Trigger Warnings: mentions of domestic abuse and rape.
McKenzie yanked open the door, a little afraid of what she would find.
She was not disappointed.
Dean held a plaid shirt to his neck, batting Sam away from him as he wavered slightly.
"What the hell happened?" She moved to the side to allow the brothers to move past her into the foyer.
"Vamp nest. Is there somewhere I can stitch him up without it being a huge issue if I make a mess?"
"Um, the downstairs bathroom is fine. This way." She led them through the foyer and the kitchen, finally reaching a large den. McKenzie pointed to a closed door, "Here. Do you need anything? Towels, or medical supplies?"
"I'll take some whiskey," Dean winced as he spoke.
McKenzie almost said no, but then considered the pain he was probably in. "Yeah, give me a second."
By the time she got back with a glass of whiskey, Sam was stitching up one of two holes in Dean's neck.
"You got bitten!?" The glass almost slid from her hand, but she tightened her grip in time and saved it from falling.
Dean scowled from his awkward position. "I fought off three at once. Coulda happened to anyone."
"Hey, stop talking. You're gonna ruin the stitches."
Dean harrumphed in return, but remained otherwise silent.
"But you didn't… I mean, you weren't made to…"
"No, he didn't feed."
McKenzie let out a sigh she didn't realize she was holding in. "Oh, here." She held out the glass, and immediately wrapped a second hand around it after noticing how badly her hand was shaking.
Dean accepted the glass, holding it down in his lap as his brother finished tying off the last stitch.
"Alright, you're finished."
Sam had barely snipped the remaining thread before Dean was already gulping the whiskey, grimacing at what must have been painful swallows.
"So. Who wants to explain why the hell you're both in Virginia?"
Sam turned to Dean as he raveled the extra thread back around its spool. "Dean? Care to take that one?"
Dean scowled. "There was a vamp nest."
"A vamp nest? You came all the way from Kansas for a vamp nest?" She leaned to one side, her hand propped on her hip.
"It was a slow week." Dean shrugged, slipping past her into the den. "This is a nice place, by the way." He glanced out of the window. "Wow, rain's really coming down now."
"Don't change the subject. You were checking in on me. Admit it."
Neither McKenzie nor Dean saw Sam scoot out of the den, a smirk on his face.
"How could I check on you if I didn't even know if you'd still be here? Or if I didn't even know where your grandmother's house was?"
"The better question is how did you even know what town?"
Dean looked suddenly guilty and began closely studying some photos on the wall.
"Dean?" McKenzie prodded.
"Uh, Cas might have given us some help there."
"You got an angel to spy on me?"
"I mean… it wasn't really spying exactly. And it was useful to have some information about you in case we needed you for a job…"
"You have my number. That wasn't sufficient?" McKenzie crossed her arms, glaring at him.
"Look, I know this is where Clay lives. I don't understand why you would willingly come back here knowing that he's here!" Dean threw his arms up in confusion.
"Dean, Clay is in jail. He's been in jail since I went back to hunting." She shuffled to the window, avoiding Dean's gaze.
"I-I mean…" He stumbled. "I figured since you were terrified when you thought you saw him on that first case…"
She turned towards him, still standing next to the window. "Dean, I was being affected by a ghost. Of course I was scared. I kept trying to remind myself he was in jail with no chance of getting out, but the ghost was pushing stupid thoughts in my head, like that he somehow managed to escape, or that I had dreamt the entire trial."
Dean was silent.
"Come on," said McKenzie. She waved him through the kitchen and into the front foyer. With a quick poke of her head into the hall closet, she surfaced with two umbrellas and a large flashlight. "Here."
Dean accepted the umbrella and followed her out into the rain. "Kenzie, where are we going? It's pouring out here!"
"Just follow me. It's not far." McKenzie flicked on the flashlight as they walked around the back of the house and away from the porch lights. She moved quickly even in the dark, knowing instinctively where she was going.
Dean followed close behind, half watching the ground in front of him, and half watching where the flashlight beam was hitting in case it would give him a clue about where they were headed.
Finally McKenzie slowed about 50 yards from the house. Dean glanced around and realized they were in a tiny graveyard.
"Family cemetery?"
His eyes had adjusted to the dark and now he could see McKenzie nod in response.
"I don't get it. What's it have to do with Clay?"
McKenzie met his eyes with her own, allowing him to see the pain she felt. Instead of answering she weaved her way to the back of the graveyard. She halted beside a small gravestone, and let her light rest on it.
Dean's eyes skimmed the words. "Bianca Joanne Howard. August 25, 2015." He turned to McKenzie. "Why only one date?"
McKenzie kept staring at the gravestone. "Because she only lived for six hours."
The pieces suddenly fell into place for Dean. "She was yours. Yours and… his."
She nodded, and clutched her umbrella tighter. "She was due in December."
Dean moved closer to her, but didn't reach out. "What happened?"
McKenzie sighed. "On bad days Clay would accuse me of cheating. Said she wasn't his. Then one night he came home and told me he knew it wasn't his and he was going to get rid of it." She paused as Dean drew in a sharp breath. "I managed to get away after what must have been ten minutes. I drove myself to the hospital, but it's a good twenty minute drive. I went into early labor. They were shocked she lived outside of the womb for as long as she did."
She grew quiet for a long while, Dean following suit as he decided what he could possibly say.
