Disclaimer: Supernatural and all its characters belong to The CW and Eric Kripke.

Suggested Songs:

- "Get Back" by The Beatles

- "We Can Work It Out" by The Beatles

Chapter Twelve: Part One

"That's it! I'm calling her," Sam exclaimed, still pacing. It had been a damn stressful day.

"No, Sam, dammit!" Dean sighed harshly, running a hand over his face from his spot in the hospital chair. Bobby laid nearly lifeless beside him, found only a few hours earlier at his motel, having fallen into an inexplicable coma. "We can do this ourselves."

"Dean, do you hear yourself? Bobby's in a coma, Mel has to know! She said she would come when I called!"

Dean snorted skeptically. "Yeah, she's just reliable as hell, ain't she? Let's just go back to the motel, and see what Bobby was trying to dig up here."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and turned away from Dean. Through the window he could see the parking lot, many expensive cars bathing in the moonlight. Pittsburgh certainly had fancier hospitals than Sioux Falls. It was past visiting hours, but the Winchesters could get around anything.

"Y'know what, Dean?" Sam asked, without looking back at his brother. "I'm done with this. With the day drinking, the insomnia, and the bar waitresses you go out with almost every night. I thought you were in this now, but lately...I don't know what's wrong with you. It's like you don't wanna be saved…."

"What the hell does all this angsty crap have to do with Melissa?" Dean said, not moving from his seat but trying his best not to glance at Bobby.

"You're just...I don't get why you're pushing her away like this. I know you still love her-"

"Dude," Dean said with a humorless chuckle. He stood up slowly and ambled over to watch the parking lot with Sam. "I haven't loved her in a long time."

Sam looked over at Dean disapprovingly. "Look, you can deny it all you want. You say her name in your sleep...still. You love her. If you wanna tell me you don't-whatever. But you know what? I love her too, okay? She's like a sister to me. She's family, even if she doesn't feel like it. And we have to tell her."

Dean sighed heavily and up for a minute at the water-stained popcorn ceiling. "Fine. But I'm not doing any of that touchy feely moment stuff with her, alright?"

Sam rolled his eyes but nodded. "Fair enough."

. . .

Melissa sliced the head swiftly off the last vamp she could see, drinking up the adrenaline that pumped through her veins. Her breath came in quick, short bursts and she smiled wickedly. A month without seeing the Winchesters, and again she was nothing but a machine. She ran a bloody hand through her hair, not caring so much about the mess. She shivered a little at the sheen of sweat covering her body, and looked around the dark West Virginia woods one last time before heading back to the car. She was still panting when her phone rang, and she groaned a little. Someone needed her help, and she had literally just filled in a favor for another hunter.

She paused when she saw Sam's name flash up on the screen. Immediately, she flipped it open and answered with a demanding, "What's wrong?"

"Why, hello to you too, Mel," Sam said.

"What's wrong?" she repeated.

"It's Bobby."

. . .

The drive took about six hours, and it was a little past four when she ran up to the hospital desk. She was out of breath and her face had smudges of dirt, but she had managed to get most of the blood off with fast food napkins in the car. Her eyes were wild and her cheeks were flushed. She wasn't phased when she saw that this receptionist was much more professional than the one she'd met when Dean was dying.

"I'm looking for Bobby Singer," she said loudly, and the receptionist looked at her from over her glasses.

"Visiting hours begin at 9, miss," the receptionist said flatly and got back to her crossword puzzle.

Melissa, having not slept in about 30 hours and already on edge being in a hospital, snatched the crossword and looked the woman right in the eye.

"M'am, my father is in a coma, and if I don't see him now, I'll likely not get the chance to say goodbye. Now, do you really wanna do that to me?" she yelled, then threw the crossword back at the woman. The receptionist gulped, then nodded.

"Yes, miss, your brothers are already here," she said meekly, afraid that Melissa would do something along the lines of ask for the doctor in charge, who was, in fact, quite the dictator.

"Are they, now?" Melissa narrowed her eyes, hoping the woman would give her the room number instead of just stare like a deer in headlights as she was doing now.

"Hey...uh-sis…" she heard from beside her. Sam walked over, wrapping Melissa in a hug, as the receptionist heaved a sigh of relief. "I'd know it was you making a scene from a mile away," Sam said in her ear with a small chuckle, which she returned.

Sam took Melissa by the shoulder and led her up to Bobby's room, filling in the pieces he left out on the phone. Since speaking, they'd found out Bobby was researching a doctor doing experiments with African dream root. In the morning, it would be time for interviews. But for now, the investigation was stalled.

They got back to the room to find Dean slumped in his chair, staring at Bobby, whose breathing was slow and deliberate. The familiar beep of the heart monitor made Melissa feel sick just hearing it.

