A/N - Hey! I know its a long shot that my friends/readers are still holding out hope that they would recieve another installment in Olivia's story, what with my personal life causing radio silence and all, but, guess what! Things are looking up and I am writing again. As always, I love feed back. Because I needed some extra De-livia time my darn self, i took the liberty of writing a metric crap ton for this installment. I do, however, apologize that this chapter is all plot. I can promise that thw future holds a ton of fluff, fun, and what I hope is the spectacular smut you all deserve! Thanks for keeping me in your thoughts!

I was frustrated on just about every imaginable level by the time the Winchesters left Ninja and I alone at the hotel. Jessica wasn't the first person that a hunter had failed, and she wouldn't be the last. All we could do at that point was ensure that she didn't die in vain. There were four more people out there to save, and she was helping us do it, even if she didn't know it. That's the whole reason you become a hunter, right? Well, it sure as hell wasn't the pay. And the hours were a son of a bitch. There were no benefits, and when it was time to retire, there'd be no gold watch from the boss, or thank you from the folks I'd helped. Like most hunters, upon my retirement I'd probably receive a hurried salt and burn and a grave stone in my home town to mark the occasion. That's very nearly the best case scenario.

The boys were doing their fake fed thing at the coroners. Now that there was a murder case to grab national attention in addition to the missing persons, we had to stand out as little as possible, so I left them to it, since feds tend to go marching two by two. Besides, if Dean and I found ourselves trying to work the case ala Mulder and Scully, I'm pretty sure the shock waves caused by the intense sexual tension would be the catalyst for some obscure Aramaic prophecy that would, ultimately, mean that our naughty bits caused the apocalypse. No one wants to go down in history as the girl who starting twat-ocalypse.

Eh-hem. Anyways.

We were staring down the loaded barrel of a vicious string of all nighters, so I did the only useful thing I could think of. I went on a beer and food run. The Royal BBQ was a pretty popular place, and the site of the most recent disappearance, so I figured I could kill two birds with one stone. There was a slim chance I could button the whole thing up right then. I mean, it was 1,000,000 to 1, but it was a chance. Okay, I wasn't delusional enough to think it was MUCH of a chance, but people have played the lottery with worse odds, and I wanted buffalo wings.

I changed into some fresh sweats and a plain black tee shirt, debating an update to my wardrobe as I dressed. I felt downright dowdy in my own relaxed fit clothing just a few days borrowing Kirsti's clothes. Between the clothes like a second skin that left little to the imagination and the primping she subjected me to, I was beginning to think that even a hunter needed to indulge in some nice things. And avoiding bIood stains and other bodily fluids HAD to be doable... I shook my head and made a point to knock on wood to protect my new hypothetical but very sexy and tasteful imaginary outfit.

Ninja cocked his head the side, clearly a little bemused. I realized, then, that I had been having a spirited, very vocal debate regarding the purchase of clothing with myself, and if my volume was any clue, me g me.

I realize that its absurd, but I could have sworn my dog made a downright snarky face. Maybe it was gas, but i stuck my tongue out at him anyway. He may not have understood, but it made me feel better as I pulled on my tennies. Shaking his head furiously, Ninja yipped, his little tail nubbin moving so fast I could barely see it. "What do you know? If you wanted to hook up with a girl dog, you'd impress them with your pungent butt orders or something. Not that you need to, since you can lick yourself." I chuckled. "Bazinga." For a moment, I almost could have sworn Ninja rolled his eyes with a long suffering look on his face. If ever there was a dog who deserved the classification long suffering, it was definitely Ninja. Since he was old enough to leave his mom, he had been the sounding board for many a rant, quip, and dick joke. Considering some of the humiliating things he had witnessed, I was suddenly very glad that dogs couldn't talk.