"It was the kick I needed to leave him. I had some prior evidence of the abuse – text messages, emails, pictures of bruises. The hospital recorded the signs of the abuse when I came in with B. I took it all to the police as soon as the doctors said I could leave. They found him guilty on premeditated murder of an unborn child, and on domestic abuse charges. He got 30 years with no chance of early parole. It's not the maximum, but it's enough for now."
Dean was staring at the gravestone as she spoke, suddenly noticing the date. "It's two days from now."
McKenzie nodded. "I'm always here for it." She looked up at him. "I refuse to miss it."
"That's why you were so adamant to leave even with your back injury."
"I had to be here." Her eyes filled with tears. "It's my fault she's dead. The least I can do is visit her on her birthday."
"How the hell is that your fault!?"
"I'd thought about leaving Clay a hundred times before I got pregnant, and then even more after. If I'd just left after I first got pregnant, she would still be here. But there were so many good days in the beginning of the pregnancy… He was helping around the house, finding things to decorate the nursery… I really thought…" McKenzie drifted off, before picking back up, her words now filled with regret and venom. "It was stupid. I knew deep down things wouldn't change. All I was doing by staying was putting her at risk. Even if she had lived, she would've been another victim of his anger."
"Kenzie, you can't-" Dean started.
"She saved me, Dean," McKenzie interrupted. "I never would have left. I was too broken, and brainwashed, and if he hadn't killed her I would probably be dead and she would still be living with him and suffering who knows what tortures every day! It took my baby's death for me to take control and press charges to protect myself. Because nothing else he did to me would have satisfied the cops to have gotten sufficient protection. He would probably have been put in jail for a year if I'd pressed charges before. And then he would've found me again! Despite being beaten, and starved, and humiliated, and raped every. Single. Day…He would've walked away after hardly anything."
Her face was soaked with tears, her voice filled with pain and sadness. He felt his own eyes well up at the thought of her spending three years of her life going through such torture.
"His friends would've testified against me too. Saying that I was faking everything and lying. And why wouldn't they testify? Clay loaned me out for their personal use whenever they wanted. Every twisted fantasy, every sadistic horror… they did with me what their girlfriends wouldn't let them do to them." Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself now – only one hand sticking out enough to keep hold on the umbrella.
A tear streamed down to his chin, and without hesitation Dean dropped his own umbrella, closed the gap between them and took her into his arms, his right arm crooking to take the umbrella from her hand. She pressed herself into him, burying her face in his chest as she sobbed.
~*~*~SUPERNATURAL~*~*~*
McKenzie shifted, shoving some of the quilt off of her before she realized she was probably sweating because Dean's arm and leg were draped across her. Her eyes burned, and her head ached, both remnants of the sobbing she'd done earlier. The memory made her groan. She'd lost it. Collapsed into Dean and sobbed until he'd picked her up and carried her back to the house. McKenzie's cheeks flushed. She was probably heavier than other women he'd carried around, and she'd been too busy getting snot all over him to even think about it. Then they'd come back here and… her mind reeled. Why were they in bed? It took a minute for her to recall the previous night – Dean calming her, holding her, and then helping her find a decent night of sleep.
They needed to leave. How did she keep slipping up around him? Why was he even checking up on her?
McKenzie moved to climb out of the bed, but Dean's hand pulled her back towards him. He moaned sleepily, "Why are you getting up? Sleep is good."
"I have stuff to do, Dean. Breakfast won't make itself."
He grunted, "Breakfast can wait. Come back to bed."
"Dean, I…" She drifted off, unsure of what to say. "We can't pretend like we're some happy couple, okay?"
His eyes flickered open, finding hers. He pushed himself up to a sitting position. "Why won't you let yourself be happy, Kenzie?"
"What makes you think that being with you would make me happy?" She tried to sound annoyed, but knew it hadn't entirely worked.
"You don't like me at all? Not even the tiniest bit?" Dean pushed.
"It's possible to like you, but be happier without you."
"No, it's not."
"I can't do this again. And you know it." McKenzie stood and pulled open her dresser, shoving the clothes around as she tried to focus on what to wear.
"Bullshit!"
She winced at his voice, still flipping through the stack of tee shirts in the drawer.
"Don't ignore me, Kenzie."
The springs in the mattress creaked, and she knew he was coming towards her.
"We could make it work. I won't hurt you. Ever."
The shirt she was holding fell from her hands as she twirled around angrily, "You don't know that. You can't promise that. Don't even try!"
"Kenz…please." He was immediately in front of her now, his voice almost a whisper. "You and I both know I'm not the relationship kind of guy. I run the opposite direction."
"You're not really helping your case, ya know."
"I was miserable after you left. I've wanted you since we ended up fake-engaged. Since before. You can ask Sam – I haven't even hit on another woman. I wanted to after you left – it seemed like the only thing I could do to get my mind off of you. But I failed. I stopped halfway through a pick up line, because I felt guilty. Like I was cheating. Just… try. If I piss you off, you can shoot me."
McKenzie smirked in spite of her reticence. With a sigh, she considered what it would be like to allow herself to give in to her feelings for Dean. It was a great image. Cuddling with him at night, kissing him whenever she wanted… the sex was a great bonus too.
She nodded slowly.
"Does that mean yes? You'll give us a chance?"
"Yes, Dean." She met his eyes. "I'll try."
With a swift move, Dean pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. She returned the kiss, both relieved that she had finally given in, and hesitant at what the future would bring.