"Hey, Dean," Melissa said just as they came through the door, not feeling the need to have Sam break the ice for her.

He perked up when he saw her. "Hey."

"Can I...can I talk to you? Um...outside?" she said little awkwardly, glancing at Sam as he crossed the room to sit in the chair by the window.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Sure...yeah, I guess."

She nodded and left the room, waiting in the wide, brightly lit hallway. She was starting to feel lightheaded from the smell of all the cleaning products. The fluorescent lights were buzzing loudly, and she could hear faint whispers from the few other rooms in the ICU. None of them sounded particularly happy. Fuck, did she hate hospitals.

Dean looked at Sam skeptically, but the younger Winchester only shrugged and shook his head a little. Dean decided to just go for it, and walked slowly into the hallway. She was standing with her arms crossed, and Dean noticed the streaks of dirt on her face, and the blood dried in her hair. He furrowed his brows at the dark circles under her eyes and her ghostly complexion. If possible, she looked even more unhealthy than the last time he saw her.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked, somewhere in between still angry and now concerned. He went to brush the bloody strands of hair out of her face, but then decided against it, awkwardly retracting his hand from the halfway point and clearing his throat. Melissa flushed at the old gesture.

"I was, um...I just finished a vamp hunt in West Virginia," she explained, finding it hard to look him in the eyes.

"Oh," he said, wondering what else she'd been up to since he'd seen her last. It didn't look like anything good. "So, um...what did you wanna talk to me about?"

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed, glancing back at the room where Sam now sat watching Bobby. "I just wanted to….to make sure we were good. I mean...time like this? There ain't any time for…"

She sighed again, looking down at her boots. "I mean...life is very short and there's no time for fussing and fighting my friend…"

Dean looked at her dejectedly.

She smirked a little and started to sing the next lines, suddenly not feeling so brooding. Maybe it was because Dean had three months left and Bobby might die. She was in a fuck it sort of mood.

"We can work it out..." she sung, doing her best Paul McCartney impression. She poked at his ribs playfully, knowing that he was secretly, wildly ticklish. "We can work it out!"

Dean gave a small smile in spite of himself and sighed in defeat. "You and your Beatles."

Melissa giggled but then looked at him a little more seriously. "Yeah but...are we...are we okay now? After everything?"

Dean nodded, thinking back to what Sam had said earlier. "Yeah, Missy. We um...we're good."

Slowly, a little awkwardly, Dean wrapped his arms around her waist. She was surprised, and didn't return the hug at first. Only stood stunned. She was expecting much more resistance, considering what had happened the last time they saw each other. But maybe time did heal all wounds.

She encircled her thin arms around his neck and closed her eyes, smelling the old leather and gunpowder. Dean readjusted his grip to be tighter as she returned the hug, almost leaning on her. He felt all his muscles relax.

"I'm sorry about what I said," he whispered. She smiled softly as she felt his voice rumble in his chest. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry too...for everything."

"I...I forgive you, Missy," he said reluctantly, but felt like he really meant it this time. If he might lose Bobby altogether, he didn't want to lose Melissa too. He already had that happen once, and from the looks of her it wasn't working out very well for either of them.

"Thank you," she replied, grateful tears welling up in her tired eyes.

"Damn, when Sam called you I told him I wasn't gonna do any chick flick moments. It only took you two minutes to get it outta me," Dean sighed with a smile as he pulled away from her.

She gave a watery laugh before leaning back against the hideously papered wall. "Yeah, whatever, Dirty Dancing."

"Hey, Swayze-"

She shook her head and laughed. "Yeah, yeah, if it's Swayze it doesn't count. I know," she said, but with a knowing smirk. She thought he saw Dean blush a little. "Honestly, I was expecting more of a fight from you."

Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah well, I'm probably goin' to hell and Bobby's in a coma. To tell you the truth? I don't know if I've got much fight let in me, Missy."

Melissa's face fell. "Right...yeah."

There was a pensive silence before Dean started fumbling through his pockets, eventually producing a hotel keycard.

"You can go clean up in our room if you want," he offered, holding it out to her. "I know you hate hospitals."

She smiled and gently took the key from him. "Thank you. I'll come back in a little while and we'll...we'll figure this out, alright?"

"Yeah," Dean smiled back, stuffing his hands sheepishly in his pockets. "Yeah...I think we will."

Author's Note: I hoped you liked it; more soon! Thank you for reading!

Thank you to ImsebastianstanButter and KathleenWinchester for your lovely reviews! And I'm sorry for toying with your emotions, but if it's gonna feel like Supernatural, I kinda have to don't I? ;) And KathleenWinchester I'm so glad you noticed the parallels between Dean pushing Melissa away and John pushing Sam away! I didn't know how obvious I should make it.

Anyway, PLEASE review to let me know what you think!

Peace and love.