"Come on. Let's go get some pizza. And like, all the beer." Being an accomplished beer drinker himself (despite my best efforts to prevent him), Ninja's bark was enthusiastic as we left the hotel room, his leash feeling every inch of his excitement. Between my dog the lush and the stress of the case, I guessed it was going to be at least a 12 pack night…

Something about Detroit made me uneasy, and I think it was getting to Ninja, too. He stuck close to my side, his head on my lap the whole short drive to the pizza place, despite the beautiful night and the fact that the windows were invitingly rolled down to accommodate the spring breeze that was invigorating and a little biting, all at once. Cities weren't exactly my native habitat, but I knew enough to park directly under a street lamp. The Lariat was bathed in a soothing warm glow. Not only would the way the street light glinted off Ninja's teeth be sure to keep any carjackers away, but if things got messy for whatever reason, it would be easy for me to orient myself to my escape vehicle. It was a pretty good system, made even more effective because Ninja was looking baleful, to say the least. It seemed the more I made to leave the car, the more ill at ease he became. My boy was looking right past me, and I followed his gaze as my curiosity mounted. He was staring right into the front windows of the Royal BBQ, watching whatever had caught his attention through the large well lit panes. Chills crawled up my spine as I felt more than heard the low warning rumble in my Rottie's chest. My puppy was not pleased. Anything that could make 250 pounds of muscles and teeth that nervous wasn't going to make my Christmas card list, and I crossed my fingers that I wouldn't so much as bump into it. So much for the chance I would gank the son of a bitch myself.

There was nothing for it, so I swallowed my fear and did my best to reassure my fur baby, giving his ears a scratch. "You will see me the whole time. Now, protect the truck, and we will go for a walk after I order." I don't know if my dog understood my words, but my soothing tone didn't even make him blink as he stared petulantly into the pizza joint. "Ooookay." Clearly, there was something bad here, and more than likely, it was related to the case. I sighed. It was easy peasy for me to decode how my dog was feeling. I could actually read my Rottweiler easier than I could figure out the guy I was sleeping with. I decided I probably didn't want to think too much about that.

The weight of my purse across my shoulders was reassuring. The cross body canvas sack was large enough to transport a small midget, and it housed a handy variety of side arms and melee weapons to ensure that whatever I bumped into, I was prepared. When you knew what you were up against, mobility, stealth, and efficiency were the way to go. I, however, had no freaking clue what I could possibly need, and I refused to be caught with my pants down. Like most girls, I understood the importance of accessorizing. Of course, most girls chose their purse because it matched their shoes. I picked mine because it matched my weaponry. I shrugged to myself. I hadn't been much like most girls in quite a while. I was pretty proud of it, regardless. A hidden pouch that I had sewed into the lining held my hand gun, loaded with silver bullets. Attached to a cord to make them easy to reach I had a couple of aerosol cans that could have easily passed for pepper spray. Of course, instead of mace, one held rock salt water and the other atomized holy water. When aimed at the right monster, the result was similar, too. My hand was wrapped around the hilt of a silver knife big enough to cause me some legal trouble if I should find myself needing to explain it to Detroit's finest, and the cold iron of my Billy club brushed my knuckles, nestled in the bottom of my bag. Granted, if I needed to flee on foot I would have to abandon the damn thing, but the whole point of the Monster Ambush Survival Bag was to gank the thing before it came to that.

I stopped by the large window that held my dog's attention. The light from the dining room ensured that no one could do anything particularly sneaky without the folks inside seeing, and I was close enough to the door that I wasn't too concerned with muggers and rapists. Okay, I am always worried about muggers and rapists, but only because they tend to be human and if you hurt them people ask questions. Anyways, as I was saying, once I reached the relative security of the building, I allowed myself a brief moment of panic, hurriedly searching through my monster ambush survival bag for the only thing I kept in there that every girl needs. Just before I gave up and headed back to the hotel, I noticed the label I had placed on one of the pouches and grumbled to myself. Right behind the indelible marker script that announced a pouch was for "Phone, Keys, Wallet," I found my wallet. And my phone. I had to do a double take when I noticed there weren't any keys, but then I remembered they were still in my hand.

