head up the stairs, and Dean made a motion towards the hallway. Sam nodded, jogging up the rest of the way while Dean started walking in the opposite direction from the noise.
"Oh, sorry."
A young girl with blonde hair looked up at him, blinking hazel eyes. She narrowed her eyes as she studied him, and Dean fought back a smile. He cleared his throat, and after a moment, she met his eyes again.
"Can you tell me where the bathroom is?"
She stared at his mouth while he talked, and he looked to the side, uncomfortable. He met her eyes again, raising his eyebrows, and she shook her head, a puzzled look crossing her face. Dean decided to try again.
"Bathroom?"
Realization hit the girl, and she nodded. She pointed down the hall she'd just come from, holding up three fingers, then pointing to the left. Dean nodded, and the girl walked away. He turned and watched her go, flinching when a loud crash sounded from the kitchen, followed by an equally loud "Sorry!" The girl never reacted, and Dean shook his head, walking down the hall.
"She had to mean third door on the left, right?"
He stopped there, knocking once, then pushing open the door. He felt around for the light switch, jumping when the door slammed behind him. He bumped into a shelf, pulling his lighter from his pocket and seeing canned food in front of him.
"Crap. Wrong door."
He slid the lighter back in his pocket, cursing himself for a moment. Why put the lighter up when he still had to find the door? He rolled his eyes at himself, shaking his head, feeling for the door when he heard footsteps come down the hall. He took a step back as the door opened.
"Let me grab the tomatoes and I'll be right back. Don't let the sauce burn!"
That voice. That voice was … Oh god. There she was.