I didn't know whether to laugh at myself or call a doctor for an early onset Alzheimers screening as I entered the busy eatery. It was clear I should have called ahead. Every booth and table was full, and the line to reach the counter and place a to-go order snaked along the wall disappeared around a corner. I couldn't help but groan, and I thanked god I had juiced up my phone all day. I was going to have to crush a hell of a lot of Candy before I got anywhere near the counter.

I managed to peek through the window, and sighed. It didn't look like Ninja had moved a muscle since I left the truck, and he was still intently staring into the building, tracking…. Something. Whatever we were after, I had a feeling it was very close. I scanned the crowd, pausing for a moment on each face to look for any sign that they were a little lacking in the humanity department. I realized I probably looked like a crack head, or at the very least the type of person whose favorite hat is made of tin foil, but I refused to be caught off guard. Besides, the more attention I paid to the crowd, the less I noticed the length of the line, and before I knew it, I was at the window ordering two pizzas and some wings.

The guy who took my order assured me it was coming right up, and then explained that in that particular establishment, coming right up was code for close to half an hour. At least. I smiled weakly as I caught a whiff of buffalo sauce and my stomach lurched. I hoped the ambient noise was enough to cover up the fact that my belly just wailed like Stanley after Stella over a plate of half eaten wings heading back to the galley. Even if the folks around me did hear my stomach's rendition of a Street Car Named Desire, I had enough to worry about. Between the fact that the damn place didn't serve pie or beer to go and that somewhere in the crowd lurked a monster, there wasn't much room for worrying about what anyone may say about me. Unless they said something like, "You look delicious." Because, you know, if they did that would be some strong evidence that they were the monster. Or a cannible... And I doubt a cannible would bother with barbeque pork

As I headed through the parking lot towards my truck, I kept my eyes firmly on Ninja. Any sign that he saw someone coming up behind me, and I would have a teeny edge if someone jumped me. There was a gas station less than a block down, and Ninja needed a walk anyways, so we hoofed it. It felt like Ninja was trying to drag me as far from the danger that lurked within the Royal BBQ as he could, and I doubt he was satisfied with being half a block away at the quick stop. I looped his leash around a hand rail, knowing he wouldn't run, and we both felt much better when I emerged a few minutes later with pie and a 12 pack of stones.

Of course, that didn't last long. The moment Ninja realized I intended to go back to the pizza joint, he dug in his heels, and it was my turn to drag him. I tell you what, I got the best work out of my life as Ninja resisted every step. The pie was balanced precariously in my left hand, and somehow, I managed to hold the leash AND the beer with my right hand… My relief was palpable as I hauled my precious cargo into the truck. As an after though, I safely tucked the pie under the seat, so Ninja wouldn't be tempted to sample it.

Ninja and I walked the lot, and it was clear that we were close to whatever we were after, but we were going to find it inside, and not out there. For the first time in history, a busy parking lot in a bad neighborhood of Detroit was safer for a young woman than a well lit public restaurant.

Once Ninja was settled back into the truck, and I had said a prayer to the pie gods that Dean would get his pie intact, I headed back inside. I still had 20 minutes to kill, but from what I could tell, it would be more useful to kill them inside. I settled into a recently vacated seat, trying to look like I Had sat there forever. There were people who'd been there longer, and I couldn't very well explain to them that I needed the chair they were waiting for to get a different vantage point on my monster hunt, could I?

I enabled the camera on my phone and started to take a video of the comings and goings of the patrons, looking for some of the tell tale signs cameras pick up when non humans are recorded. I didn't see the flashing eyes of a shift or the shrouded visage of a wraith, and it didn't seem like there was a changelings, ghoul, or hell, even a regular old Goth kid in site.

Coming up empty again, I found myself staring into space, my mind a blank as I tuned out my surroundings. It wasn't until a couple sat down in the booth directly in my line of site that I snapped myself back into awareness. I instantly regretted it. As the couple settled in, I noticed that the man had a baby carrier, and a diaper bag was slung over the woman's shoulders. I felt a familiar pang of longing as I watched. There was a lump in my throat, and I knew I was in danger of a public display of emotion. Naturally, I couldn't look away to save my life. The scene led my thoughts into a place I rarely let them go, but I couldn't help but reflect on my past as the young woman took her little baby in her arms. I couldn't believe it had really been more than three years since my ex and I had known that kind of happiness. Every tick of the clock was pulling me further and further away from the only time in my life when I felt truly happy, at peace. My empty arms ached for what I had lost. I didn't mourn my relationship any more. In hindsight, my ex and I were doomed from the start. Of course, I wouldn't change a single minute of it. Even at its worst, the pain he caused me was a small price to pay for the joy I had experienced with his (limited) help. He put me through hell, but the selfish bastard had also given me 6 sweet, short months of heaven with my little-

"Well, if it isn't my new favorite writer!"

I was startled out of my thoughts by a familiar, boisterous old voice. "Wilf-" I barely caught myself before calling the old security guard from the Packard Wilfred Freaking Brimley. Wouldn't that have been fun? "Willlll you look who it is!" Nice save, if I do say so myself. My smile was half hearted, but I was glad he pulled me out of my melancholy. "Getting a bite after work?" I am sure I sounded like my mind was a million miles away, even as I made idle chit chat.

"Seems I'm after the same thing you are."

My eyes snapped to his, taking a moment to examine his words before I spoke. The last thing I needed to do was blow the hunt by outing us on accident. I switched into damage control mode with barely a hiccup. "Famous pizza and a hot wing fix?" I tried to brighten my voice, but it was hard when I could peek out the window and see that ninja was still staring intently into the restaurant. If I didn't know better, I would almost think his gaze was trained on me, despite the fact that he had been tracking some type of baddie the rest of the night.

"Well, I was talking more about the people watching." The old man's moustache moved, and I had to assume that under the thick, bristly hair, he had smiled. He gave me a wink and nodded towards the young family that had captured my attention. "It's nice to see that some things are still innocent, full of hope. I've never had one myself, but I'm a half a mind to snatch me a rugrat. Nothing like a fresh little baby to make you feel young. They are just delicious."

Somewhere, under his caterpillar eyebrows, Mr. Di-a-bee-tus looked wistful, and the earnest way the silly old coot talked brought on a slightly more genuine smile from me.

"Babies are a blank slate, see- Every thought and feeling they have is all their own. When they are scared, they are more scared than anyone will ever be in their life again, see, cause as they learn, as they grow, fear is replaced with stress and anxiety and an ulcer and irritation. Adults don't properly fear much of anything anymore."

The timbre of the old man's voice rumbled on as he talked, soothing me. We sat there, me in a companionable silence, him rattling on as a lonely old man has the right to, for quite a while.

"I'm sorry, I missed that last thing you said."

His moustache twitched, indicating it was hiding a smile. "I said, I bet it's not long 'afore you and that young man who handles your automobile find yourselves expecting your own. Unless you already got some?"

I blushed fast and hard, and it seemed to answer his question before I could even open my mouth, but I tried to verbalize a response anyways, because I am a trooper. "Umm… We aren't, I mean…." How the hell did you tell someone who came from a generation that frowned on premarital cohabitation, let alone copulation, that at this point the guy to which he was referring was just someone you slept with? "We just…"

Understanding dawned on the wrinkled old face. "Ooooh. You ain't gotta protect my feelings none, missy. I've been around long enough to know what goes on between a man and a woman, and as hard as it is to get used to, I know you young folks rush right into everything, even a game of hide the pickle, without a single worry."

I was… nonplussed, to say the least.

"Yup, I've watched more than my fair share of couples to pass the time. I love people watching. When you learn to watch close enough, you can almost read minds, or, well, near enough, anyways. If I'm not reading your mind, it's at least written all over your face, when you look at those folks. If you could wish for anything, you would wish for exactly what they have there."

I opened my mouth to stop the old man before an already awkward and painful situation became a tearful and embarrassing one. It seemed he was oblivious to the emotion that had chocked me up and stolen my words. Well, either that, or he was the type of old guy that figured when you'd lived as long as he had, you'd earned the right to turn off the filter between your brain and mouth. He prattled on, every word reminding me of what I had lost and what I secretly still wanted more than anything, and I prayed I could tune him out, or that my pizza would be done soon.

When my phone rang, I nearly kissed the stranger next to me, I was so relieved to escape. I looked at the screen, and resolved to do something super special for Dean When his name flashed on the caller id. I excused myself and headed outside for some privacy before I answered. "Hey!"

"Hey. Everything good?" Dean's voice was gruff, but tinged with concern.

"Well, other than the fact that I need to bleach my brain tonight, I am okay. I'm at the pizza joint waiting for our food." I leaned against my truck and idly pet Ninja through the window. He continued to stare into the restaurant.

"Okay?"

"I ran into our friend the security guard from the Packard. I got to know him real well. For instance, did you know he is so old that as long as he is in the sweet spot between creepy old and harmless old, he can pretty much just say whatever. About anything. Himself… His, uh, conquests… and, uh, family planning."

"Woah, okay, somethings you can't unhear. Just because you have to live with the mental image of- Damn it."

"You just pictured him boning, didn't you?" My voice was sympathetic.

"Son of a Bitch." Dean sounded pained. I was a little satisfied that I didn't even have to relive the specifics to share the horror of old man sack with someone i cared about.

"I know how you feel. But, hey, you know… Someday we'll get dementia and forget all about it." Its odd what you find reassuring when you lived like we did.

The silence that followed was long and painful. Someone needed to speak, because every second of silence left us vulnerable to the mental image of old people sex that was so fresh in our minds. It was a relief when Dean finally spoke up.

"Well, on that note. We know what we are after. For the most part."

I tried not to get hung up on the "for the most part" part of the sentence. "Okay?"

"The body had a blue hand print. Her insides were liquefied, and there was evidence she had been hooked up to an IV system for a long period of time."

Organizing the facts as Dean gave them, I made an educated guess… "Is it a freaking DJ-"

Ninja's fevered, threatening growl cut me off, and I whipped around, preparing for a fight as I looked for the threat he'd caught wind of. "Something wrong?" The alarm in Dean's voice was cute. And a little annoying. I couldn't figure out what had Ninja's dander up, but I had raised my dog with better manners than this.

"Everything is fine." My voice was frustrated, and I waved at the source of Ninja's ire. The old man had followed me outside. "The security guard followed me outside, and it startled Ninja." I smiled at the Wilfred Brimley look alike when he waddled up.

Dean's voice was skeptical on the other line. "Alright, well, be careful. And, you know, keep the old man out of trouble, too. He may not be all there, but I like him."

"Aye, Aye, sir."

"And tell Ninja to stop being a rude son of a bitch."

"Did you just pun at me?"

"Maybe. And Olivia?"

"Yeah?"

I started back towards the Royal BBQ, keeping my pace slow so the old man could keep up. I am pretty sure that the smell of his bengay and aquavelva cut through the air faster than we moved, and my eyes watered from the nasal assault.

"Pie?"

"We'll see." I hung up the phone before he could ask again. Dean once called me a pie tease, and after the night I had just had, I earned the satisfaction of proving him right.

A/n- I wanted to throw in a special authors note down here to thank everyone who made it to the end of what was, honestly, a little clumsy. I want to let you all know that Olivias story has been percolating in my imagination during my hiatus, and I hope you bear with me as I jump back in with you all. I will do my best to be cohesive, and if you notice an opportunity to correct tone, syntax, or any ild thing, for the love of GOD please tell me? being in a different place in my life myself, it wouldnt surprise me to find that you lovelies noticed some subtle differences in the writing.

The next chapter is almost done, btw.